It may be a day or two early, but today I looked through my 2007 planner from beginning to end, and relived the entire year.
In January, I was still living at my parents house. A few months after landing back home from abroad, I was still looking for a job that wasn't in a restaurant. I had applied to numerous administrative jobs with no luck. But finally, at the end of the month, I interviewed for a Night Associate position at Gaffney Funeral Home in Tacoma. And on February 2, I moved into my new apartment located conveniently a half-block behind the funeral home. This "arrangement," free apartment with all utilities included in exchange for working one night a week and one weekend a month fit very well with the rest of my life. The schedule still allowed me to fill in for Tim every now and then at the Greenroom, and by the end of the month I added a couple shifts at the Sunset Grill to supplement my income. Soon, I had lots of money coming in, and barely any money going out! I could afford to buy bookshelves and take a class at Pratt Fine Arts Center and parties and concerts in Seattle all the time. Life was good.
And it continued like this through the end of May. Little notes in my planner allude to little distractions, like on February 17, I scrawled, "Kinetic @ Pacific Science Center," and March 7, "Danny-Gateway to India." That was a blind date with a guy I met on itsjustcoffee.com, a self-proclaimed dating site for nerds (and crunchy granola eating hippies). Danny was great, the date went well, but I just wasn't attracted to him. It was one of the first times I realized that maybe the anatomy was the problem. I think that I was also beginning my addiction to the "L Word" around this time as well, which most certainly prompted this idea.
Scattered repeatedly throughout almost every week were hastily written "Clean Mauso," and "Pratt," reminders. Part of my funeral home job was to clean part of the Tacoma Mortuary and Mausoleum. I had a section of the Mauso to clean once a week. Between my three jobs and my insistence at a social life, this was rarely done on a weekly basis. My Tuesday Intro to Flameworking class at Pratt Fine Arts Center came with free Friday access to the warm glass studio. I made it to Seattle every Friday for a chance to experiment and play with ultra-hot liquefied glass.
Sometime in the beginning of March I was notified that I won a fellowship to the Academy for Alternative Journalism. When I applied in February I never dreamed I would actually get it. Only 10 people were chosen from a national pool of applicants, and they wanted me! I couldn't believe it. So it would appear that I would be spending the summer in Chicago. And that I would have to quit my jobs. All of them.
Sometime in May I bought all second-hand glass blowing equipment and set up a studio in my dad's mostly unused auto shop. Throughout the month of May "blow glass" is scheduled into my days and weeks. I devoted entire days to perfecting my techniques, as well as before, after, and between work. But very soon, it was June, and I was leaving for Chicago. I moved out of the funeral home, and stored all my stuff at my dad's shop. I flew to Chicago on June 15 for a summer fellowship, and was due to move back home in August. Little would I realize as I was boarding the plane that I was flying to what would be my home for the rest of the year.
Once in Chicago, I arrived at Haymarket House, a housing co-op on the southside. My first night also happened to be Kate's last night, as she was leaving for San Francisco in the morning. This kind of thing ensues obligatory partying, and every co-oper, University of Chicago student, and a few hipsters were drinking, smoking, dancing and debating all over Haymarket long into the night. After sitting around an (unlit) fire pit for much of the evening conversing with Germans, Americans born overseas, and a Cuban-African-American Jew, I knew that I had found where I wanted to be. After backpacking through Asia the previous fall and meeting friends from all over the world where instant friendships are created over a drink, I had been craving a more diverse crowd. I wanted to be somewhere that I could meet people from all over the world. I thought that I had to leave the United States to get that, and when I realized that I could have it all in Chicago, I decided then and there that I wasn't going back to the Northwest when the summer was over. I was relocating myself to the Midwest.
I did go back home in August, as the fellowship had purchased my round-trip plane ticket (and I had to pack the rest of my shit). But I didn't stay long. I was home for a mere week before taking off for Burning Man with a friend at the end of the month. I returned from this in early September, and spent a week or so packing and tying up loose ends (such as buying a car to drive my stuff across the country) before hitting the road, solo-style (again) driving 3 days for 15 hours a day to get back to Chicago before my money ran out. Again, as in January, I was broke, unemployed, recently landed from another adventure, but ready for something different.
After playing the same job search game as before, I desperately searched for something not food/beverage related. I very quickly landed a gig transcribing videotaped psychotherapy sessions. When this woman told me that there was traumatic content, I had no idea what I was really getting myself into. I thought, no big deal, I can deal with whatever content she can throw at me. But once the first video opened with her (and only her) talking to a camera (and herself) using three different voices to represent her different parts, I was baffled. And then came the traumatic content. Satanic rituals, memories of being left hanging in a closet until her father would come to molest her, being buried alive, all these painful memories pricked their way inside of me until I began to question my own memories. Thoroughly fucked up after a couple weeks, I stopped doing transcriptions. I just couldn't handle listening to her memories and thoughts any longer.
Soon it was October, and I was out of money. I applied for a job in a downtown coffee house and was offered the job the next day over the phone. A week later I was offered a serving job at a restaurant in my neighborhood. I worked both for a while, leaving the house at 5 am and arriving home past midnight. That obviously didn't last long, and when I quit the Coffee Beanery, I was promoted to Lead Server at Chant.
Chant was great. A brand new Hyde Park restaurant, the chic atmosphere and tasty appetizers (and full bar) set it apart from the abundance of the other take-out and delivery options on 53rd. We had a small staff, and when the restaurant opened we all worked out asses off to make things work. Things were a bit rough in the beginning, but we were doing well, and getting better every day. Until the owner hired an independent consultant to do customer service training with the staff. A tall, insecure African-American woman with a horse-hair weave, bright red lipstick, tight clothes and a faint hint of a lisp, Kimberley arrived on the scene with unknown intentions. She said she was here to do training with the servers, but soon it turned into her organizing events for the restaurant (that inevitably flopped), taking out her control-freak tendencies on the mostly non-English speaking kitchen staff, and generally terrorizing everyone, including the customers. How the owner, a very intelligent and genuinely nice Thai woman, could be so blind to all of this was beyond us, the staff. Kimberley very rudely corrected us in the most condescending manner, and took every opportunity to tell us about her many years of experience in the restaurant industry (whose number changed every time she told us), all the "famous" people she's worked with (none of who we'd ever heard of) and about how we could all be replaced with snap of her fingers. Every day I came to work dreading to see her face. If she was there, I would almost surely have a bad night. I would leave pissed off and angry that someone could speak to me the way that she did, and I would buy a bottle (or two) of wine and drink every last drop. And probably smoke a joint too.
A month of this shit and I had turned into a bitter, bitchy, drunk. I hated my job, and on top of all of that, I was really homesick for the Northwest. I missed going to clubs and concerts and parties with my friends. I missed my friends. I missed the trees, mountains, oceans and lakes. I missed the glass blowing scene of Seattle. I missed the burner community. I missed my best friend. I wanted to practice poi with her and take a glass blowing class and go hiking and kayaking and smoke blunts on the beach. I decided that these things were more important than living far, far away from the town I lived in most of my life, and planned to return to the Northwest as soon as possible. I budgeted that I could pay off my credit card by February and leave the Midwest in March. I thought that I could stick it out at Chant with the crazy martyr bitch, and then I reached my breaking point with Kimberley.
After a heated meeting where Kimberley wouldn't let any of us speak, probably because she knew we wanted to express our concerns and dissatisfaction with her, I sat down with her and the owner. I told Kimberley that the way that she spoke to members of the staff was unacceptable. It was hostile, condescending, and rude. With a sugary sweet demeanor that only appeared when in the owner's presence, she asked for examples. And I gave her some. After numerous examples (all of which she tried to tear down) I told her that the way she was speaking to me right now was the way I always wanted to be spoken to. And the owner said that she couldn't afford for her to speak to me that way! Once they could no longer deny the fact that Kimberley is a bitch who has no business in customer service, the owner actually told me that she thought it was valuable experience for me, as a manager (a title they only used when it suited them, most of the time I was merely Lead Server), to be spoken to in this manner. That I would have to learn to deal with people like Kimberley. So I told them to fuck off. I said fuck your valuable experience, I don't have to put up with this bullshit. And I quit.
Well, not exactly. I pretty much gave up at the meeting, so internally pissed off that I could no longer speak, and ended the meeting. The next day while walking to work, I decided that this restaurant job was simply no longer worth it. I took a serving job because I didn't want to think. I wanted to just go to work and when I left work, I really left it. If I wanted a job that stayed with my 24/7, I would have taken a writing job. So I worked my shift, and at 5 pm when the other manager came to relieve me, I handed her my keys, apologized, and told her that Chant was no longer a place that I saw myself working. She gave me a hug and said, "good for you!" Walking out of there, I'd never felt freer. Free from the bullshit of manipulative people, of blind ownership and people that take the bullshit without complaint.
Now it was days before Christmas and I was again without a job. This time, however, I was very happily unemployed. I went home to Gig Harbor for a week-long X-mas holiday. It was the greatest week! I spent time with friends and family and partied so hard that I'm still recovering. The week only reinforced the feeling that I had to return to the Northwest as soon as possible. My best friend Jessica happened to have a week off in the middle of January, so we made plans for her to fly to Chicago and drive back with me.
After returning to Chicago on December 27, I realized I only had two and a half more weeks of living at Haymarket, of living in Chicago, of living halfway across the country from anything I've ever known. And I grew sad. And still am. But I'm also ecstatically happy to be returning to the place that I didn't realize was home until I left it. So today, on December 30, I have approximately 15 more days of living here. 15 days to clean my shit, pack, ship books home, and all the while, spending quality time with the best housemates that could ever exist, anywhere. Haymarket showed me how to live in a community. It showed me how to learn from each other, how to work together and how great it is to live in such a diverse yet unified place. I became a better cook, learned how to start and run a co-op, be more sustainable and eco-friendly, and was shown how to live by values that I've always held dear but didn't always know how to stand by. I will forever consider Haymarket my home, one of many that I've created for myself around the world.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Case of the winter blues
Bah humbug. It's the last day of November, and I sit here wondering where it went. Working, working, working. After I get home from the restaurant, all I want to do is relax, and I tend to do so with a bottle of wine. Or it's 2 am when I get home and all I want to do is sleep. I feel like I don't have a life anymore. And the blessing and the curse is that I live at Haymarket, where a life isn't really necessary. I have 13 other people in the house to amuse me. I love living here, I love my housemates, but....I miss my friends. I miss going out with my friends. I miss dressing up in crazy costumes and going to parties, I miss lake houses and beaches and mountains and Canada and yummy herbs and good, ol' northwest peeps. Lately I've been feeling like I'm living in some self-imposed exile, and I find myself wondering why. Why am I here? What is my purpose? I feel like my purpose was to grow some roots somewhere other than the place I grew up, to learn a bunch about co-ops, and the thing I didn't expect, to have a rekindled passion for activist and non-profit work. But now that I've achieved these things, I feel restless. Bored. Kind of lonely. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing out on stuff back home. And I can't wait to go back! I just want to be surrounded by my friends. Granted, I have friends here, but they are all co-workers or housemates. And that's all fine and dandy, but I need more. I need Jessica and Karen and Alex and Zach and Jack and all the people I've grown closest to over the past 10 years. I miss them, and cannot live without them.
So....I'm leaving Chicago. When? I don't know. Maybe in March? I'm not quite ready to leave, yet. I'd like to pay off more of my credit card while I have a job, since once I leave here I will be unemployed for an indeterminate amount of time. Hopefully it will give me a chance to catch up on my writing and art. You know, I took a mindless job in a restaurant so I would have time for art and writing....and it just doesn't happen as often as I'd like. And, it's getting really effin cold and windy here, neither of which makes for ideal conditions for spinning fire (outside) or blowing glass (in the shed with the door open for ventilation). So here I sit, in the common room, doing random board stuff and trying to figure out why I feel so lonely and what I'm doing in Chicago, so far away from my family and friends. Am I just causing myself unnecessary pain? Most people who hail from faraway lands that are living in Chicago are doing so for a reason. School usually, for others, it could be the blues scene. For me, it was the lure of the city energy, the diversity, the co-op. But there are other co-ops! In Washington even! And, now I feel confident enough to start my own.
