Okay. Okayokayokay. I am going to admit something to all of you. Shit. Maybe I won't. No. Yes. I will. I will do it. I will admit it. Because you see I have this...problem. And this problem involves a bit of internet snooping. Snooping. I should not be snooping. But the information is RIGHT THERE and I must say I cannot control myself. Perhaps I am far to curious for my own good. And it isn't as if I am stalking anyone. There are no laws being broken. Any information I may have obtained is entirely public. But I do not know why I feel compelled to review it.
Insecurity. Curiosity. Notice how similar both of these words sound. Coincidence...I think not.
And I can so easily justify this...really just watch me. Because my super sleuthing internet snooping provides me with something very very very very important. Here it comes...I hope you're paying attention. My super sleuthing internet snooping provides me with material. Material. Yes. Material. Material for writing. And it's important to have material for writing. Because...let's face it...there is most certainly not enough material-esque things going on out there in the world for me to write about. Things are pretty mundane these days.
Uh. Yeah. Exactly. That is exactly it. There is nothing at all interesting going on the world at all nothing not one thing nothing interesting.
And as it is quite important that I continue to have good writing material. Otherwise something tragic might happen. So. And what I mean is that it isn't exactly like I am stalking anyone or anything. I haven't researched where any particular person or persons live. And I haven't followed them home. I don't own high powered binoculars. I haven't broken into anyone's home and rifled through their refrigerator. No. None of that. Nothing creepy.
But you see. There are these internet web sites. And people post information about themselves on said sites. It's right there. They are asking, ne begging you to read all about them. And their lives and hopes and dreams and wants and food poisoning and vacationing and midterms and new shoes and friendships and such. Sometimes there are photographs. So what's a girl to do really. I mean really.
How was that. Seriously. I hope you're convinced. Because I think I did a decent job and almost convinced myself of my own sincerity. Which just so happens to have the same ending as insecurity and curiosity -- see above.
So. Yes. I am curious. And insecure. Then I become curious again. So I check to see if a new blog has been posted. And I read and this makes me still more curious. But don't worry. I promise not to name names if I use your life material for my next poem. Because that would be rude. I will protect the innocent. And the guilty.
And hopefully I will stop creeping even myself out in the very near future.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Begin to Delve into Nineteen Twelve
I write this in the fine tradition of the airing of dirty laundry. Exposing myself in a public forum. Showing more than you want to see. My dirty panties are on display.
Ew. Panties. I hate the word panties. I much prefer underpants. Panties sound icky. I imagine something pink. With hearts. Something frilly. I'm not so much down for the pink-hearts-frilly.
But I was talking about exposing myself. And not the kind of exposing that you could go to prison for. Why am I doing this again? Oh yes. I remember now. I am doing this because I want you to understand. Actually that is not true. I am doing this because I know some of you will never read it.
And maybe someone will. Perhaps some human bean will stumble upon these words and find solidarity with a stranger. Maybe someone will read this and believe that they are not quite so weird after all. They will feel better about themselves because they will know that at least they are not as strange as that weird grrl airy her dirty laundry in a public space.
Why don't I just begin.
Several days ago I remembered that today is my father's birthday. Not only did I remember this, but I also realized that in July he will have been dead for twenty years.
I had to pause when I came to this realization. And while I was pausing I happened to be driving. Merging to be more specific. Attempting to merge in this city can sometimes be a catastrophe. For some reason merging seems to be a lost art and I wonder if those of us who have merging skills should start a secret society and take over the world.
Uh...ahem. I mean. Twenty years ago feels impossible. For anything. It is someone else's lifetime. Most certainly not mine. I am far too young to remember twenty years ago. But really, I'm not that young anymore. Even though I sometimes feel as if I am five years old.
The problem with dead people is that it is easy to remember them as someone they were not. I have had my moments of remembering my father as a man who was not the man that he was. I do not mean to be Dr. Seuss about it. But I find this to be an accurate statement.
It is quite similar to the ways in which we might recall a former partner as someone more wonderful than they were when we were dating them. Sometimes we forget they this person was an ass and when they call we block out the reasons that the relationship ended in the first place. And then we remember.
