"You will search, babe, at any cost,
But how long, babe, can you search for what's not lost?"
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
some ramblings from a tired yeti
good morning. even if you did not just wake up, you are not who you were the night before or even the moment before. you are fresh, a creature spawned from your own last breath. you have endless opportunities at your fingertips, did you know? did you know you can be who you want to be, you simply have to bridge the gap between who are you and who you will be. your own paths lay ahead of you like a trillion circuits and you can plug into anyone you choose, lighting up the way to a trillion more. put on your shoes and lets go for a walk while the sun is still up.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
there is something liberating about letting everything tumble out for a second
the best possible thing for you to do, when faced with a build up of emotions,and to walk into where you live or where you call home, and ask someone close to you, emotionally or physically, why you are doing the things you are doing. Then you explain yourself when they look or sound alarmed and intrigued. and then you talk. you talk calmly and you listen. to me its better than crying, its better than ejaculating.
and by whatever you swear to you have to listen, even if you never use that advice. you have to listen because that person cares enough about you to give you an answer. even if these moments make me tired, i am always so glad they happen. now all i have to do is redirect my life energy towards positive ends and not get so caught up in things not being congruent to my standards. and for some reason that sounds easier.
and by whatever you swear to you have to listen, even if you never use that advice. you have to listen because that person cares enough about you to give you an answer. even if these moments make me tired, i am always so glad they happen. now all i have to do is redirect my life energy towards positive ends and not get so caught up in things not being congruent to my standards. and for some reason that sounds easier.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
the dispossessed by ursula le guin
"He would most likely not have embarked on that years long enterprise had he not had profound assurance that return was possible, even though he himself might not return; that indeed the very nature of the voyage, like a circumnavigation of the globe, implied return. You shall not go down twice to the same river, nor can you go home again. That he knew; indeed it was the basis of his view of the world. Yet from that acceptance of transience he evolved his vast theory, wherein what is most changeable is shown to be fullest of eternity, and your relationship to the river, and the river's relationship to you and to itself, turns out to be at once more complex and reassuring than a mere lack of identity. You can go home again, the General Temporal Theory asserts, so long as you understand that home is a place where you have never been." (p. 55)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
paul baribeau
I like his outlook on life. He is all I listen to lately and here are a few reasons why:
If taken literally, this song is probably about a girl. But I always think about it as searching for meaning, happiness, God, etc. All of the trouble you go through trying to find these things, which can be found anywhere. I especially love fall and winter because I feel that there is an extra kinetic energy in the air when it rains and storms. I feel more alive and a part of something bigger when the wind runs up and fusses my hair while I walk to the post office. I am living on this world and at every moment I am connected to it by every cell of my being. Sorry if that got a little too Earth Mama for you. Anyways, what Paul finds is "made of the softest parts of snow and the quiet sound of rain and the warm stuff that melts the ice cubes and the force that moves the waves".
I love this song because it reminds you of your mortality while encouraging you to get up and enjoy life. I especially like this video of it because you can hear everyone else singing in the background and it appears to be in someone's house. In honor of this song I will make my own list according to the lyrics and encourage you to do the same. Why not make your own list, then send it to Patrick's personal blog (the Illinoise Letter Writing Project: http:// icanfeeltheillinoise.blogspot.com/).
Name ten things you wanna do before you die (in no particular order) and then go do them:
10) raise a family
9) live in a co-op
8) swim naked in the ocean
7) teach someone something
6) leave an imprint
5) publish a book
4) live in a small town in the middle of no where
3) see all of Woody Allen's movies
2) watch a lot of TV while holding someone's hand
1) cook a big meal for friends from scratch and possibly vegan?
Name ten places you really wanna go before you die and then go to them:
10) iceland
9) austria
8) belgium
7) alaska
6) bolivia
5) glasgow, scotland
4) southern france
3) switzerland (chocolate!)
2) minneapolis
1) home
Name ten books you wanna read before you die and then go read them:
10) The Complete Prose of Woody Allen
9) everything by David Sedaris
8) The Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin
7) Lilith's Brood by Octavia Butler
6) The Sirens of Titan by Vonnegut
5) Being Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh
4) A Clockwork Orange by Burgess
3) Henry David Thoreau
2) House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
1) A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
Name ten songs you wanna hear again before you die and get all your friends together and scream them:
10) Ten things by Paul Baribea
9) Rock n Roll Suicide by David Bowie
8) Mother Whale Eyeless by Brian Eno
7) Don't Get Carried Away by James Rabbit
6) I Woke Up Today by Port O'Brien
5) The Start of Something by Voxtrot
4) In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
3) Going to Georgia by Mountain Goats
2) Gemini by Why?