I would leave Chicago right now, except for that I want to pay off more of my credit card, and I still have to find someone to take over my lease, which runs through August.
Now the question is, will coming back to Washington for a while take care of this lonely feeling? Or will it bring up old feelings of restlessness and being trapped? I seem to remember last time I lived in Washington, all I wanted to do is leave it. Now, let's get one thing straight here. I am not moving back to Washington. I am going to come back and visit for a month or so, then head on to New Orleans, and at some point in the near future, Portland. I've been planning on Portland for a while now, and I do believe that it's time. I think that I had to do this midwest thing so I could appreciate just how wonderful and amazing the pacific northwest really is. And especially Portland. It's within a days drive of all my family and friends, and it's (hopefully) far enough away from my hometown to make me feel like I've escaped.
So....I'm leaving Chicago. When? I don't know. Maybe in March? I'm not quite ready to leave, yet. I'd like to pay off more of my credit card while I have a job, since once I leave here I will be unemployed for an indeterminate amount of time. Hopefully it will give me a chance to catch up on my writing and art. You know, I took a mindless job in a restaurant so I would have time for art and writing....and it just doesn't happen as often as I'd like. And, it's getting really effin cold and windy here, neither of which makes for ideal conditions for spinning fire (outside) or blowing glass (in the shed with the door open for ventilation). So here I sit, in the common room, doing random board stuff and trying to figure out why I feel so lonely and what I'm doing in Chicago, so far away from my family and friends. Am I just causing myself unnecessary pain? Most people who hail from faraway lands that are living in Chicago are doing so for a reason. School usually, for others, it could be the blues scene. For me, it was the lure of the city energy, the diversity, the co-op. But there are other co-ops! In Washington even! And, now I feel confident enough to start my own.
I would leave Chicago right now, except for that I want to pay off more of my credit card, and I still have to find someone to take over my lease, which runs through August.
Now the question is, will coming back to Washington for a while take care of this lonely feeling? Or will it bring up old feelings of restlessness and being trapped? I seem to remember last time I lived in Washington, all I wanted to do is leave it. Now, let's get one thing straight here. I am not moving back to Washington. I am going to come back and visit for a month or so, then head on to New Orleans, and at some point in the near future, Portland. I've been planning on Portland for a while now, and I do believe that it's time. I think that I had to do this midwest thing so I could appreciate just how wonderful and amazing the pacific northwest really is. And especially Portland. It's within a days drive of all my family and friends, and it's (hopefully) far enough away from my hometown to make me feel like I've escaped.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
My first fire spin!
I just did my first fire spin! Ahhh!! It was great! Didn't light myself on fire :) didn't even touch myself once with the poi. It was so great and the poi I got from home of poi were SO COOL. They burned beautifully, and a rather larger flame than I expected. It was great! Pictures and video to be released shortly :)
Monday, November 5, 2007
NASCO Institute
Well! I got home from NASCO Institute last night, crashed out, and now I'm awake and beginning to process the metric fuck ton load of information that I learned over the weekend.
I attended lots of workshops, on things like Building Community, Social Change Fundraising, Incorporation and Non-profit Status, Kids in Co-ops, a caucus on Community Co-ops, the Annual General Meeting, and the NASCO Properties Board meeting. I met co-opers from around the country and Canada, and got so many great ideas from everyone and everything. My goals that have come out of this include:
1. Start a non-profit in Chicago to teach underprivileged kids glass arts
2. Possibly start a worker co-op in Chicago for the homeless, where they make christmas ornaments and other glass art out of recycled glass bottles
3. Get Qumbya more involved in the community by first educating the community on what it means to be a co-op, then holding workshops on how cooperation can be used in other arenas
4. Do a massive co-op road trip doing skillshares around the country at different co-ops
5. Create a social networking site for co-ops, cross between couchsurfing and tribe
6. When I get to Portland, create a live/work artists co-op
I know that I have so many other ideas, I just can't think of any more right now!
I attended lots of workshops, on things like Building Community, Social Change Fundraising, Incorporation and Non-profit Status, Kids in Co-ops, a caucus on Community Co-ops, the Annual General Meeting, and the NASCO Properties Board meeting. I met co-opers from around the country and Canada, and got so many great ideas from everyone and everything. My goals that have come out of this include:
1. Start a non-profit in Chicago to teach underprivileged kids glass arts
2. Possibly start a worker co-op in Chicago for the homeless, where they make christmas ornaments and other glass art out of recycled glass bottles
3. Get Qumbya more involved in the community by first educating the community on what it means to be a co-op, then holding workshops on how cooperation can be used in other arenas
4. Do a massive co-op road trip doing skillshares around the country at different co-ops
5. Create a social networking site for co-ops, cross between couchsurfing and tribe
6. When I get to Portland, create a live/work artists co-op
I know that I have so many other ideas, I just can't think of any more right now!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tentative plans
So, I'm going to pay off my credit card by the end of the year so that I can begin working on building a savings to travel with again. But, before I travel, I really want to spend at least a month (preferably more) in New Orleans doing volunteer clean-up. I've already found some organizations I want to work with while I'm there. One is the Animal rescue, another is a women's shelter, another is gutting houses, and another is a fledgling student co-op. I've been wanting to go down there for a long time now, pretty much ever since Katrina, but time and financial resources haven't yet allowed for it. And come next spring/summer, I do believe that it will all finally line up for me.
After a couple months in NOLA, I'd like to finally move to Portland. I definitely want to start a co-op there, and study glass and fire dancing while I'm at it. And somewhere in between all of that I HAVE TO GO BACK TO NEPAL. I have a really intense urge to go trekking in the Himalayas again. This time I want to do the entire Annapurna Circuit. It takes a good 21 days. I can't wait. Afterwards, I want to mosy on down to India and spend 3 weeks backpacking around the country. Ideally, I will fly into China, overland it west to Tibet, then come into Nepal from the north, then south to India. Then, maybe I'll fly home. Or maybe I'll stay there. Who knows. Eventually I will come to Portland, I swear! It just seems that there is so much to do first. It feels like Portland is a place I want to settle down in, if I am ever able to actually settle down. Or maybe I just have a different way of settling. Hmm. There's just too much stuff that I want to and need to do in this life. I feel like I don't have enough time for any of it! And I'm constantly trying to figure out how to implement it all. In what order is it most efficient, time and money-wise? Can I start a co-op and then just leave it to teach english in the Marshall Islands for a year? Or should I do that first? It's so hard to choose! Although it's not really choosing, it's just putting it in order of importance. And the problem is, I don't know yet what is more important to me. I have this huge list of things I want to do, maybe I should write some out.
Teach English in the Marshall Islands
Teach English in China
Open a guesthouse in Bali
Start a co-op in Portland
Study glass in Seattle
Study fire arts in Portland/San Francisco
Acquire multiple Masters degrees
Backpack Asia-again
Backpack Latin America, every country, all in one trip
Do a round the world trip, hitting at least 3 continents in one
Fly one way somewhere and work my way across the world
Become an established freelance travel writer
Publish multiple books
Start a fire troupe
WWOOF it across New Zealand and Australia
Couch-surf on every continent
Did I mention visit every country in the world?
Sky dive into Burning Man
So many more....but I'm growing more tired by the minute, and I have to open the coffee place in...7 hours...g'nite.
After a couple months in NOLA, I'd like to finally move to Portland. I definitely want to start a co-op there, and study glass and fire dancing while I'm at it. And somewhere in between all of that I HAVE TO GO BACK TO NEPAL. I have a really intense urge to go trekking in the Himalayas again. This time I want to do the entire Annapurna Circuit. It takes a good 21 days. I can't wait. Afterwards, I want to mosy on down to India and spend 3 weeks backpacking around the country. Ideally, I will fly into China, overland it west to Tibet, then come into Nepal from the north, then south to India. Then, maybe I'll fly home. Or maybe I'll stay there. Who knows. Eventually I will come to Portland, I swear! It just seems that there is so much to do first. It feels like Portland is a place I want to settle down in, if I am ever able to actually settle down. Or maybe I just have a different way of settling. Hmm. There's just too much stuff that I want to and need to do in this life. I feel like I don't have enough time for any of it! And I'm constantly trying to figure out how to implement it all. In what order is it most efficient, time and money-wise? Can I start a co-op and then just leave it to teach english in the Marshall Islands for a year? Or should I do that first? It's so hard to choose! Although it's not really choosing, it's just putting it in order of importance. And the problem is, I don't know yet what is more important to me. I have this huge list of things I want to do, maybe I should write some out.
Teach English in the Marshall Islands
Teach English in China
Open a guesthouse in Bali
Start a co-op in Portland
Study glass in Seattle
Study fire arts in Portland/San Francisco
Acquire multiple Masters degrees
Backpack Asia-again
Backpack Latin America, every country, all in one trip
Do a round the world trip, hitting at least 3 continents in one
Fly one way somewhere and work my way across the world
Become an established freelance travel writer
Publish multiple books
Start a fire troupe
WWOOF it across New Zealand and Australia
Couch-surf on every continent
Did I mention visit every country in the world?
Sky dive into Burning Man
So many more....but I'm growing more tired by the minute, and I have to open the coffee place in...7 hours...g'nite.
No wrong path
Well! I am feeling a million and one times better than my last (long) blog. If you remember, I was feeling a bit down, unmotivated, and bored with everything. If I learned anything from that time, it was that I have to keep busy in order to feel accomplished and happy. I have to have things to do that make me feel like I am contributing to not only my own personal growth, but to the larger community as well. I have found that the more involved I get, such as within Qumbya co-ops, the better I feel. I took the webmaster position on the Board of Directors at Qumbya, and have since been getting more and more involved with the organization. I am attending NASCO institute next month, as an active member as well as the Annual Meeting Rep, and I will also be attending the NASCO Board meeting. I'm drafting a letter to the community about Qumbya, doing lots of website and listhost stuff, and organizing a Bollywood Music Video Film Festival. Co-op life is awesome. I am definitely starting a house in Portland once I (finally) get there. I've already started talking to our NASCO rep about what kind of resources are available to me to do this. And there are many! I'm super excited about that, and what I'm going to learn at Institute that is going to help me in that endeavor as well.
In other news, I finally got a job! Well, I got 2! Not to mention my transcribing gig (which I think may be causing me to go a bit crazy). I'm working at a coffee shop downtown, right on Michigan Ave (The Magnificent Mile) across from Millennium Park, and also at this super nice Asian restaurant 4 blocks from my house. I had tried really hard to get out of restaurants without succumbing to a 9-5 office job, and it just wasn't meant to be. I think that I would be entirely too bored, and probably way depressed if I worked in an office 5 days a week! At least in restaurants, things are always changing, busy, and crazy. And the place I'm serving at in my neighborhood is a brand spanking new restaurant, so there's plenty of stuff to be done and it's always changing. I've been working 60 hour weeks on top of my regular house duties and board duties, and LOVING IT.
