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.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
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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