1) Hot Love by T.Rex
Cause right now, all you have is time time time, yeah, and someday that time will run out. That's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.
Think of all the things that are wrong with your life and then fix them
Think of all the things that you love about your life, be thankful you are blessed with them
Think of all the things that hold you back and realize that you don't need them
Think of all the mistakes you have made in your life, make sure that you never repeat them
Cause right now, all you have is time time time, yeah, and someday that time will run out. That's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.
Name 10,000 reasons why you never wanna die, go and tell someone who might've forgotten:
(I'll just name ten for the sake of brevity)
10) the sweet clarity of breath
9) the proud strain in my muscles
8) the beauty of strangers
7) sharing laughter with friends
6) the decadence of a good meal
5) the comfort of cooking dinner at home with my mom
4) the steady rhythms of my fingers on the keyboard, my heartbeat in my ears, the blinking of my eyes
3) the aesthetics of the cool, wet morning light coming in my window to rest upon my green plants
2) the electric fuzz of a first kiss
1) the warmth of hugs
Try to list the endless reasons why it's good to be alive, then just smile for a while about them:
See above
Soon the sun while rise and another day will come. Soon enough the sun will set, enough day will be gone.
And right now, all you have is time time time, yeah, and someday, that time will run out. That's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.
If taken literally, this song is probably about a girl. But I always think about it as searching for meaning, happiness, God, etc. All of the trouble you go through trying to find these things, which can be found anywhere. I especially love fall and winter because I feel that there is an extra kinetic energy in the air when it rains and storms. I feel more alive and a part of something bigger when the wind runs up and fusses my hair while I walk to the post office. I am living on this world and at every moment I am connected to it by every cell of my being. Sorry if that got a little too Earth Mama for you. Anyways, what Paul finds is "made of the softest parts of snow and the quiet sound of rain and the warm stuff that melts the ice cubes and the force that moves the waves".
I love this song because it reminds you of your mortality while encouraging you to get up and enjoy life. I especially like this video of it because you can hear everyone else singing in the background and it appears to be in someone's house. In honor of this song I will make my own list according to the lyrics and encourage you to do the same. Why not make your own list, then send it to Patrick's personal blog (the Illinoise Letter Writing Project: http:// icanfeeltheillinoise.blogspot.com/).
Name ten things you wanna do before you die (in no particular order) and then go do them:
10) raise a family
9) live in a co-op
8) swim naked in the ocean
7) teach someone something
6) leave an imprint
5) publish a book
4) live in a small town in the middle of no where
3) see all of Woody Allen's movies
2) watch a lot of TV while holding someone's hand
1) cook a big meal for friends from scratch and possibly vegan?
Name ten places you really wanna go before you die and then go to them:
10) iceland
9) austria
8) belgium
7) alaska
6) bolivia
5) glasgow, scotland
4) southern france
3) switzerland (chocolate!)
2) minneapolis
1) home
Name ten books you wanna read before you die and then go read them:
10) The Complete Prose of Woody Allen
9) everything by David Sedaris
8) The Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin
7) Lilith's Brood by Octavia Butler
6) The Sirens of Titan by Vonnegut
5) Being Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh
4) A Clockwork Orange by Burgess
3) Henry David Thoreau
2) House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski
1) A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
Name ten songs you wanna hear again before you die and get all your friends together and scream them:
10) Ten things by Paul Baribea
9) Rock n Roll Suicide by David Bowie
8) Mother Whale Eyeless by Brian Eno
7) Don't Get Carried Away by James Rabbit
6) I Woke Up Today by Port O'Brien
5) The Start of Something by Voxtrot
4) In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel
3) Going to Georgia by Mountain Goats
2) Gemini by Why?
1) Hot Love by T.Rex
Cause right now, all you have is time time time, yeah, and someday that time will run out. That's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.
Think of all the things that are wrong with your life and then fix them
Think of all the things that you love about your life, be thankful you are blessed with them
Think of all the things that hold you back and realize that you don't need them
Think of all the mistakes you have made in your life, make sure that you never repeat them
Cause right now, all you have is time time time, yeah, and someday that time will run out. That's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.