Another thing that has really helped me get out of this funk I'd been in was an amazing 2 hour conversation I had with Alex last night. It really opened my eyes to a lot of things, and reminded me of things that I once knew very strongly, and kind of let myself forget. I was able to remember who I am spiritually, and what I have to give others. It made me remember that life will always work itself out, that you are taken down certain paths for a reason, and that there is a higher purpose to everything. For example: I returned from Asia last year broke (in debt actually) and unsure of what my next move was to be. I only knew I wanted to take it really easy for a while. So when I went to the Greenroom to get Karen a b-day present, I wasn't excepting to walk out with a job. But I did! And I began working at a super chill job while (still) trying to figure out my next move. It was while I was hanging out there reading the Stranger that I saw the ad for the Academy for Alternative Journalism fellowship. Immediately intrigued, I applied, not really thinking I would get it. While waiting for word back from them, I began working at the funeral home, where I got a free apartment in exchange for working a couple nights a week. With this new sweet set up, I decided I would stick around for 2 years and save the money I would normally spend on rent and at the end of two years, take my savings and travel for a year (or more). Now, I had originally vowed to never return to this place I grew up in, to move on to bigger and better things. With this job, however, it seemed I had forgotten this vow. But then....I won the fellowship! And that meant spending the summer in Chicago. Guess staying at the funeral home for two years was out. And so, I began working on finding a summer sublet to live at in Chicago. I ended up finding a housing cooperative. I had always wanted to live in some kind of intentional community, so this was perfect. I applied, went through phone interviews, and was accepted. I came to Chicago, did the fellowship (which taught me so much, not the least of it being that I am an artist, not a journalist), and fell in love with the co-op life and community, and decided that if I didn't win a previously applied for scholarship at Pratt Fine Arts in Seattle, that I would come back to Chicago after the summer was over. Consequently, I did not win the scholarship. So, I came home, packed my shit, went to Burning Man, then drove back to Chicago. Since I've been back, I've been building practical co-op experience for starting my own co-op, realized how amazing the northwest really is, and how much I like being involved in a community. So, to make a (very) long story short, if I had never gone to Asia and spent my life savings, I probably wouldn't have wandered into the Greenroom that day and gotten a job, I would have never seen the ad for the fellowship, which means I never would have come to Chicago, never lived in a co-op, never realized how much the northwest is like home, never planned to start my own co-op, and probably never (or at least for a while) realized how important it is being involved in not only your immediate community, but the larger community as well. All of these things have had HUGE parts in shaping the person that I have grown into over the past year, and each and every thing, however trivial at the time, has contributed to discovering the next curve in my path. I can put a higher sense of trust into the universe now, because I know that it will never steer me wrong. As long as I continue to follow my instincts and to strive for personal growth and involvement with the world around me, I know that everything will turn out for the best, and exactly the way it was meant to. There is no wrong path, because whatever path you are on is exactly where you're supposed to be.
In other news, I finally got a job! Well, I got 2! Not to mention my transcribing gig (which I think may be causing me to go a bit crazy). I'm working at a coffee shop downtown, right on Michigan Ave (The Magnificent Mile) across from Millennium Park, and also at this super nice Asian restaurant 4 blocks from my house. I had tried really hard to get out of restaurants without succumbing to a 9-5 office job, and it just wasn't meant to be. I think that I would be entirely too bored, and probably way depressed if I worked in an office 5 days a week! At least in restaurants, things are always changing, busy, and crazy. And the place I'm serving at in my neighborhood is a brand spanking new restaurant, so there's plenty of stuff to be done and it's always changing. I've been working 60 hour weeks on top of my regular house duties and board duties, and LOVING IT.
Another thing that has really helped me get out of this funk I'd been in was an amazing 2 hour conversation I had with Alex last night. It really opened my eyes to a lot of things, and reminded me of things that I once knew very strongly, and kind of let myself forget. I was able to remember who I am spiritually, and what I have to give others. It made me remember that life will always work itself out, that you are taken down certain paths for a reason, and that there is a higher purpose to everything. For example: I returned from Asia last year broke (in debt actually) and unsure of what my next move was to be. I only knew I wanted to take it really easy for a while. So when I went to the Greenroom to get Karen a b-day present, I wasn't excepting to walk out with a job. But I did! And I began working at a super chill job while (still) trying to figure out my next move. It was while I was hanging out there reading the Stranger that I saw the ad for the Academy for Alternative Journalism fellowship. Immediately intrigued, I applied, not really thinking I would get it. While waiting for word back from them, I began working at the funeral home, where I got a free apartment in exchange for working a couple nights a week. With this new sweet set up, I decided I would stick around for 2 years and save the money I would normally spend on rent and at the end of two years, take my savings and travel for a year (or more). Now, I had originally vowed to never return to this place I grew up in, to move on to bigger and better things. With this job, however, it seemed I had forgotten this vow. But then....I won the fellowship! And that meant spending the summer in Chicago. Guess staying at the funeral home for two years was out. And so, I began working on finding a summer sublet to live at in Chicago. I ended up finding a housing cooperative. I had always wanted to live in some kind of intentional community, so this was perfect. I applied, went through phone interviews, and was accepted. I came to Chicago, did the fellowship (which taught me so much, not the least of it being that I am an artist, not a journalist), and fell in love with the co-op life and community, and decided that if I didn't win a previously applied for scholarship at Pratt Fine Arts in Seattle, that I would come back to Chicago after the summer was over. Consequently, I did not win the scholarship. So, I came home, packed my shit, went to Burning Man, then drove back to Chicago. Since I've been back, I've been building practical co-op experience for starting my own co-op, realized how amazing the northwest really is, and how much I like being involved in a community. So, to make a (very) long story short, if I had never gone to Asia and spent my life savings, I probably wouldn't have wandered into the Greenroom that day and gotten a job, I would have never seen the ad for the fellowship, which means I never would have come to Chicago, never lived in a co-op, never realized how much the northwest is like home, never planned to start my own co-op, and probably never (or at least for a while) realized how important it is being involved in not only your immediate community, but the larger community as well. All of these things have had HUGE parts in shaping the person that I have grown into over the past year, and each and every thing, however trivial at the time, has contributed to discovering the next curve in my path. I can put a higher sense of trust into the universe now, because I know that it will never steer me wrong. As long as I continue to follow my instincts and to strive for personal growth and involvement with the world around me, I know that everything will turn out for the best, and exactly the way it was meant to. There is no wrong path, because whatever path you are on is exactly where you're supposed to be.
Monday, October 8, 2007
I love the internet.
Oh the wonderful things we find on the web. Go here: http://www.shutdowntv.com/ for a fun dorky show that for some reason I can't stop watching.
And, just because you're so good, here's a special treat for you!
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
And, just because you're so good, here's a special treat for you!
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Friday, October 5, 2007
middle of the night ramblings...
Lately, life just seems so...boring. nothing really to look forward to, nothing (really) to do all day, no money to do anything with, and i'm very quickly running out of oxygen to blow glass with, and i can't, i repeat, can't put more on my credit card. although i probably will. I'm just lucky i live at haymarket, where without the constant amusement i glean from my fellow housemates i would most assuredly go completely and utterly insane. what would i do without in-home beer brewing, evolution and speak easy parties, costume kickball, apple picking and oktoberfest beer tasting? what would i do for dinner if i didn't get a home-cooked vegetarian meal every night? i'd probably forget (or not be able to afford) to eat.
had (another) nanny job interview today. this couple seemed very nice, they both work at the unversity of chicago, kids are so allergic to nuts that i can't consume them on days i care for the kids. the pay is well, and everything is within walking distance in my neighborhood. so far so good. now let's hope this family calls me back...
I think i spend more time planning life than actually living it. (but when i do live, it, boy do i!) that being said, i have a new 5 year plan. and-gasp!-it actually involves something resembling a career path. something that i have obsessively avoided since, well, forever.
i have been wanting to get a masters of fine arts in creative writing from vermont college since my senior year of undergrad. i think it's finally time. got the fellowship under my belt, some more crazy life experiences to write about, and i finally get independent financial aid status, which hopefully means more money for me (yay!). Since i've wanted that for a while, i'm applying to start summer term of '08. oh, and by the way, vermont college is a low-residency school, where i have to complete 5 ten day residencies over the course of 2 years (there is one summer and one winter session a year) in order to obtain my MFA. and i can live anywhere in the entire world. so....i think i'm moving to portland. i love portland. i've always loved portland. well, except for that time that when i was 14 and ran away to portland and, well, let's just say that was a bad situation all around.
since my dark and confused teenage years i've had many a good experience in portland. very eclectic, community-minded, and very socially and environmentally conscious. and well, it's close to friends and family. which i think this year in chicago is going to prove how important those things may really be to me.
so...portland. save money, finish my masters degree, join an artists co-op and learn from as many glass artists as possible (btw, there is like, no glass community in chicago. it's all concentrated on the west coast.) travel a bit, then, go back to school. no, not for a phd, but, yes, another masters degree.
Another school i've been very interested in for a time now is CIIS. The California Institute of Integral Studies. they are a school "that strives to embody spirit, intellect, and wisdom in service to individuals, communities and the Earth." (taken from their website) anyway, they have this MA in Expressive Arts Therapy, one of 3 programs in the US that does it, and as soon as i read it i thought, "this is perfect for me."
when i originally started college, i wanted to major in psychology. then it was sociology. (when i was younger, it was anthropology, go figure, i guess i'm really into social sciences). then, at the university when i discovered a growing interest in the greater world around me, i switched to global studies. my degree hasn't really gotten me much except a monthly student loan payment. i know that i need another. so why not 2? (for a grand total of 4 completely unrelated degrees)
the degree takes 3 years, so i can do that in san francisco, then head back to portland, where they have a really wonderful cooperative practice space for community-minded professionals, and an expressive arts therapist would fit in nicely with their community. and, when i return to portland, i would like to start a co-op.
there are a couple existing co-op's in portland already, but i think that i would like to form another. i am attending nasco institute this fall, and would like to continue to attend, learn about organizing co-ops and living in them from now until my projected Return To Portland date, summer of 2013.
yeah, yeah, i know. i think WAY too much.
;)
had (another) nanny job interview today. this couple seemed very nice, they both work at the unversity of chicago, kids are so allergic to nuts that i can't consume them on days i care for the kids. the pay is well, and everything is within walking distance in my neighborhood. so far so good. now let's hope this family calls me back...
I think i spend more time planning life than actually living it. (but when i do live, it, boy do i!) that being said, i have a new 5 year plan. and-gasp!-it actually involves something resembling a career path. something that i have obsessively avoided since, well, forever.
i have been wanting to get a masters of fine arts in creative writing from vermont college since my senior year of undergrad. i think it's finally time. got the fellowship under my belt, some more crazy life experiences to write about, and i finally get independent financial aid status, which hopefully means more money for me (yay!). Since i've wanted that for a while, i'm applying to start summer term of '08. oh, and by the way, vermont college is a low-residency school, where i have to complete 5 ten day residencies over the course of 2 years (there is one summer and one winter session a year) in order to obtain my MFA. and i can live anywhere in the entire world. so....i think i'm moving to portland. i love portland. i've always loved portland. well, except for that time that when i was 14 and ran away to portland and, well, let's just say that was a bad situation all around.
since my dark and confused teenage years i've had many a good experience in portland. very eclectic, community-minded, and very socially and environmentally conscious. and well, it's close to friends and family. which i think this year in chicago is going to prove how important those things may really be to me.
so...portland. save money, finish my masters degree, join an artists co-op and learn from as many glass artists as possible (btw, there is like, no glass community in chicago. it's all concentrated on the west coast.) travel a bit, then, go back to school. no, not for a phd, but, yes, another masters degree.
Another school i've been very interested in for a time now is CIIS. The California Institute of Integral Studies. they are a school "that strives to embody spirit, intellect, and wisdom in service to individuals, communities and the Earth." (taken from their website) anyway, they have this MA in Expressive Arts Therapy, one of 3 programs in the US that does it, and as soon as i read it i thought, "this is perfect for me."
when i originally started college, i wanted to major in psychology. then it was sociology. (when i was younger, it was anthropology, go figure, i guess i'm really into social sciences). then, at the university when i discovered a growing interest in the greater world around me, i switched to global studies. my degree hasn't really gotten me much except a monthly student loan payment. i know that i need another. so why not 2? (for a grand total of 4 completely unrelated degrees)
the degree takes 3 years, so i can do that in san francisco, then head back to portland, where they have a really wonderful cooperative practice space for community-minded professionals, and an expressive arts therapist would fit in nicely with their community. and, when i return to portland, i would like to start a co-op.
there are a couple existing co-op's in portland already, but i think that i would like to form another. i am attending nasco institute this fall, and would like to continue to attend, learn about organizing co-ops and living in them from now until my projected Return To Portland date, summer of 2013.
yeah, yeah, i know. i think WAY too much.
;)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Okay, it's time to actually blog again.
I'm settling into Chicago life. I got myself a job, transcribing videotaped psychotherapy sessions. That I can do from home, which is *awesome*. It's this really fascinating form of self-directed therapy called Internal Family Systems (IFS). I'm not sure if I would ever practice it, but hey, whatever helps you. I don't think I should really go into it, so moving on.
I'm hoping to get a nanny position as well in Hyde Park. That would be great. However...mom said she'd call me..yesterday. I sent her a short thank you email today. I don't want to start looking for a job again! (waa, waa, I'm such a whiner) I liked the nanny job 'cause it was only a couple hours a day and it paid really well. I hope there are still a few positions on Marketplace. I'll have to look again in a bit.