It's exactly like that. Only different. Because in this case the call will never come. And if it ever does I am certainly not accepting it collect. In circumstances such as these we will never be reminded unless we choose to consciously remember.
I cannot recall if I was angry at my father for dying. It seems logical. It's one of those death step thingies. It is more likely that I was angry at him for leaving me with an emotionally crippled parent. And most certainly for not being the father that I needed him to be.
I do not know very many beans who have or had one let alone two parents who were able to give them what they needed. I doubt my experiences are all that unusual in this realm. And after twenty years -- my that is painful to type -- one would think that such things would no longer fill my thoughts. But they do. And sometimes they do not so much fill my thoughts as influence my emotional state and affect my interpersonal relationships.
Which, quite frankly, sucks. Perhaps my expectations are unrealistic. But I am most certain that I have spent an unconscious lifetime searching for the qualities in others that I desperately needed in parental figures.
Unconditional love and support are words in a language I have never known. And I am always teetering on the edge of wanting something and expecting nothing. And when I wobble in this place it is quite easy to manipulate the data and see exactly what your mind and experiences expect.
Any action or lack of action can be manipulated to fit the mold. Assumptions run wild and rampant. And then I am five years old again. Suppressing my authentic identity that was never ever good enough.
I believe that this has impacted me more strongly as of late because my relationships have changed. My tough exterior has begun to crack or melt or slip off like a snake shedding its skin. And this has caused me to feel emotion differently. Sometimes at the most random nonsensical moments.
Everything I learned as a child is still with me. Insecurities. The belief that I am unworthy. Unlovable. Never good enough. The subliminal messages run deep. They defy logic. I argue with myself about their validity. But they remain.
I have no words of wisdom to end on. There are no silver linings. Brilliant glimmers. I have no epiphanies. Sometimes things simply are what they are and one can only continue traveling down the path arguing with the self and trying not to look like too much of a fool in the process.
Ew. Panties. I hate the word panties. I much prefer underpants. Panties sound icky. I imagine something pink. With hearts. Something frilly. I'm not so much down for the pink-hearts-frilly.
But I was talking about exposing myself. And not the kind of exposing that you could go to prison for. Why am I doing this again? Oh yes. I remember now. I am doing this because I want you to understand. Actually that is not true. I am doing this because I know some of you will never read it.
And maybe someone will. Perhaps some human bean will stumble upon these words and find solidarity with a stranger. Maybe someone will read this and believe that they are not quite so weird after all. They will feel better about themselves because they will know that at least they are not as strange as that weird grrl airy her dirty laundry in a public space.
Why don't I just begin.
Several days ago I remembered that today is my father's birthday. Not only did I remember this, but I also realized that in July he will have been dead for twenty years.
I had to pause when I came to this realization. And while I was pausing I happened to be driving. Merging to be more specific. Attempting to merge in this city can sometimes be a catastrophe. For some reason merging seems to be a lost art and I wonder if those of us who have merging skills should start a secret society and take over the world.
Uh...ahem. I mean. Twenty years ago feels impossible. For anything. It is someone else's lifetime. Most certainly not mine. I am far too young to remember twenty years ago. But really, I'm not that young anymore. Even though I sometimes feel as if I am five years old.
The problem with dead people is that it is easy to remember them as someone they were not. I have had my moments of remembering my father as a man who was not the man that he was. I do not mean to be Dr. Seuss about it. But I find this to be an accurate statement.
It is quite similar to the ways in which we might recall a former partner as someone more wonderful than they were when we were dating them. Sometimes we forget they this person was an ass and when they call we block out the reasons that the relationship ended in the first place. And then we remember.
It's exactly like that. Only different. Because in this case the call will never come. And if it ever does I am certainly not accepting it collect. In circumstances such as these we will never be reminded unless we choose to consciously remember.
I cannot recall if I was angry at my father for dying. It seems logical. It's one of those death step thingies. It is more likely that I was angry at him for leaving me with an emotionally crippled parent. And most certainly for not being the father that I needed him to be.
I do not know very many beans who have or had one let alone two parents who were able to give them what they needed. I doubt my experiences are all that unusual in this realm. And after twenty years -- my that is painful to type -- one would think that such things would no longer fill my thoughts. But they do. And sometimes they do not so much fill my thoughts as influence my emotional state and affect my interpersonal relationships.