Name 10,000 reasons why you never wanna die, go and tell someone who might've forgotten:
(I'll just name ten for the sake of brevity)
10) the sweet clarity of breath
9) the proud strain in my muscles
8) the beauty of strangers
7) sharing laughter with friends
6) the decadence of a good meal
5) the comfort of cooking dinner at home with my mom
4) the steady rhythms of my fingers on the keyboard, my heartbeat in my ears, the blinking of my eyes
3) the aesthetics of the cool, wet morning light coming in my window to rest upon my green plants
2) the electric fuzz of a first kiss
1) the warmth of hugs
Try to list the endless reasons why it's good to be alive, then just smile for a while about them:
See above
Soon the sun while rise and another day will come. Soon enough the sun will set, enough day will be gone.
And right now, all you have is time time time, yeah, and someday, that time will run out. That's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about.
shadow puppets.
God is the shadow and the puppet, formed by your hands, is religion. I apologize for the unintentional bias that this diction creates, but I feel it is the most straightforward way to describe these thoughts and images that enter my soapy head while I am idle in the shower. If God is a shadow, then it is difficult to say whether or not he is real, a physical presence, or simply an illusion brought to life with just the right lighting and method acting. This is a depressing thought for some; in a few sentences I have dismissed the basis of your life, your goals and your actions as a cheap party trick. But even if that is all that God and religion end up being, a figment of our imagination, that means that meaning, beauty and divinity lie, and have always lied, in our own hands. There may not be an ethereal bearded man among the clouds commanding this and that, but what a beautiful thought that we mere mortals are capable of crafting such grand hopes. Each individual has the power to mold and bend their shadow puppet as they like, distributing meaning, joy and love to an otherwise blank, white wall. Imagine all we are capable of, when we have already made God with the flick of the wrist and the crossing of our fingers.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
when it's not so bad, it's pretty good
I made a mix on my computer just now. It has all my favorite songs that remind me that when it's not so bad, it's pretty good. Life's worth all the tears, all the bruises and all the sleepless nights. But sleep is really great when you can get it. Sorry I (Jenny) have been absent in posting. I have had lots of homework (investigating human trafficking, reading one sci fi book a week, and not to mention the new york times every weekday) and tending to my own big blanket. But I still think of you big blanket snugglers quite often and have been wanting and meaning to post. I have been trying to fit it into my schedule because there are posts that come into my mind and nothing raises my spirits like tapping away at the old plastic ivories for half an hour or so. To make up for it, here is a small list of things that have been keeping my heart warm:
-keeping active and keeping rested (lots of people underestimate these things, but happiness is due in large parts to the chemical interactions in your brain, and although that may not be very romantic, doing both of these things is an instant pick me up)
-listening to this american life and the moth (these are both podcasts that you can listen to for free and include incredible stories of incredibly everyday people, it reminds you how bizarre and wonderful life is and makes you want to go out and hear and tell all the stories around you)
-utopian science fiction (all of the sci fi i have been reading will come in handy with this big post i have been planning since i started this blog, and in class we talk about how utopias are impossible and a complete fantasy, but i still find so much joy out of this fact and one day i will tell you why)
-synesthesia: is a neurologically-based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. In one common form of synesthesia, known as grapheme → color synesthesia or color-graphemic synesthesia, letters or numbers are perceived as inherently colored, while in ordinal linguistic personification, numbers, days of the week and months of the year evoke personalities. (I have the latter form, which I discovered was not normal when Dr. Ramachandran spoke at my high school five years ago. I never thought much of it until last night when I paid a man on the street $2 for a poem. This aforementioned man makes his living posting up on sidewalks with a typewriter, inviting pedestrians to give him a topic and he will write a poem on the spot, and you pay him however much you feel the poem is worth. I saw him once last December in front of the MOMA and my friend bought a poem from him about how "is", or more generally the verb "to be", is the string connecting all of the universe. I thought that was a very true and beautiful way of looking at things. Anyways, here is the poem he wrote for me. It's a bit scattered, but so is synesthesia, he argued.
"it's so easy with
all of these feelings
to be counted on one handed
gruyere cheese is made to be
tasted in name only is more less
or barely feeling a leaving seething
perfect fest quake literary or rather
dan newscaster and barely visible if
i am allowed to batter down all of the
walls between everything there is
on only once just un do or do
not there is no dividing the
sense experience from the event
tis the sense itself to be
holy and pyschic by virtue
of future or pyschic
usury you are jenny
an artist of the
highest inside
visible and private
order
of of
course
the numbers
are people
isn't every
thing"
Always remember that the numbers are people. The GPAs, the statistics, the probabilities, the social securities, the P.O. boxes and the cell phone numbers are all people. If any of these people that happen to sometimes appear as numbers on my page views want a mix cd to remind you that when it's not so bad, it's pretty good, let me know.