I have a lot less to write about than I originally thought....so I think I might watch something on the best website ever (tv-links.co.uk) to take a much-needed break from the content on those tapes.
Wait, I do have something to say...about my lack of something to say. It seems that sometimes I need a few days to process things that may be going on in my life before I can write about them. Or, maybe there's just really no inner turmoil going on at this point :) Wow, there's a thought. I suppose it's true. I've been pretty stress free since I got here (even with a dwindling bank account and rent due next week) My main goal has been getting a job. I haven't really thought of anything else. And I don't think I will until I get one. Maybe that's why I have nothing to say. Because my thoughts have been dominated by one simple goal: GET A JOB. NOW.
I'm trying!
I'm hoping to get a nanny position as well in Hyde Park. That would be great. However...mom said she'd call me..yesterday. I sent her a short thank you email today. I don't want to start looking for a job again! (waa, waa, I'm such a whiner) I liked the nanny job 'cause it was only a couple hours a day and it paid really well. I hope there are still a few positions on Marketplace. I'll have to look again in a bit.
I have a lot less to write about than I originally thought....so I think I might watch something on the best website ever (tv-links.co.uk) to take a much-needed break from the content on those tapes.
Wait, I do have something to say...about my lack of something to say. It seems that sometimes I need a few days to process things that may be going on in my life before I can write about them. Or, maybe there's just really no inner turmoil going on at this point :) Wow, there's a thought. I suppose it's true. I've been pretty stress free since I got here (even with a dwindling bank account and rent due next week) My main goal has been getting a job. I haven't really thought of anything else. And I don't think I will until I get one. Maybe that's why I have nothing to say. Because my thoughts have been dominated by one simple goal: GET A JOB. NOW.
I'm trying!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Burningman 2007 Time-Lapse
Amazing time lapse video from Burning Man 2007. 2 main things of note:
1. The first burning of the man.
2. How the playa gets progressively busier every night.
(okay, 3 things really)
3. Can't forget the REAL burn!
Friday, September 21, 2007
You know what I realized today?
That if I died tomorrow and in the afterlife, someone offered me the chance to return to this life and live it differently, I wouldn't need to. Because I am living the life I want.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Things I took for granted in Gig Harbor:
1. Great scenery.
-We had the water, trees, beaches, islands, sunsets, mountains...
2. Drive-thru espresso stands.
-You can't even get a latte in parts of Minnesota.
3. No billboards.
-From ads for Wall Drug to the Cheese Chalet, South Dakota takes the cake on this one.
4. The weather.
-It really is awesome compared to, well, anywhere else.
5. The convenience of 3 smoke shops.
-I asked every gas station I stopped at from Wyoming to Minnesota if they carried clove cigarettes, and they all asked me if that was the brand.
more to come, falling asleep...
-We had the water, trees, beaches, islands, sunsets, mountains...
2. Drive-thru espresso stands.
-You can't even get a latte in parts of Minnesota.
3. No billboards.
-From ads for Wall Drug to the Cheese Chalet, South Dakota takes the cake on this one.
4. The weather.
-It really is awesome compared to, well, anywhere else.
5. The convenience of 3 smoke shops.
-I asked every gas station I stopped at from Wyoming to Minnesota if they carried clove cigarettes, and they all asked me if that was the brand.
more to come, falling asleep...
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Perpetual Evolution
It's amazing how much a person can change in the span of a mere months time.
My last post was about a month ago. Just got back from Chicago. It was weird to be home. Like I never left, but at the same time everything was different. I was different. I had that knowledge that I was getting the fuck out, that I was here temporarily.
Then I went to Burning Man.
Something I've been wanting to do for years now, I finally made it to Black Rock City. It was amazing. I'm not quite ready to write about it yet. I'm still processing my experience. But I can say that it has widened my perception. Altered it, might be a better word. Maybe widened by altering...anyway, moving on. It was everything I'd expected and so much more. My imagined anticipated world had finally come to life right in front of me, and I knew that I was right where I belonged. People say it, and it's true: Black Rock City is home. 50 more weeks until I'm home again. So little time to prepare for next year. So much to do.
So I return home, again, changed even more profoundly than when I first arrived (only a few weeks prior) and it was like the world had shifted. Or was it me?
Immersing oneself in another culture, whether it be a tiny village in a poor Asian country, or a temporary community in the desert, can't help but open eyes and make you grow.
This is why I must travel all the time. Travel as a way of life. I can only continue to learn and evolve. I am in a state of perpetual evolution, I believe is what Zach once told me.
How will my solo-cross-country drive affect and change me? What will living in Chicago for real this time do to/for me? Where will I wander to next? What will the circumstances of my relocation be? Will I just pack up and wander off? That's what I'd like to do. Wander out west. I need temporary jobs. Random gigs. No big corporate software company that pays really good. I have to give up the security of money and just live the life I want. Which I always thought required money. But I have been proved wrong. i can live the fulfilling nomadic life I've always wanted and I can do it with very little money. And I can make this money on the road.
So, Chicago here I come, then who knows. Only time will tell.
My last post was about a month ago. Just got back from Chicago. It was weird to be home. Like I never left, but at the same time everything was different. I was different. I had that knowledge that I was getting the fuck out, that I was here temporarily.
Then I went to Burning Man.
Something I've been wanting to do for years now, I finally made it to Black Rock City. It was amazing. I'm not quite ready to write about it yet. I'm still processing my experience. But I can say that it has widened my perception. Altered it, might be a better word. Maybe widened by altering...anyway, moving on. It was everything I'd expected and so much more. My imagined anticipated world had finally come to life right in front of me, and I knew that I was right where I belonged. People say it, and it's true: Black Rock City is home. 50 more weeks until I'm home again. So little time to prepare for next year. So much to do.
So I return home, again, changed even more profoundly than when I first arrived (only a few weeks prior) and it was like the world had shifted. Or was it me?
Immersing oneself in another culture, whether it be a tiny village in a poor Asian country, or a temporary community in the desert, can't help but open eyes and make you grow.
This is why I must travel all the time. Travel as a way of life. I can only continue to learn and evolve. I am in a state of perpetual evolution, I believe is what Zach once told me.
How will my solo-cross-country drive affect and change me? What will living in Chicago for real this time do to/for me? Where will I wander to next? What will the circumstances of my relocation be? Will I just pack up and wander off? That's what I'd like to do. Wander out west. I need temporary jobs. Random gigs. No big corporate software company that pays really good. I have to give up the security of money and just live the life I want. Which I always thought required money. But I have been proved wrong. i can live the fulfilling nomadic life I've always wanted and I can do it with very little money. And I can make this money on the road.
So, Chicago here I come, then who knows. Only time will tell.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Future plans
So I found this organization that does reforestation projects in south america. they ride horses and resemble a gypsy caravan roaming around and planting trees. i am going to join them. there is a rainbow gathering in november in mexico that they are doing work at, and i am going to go there and see how things would work out. then go back to chicago for a bit then run away to join the nomads united caravan. it's like a dream come true. i think that i am just going to say fuck saving up a ton of money. if i were to die tomorrow, what would i do today? work in a stuffy office to save money for the future? I've never lived the future, i've only lived today. so today, i am going to do what it is that i would do if it were my last day on earth. and roaming around south america on horseback planting trees sounds amazing.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Who am I?
A question I've been pondering lately. Well, all the time.
My passions: traveling, world cultures, film, writing, photography, poetry, glass blowing, poi, making things.
How can I turn my passions into a career? This is the question that has been forefront in my mind for the last couple of years.
I want to travel and make art as a career. Art doesn't pay much, so that must be on my time. But that's ok, because I love it. I can freelance travel articles while I travel, I can blow glass at my home base, I can spin poi anywhere, watch and critique films all over, freelance my travel photography, write poetry anywhere, make clothes at my home base. While I am based in Chicago, working a good job, I can pay off my loans, save money to travel with, and get some good co-op experience. One day, maybe I can start my own co-op in Portland and a hostel in another country. I could possibly work at airtreks from anywhere. not sure about that. eugenia was from new zealand...What I'd really like is to work hard for 6 months and travel hard for six months. I need a seasonal good-paying job....
Sometimes I kinda feel that I am selling out by going for this tech support job. but i would really like to travel debt free, and build up a savings. but what if i die in the next two years and i didn't get to travel anywhere else? i would be in the pursuit of my goals, but maybe there was a shortcut to my goals. i feel like this one is both realistic and is the best long-term option. i wish i could live more in the present. be broke and nomadic and wander. i still haven't figured out how to travel the world without any money. one day...
In other news, I am getting quite excited for my move to Chicago. I am planning out my room, trying to figure out where i'm going to put in my glass studio. April says it's too cold in the shed during the winter, although i seem to think my kiln and the torch will put off enough heat. and i can layer up. the bathroom is too tiny. i could rent out a studio for about 300 a month, and that would be cool, but an extra 300 dollar expense. but it would be cool...my own little space. i can put a hammock in there....it could be my funky little space....
My passions: traveling, world cultures, film, writing, photography, poetry, glass blowing, poi, making things.
How can I turn my passions into a career? This is the question that has been forefront in my mind for the last couple of years.
I want to travel and make art as a career. Art doesn't pay much, so that must be on my time. But that's ok, because I love it. I can freelance travel articles while I travel, I can blow glass at my home base, I can spin poi anywhere, watch and critique films all over, freelance my travel photography, write poetry anywhere, make clothes at my home base. While I am based in Chicago, working a good job, I can pay off my loans, save money to travel with, and get some good co-op experience. One day, maybe I can start my own co-op in Portland and a hostel in another country. I could possibly work at airtreks from anywhere. not sure about that. eugenia was from new zealand...What I'd really like is to work hard for 6 months and travel hard for six months. I need a seasonal good-paying job....
Sometimes I kinda feel that I am selling out by going for this tech support job. but i would really like to travel debt free, and build up a savings. but what if i die in the next two years and i didn't get to travel anywhere else? i would be in the pursuit of my goals, but maybe there was a shortcut to my goals. i feel like this one is both realistic and is the best long-term option. i wish i could live more in the present. be broke and nomadic and wander. i still haven't figured out how to travel the world without any money. one day...
In other news, I am getting quite excited for my move to Chicago. I am planning out my room, trying to figure out where i'm going to put in my glass studio. April says it's too cold in the shed during the winter, although i seem to think my kiln and the torch will put off enough heat. and i can layer up. the bathroom is too tiny. i could rent out a studio for about 300 a month, and that would be cool, but an extra 300 dollar expense. but it would be cool...my own little space. i can put a hammock in there....it could be my funky little space....
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Roaches
The three monstrous roaches i killed in the basement were big and gross enough to (almost) make me move back to Washington.
I went downstairs to get a much needed glass of ice water, when i turn on the light and see a two inch black hard bodied roach and the queen of all wasps doing a mating dance on the white portion of our black and white checkered tiled floors. i think about avoiding them and going back upstairs. but i'll know they're there. waiting, in the darkness. waiting, for...whatever roaches wait for.
so i suck it up and grab a can of roach killer for the laundry room. i read the directions. "Spray 12 inches away from surface." I go right up to the little buggers and spray at them from as close as I'm willing to get to them. it's about 10 inches. damnit. they separate. i'm forced to spray one, then the other. the waspy-thing gets away under the black reclining chair under the wall of mismatched coffee cups. but the other one, the monster roach, is mine. i can see its back legs start to freeze up, and it's desperately trying to drag itself to safety on two little front legs. it's no use. i spray it again from 4 inches away; it's less scary now that it's dying. lying in a puddle of chemically smelling killer juice, the bug twitches its final death rattle and stops moving.
that was a close one. as i ponder how to pick up the corpse, i turn to put the bottle of bug spray back in the laundry room. another roach scuttles out in front of me. i jump. shit! how many of these things are down here? i run after it with the spray. it dies faster than the first. turning on my heel, scanning the floor for any more creepy-crawlies, i spy a third roach in the corner next the to the large chalkboard where we sign up for cooking dinner. i spray this one, and it runs toward my vulnerable, exposed feet. i vigorously spray it from my direction, causing it to run the opposite way. my heart is pounding. my eyes dart from side to side, looking for anything moving, anything trying to hide in the squares of black that dot the kitchen floor. i imagine that my spraying has awoken every roach in the basement, and that they are all running toward me in the center of the room, trying to escape the poisonous fumes. i quickly grab my glass and fill it with ice cubes, carefully trying not to use the finger i used to press the button on the spray can.
i look around the kitchen. it looks like a battlefield. corpses litter the ground. how to dispose of the bodies? I go back to the laundry room, replace the bottle of spay and grab a dustpan and a broom. i sweep up the first little bugger, push the dustpan across the room and push the second one in. i catch a glimpse of another dead bug, but one that i didn't kill. i shudder at the thought of stepping on it and not even knowing, not hearing the crunch or seeing the guts spill out the cracks in its armor.
i touch it with my broom to scoop it into the dustpan, and it flies into the nearest dark place. i rush past that part of the kitchen and sweep up the third one. should i just leave it here? i wonder. i don't want to pick it up. haven't i done enough? i mean, i killed them, didn't i?
in the end, i dump the bugs in the trash but can't bear to be in the roach infested kitchen any longer and i leave the broom next to the garbage. i turn out the light, grab my water, and run up the groaning, squeaking stairs to the third floor, where the biggest problem is tiny ants exploring my room for crumbs and forgotten packs of raisins in my backpack. without my glasses on, i can't even see them, and i don't know if i step on them.
this i can handle.