Which, quite frankly, sucks. Perhaps my expectations are unrealistic. But I am most certain that I have spent an unconscious lifetime searching for the qualities in others that I desperately needed in parental figures.
Unconditional love and support are words in a language I have never known. And I am always teetering on the edge of wanting something and expecting nothing. And when I wobble in this place it is quite easy to manipulate the data and see exactly what your mind and experiences expect.
Any action or lack of action can be manipulated to fit the mold. Assumptions run wild and rampant. And then I am five years old again. Suppressing my authentic identity that was never ever good enough.
I believe that this has impacted me more strongly as of late because my relationships have changed. My tough exterior has begun to crack or melt or slip off like a snake shedding its skin. And this has caused me to feel emotion differently. Sometimes at the most random nonsensical moments.
Everything I learned as a child is still with me. Insecurities. The belief that I am unworthy. Unlovable. Never good enough. The subliminal messages run deep. They defy logic. I argue with myself about their validity. But they remain.
I have no words of wisdom to end on. There are no silver linings. Brilliant glimmers. I have no epiphanies. Sometimes things simply are what they are and one can only continue traveling down the path arguing with the self and trying not to look like too much of a fool in the process.
Monday, December 11, 2006
One Hundred and Sixty Two Days
When I turned thirty three I started to make a list of things that I wanted to do in my thirty third year. And I must admit I have been a bit slack ass in getting these things accomplished. Maybe it is because I am afraid. Or maybe it is because I feel paralyzed. Perhaps I'm just plain tired.
I have been examining my life under a microscope as of late. I am in a space where I require a change. I want a life that is full of passion. Adventure. Excitement. Something more. I want to begin a fabulous journey. I do not require anything complex. But I do require something different.
Given that there are now less than six months until the time in which I become thirty four I suppose I had better get my behind in gear and make another list. Since I am so incredibly fond of list making. Sometimes I wonder if I have a tendency to put too much on my list of things to do. I create situations in which I set myself up for failure. And this is not helpful on many levels.
So I am going to create a public list. Yes. An incredibly public list of thirty three things that I will accomplish before I am no longer thirty three.
And I am going to create thirty three things that I believe are attainable. Thirty three things that are completely reasonable and feasible for me to accomplish in a relatively short amount of time. Doing this publically is an incredibly bold step for me as I often keep my projects hidden from sight so that in the event that I fail no one else will be the wiser. I now believe that this attitude has stunted me creatively. It has left me lost and feeling unworthy. And if I want this to change it is up to me to do something different.
So here is my list. Many things on the list are quite small and simple. Some list items are more involved. And some items will be more difficult for me to accomplish than one might imagine. But here I am. Exposing myself for you all. I am naked (there's that word again) and vulnerable in a way that is quite uncomfortable for me. But I have realized that it is now or never. I am going to try to keep this list realistic and simple. So here we go -- in no particular order.
1. Get a passport. Or at least try given the current challenges associated with getting a passport in the current political state. 2. Sing out loud. At least once. In front of other people. 3. Complete a Holga photo shoot. Develop the film. 4. Take a kitschy road trip to a new place and document it. Use more than one form of media. 5. Collect various found objects. Use collected objects to create an art piece composed solely of found objects. 6. Feed peanut butter sandwiches to happy squirrels. 7. Purge all of the unnecessary material items in my possession and donate them to charity. 8. Practice saying no and meaning it. 9. Research various publications in which to submit poetry. Make a list of the viable options. 10. Complete an infrared photo shoot. Develop the film. 11. Go see art created by others on a semi regular basis. Think about it. 12. Revise a handful of older poems to a completed state. 13. Finish sanding and staining the bookcase. 14. Hand write a letter to someone I respect and appreciate. Tell them so. Be specific. 15. Meet with Soy to discuss the motivational collective. 16. Practice saying yes more. Especially when I am afraid to say it. 17. Complete a public art project. Anonymously. 18. Go to the library. Review various art books for the purpose of creating a left arm sleeve. Copy. Scan. Make notes. 19. Compile a series of photographs for a future art show. Print all images. Think about display and framing. 20. Meditate. Again. Seriously. 21. Practice asking for it by name. Often. Even when it seems scary. 22. Drink more water. Right now. 23. Go hiking to a new place. Explore it slowly and thoroughly. 24. Take more naps. Even if they are very short. 25. Watch the sun rise or set in a different state. Or even a different country. 26. Let go. Seriously. 27. Trade passions with someone for a day. Have that person teach me about their passion. Then teach my passion to them in return. 28. Move more. Run. Do yoga. Tai chi. Cartwheels. Dance like a fool. Just move. 29. Submit completed poems to print journals. 30. Learn more about Photoshop. Study the first four chapters of Soy's book. 31. Make bread. 32. Research classes on lighting. 33. Cook dinner with someone. Barefoot. Drink wine while cooking.