-keeping active and keeping rested (lots of people underestimate these things, but happiness is due in large parts to the chemical interactions in your brain, and although that may not be very romantic, doing both of these things is an instant pick me up)
-listening to this american life and the moth (these are both podcasts that you can listen to for free and include incredible stories of incredibly everyday people, it reminds you how bizarre and wonderful life is and makes you want to go out and hear and tell all the stories around you)
-utopian science fiction (all of the sci fi i have been reading will come in handy with this big post i have been planning since i started this blog, and in class we talk about how utopias are impossible and a complete fantasy, but i still find so much joy out of this fact and one day i will tell you why)
-synesthesia: is a neurologically-based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. In one common form of synesthesia, known as grapheme → color synesthesia or color-graphemic synesthesia, letters or numbers are perceived as inherently colored, while in ordinal linguistic personification, numbers, days of the week and months of the year evoke personalities. (I have the latter form, which I discovered was not normal when Dr. Ramachandran spoke at my high school five years ago. I never thought much of it until last night when I paid a man on the street $2 for a poem. This aforementioned man makes his living posting up on sidewalks with a typewriter, inviting pedestrians to give him a topic and he will write a poem on the spot, and you pay him however much you feel the poem is worth. I saw him once last December in front of the MOMA and my friend bought a poem from him about how "is", or more generally the verb "to be", is the string connecting all of the universe. I thought that was a very true and beautiful way of looking at things. Anyways, here is the poem he wrote for me. It's a bit scattered, but so is synesthesia, he argued.
"it's so easy with
all of these feelings
to be counted on one handed
gruyere cheese is made to be
tasted in name only is more less
or barely feeling a leaving seething
perfect fest quake literary or rather
dan newscaster and barely visible if
i am allowed to batter down all of the
walls between everything there is
on only once just un do or do
not there is no dividing the
sense experience from the event
tis the sense itself to be
holy and pyschic by virtue
of future or pyschic
usury you are jenny
an artist of the
highest inside
visible and private
order
of of
course
the numbers
are people
isn't every
thing"
Always remember that the numbers are people. The GPAs, the statistics, the probabilities, the social securities, the P.O. boxes and the cell phone numbers are all people. If any of these people that happen to sometimes appear as numbers on my page views want a mix cd to remind you that when it's not so bad, it's pretty good, let me know.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
my favorite things to fall asleep to and wake up too
fall asleep:
- a carefully selected This American Life episode
- the sun on my face (there is actually a line in the novel Beloved about how the greatest privilage and best feeling in the world is to fall asleep with the sun on your face)
- reading
- my ceiling fan still chopping air on a hot night
- just turning to the wall my bed is up against and having it feel like I am turning into sleep
- stretching in bed while listening to records
-the dark outline of el Cordobes , the most handsome bullfighter in all of Spain whose picture is right above my bed, and the zodiac scarf that i tacked up to the roof
- fading away from music, the slow and natural diminishing my effort to listen
- one happy thought, something that i hope can make for a good dream
waking up:
-slowly moving sun
-the fifth round of my alarm, after i turn it off and decide that waking up might be mandatory
-having to pee a little bit (then going to the bathroom, and running back to bed just to lie down)
-the crackling sound that a record makes when the needle reaches the middle and your turn table has been running all night for you
-some of my favorite letters that were sent to me that are posted next to my bed
-a missed call from a friend
-a smile, right now its just my own so don't get any ideas
- a carefully selected This American Life episode
- the sun on my face (there is actually a line in the novel Beloved about how the greatest privilage and best feeling in the world is to fall asleep with the sun on your face)
- reading
- my ceiling fan still chopping air on a hot night
- just turning to the wall my bed is up against and having it feel like I am turning into sleep
- stretching in bed while listening to records
-the dark outline of el Cordobes , the most handsome bullfighter in all of Spain whose picture is right above my bed, and the zodiac scarf that i tacked up to the roof
- fading away from music, the slow and natural diminishing my effort to listen
- one happy thought, something that i hope can make for a good dream
waking up:
-slowly moving sun
-the fifth round of my alarm, after i turn it off and decide that waking up might be mandatory
-having to pee a little bit (then going to the bathroom, and running back to bed just to lie down)
-the crackling sound that a record makes when the needle reaches the middle and your turn table has been running all night for you
-some of my favorite letters that were sent to me that are posted next to my bed
-a missed call from a friend
-a smile, right now its just my own so don't get any ideas
things i am realizing i love again
-stir fry
-shows about cake
-shoes that look uncomfortable
-the feeling of corduroy (i keep a scrap on me at all times now)
-chewing on toothpicks
-walking
-mental collages
-subtle nuansices on the english language
-the blunt force blow to all things decent that (most) american rap is
- bandannas and handkerchiefs
-the smell and feel of polyester
-walker evan's photos
-the painting "Two Fridas"
-late nights and late starts
-picking which tea i get to drink in the morning
just a quick list
the best thing is i was smiling every time a new good thing came to my mind
-shows about cake
-shoes that look uncomfortable
-the feeling of corduroy (i keep a scrap on me at all times now)
-chewing on toothpicks
-walking
-mental collages
-subtle nuansices on the english language
-the blunt force blow to all things decent that (most) american rap is
- bandannas and handkerchiefs
-the smell and feel of polyester
-walker evan's photos
-the painting "Two Fridas"
-late nights and late starts
-picking which tea i get to drink in the morning
just a quick list
the best thing is i was smiling every time a new good thing came to my mind
Sunday, August 31, 2008
on the verge of moving back to chicago
there is a time that presents itself on the precipice of a movement.