I went downstairs to get a much needed glass of ice water, when i turn on the light and see a two inch black hard bodied roach and the queen of all wasps doing a mating dance on the white portion of our black and white checkered tiled floors. i think about avoiding them and going back upstairs. but i'll know they're there. waiting, in the darkness. waiting, for...whatever roaches wait for.
so i suck it up and grab a can of roach killer for the laundry room. i read the directions. "Spray 12 inches away from surface." I go right up to the little buggers and spray at them from as close as I'm willing to get to them. it's about 10 inches. damnit. they separate. i'm forced to spray one, then the other. the waspy-thing gets away under the black reclining chair under the wall of mismatched coffee cups. but the other one, the monster roach, is mine. i can see its back legs start to freeze up, and it's desperately trying to drag itself to safety on two little front legs. it's no use. i spray it again from 4 inches away; it's less scary now that it's dying. lying in a puddle of chemically smelling killer juice, the bug twitches its final death rattle and stops moving.
that was a close one. as i ponder how to pick up the corpse, i turn to put the bottle of bug spray back in the laundry room. another roach scuttles out in front of me. i jump. shit! how many of these things are down here? i run after it with the spray. it dies faster than the first. turning on my heel, scanning the floor for any more creepy-crawlies, i spy a third roach in the corner next the to the large chalkboard where we sign up for cooking dinner. i spray this one, and it runs toward my vulnerable, exposed feet. i vigorously spray it from my direction, causing it to run the opposite way. my heart is pounding. my eyes dart from side to side, looking for anything moving, anything trying to hide in the squares of black that dot the kitchen floor. i imagine that my spraying has awoken every roach in the basement, and that they are all running toward me in the center of the room, trying to escape the poisonous fumes. i quickly grab my glass and fill it with ice cubes, carefully trying not to use the finger i used to press the button on the spray can.
i look around the kitchen. it looks like a battlefield. corpses litter the ground. how to dispose of the bodies? I go back to the laundry room, replace the bottle of spay and grab a dustpan and a broom. i sweep up the first little bugger, push the dustpan across the room and push the second one in. i catch a glimpse of another dead bug, but one that i didn't kill. i shudder at the thought of stepping on it and not even knowing, not hearing the crunch or seeing the guts spill out the cracks in its armor.
i touch it with my broom to scoop it into the dustpan, and it flies into the nearest dark place. i rush past that part of the kitchen and sweep up the third one. should i just leave it here? i wonder. i don't want to pick it up. haven't i done enough? i mean, i killed them, didn't i?
in the end, i dump the bugs in the trash but can't bear to be in the roach infested kitchen any longer and i leave the broom next to the garbage. i turn out the light, grab my water, and run up the groaning, squeaking stairs to the third floor, where the biggest problem is tiny ants exploring my room for crumbs and forgotten packs of raisins in my backpack. without my glasses on, i can't even see them, and i don't know if i step on them.
this i can handle.
I'm sick of sweating
it's so hot.
it's 1:03 in the morning and it's so hot i can't sleep. the sweat pours down my face and tickles my cheeks and roll down into the corners of my lips. i can feel it trickle down the left side of my neck, down my back along the side of my spine. i wipe the moisture from my forehead with the back of my hand. my eyes close. i yawn, my mouth open wide. my eyes roll around as they open, slowly, as if they are stuck together. i yawn again.
this is the week everyone told me about. the week where it's so hot you don't want to do anything. you don't want to go out because any physical exertion (ie, walking to the bus stop, wearing clothes) will cause trailers of sweat to pour from your body and dehydrate you in an instant while you melt into a colorful puddle of patchwork, your spiral bone earrings and glass necklace the only things that don't evaporate into the humid mist that covers chicago.
this is where air-conditioning comes in handy. but, as sophia said at dinner tonight, it's not good for the body to go from humid, hot but fresh air to freezing cold, dry and stale freon shit. and, all that recycled air is as good for you as a bunch of sick people on a 14 hour flight.
besides, it's an energy hog.
oh, but i yearn to wrap myself in my silky green comforter, to cuddle with my pillow and drift off to sleep. i'd love to turn the aircon down to 18 degrees celsius and put on comfty flannel pants and an oversized mens shirt to sleep in. i miss the fresh, crisp summer breezes of the northwest. i miss the way it can be cold enough to wear a poncho at night in the middle of july.
i yawn again and wake up from my daydream. as the cold breezes quickly fade from memory, the thought of anything thick against my skin makes the sweat produce twice as fast on the back of my neck. i turn my fan up to 3.
it's 1:03 in the morning and it's so hot i can't sleep. the sweat pours down my face and tickles my cheeks and roll down into the corners of my lips. i can feel it trickle down the left side of my neck, down my back along the side of my spine. i wipe the moisture from my forehead with the back of my hand. my eyes close. i yawn, my mouth open wide. my eyes roll around as they open, slowly, as if they are stuck together. i yawn again.
this is the week everyone told me about. the week where it's so hot you don't want to do anything. you don't want to go out because any physical exertion (ie, walking to the bus stop, wearing clothes) will cause trailers of sweat to pour from your body and dehydrate you in an instant while you melt into a colorful puddle of patchwork, your spiral bone earrings and glass necklace the only things that don't evaporate into the humid mist that covers chicago.
this is where air-conditioning comes in handy. but, as sophia said at dinner tonight, it's not good for the body to go from humid, hot but fresh air to freezing cold, dry and stale freon shit. and, all that recycled air is as good for you as a bunch of sick people on a 14 hour flight.
besides, it's an energy hog.
oh, but i yearn to wrap myself in my silky green comforter, to cuddle with my pillow and drift off to sleep. i'd love to turn the aircon down to 18 degrees celsius and put on comfty flannel pants and an oversized mens shirt to sleep in. i miss the fresh, crisp summer breezes of the northwest. i miss the way it can be cold enough to wear a poncho at night in the middle of july.
i yawn again and wake up from my daydream. as the cold breezes quickly fade from memory, the thought of anything thick against my skin makes the sweat produce twice as fast on the back of my neck. i turn my fan up to 3.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Happy here and now
Oh. My. God. I am so happy to be out of the harbor. I have escaped. Like my blog (years ago) "Inescapable hell that is the harbor. Intertwined in the lives of too many." I believe is what I said. Well...I escaped. I am no longer intertwined. I can start fresh, build the relationships I want. I don't have to worry about going out to a certain bar because I might run into Nick or someone else from my past that I don't want to see. There isn't anyone from my past I'd like to see except the friends I've kept. And they are all soooo intertwined. My friends love/best friend's sister dates a guy I went to school with that my ex is friends with. How did this happen? How is my ex friends with all these people I went to high school with? What's a better question, is, how did it take me so long to figure out what a jack ass he was. Shouldn't I have realized it when I found out he knew all these people that I knew (and no longer, well, never) liked? That whole crowd of assholes. All those people. All those people I grew up with. I never liked them. I just wanted them to like me. Now I know the whole thing was pointless. Trying to fit in with them. I was never like them. It's weird when I think of people like my friend who shall remain nameless, who is (and always has been) friends with all those people. She likes them. They like her. And why shouldn't they. She's a sweetie. She's also content in the harbor, living at her parents house with her kid, with no plans to leave. She doesn't want anything more, doesn't think that there is anything more. She's got it all, in her mind. In a way I envy her. She is happily ignorant in her bliss. She doesn't know any better. I suppose, to each their own. People want different things. Just goes to show how different I've always been. I've always wanted to get out of that town. I've always wanted to travel and do crazy things. I am never content. I've always thought that life can be extraordinary. That you can do amazing things with the time you have on this earth, in this life. You don't have to do the things that everyone else does. That is my main point. You can create your own values, your own path. You don't have to follow the well-tread paths that others have created for you and want for you. You can do what you want. What makes you happy. Maybe she is doing what makes her happy. She probably is. But the problem was, I wasn't happy. I was never happy there, with those people. I never fit in. I was an outcast my entire life. And now, finally, I feel like I'm home. I feel like I've found people I fit in with. And I love it.
Tonight we made thai red curry with vegetables from our garden, fried up some tofu and some rice, and some rice patty things, and used a maria shriver book to make our own mad-libs. Now, some members of my house are working on a puzzle our neighbors gave us while I write, others of us read, make art, and sit around the common room listening to the blues. I couldn't be happier, or wish to be anywhere else.
Tonight we made thai red curry with vegetables from our garden, fried up some tofu and some rice, and some rice patty things, and used a maria shriver book to make our own mad-libs. Now, some members of my house are working on a puzzle our neighbors gave us while I write, others of us read, make art, and sit around the common room listening to the blues. I couldn't be happier, or wish to be anywhere else.
You should always play Urban Manhunt drunk.
It took me a while to figure out a few kinks in the Qumbyawiki, but I DID IT. Finally. I feel like a wiki pro now :)
Megan and I played in an Urban Manhunt last night. It was...interesting. Fun, for sure, (given the whiskey and cocktails we consumed at the house). We had originally agreed that once we started the game, to run back to Haymarket, get some money, go to the liquor store, and sit in a corner of the game area and lazily drink the game away. But, as we approached the University of Chicago campus (not a very close walk back to the lovely Haymarket) that plan went down the drain. So we decided to actually play the game. I think the alcohol helped.
I think we may have been fairly useless. Well, Megan did bum rush the target twice. And got tackled, twice. I tackled two people on my own team. I was on defense, protecting the target (some benches surrounded by hedges) Megan was on offense, trying to tag the target. My team's goal was to protect the target and tag the offense.
After a good 40 minutes, all members of the offense were in jail except for Megan, and we all wait for the last standing member to try to make a jail break on her teammates. And then she comes wandering out of the darkness. She sees me and says, "I was thinking of finding your keys and going home."
What?" I ask. Find my keys?
"I put them in a bush in front of a building with some stairs," she explains. "I didn't want to lose them."
I look around at the University of Chicago campus and see nothing but large gothic buildings with ivy climbing up the sides, and stairs, stairs, stairs leading up to every one. I inwardly groan.
"You're going to kill me, huh?"
"Not if we find my keys." I tell Lydia and the rest of the people we have another adventure to contend with, and off we go.
We circle the campus for a bit, trying to find where we came in. I keep unsteadily bumping into Megan as we compare notes on how wonderfully geeky our teams were.
"My team had designated areas for guards and clap signals to let the rest know that someone was coming and from where," I laugh.
"My team kept going over strategy and then asking me what I thought," she says. "I told them I didn't fucking care."
I'm glad we were drunk.
Finally, we find where we came in, and Megan says she can find the building in relation to the target, and as we catch sight of the target Megan says, "I think that's it," pointing to a building (with stairs) and big bushes on either side. We approach, she sits on the curb and puts her right hand into the bush. I can totally see her sitting her killing time while the rest of us ran around in the dark, and her getting the bright idea to hide the keys outside, under a bush, in front of a building with stairs so she can find it again. I hear a jingle and she pulls out a roll of black duct tape. Then she fishes out my keys. I smile and nod in relief as we head home for Haymarket.