So uh...maybe it's still too much. I'll keep you posted.
I have been examining my life under a microscope as of late. I am in a space where I require a change. I want a life that is full of passion. Adventure. Excitement. Something more. I want to begin a fabulous journey. I do not require anything complex. But I do require something different.
Given that there are now less than six months until the time in which I become thirty four I suppose I had better get my behind in gear and make another list. Since I am so incredibly fond of list making. Sometimes I wonder if I have a tendency to put too much on my list of things to do. I create situations in which I set myself up for failure. And this is not helpful on many levels.
So I am going to create a public list. Yes. An incredibly public list of thirty three things that I will accomplish before I am no longer thirty three.
And I am going to create thirty three things that I believe are attainable. Thirty three things that are completely reasonable and feasible for me to accomplish in a relatively short amount of time. Doing this publically is an incredibly bold step for me as I often keep my projects hidden from sight so that in the event that I fail no one else will be the wiser. I now believe that this attitude has stunted me creatively. It has left me lost and feeling unworthy. And if I want this to change it is up to me to do something different.
So here is my list. Many things on the list are quite small and simple. Some list items are more involved. And some items will be more difficult for me to accomplish than one might imagine. But here I am. Exposing myself for you all. I am naked (there's that word again) and vulnerable in a way that is quite uncomfortable for me. But I have realized that it is now or never. I am going to try to keep this list realistic and simple. So here we go -- in no particular order.
1. Get a passport. Or at least try given the current challenges associated with getting a passport in the current political state. 2. Sing out loud. At least once. In front of other people. 3. Complete a Holga photo shoot. Develop the film. 4. Take a kitschy road trip to a new place and document it. Use more than one form of media. 5. Collect various found objects. Use collected objects to create an art piece composed solely of found objects. 6. Feed peanut butter sandwiches to happy squirrels. 7. Purge all of the unnecessary material items in my possession and donate them to charity. 8. Practice saying no and meaning it. 9. Research various publications in which to submit poetry. Make a list of the viable options. 10. Complete an infrared photo shoot. Develop the film. 11. Go see art created by others on a semi regular basis. Think about it. 12. Revise a handful of older poems to a completed state. 13. Finish sanding and staining the bookcase. 14. Hand write a letter to someone I respect and appreciate. Tell them so. Be specific. 15. Meet with Soy to discuss the motivational collective. 16. Practice saying yes more. Especially when I am afraid to say it. 17. Complete a public art project. Anonymously. 18. Go to the library. Review various art books for the purpose of creating a left arm sleeve. Copy. Scan. Make notes. 19. Compile a series of photographs for a future art show. Print all images. Think about display and framing. 20. Meditate. Again. Seriously. 21. Practice asking for it by name. Often. Even when it seems scary. 22. Drink more water. Right now. 23. Go hiking to a new place. Explore it slowly and thoroughly. 24. Take more naps. Even if they are very short. 25. Watch the sun rise or set in a different state. Or even a different country. 26. Let go. Seriously. 27. Trade passions with someone for a day. Have that person teach me about their passion. Then teach my passion to them in return. 28. Move more. Run. Do yoga. Tai chi. Cartwheels. Dance like a fool. Just move. 29. Submit completed poems to print journals. 30. Learn more about Photoshop. Study the first four chapters of Soy's book. 31. Make bread. 32. Research classes on lighting. 33. Cook dinner with someone. Barefoot. Drink wine while cooking.
So uh...maybe it's still too much. I'll keep you posted.
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