the bigger the movement, the bigger the anticipatory apathy towards most things becomes. I shut down before I move, to save strength or some other natural adaptation my body has to protect me. either you over exert yourself or you never know where to begin. The decision is slowly becoming not whether to move or not to move, but how am I going to be affected by this damned process.
This is me saying that I am afraid. I am afraid of so many things, just in the coming months so many things, that it is a wonder that I have even packed. But then why does this fear exist? If I think of its root is is only because I dread the transition and the loneliness that comes with resettling. But I am resettling, whether I am fearful of it or not. There is a need that is deeper to discover in my own self what I want to do and where I want to be. I have made that decision, to leave and take a further step towards my independence (and away from general familiarity), long ago and when I couldn't fathom regret. Now I can feel it, regret palpitates on the end of each finger and makes the back of my eyeballs want to spin; and be it false senses of remorse, but I nurse these feeling like they were my children, almost like I want them to grow.
I am recentering myself and making my self able to learn more. Really nothing could be better for me. I need this new perspective, and so perhaps that is why I am afraid. I am afraid of a few uncomfortable moments alone and the possibility of awkward reintroductions into peoples lives. I am afraid of things going too well, so well as to warrant an imminent catastrophe, or not going well at all, which is almost worse than not enjoying the good times I have been given. I have no more time for regret, it has been squeezed from me as the vise of time closes to the unfailing date. I am going to wake up tomorrow and I am going to move. And damn it, it will be beautiful.
the bigger the movement, the bigger the anticipatory apathy towards most things becomes. I shut down before I move, to save strength or some other natural adaptation my body has to protect me. either you over exert yourself or you never know where to begin. The decision is slowly becoming not whether to move or not to move, but how am I going to be affected by this damned process.
This is me saying that I am afraid. I am afraid of so many things, just in the coming months so many things, that it is a wonder that I have even packed. But then why does this fear exist? If I think of its root is is only because I dread the transition and the loneliness that comes with resettling. But I am resettling, whether I am fearful of it or not. There is a need that is deeper to discover in my own self what I want to do and where I want to be. I have made that decision, to leave and take a further step towards my independence (and away from general familiarity), long ago and when I couldn't fathom regret. Now I can feel it, regret palpitates on the end of each finger and makes the back of my eyeballs want to spin; and be it false senses of remorse, but I nurse these feeling like they were my children, almost like I want them to grow.
I am recentering myself and making my self able to learn more. Really nothing could be better for me. I need this new perspective, and so perhaps that is why I am afraid. I am afraid of a few uncomfortable moments alone and the possibility of awkward reintroductions into peoples lives. I am afraid of things going too well, so well as to warrant an imminent catastrophe, or not going well at all, which is almost worse than not enjoying the good times I have been given. I have no more time for regret, it has been squeezed from me as the vise of time closes to the unfailing date. I am going to wake up tomorrow and I am going to move. And damn it, it will be beautiful.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Patrick's throughts while buffering stainless steel decking
-these chemicals are bad for me, i will ask my bad about them. also it makes sense that they come from miami because must have to polish their art deco steel, and the lawn furniture
-its good to actually meet someone you were once afraid of. If you are like me, there are there are people that you have only seen, and from that point on convinced yourself that they dislike you. this summer i have made a point of introducing myself and repositioning my opinion of these people. generally i come to the realization that i was just chicken shit, and if i didnt meet them now i would limit myself with fear. sure these aqqatinces aren't life altering mind bending encounters with my cosmic duty, (yet), but i still think bravery and more fluid opinions of people are crucial.