Megan and I played in an Urban Manhunt last night. It was...interesting. Fun, for sure, (given the whiskey and cocktails we consumed at the house). We had originally agreed that once we started the game, to run back to Haymarket, get some money, go to the liquor store, and sit in a corner of the game area and lazily drink the game away. But, as we approached the University of Chicago campus (not a very close walk back to the lovely Haymarket) that plan went down the drain. So we decided to actually play the game. I think the alcohol helped.
I think we may have been fairly useless. Well, Megan did bum rush the target twice. And got tackled, twice. I tackled two people on my own team. I was on defense, protecting the target (some benches surrounded by hedges) Megan was on offense, trying to tag the target. My team's goal was to protect the target and tag the offense.
After a good 40 minutes, all members of the offense were in jail except for Megan, and we all wait for the last standing member to try to make a jail break on her teammates. And then she comes wandering out of the darkness. She sees me and says, "I was thinking of finding your keys and going home."
What?" I ask. Find my keys?
"I put them in a bush in front of a building with some stairs," she explains. "I didn't want to lose them."
I look around at the University of Chicago campus and see nothing but large gothic buildings with ivy climbing up the sides, and stairs, stairs, stairs leading up to every one. I inwardly groan.
"You're going to kill me, huh?"
"Not if we find my keys." I tell Lydia and the rest of the people we have another adventure to contend with, and off we go.
We circle the campus for a bit, trying to find where we came in. I keep unsteadily bumping into Megan as we compare notes on how wonderfully geeky our teams were.
"My team had designated areas for guards and clap signals to let the rest know that someone was coming and from where," I laugh.
"My team kept going over strategy and then asking me what I thought," she says. "I told them I didn't fucking care."
I'm glad we were drunk.
Finally, we find where we came in, and Megan says she can find the building in relation to the target, and as we catch sight of the target Megan says, "I think that's it," pointing to a building (with stairs) and big bushes on either side. We approach, she sits on the curb and puts her right hand into the bush. I can totally see her sitting her killing time while the rest of us ran around in the dark, and her getting the bright idea to hide the keys outside, under a bush, in front of a building with stairs so she can find it again. I hear a jingle and she pulls out a roll of black duct tape. Then she fishes out my keys. I smile and nod in relief as we head home for Haymarket.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Wine musings
Sitting here, drinking wine and munching on aged white cheddar. Thinking about what I am leaving behind, (without a twinge of sadness. Except when I think about Jessica!). I'm leaving behind all the people that I grew up with, all my family, and anything that I've ever known. I'm leaving them for a city I hardly know but love already, a huge ramshackle old house with more character than my funeral home apartment, and a group of friends I barely know, but fit in with better than any group of friends I've ever known. Don't get me wrong. I have amazing friends. But each of them come from a different group, a group that I don't really fit into.
Take Jessica, for example. I love her. She is one of my very best friends. We're so much alike, and yet not alike in enough ways that we continually learn from each other and surprise each other. But I don't fit in with her friends. I love her friends, and I love hanging out with them, but as far as a "group," I don't quite fit.
Karen. Karen probably knows me better than anyone else, (except for maybe Iha, but Iha and I haven't been close for a couple years now, and I've changed quite a bit), and we are each others group, which I really don't like. I don't like being her only friend. She likes to remind me all the time how she always talks about me and how Im her best and only friend, and all I can think is, then get more friends.
Jayme. I tried to be a part of that group for a while but...I don't quite fit in there either. It's like I'm too old for them or something. I have different values, different goals. I have good friends among that group, but as a whole, I just don't fit there either.
Back to Iha. We are awesome friends, but we don't have the same group of friends. His friends always looked at me out of the corner of their eyes with a glance that spoke a million words. Such as, I don't get you. You aren't like us.
I can't think of anyone else right now. Oh, Zach. Zach has Jack's friends. Although me and Zach will always be best friends, he has a group. Everyone else has a group. I have a group composed of people I've snatched from their respective groups. Which is fine. But here, I have a group of friends that are my own. I have a group of friends with similar values, mindsets, people who are offbeat and don't really fit in anywhere else but here. Megan and I were talking about how you have to be a bit crazy to live here, in Haymarket or possibly any co-op. She asked, "Have you met anyone living here or who has ever lived here who is normal?" I couldn't name a single one :)
I can't wait until this is my life. Sure, it's my life now, but it's different. Right now, I'm on fellowship. I live in a different room. I don't have any of my shit here, and I can't do many things that I would normally. Like blow glass. But when I come back, I'll have a (real!) job, a different, cooler room, and will (hopefully) have my own glass studio. I will be able to save money, and in a couple years I will be traveling around the world again. And I will have a whole other group of friends that I never would have met had it not been for this Chicago experience. Dare I say it, but I'm happy.
I would have liked to have ended this post there. But I got to thinking about how unhappy I would be if I went home, unsure of my next step. Because I would accept my job back at the funeral home. I would start working at the Sunset again. And I would be sucked back into a life I've been trying to escape for years. And years. I am coming to a place I don't know shit about, leaving a place I know everything about, and it's scary. But when I think about all the Gig Harbor preppy types, the 20 year old moms and working at the local restaurant with people you went to high school with, a slow grin crosses my face as I realize no longer will I sit among them knowing how much I don't belong. Because I have escaped. I have found my home. A place where I fit in. I've found what I've been searching for my entire life. And I am happy. Very happy.
Take Jessica, for example. I love her. She is one of my very best friends. We're so much alike, and yet not alike in enough ways that we continually learn from each other and surprise each other. But I don't fit in with her friends. I love her friends, and I love hanging out with them, but as far as a "group," I don't quite fit.
Karen. Karen probably knows me better than anyone else, (except for maybe Iha, but Iha and I haven't been close for a couple years now, and I've changed quite a bit), and we are each others group, which I really don't like. I don't like being her only friend. She likes to remind me all the time how she always talks about me and how Im her best and only friend, and all I can think is, then get more friends.
Jayme. I tried to be a part of that group for a while but...I don't quite fit in there either. It's like I'm too old for them or something. I have different values, different goals. I have good friends among that group, but as a whole, I just don't fit there either.
Back to Iha. We are awesome friends, but we don't have the same group of friends. His friends always looked at me out of the corner of their eyes with a glance that spoke a million words. Such as, I don't get you. You aren't like us.
I can't think of anyone else right now. Oh, Zach. Zach has Jack's friends. Although me and Zach will always be best friends, he has a group. Everyone else has a group. I have a group composed of people I've snatched from their respective groups. Which is fine. But here, I have a group of friends that are my own. I have a group of friends with similar values, mindsets, people who are offbeat and don't really fit in anywhere else but here. Megan and I were talking about how you have to be a bit crazy to live here, in Haymarket or possibly any co-op. She asked, "Have you met anyone living here or who has ever lived here who is normal?" I couldn't name a single one :)
I can't wait until this is my life. Sure, it's my life now, but it's different. Right now, I'm on fellowship. I live in a different room. I don't have any of my shit here, and I can't do many things that I would normally. Like blow glass. But when I come back, I'll have a (real!) job, a different, cooler room, and will (hopefully) have my own glass studio. I will be able to save money, and in a couple years I will be traveling around the world again. And I will have a whole other group of friends that I never would have met had it not been for this Chicago experience. Dare I say it, but I'm happy.
I would have liked to have ended this post there. But I got to thinking about how unhappy I would be if I went home, unsure of my next step. Because I would accept my job back at the funeral home. I would start working at the Sunset again. And I would be sucked back into a life I've been trying to escape for years. And years. I am coming to a place I don't know shit about, leaving a place I know everything about, and it's scary. But when I think about all the Gig Harbor preppy types, the 20 year old moms and working at the local restaurant with people you went to high school with, a slow grin crosses my face as I realize no longer will I sit among them knowing how much I don't belong. Because I have escaped. I have found my home. A place where I fit in. I've found what I've been searching for my entire life. And I am happy. Very happy.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Long day
I sat on my first board meeting today as the webmaster for Qumbya. It was a loooong and intense meeting. Ran almost two hours over. I'm pretty tired.
Anyway, I feel as though my story is (finally) coming together. A more focused intent is appearing, as I do more reporting, which I was really avoiding and dreading. I'm just not a reporter. But this fellowship has been awesome, great experience, great resume material, I know more about journalism than I ever knew.
Speaking of resume material, I can now put that I sat on a non-profit board. Yay! Speaking of resumes, I need to craft one for the tech support position. I need to apply asap. They are looking for someone right now. Maybe I should do that right now....
Anyway, I feel as though my story is (finally) coming together. A more focused intent is appearing, as I do more reporting, which I was really avoiding and dreading. I'm just not a reporter. But this fellowship has been awesome, great experience, great resume material, I know more about journalism than I ever knew.
Speaking of resume material, I can now put that I sat on a non-profit board. Yay! Speaking of resumes, I need to craft one for the tech support position. I need to apply asap. They are looking for someone right now. Maybe I should do that right now....
Thanks!
Thanks to my April and Megan for taking me out for my birthday. Hot Fuzz rocked, especially with multiple pints of cheap beer. And great food afterwards. I had a lot of fun, it meant a lot to me that you guys came. Thanks!!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Birthday woes
It's my birthday. I think it's the first one I've ever spent away from home. It's weird and slightly depressing. But it's the tortured angst that makes me who I am right? I'm just a fucked up confused kid. Never been anything but. I mean, aren't we all? Sure, I'm actually a pretty positive person, with a pretty good outlook on life, I know I'll achieve my goals, blah, blah, blah, but sometimes I remember just how lonely and sad life can be. And on all days to remember that, my birthday. Walking around Chicago alone trying to find lunch was definitely kind of depressing. But, some of my roomies are taking me out for drinks and a movie, at this theater that serves up both for a nice, cheap, price. But, as Megan has informed me, I won't be paying. I love my housemates.
Monday, July 23, 2007
8 more years.....tick, tock. tick, tock.
I am 22 as of 46 minutes ago. Feels a lot like 21. But older, somehow :) I mean, 22 is the age where you begin to feel like you've made that leap into adulthood. 21 is like, oh now you are legal to drink! Now you can get into clubs and bars (legally)! A whole new world opens up when you turn 21.
When you turn 22, it's like, okay, I am officially in my twenties. It's weird, knowing that I only have 8 more years of being in this age period. There are so many things that I want to accomplish in my twenties. I've done a bit already: graduated college, backpacked Asia alone, learned to blow glass and spin poi, won a journalism fellowship, moved (in the process of) to Chicago, lived in a co-op. I still plan to: backpack Latin America, Europe, Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and the rest of Asia. Essentially, I plan to visit every continent in the world before I am 30. I want to have published a book, have my own gallery showing of my glass, my own carbon-neutral glass studio, hippie-tripped it across the US in a vegoil school bus, lived in the desert, San Francisco, New York and overseas somewhere for 1 year. I want to be on the road for 6 months or more straight. I would say I want to live in Portland for a while, but I think that the Northwest may be where I wish to buy a home one day, and Oregon seems like a pretty good place to live. Although, it might be smarter to buy a home in Vancouver because of tax reasons. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to my goals for my twenties. If I get this tech support job here in Chicago, I will work at it for 2 years. Save up 20,000. Pay off my student loans, and have fun living in the city. Then, after I feel like I need to escape the country again (not that I don't feel that way now, I just can't afford it!), I will go....somewhere. Anywhere. I'm buying a one way ticket to somewhere that's not here. And I will keep going for a year, I hope. I will use 10,000. Use the remaining funds to set up a glass studio somewhere upon my return. After being in one place for a while, maybe I'll do a cross-country trip before I move again. Maybe I should live in New York for a while then trip it to Portland.
Oh the possibilities. I love being young and able and free to do what I please. I love that I desire experience, to know the unknown, to see everything I can. I wonder if it is an unconscious knowledge of my numbered days. I feel like I have to experience everything I can, because you never know when you won't be able to any longer. I might get sick, have a baby, fall in love, die. I do hope that I fall in love with someone with some of the same goals, at least the traveling ones, because I'm sick of falling for someone that I'm going to end up leaving because I have my own agenda. A baby would throw a big, fat kink into all my plans. One day I would like to have a child. Maybe even two. A partner would be great, but I really want a child to impart my knowledge upon. I would love to teach my child how to spin fire and blow glass from an early age. I would love to see my child grow up understanding what global community means. One day...