-this repetitive motion may help me develop systems of efficiency.
-why buy something new when you can shine something old
-the sunshine is so good right now, i just want to lay about in old t-shirts and shorts
-its good to actually meet someone you were once afraid of. If you are like me, there are there are people that you have only seen, and from that point on convinced yourself that they dislike you. this summer i have made a point of introducing myself and repositioning my opinion of these people. generally i come to the realization that i was just chicken shit, and if i didnt meet them now i would limit myself with fear. sure these aqqatinces aren't life altering mind bending encounters with my cosmic duty, (yet), but i still think bravery and more fluid opinions of people are crucial.
-this repetitive motion may help me develop systems of efficiency.
-why buy something new when you can shine something old
-the sunshine is so good right now, i just want to lay about in old t-shirts and shorts
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
another quote
This is from one of my favorite movies, Hannah and her Sisters (Woody Allen). I remember I first saw it on TV over winter break. I was knitting and was fairly impressed with the depth of what, on the surface, appeared to be the run-of-the-mill romantic comedy. But when I heard the following lines, I had to put my knitting down and really take the whole scene in. Woody summed up the way I had been feeling about life, but was too scared to acknowledge (having been raised and educated as a Catholic). But as opposed to portraying agnosticism/atheism/nihilism in a negative light, Woody hints at how lucky we all are to have at least experienced something, whether or not it means anything.
"One day, about a month ago, I really hit bottom. You know, I just felt that, in a godless universe, I didn't want to go on living. Now, I happen to own this rifle, which I loaded, believe it or not, and pressed it to my forehead. And I remember thinking, 'I'm going to kill myself.' Then I thought, 'What if I'm wrong? What if there is a God? I mean, after all, nobody really knows that. But then I thought, you know, 'No! Maybe is not good enough. I want certainty or nothing.'....
....I started to feel, how can you even think of killing yourself? I mean, isn't it so stupid? I mean, look at all the people up on the [movie] screen, they're real funny, and what if the worst is true? What if there's no God and you only go around once and that's it? Well, you know, don't you wanna be a part of the experience? You know, what the hell, it's not all a drag. And I'm thinking to myself, 'Geez, I should stop ruining my life, searching for answers I'm never gonna get and just enjoy it while it lasts.' And, you know, after, who knows? You know, maybe there is something, nobody really knows. I know 'maybe' is a very slim reed to hang your whole life on, but that's the best we have. And then, I started to sit back, and I actually began to enjoy myself. "
"One day, about a month ago, I really hit bottom. You know, I just felt that, in a godless universe, I didn't want to go on living. Now, I happen to own this rifle, which I loaded, believe it or not, and pressed it to my forehead. And I remember thinking, 'I'm going to kill myself.' Then I thought, 'What if I'm wrong? What if there is a God? I mean, after all, nobody really knows that. But then I thought, you know, 'No! Maybe is not good enough. I want certainty or nothing.'....
....I started to feel, how can you even think of killing yourself? I mean, isn't it so stupid? I mean, look at all the people up on the [movie] screen, they're real funny, and what if the worst is true? What if there's no God and you only go around once and that's it? Well, you know, don't you wanna be a part of the experience? You know, what the hell, it's not all a drag. And I'm thinking to myself, 'Geez, I should stop ruining my life, searching for answers I'm never gonna get and just enjoy it while it lasts.' And, you know, after, who knows? You know, maybe there is something, nobody really knows. I know 'maybe' is a very slim reed to hang your whole life on, but that's the best we have. And then, I started to sit back, and I actually began to enjoy myself. "
relevant Jung quote
"Thunder is no longer the voice of an angry god, nor is lightning his avenging missile. No river contains a spirit, no tree is the life principle of a man, no snake the embodiment of wisdom, no mountain cave the home of a great demon. No voices now speak to man from stones, plants and animals, nor does he speak to them believing they can hear. His contact with nature has gone, and with it has gone the profound emotional energy that his symbolic connection supplied." -Carl Jung.
I have been on the whole theme of imagination, perspective and its direct influence on happiness and reality this whole summer. Here is a Jung quote that I read at the end of June that applies.
I have been on the whole theme of imagination, perspective and its direct influence on happiness and reality this whole summer. Here is a Jung quote that I read at the end of June that applies.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Sleep aides
When sleep eludes me, as it often does, i find it necessary to preform these "sleep aides", natural actions that require minimal movement and produce maximum calming effects
-reading (currently it is "The Handmaid's Tale, Eqqus, and sometimes a few poems by Oscar Wilde. I am one of those people who reads multiple books at once, i like it spicy, you can just read one)
-listening to This American Life (really TAL is good anytime, but i find Ira Glass' voice particularly suited for enveloping me with warmth, nostalgia, and journalistic integrity)
-Classical music on vinyl( and then when i wake up there is this gentle and repetitive scratching, but it isn't hostile, its familiar)
-quietly thinking about what good came of your day, you always find something
-reading (currently it is "The Handmaid's Tale, Eqqus, and sometimes a few poems by Oscar Wilde. I am one of those people who reads multiple books at once, i like it spicy, you can just read one)
-listening to This American Life (really TAL is good anytime, but i find Ira Glass' voice particularly suited for enveloping me with warmth, nostalgia, and journalistic integrity)
-Classical music on vinyl( and then when i wake up there is this gentle and repetitive scratching, but it isn't hostile, its familiar)
-quietly thinking about what good came of your day, you always find something
Monday, August 4, 2008
hot air balloon
I realized that by stepping back a few feet (or a few hundred feet) it is much easier to see the beauty in the world, in the patterns of the trees, in statue-esque cattle arranged like chess pieces, in the geometric patterns of concrete roads and steel train tracks. Patrick and I, the writers of the big blanket and best of friends, were carried into the air at sunrise by an eighty foot tall balloon filled with hot air attached to a basket (I laughed out loud as we left the ground for how simple the whole contraption is). Here are photos:
defining happiness
“The reason most people never reach their goals is that they don't define them, learn about them, or even seriously consider them as believable or achievable. Winners can tell you where they are going, what they plan to do along the way, and who will”
Denis Waitley
I usually shy away from defining myself, others and the world around me; doing so all too often creates this prison-like box, forcing your subject to act within it, according to the definition it's been given. Although most things, ideas and people are too complex to define completely and accurately, I think that exploring the characteristics of happiness, and defining them for yourself, make it something much more easily attainable. You know what you are up against, what you are striving for, and therefore you can take the steps necessary to reach it.
So what makes you happy? It can be completely different from the person sitting next to you. Is it something you can feel any day of the week, or something that you reward yourself with after hours and days of hard work? Is it something you feel when you take part in a certain activity or are around certain people?
I have defined my happiness as being grateful and aware of all that is going on around me. Taking hold of all of my senses and forcing myself to be completely in the moment. I can look at a given moment as lackluster, banal, the same thing I did last week. Or I can reexamine it and realize that I am surrounded by good people that make me feel like I am loved and also moving forward, and even though the warmth within me is subtle, at least I can feel it. Happiness does not have to be jump-for-joy ecstasy every time for it to be happiness. Why can't you define happiness as the absence of sadness? Like white is the absence of color. But sadness and happiness are all too often completely related and dependent on each other (which I will discuss in a later post), so that idea can only go so far.
What I am trying to get across to you is that you can transform the simplest, most ritual of moments and situations and sentences but putting yourself in that moment, situation and sentence. You can apathetically sit at the bus stop, waiting for your moment to stand up and pay your fare, or you can engage yourself and find happiness in your own thoughts, in gazing at the curls of your shoelaces, in thinking of the pure luck of the arrangement of your atoms to allow you to even question your own happiness.
Denis Waitley
I usually shy away from defining myself, others and the world around me; doing so all too often creates this prison-like box, forcing your subject to act within it, according to the definition it's been given. Although most things, ideas and people are too complex to define completely and accurately, I think that exploring the characteristics of happiness, and defining them for yourself, make it something much more easily attainable. You know what you are up against, what you are striving for, and therefore you can take the steps necessary to reach it.
So what makes you happy? It can be completely different from the person sitting next to you. Is it something you can feel any day of the week, or something that you reward yourself with after hours and days of hard work? Is it something you feel when you take part in a certain activity or are around certain people?
I have defined my happiness as being grateful and aware of all that is going on around me. Taking hold of all of my senses and forcing myself to be completely in the moment. I can look at a given moment as lackluster, banal, the same thing I did last week. Or I can reexamine it and realize that I am surrounded by good people that make me feel like I am loved and also moving forward, and even though the warmth within me is subtle, at least I can feel it. Happiness does not have to be jump-for-joy ecstasy every time for it to be happiness. Why can't you define happiness as the absence of sadness? Like white is the absence of color. But sadness and happiness are all too often completely related and dependent on each other (which I will discuss in a later post), so that idea can only go so far.