For now, I will enjoy being 22 and young and free of responsibilities and commitments. For now, the most pressing thing on my mind is: What to do for my birthday????????
When you turn 22, it's like, okay, I am officially in my twenties. It's weird, knowing that I only have 8 more years of being in this age period. There are so many things that I want to accomplish in my twenties. I've done a bit already: graduated college, backpacked Asia alone, learned to blow glass and spin poi, won a journalism fellowship, moved (in the process of) to Chicago, lived in a co-op. I still plan to: backpack Latin America, Europe, Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and the rest of Asia. Essentially, I plan to visit every continent in the world before I am 30. I want to have published a book, have my own gallery showing of my glass, my own carbon-neutral glass studio, hippie-tripped it across the US in a vegoil school bus, lived in the desert, San Francisco, New York and overseas somewhere for 1 year. I want to be on the road for 6 months or more straight. I would say I want to live in Portland for a while, but I think that the Northwest may be where I wish to buy a home one day, and Oregon seems like a pretty good place to live. Although, it might be smarter to buy a home in Vancouver because of tax reasons. Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to my goals for my twenties. If I get this tech support job here in Chicago, I will work at it for 2 years. Save up 20,000. Pay off my student loans, and have fun living in the city. Then, after I feel like I need to escape the country again (not that I don't feel that way now, I just can't afford it!), I will go....somewhere. Anywhere. I'm buying a one way ticket to somewhere that's not here. And I will keep going for a year, I hope. I will use 10,000. Use the remaining funds to set up a glass studio somewhere upon my return. After being in one place for a while, maybe I'll do a cross-country trip before I move again. Maybe I should live in New York for a while then trip it to Portland.
Oh the possibilities. I love being young and able and free to do what I please. I love that I desire experience, to know the unknown, to see everything I can. I wonder if it is an unconscious knowledge of my numbered days. I feel like I have to experience everything I can, because you never know when you won't be able to any longer. I might get sick, have a baby, fall in love, die. I do hope that I fall in love with someone with some of the same goals, at least the traveling ones, because I'm sick of falling for someone that I'm going to end up leaving because I have my own agenda. A baby would throw a big, fat kink into all my plans. One day I would like to have a child. Maybe even two. A partner would be great, but I really want a child to impart my knowledge upon. I would love to teach my child how to spin fire and blow glass from an early age. I would love to see my child grow up understanding what global community means. One day...
For now, I will enjoy being 22 and young and free of responsibilities and commitments. For now, the most pressing thing on my mind is: What to do for my birthday????????
Decisions
Must be made. So many to be made. Burning Man. Job. Hmm. First things first, I signed a new contract for my new room beginning September 1. This does not necessarily mean I have to be back that day, it just means I start paying rent that day. My rent is under 400 so it's not too bad. So I think I will spend 2 week at home, getting my shit ready, somehow get down to BM, come back home, and start the drive back here. Maybe we should fly....
Okay, I have made a 600 budget if we fly, and 400 if we drive. The defining factor is a vehicle to drive down there that will make it there and back. I guess we'll find out when I get home and get a car...
Okay, now the job thing. I can probably get this nanny position, which would be really chill, I'd have afternoons off, and just take care of a kid for a couple hours in the morning and a couple in the evening. But I'd only be getting paid like 800-1000 a month. I can survive on that, but not save shit.
Or I can wait until I get back and try and get a job at Corrigan and April's work. Providing tech support for some shitty software. But it pays like 44k/year to start. To start! And benefits. I need benefits. I could save, pay off my loans, and go to the doctor! I think that this is the better position, and that means I can wait to apply until after I return. I wonder if they will have a position open, or if I should apply now before I leave to set something up. But I like the idea of driving cross country without a predetermined date to be here. Hmm.. What to do.
Okay, I have made a 600 budget if we fly, and 400 if we drive. The defining factor is a vehicle to drive down there that will make it there and back. I guess we'll find out when I get home and get a car...
Okay, now the job thing. I can probably get this nanny position, which would be really chill, I'd have afternoons off, and just take care of a kid for a couple hours in the morning and a couple in the evening. But I'd only be getting paid like 800-1000 a month. I can survive on that, but not save shit.
Or I can wait until I get back and try and get a job at Corrigan and April's work. Providing tech support for some shitty software. But it pays like 44k/year to start. To start! And benefits. I need benefits. I could save, pay off my loans, and go to the doctor! I think that this is the better position, and that means I can wait to apply until after I return. I wonder if they will have a position open, or if I should apply now before I leave to set something up. But I like the idea of driving cross country without a predetermined date to be here. Hmm.. What to do.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Dreaming about the future
Scenario #1: Fly to Seattle, get shit ready to move to Chicago, go to Burning Man, drive to Chicago via 1-90.
Scenario #2: Seattle-get shit ready, road trip it down the coast and take my sweet ass time to get to Chicago, visit everywhere I've ever wanted to go between here and there.
I would like to do both, but time is a bit of an issue. Well, not really, since I'm not setting up a job before I leave. I'm going to try and get a job doing tech support at my roommates work. The pay is very good, and it's a real "adult" job with benefits and shit. Did I mention the pay is really good? I can live in Chicago and save a metric fuck ton of money to travel with. The first year I get 12 vacation days, and the year after I get 18. I suppose I can do either two 1 week vacations or one 2 week vacation. I will need some time off to go home for Christmas. Well, maybe only like 2 days, assuming we have Christmas off anyway. I can leave Friday night the 21 and come back the 26 and start work again on Thursday.
Then I can still have more vacation time. Where to go??? I think I want to backpack somewhere in South America (Bolivia?) for a week. And maybe go to Europe too for a week. The year after maybe I can take one week to visit family and 2 weeks to backpack somewhere. Somewhere...Asia maybe? A trek in Bhutan? Hmm....By the end of 2 years I should have enough savings (and have lived in one place long enough) to take off and backpack around for a good, long, while. Then, well, who knows.
And, I can finish grad school in those two years. Get my MFA in creative writing from Vermont College. Oh, damn. I will have to use my vacation time to complete my residencies....sonofabitch. well, it will all be worth it in the long run....lots of savings, a degree that actually qualifies me to do something (ie, teach), and I will have lived in a place I've never been for 2 years. All good stuff. I can sacrifice a couple things for these.
Scenario #2: Seattle-get shit ready, road trip it down the coast and take my sweet ass time to get to Chicago, visit everywhere I've ever wanted to go between here and there.
I would like to do both, but time is a bit of an issue. Well, not really, since I'm not setting up a job before I leave. I'm going to try and get a job doing tech support at my roommates work. The pay is very good, and it's a real "adult" job with benefits and shit. Did I mention the pay is really good? I can live in Chicago and save a metric fuck ton of money to travel with. The first year I get 12 vacation days, and the year after I get 18. I suppose I can do either two 1 week vacations or one 2 week vacation. I will need some time off to go home for Christmas. Well, maybe only like 2 days, assuming we have Christmas off anyway. I can leave Friday night the 21 and come back the 26 and start work again on Thursday.
Then I can still have more vacation time. Where to go??? I think I want to backpack somewhere in South America (Bolivia?) for a week. And maybe go to Europe too for a week. The year after maybe I can take one week to visit family and 2 weeks to backpack somewhere. Somewhere...Asia maybe? A trek in Bhutan? Hmm....By the end of 2 years I should have enough savings (and have lived in one place long enough) to take off and backpack around for a good, long, while. Then, well, who knows.
And, I can finish grad school in those two years. Get my MFA in creative writing from Vermont College. Oh, damn. I will have to use my vacation time to complete my residencies....sonofabitch. well, it will all be worth it in the long run....lots of savings, a degree that actually qualifies me to do something (ie, teach), and I will have lived in a place I've never been for 2 years. All good stuff. I can sacrifice a couple things for these.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Self-Absorbtion
"All addictions are the same at heart. What am I trying to distract myself from?"
A good question posed by a good friend of a friend. I don't know him, although the more I read of his writing the more I want to know him, have conversations with him and struggle to answer these questions.
If travel is my addiction then it could be said that I am perpetually running away. From what? Everything. A stifling life, punctuated by too much ordinariness. I yearn for unconventionalism, to be different. But, dare I say, am I simply not? Different, that is. Do I spend too much time trying to be different than actually being different? Actually I think not. I try to do and be what makes me happy, and if it's different okay, but if it's not then whatever. I am me, and I embrace myself.
Addictions. You have addictions to distract you from something. I am realizing as of late, that I am truly an addict at heart. I use substances and people to intoxicate me so I don't have to think about life and what I'm using it for. What am I doing? Where am I going? Who am I? I give these questions that permeate my existence entirely too much thought. BE HERE AND NOW. I tell myself. But it's hard. So hard. So I alter my perception to focus on something else, anything else; a swirling rainbow pattern reflecting in the back of some guys t-shirt, the way a pen feels in my hand, the way the sun melts into a prism of fantastic colors as it sets for the night. All serving to make me forget my restless, uptight nature where I forget to breathe. LEARN TO LET GO. Let what go? You might ask. EVERYTHING.
The ultimate fight: Id versus Ego. My pleasure principle requiring immediate satisfaction battles with my realistic side drilling the idea into me that there is a time and place for everything, all while trying to let go my super-ego ideals that I grew up with. I want my own ideals. I want to not care about the proper time and place and I want to fuck off being realistic. I want, I want. Me, me, me. Am I self-absorbed or what?
A good question posed by a good friend of a friend. I don't know him, although the more I read of his writing the more I want to know him, have conversations with him and struggle to answer these questions.
If travel is my addiction then it could be said that I am perpetually running away. From what? Everything. A stifling life, punctuated by too much ordinariness. I yearn for unconventionalism, to be different. But, dare I say, am I simply not? Different, that is. Do I spend too much time trying to be different than actually being different? Actually I think not. I try to do and be what makes me happy, and if it's different okay, but if it's not then whatever. I am me, and I embrace myself.
Addictions. You have addictions to distract you from something. I am realizing as of late, that I am truly an addict at heart. I use substances and people to intoxicate me so I don't have to think about life and what I'm using it for. What am I doing? Where am I going? Who am I? I give these questions that permeate my existence entirely too much thought. BE HERE AND NOW. I tell myself. But it's hard. So hard. So I alter my perception to focus on something else, anything else; a swirling rainbow pattern reflecting in the back of some guys t-shirt, the way a pen feels in my hand, the way the sun melts into a prism of fantastic colors as it sets for the night. All serving to make me forget my restless, uptight nature where I forget to breathe. LEARN TO LET GO. Let what go? You might ask. EVERYTHING.
The ultimate fight: Id versus Ego. My pleasure principle requiring immediate satisfaction battles with my realistic side drilling the idea into me that there is a time and place for everything, all while trying to let go my super-ego ideals that I grew up with. I want my own ideals. I want to not care about the proper time and place and I want to fuck off being realistic. I want, I want. Me, me, me. Am I self-absorbed or what?
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Changes
I had applied for a glass scholarship in Seattle, but I didn't get it. (It was a long shot). So I'm moving to Chicago. I love my co-op, the community of people here, our crazy house, and the city. I love 24 hour public transport (although in Hyde Park it's not as great) and Devon Ave, where you can find the best Indian food west (or east, depending on how you look at it) of India, street vendors and performers and crazy people (well, maybe not the crazy people) being withing walking distance of, well, everything, and...I just love Chicago. 2 months is not long enough for me. I'm not ready to leave this city. I plan to fly home to the harbor, sell my furniture, pack my shit and hop in my (new) car and drive back here. Road trip, baby! I hope I can still make it to Burning Man. It will all depend on whether or not I secure a job before I leave. I would like this nanny position here in Hyde Park because it has a very, very ideal schedule (and location) but if I don't get it, it's probably for the best, as 10 days really doesn't give me much time to tie up all my loose ends. We shall see how things turn out.
For now, I'm happy and content knowing that I am finally out of Gig Harbor, that I am moving on and forward with my life. I won't forget my family and friends, but I need to know that I can come to a city where I don't know a soul, and build a whole new life for myself. I've been bitching and bitching about stagnating and becoming mediocre, and if I stay in Gig Harbor that is exactly what will happen. What has been happening. I worked at the Sunset for almost 6 years. I grew up there. I have a community there. When I left that town to backpack Asia I envisioned myself never returning. People just laughed and shook their heads, knowing I'd be back. I wanted so bad to prove to them that I had what it took to get the hell out of that upper class white tourist trap. And what did I do? Return home, tired and broke, sleeping in the guest room at my parents house and started working at the Sunset again. I promised myself it was temporary, that I was just saving some money until something better came along. And...it did.
Once I won this fellowship, I knew that something was going to change. I didn't have the slightest idea how, but I knew that whatever I had previously planned (to work at the sunset and the funeral home to save money for traveling) was out the window. Something new was on the horizon, even if I couldn't quite make it out. My first night in Chicago I knew I never wanted to leave. There was something about the people, their openness to everything and everyone that was so addicting, so unlike the judgmental community I had grow up with. I had thought that my town was representative of America, and I had to leave the country to escape such close minded non-varying people. Not so. Chicago is the most diverse place I have ever been to in the United States. My town is representative of conservative, right wing, upper class, racially segregated communities. Kids from Gig Harbor can usually count on one hand how many black kids they went to school with. Sometimes Asian too, although there were always more of them than black. Someone I know posted this thing, "You know you're from GH if..." and it had things like "you can name at least 5 people who own a boat, or a waverunner, and a few that own both, and probably someone who owns a yacht, " and "Over half the people you know are married by 25," "If you ever had to make a choice between driving the Lexus or the BMW to school that day of the week," "You leave your house and car unlocked," "You study at Starbucks," and "You own Coach." Ooh, and another good one: "Being poor meant you shopped at the Bon instead of Nordstrom's."
All so very true, for most of the sad, sad little rich white kids of that little town. I was never one of them, even though at times I thought I wanted to be like them, I grew up and discovered how shallow and material these people are and how they don't want much out of life because mom and dad gave them everything they need. They will never be independent, self-sufficient, or as happy as I am. Most of them will never leave Gig Harbor. I only need my hands to count the number of people I know who have escaped. Who have moved on to bigger and better things. And now I'm one of them :)
For now, I'm happy and content knowing that I am finally out of Gig Harbor, that I am moving on and forward with my life. I won't forget my family and friends, but I need to know that I can come to a city where I don't know a soul, and build a whole new life for myself. I've been bitching and bitching about stagnating and becoming mediocre, and if I stay in Gig Harbor that is exactly what will happen. What has been happening. I worked at the Sunset for almost 6 years. I grew up there. I have a community there. When I left that town to backpack Asia I envisioned myself never returning. People just laughed and shook their heads, knowing I'd be back. I wanted so bad to prove to them that I had what it took to get the hell out of that upper class white tourist trap. And what did I do? Return home, tired and broke, sleeping in the guest room at my parents house and started working at the Sunset again. I promised myself it was temporary, that I was just saving some money until something better came along. And...it did.
Once I won this fellowship, I knew that something was going to change. I didn't have the slightest idea how, but I knew that whatever I had previously planned (to work at the sunset and the funeral home to save money for traveling) was out the window. Something new was on the horizon, even if I couldn't quite make it out. My first night in Chicago I knew I never wanted to leave. There was something about the people, their openness to everything and everyone that was so addicting, so unlike the judgmental community I had grow up with. I had thought that my town was representative of America, and I had to leave the country to escape such close minded non-varying people. Not so. Chicago is the most diverse place I have ever been to in the United States. My town is representative of conservative, right wing, upper class, racially segregated communities. Kids from Gig Harbor can usually count on one hand how many black kids they went to school with. Sometimes Asian too, although there were always more of them than black. Someone I know posted this thing, "You know you're from GH if..." and it had things like "you can name at least 5 people who own a boat, or a waverunner, and a few that own both, and probably someone who owns a yacht, " and "Over half the people you know are married by 25," "If you ever had to make a choice between driving the Lexus or the BMW to school that day of the week," "You leave your house and car unlocked," "You study at Starbucks," and "You own Coach." Ooh, and another good one: "Being poor meant you shopped at the Bon instead of Nordstrom's."
All so very true, for most of the sad, sad little rich white kids of that little town. I was never one of them, even though at times I thought I wanted to be like them, I grew up and discovered how shallow and material these people are and how they don't want much out of life because mom and dad gave them everything they need. They will never be independent, self-sufficient, or as happy as I am. Most of them will never leave Gig Harbor. I only need my hands to count the number of people I know who have escaped. Who have moved on to bigger and better things. And now I'm one of them :)
Friday, July 13, 2007
Artist v. Journalist
Being a journalist entails writing about other people. My problem is that inherently, I am an artist, and have an intense need to express myself and tell my story. These two sides of myself are constantly at war with each other, and trying to reconcile this and find a balance is proving to be difficult. I find myself asking if I even want to be a journalist. I know I want to be a writer, but do I want to spend my life telling everyone elses story, or do I want to tell my own? It's not like I think my story is the best or the most interesting, it's just the one that I am most compelled to tell. I think that this "revelation" I have come to today has caused me to decide between a Masters degree in fiction or non-fiction. I always thought that since I write about things that happened to me, that I write non-fiction. Which is true. But. Going on a (slight) tangent here:
Growing up, I always wrote (fiction) stories. They served as an outlet for the things that I was feeling and going through. My characters did things that I dreamt about doing, they dealt with things that I was dealing with. While I was going through an eating disorder, so was a character in one of my stories. It was like I was telling my story through these characters. I could give closure to an issue in a story that in my own life wasn't over. It could be a model for what I wanted to ultimately happen.
Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, some of my favorite writers turn their life experiences into stories that are based on real events but are ultimately fiction. This is what I want to do. I want to write stories. I want to create the scenes, not recreate them from someone elses memory. I want to decide how it will all turn out.
So my next step now is to write a 25 page fiction story for my admissions manuscript for graduate school. And I think that I have an idea.
Growing up, I always wrote (fiction) stories. They served as an outlet for the things that I was feeling and going through. My characters did things that I dreamt about doing, they dealt with things that I was dealing with. While I was going through an eating disorder, so was a character in one of my stories. It was like I was telling my story through these characters. I could give closure to an issue in a story that in my own life wasn't over. It could be a model for what I wanted to ultimately happen.
Jack Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson, some of my favorite writers turn their life experiences into stories that are based on real events but are ultimately fiction. This is what I want to do. I want to write stories. I want to create the scenes, not recreate them from someone elses memory. I want to decide how it will all turn out.
So my next step now is to write a 25 page fiction story for my admissions manuscript for graduate school. And I think that I have an idea.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Strengths and Weaknesses
We had a great talk today from Donna Ladd from the Jackson Free Press. She asked us to think about our strengths and weaknesses as writers. This is what I came up with:
Strengths:
Spelling, punctuation and grammar
Drafting and gathering information
Word choice and phrasing
Weaknesses:
Not paying enough attention to detail
Not setting the scenes that are essential to the story
Difficulty finding a focus
Trouble committing to an angle
I get started with gusto then plateau
So what Donna told us to do was to let go of our strengths and concentrate on developming our weaknesses. I really liked her talk, and I can't wait until after our discussion is over so I can put this advice into practice. She said a great way to practice is to write about your own experiences. Which I enjoy doing. Probably more than reporting, as I have found over the past month during this journalism fellowship. I enjoy critiques, especially art, film and culture essays. Okay, lunch break is over, more on this later.
Strengths:
Spelling, punctuation and grammar
Drafting and gathering information
Word choice and phrasing
Weaknesses:
Not paying enough attention to detail
Not setting the scenes that are essential to the story
Difficulty finding a focus
Trouble committing to an angle
I get started with gusto then plateau
So what Donna told us to do was to let go of our strengths and concentrate on developming our weaknesses. I really liked her talk, and I can't wait until after our discussion is over so I can put this advice into practice. She said a great way to practice is to write about your own experiences. Which I enjoy doing. Probably more than reporting, as I have found over the past month during this journalism fellowship. I enjoy critiques, especially art, film and culture essays. Okay, lunch break is over, more on this later.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Writing about nothing has more substance than my journalism articles.
Taking a break from writing story pitches to send to the Chicago Reader. I'm having trouble looking at the same sentence over and over and changing one word then rearranging a paragraph then deleting the whole thing and starting over.
So I'm having a glass of red wine provided to me by my wonderful roommate (thanks April!) enjoying some chips and fresh salsa from the produce mart, and writing instead, about quintessentially nothing. But it flows so much easier when I type into this little white box! I don't have to worry about sentence structure or whether this paragraph ties into the first one making the entire thing a cohesive whole. No, no. Because (I think) the beauty of a blog is allowing one's thoughts to roam like a sheep exploring the side of a mountain. The twists and turns and tangents one's brain embarks upon when blogging is the essence of a blog: a snapshot into another's train of thought, which can form as a reminder of the similar elements we as humans share, or as a reminder of what we don't want to become.
So I'm having a glass of red wine provided to me by my wonderful roommate (thanks April!) enjoying some chips and fresh salsa from the produce mart, and writing instead, about quintessentially nothing. But it flows so much easier when I type into this little white box! I don't have to worry about sentence structure or whether this paragraph ties into the first one making the entire thing a cohesive whole. No, no. Because (I think) the beauty of a blog is allowing one's thoughts to roam like a sheep exploring the side of a mountain. The twists and turns and tangents one's brain embarks upon when blogging is the essence of a blog: a snapshot into another's train of thought, which can form as a reminder of the similar elements we as humans share, or as a reminder of what we don't want to become.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Finding focus
The artist I interviewed today was GREAT! I met her at her house at noon, and didn't leave until almost 4! She treated me to lunch. I tried to treat her but she wouldn't let me. She was so sweet. And she protested with Mark di Suvero in the sixties and had all these great stories and she was just as interested in me as I was in her. I think I made a friend. After lunch I helped her figure out how to change settings on her digital camera to take better photos of her sculptures, and then we played with her website a bit. I had a blast, and I got a big hug when I left. I can't wait to see her again.
So now I actually have to write my piece. For now I'm just doing a preliminary background art opening style piece. Later I'm going to expand it into a narrative telling the story of the Peace Tower through this artist and also talk about socially conscious art, in particular, the way that anti-war art is dealt with among galleries and shows. They aren't shown as much, and they are rarely sold, because no one wants disturbing images up on their mantel. I'm still trying to focus the piece. It will come. I hope.
So now I actually have to write my piece. For now I'm just doing a preliminary background art opening style piece. Later I'm going to expand it into a narrative telling the story of the Peace Tower through this artist and also talk about socially conscious art, in particular, the way that anti-war art is dealt with among galleries and shows. They aren't shown as much, and they are rarely sold, because no one wants disturbing images up on their mantel. I'm still trying to focus the piece. It will come. I hope.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Reporting in Chicago
I'm about to do a group interview with five artists. I had intended only to meet with two of the women, but one of them is so gung-ho that she called everyone she knew (it seems) and now I'm meeting all of them at the Peace Tower. I have to go buy a digital recorder, there's no way I can take notes and try to hold a conversation with all of them at once! Luckily my editor is going to reimburse me for it. Being on fellowship is nice.
I'm really excited that the artist I think will be my protagonist e-mailed me back! (She is not one of the one's I'm meeting today). She protested with Mark di Suvero in 1966 (the organizer of the Chicago and NY Peace Towers, and a contributor to the original tower in 1966 as well) and was a contributor to the Chicago Peace Tower. I think that she will be the perfect person to help me understand Mark and the differences between the two towers political and environmental climates.
More to come on this...
I'm really excited that the artist I think will be my protagonist e-mailed me back! (She is not one of the one's I'm meeting today). She protested with Mark di Suvero in 1966 (the organizer of the Chicago and NY Peace Towers, and a contributor to the original tower in 1966 as well) and was a contributor to the Chicago Peace Tower. I think that she will be the perfect person to help me understand Mark and the differences between the two towers political and environmental climates.
More to come on this...
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
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