What I am trying to get across to you is that you can transform the simplest, most ritual of moments and situations and sentences but putting yourself in that moment, situation and sentence. You can apathetically sit at the bus stop, waiting for your moment to stand up and pay your fare, or you can engage yourself and find happiness in your own thoughts, in gazing at the curls of your shoelaces, in thinking of the pure luck of the arrangement of your atoms to allow you to even question your own happiness.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Jay Leeming
I read about this guy in a local newspaper on my living room floor while I was hosting a party. His poems are not conventional. I myself am daunted by writing a poem, all of the organization and rhyming schemes overshadow the process of actually delivering a message. This guy just gets down to the point. Here is the way I look at the world without any fancy fluff, he says. They could almost be considered short stories, the way they are all tiny glimpses into Leeming's universe. It helps reading them through a few times, then reading them aloud. Even as I was typing these I noticed new meanings and images. Okay, here we go:
THE BARBER
The barber is someone who creates
by taking away, like a writer
who owns only an eraser.
He is like a construction company
that begins with a large office building
and ends up with a small wooden house.
On the wall is his license,
showing that he's been to school
and learned of all the varieties
of loss. For this reason
a haircut can make me nervous;
sometimes I close my eyes
and hear only the snip
of the scissors, their two gleaming halves
talking of the balance that is here, the partnership
between this man in a blue smock
and the hairs faithful as rain,
that even before birth and after death
flow tirelessly out of the head
toward the comb and the blade.
ROWBOAT
An oar is a paddle with a home. This arrangement seems awkward at first, as if it were wrong; the wood knocks in the oarlock, and would much rather be a church steeple, or the propeller of an old airplane in France. Yet as it bites deep into the wave it settles down, deciding that the axe and the carpenter were right. And you, too, are supposed to be sitting this way, back turned to what you want, watching your history unravel across the waves are your legs brush against the gunnels. Your feet are restless, wanting to be more involved. But your back is what gets you there, closer to what finally surprises you from behind: waves lapping at the shore, the soft nuzzle of sand.
SUGARHOUSE
After the funeral, my mother and her sister
were caught for days in the sugarhouse
of their parent's belongings, sorting through dishes
and clothes, tables and chairs, dividing much of it
between them, throwing some things out, giving
others away and setting the dearest things aside
to be divided later. In this way
they boiled the house down
until they were left with the two last
precious things: the maple syrup pitcher
and the sugar bowl. As if
after childhood was poured away
each vessel was still sweet
from years of caring, though empty now.
SUPERMARKET HISTORIANS
All historians should be supermarket cashiers.
Imagine what we'd learn;
"Your total comes to $10.66,
and that's the year the Normans invaded Britain"
or, "That'll be $18.61, the year
the Civil War began."
Now all my receipts are beaches
where six-year-olds find bullets in the sand.
My tomatoes add up to Hiroshima,
and if I'd bought one more carton of milk
the cashier would be discussing the Battle of the Bulge
and not the Peloponnesian War.
But I'm tired of buying soup cans
full of burning villages,
tired of hearing the shouts of Marines
storming beaches in the bread aisle.
I want to live in a house
carved into a seed
inside a watermelon,
to look up at the red sky
as shopping carts roll through the aisles
like distant thunder.
THE LIGHT ABOVE CITIES
Sitting in darkness,
I see how the light of the city
fills the clouds, rosewater light
poured into the sky
like the single body we are. It is the sum
of a million lives, a man drinking beer
beneath a light bulb, a dancer spinning
in a fluorescent room, a girl reading a book
beneath a lamp.
Yet there are others- astronomers,
thieves, lovers- whose work is only done
in darkness. Sometimes
I don't want to show these poems
to anyone, sometimes
I want to remain hidden, deep in the coals
with the one who pulls the stars
through a telescope's glass, the one who listens
for the click of the lock, the one
who kisses softly a woman's eyes.
APPLE
Sometimes when eating an apple
I bite too far
and open up the little room
the lovers have prepared,
and teh seeds fall
onto the kitchen floor
and I see
that they are tear-shaped.
THE BARBER
The barber is someone who creates
by taking away, like a writer
who owns only an eraser.
He is like a construction company
that begins with a large office building
and ends up with a small wooden house.
On the wall is his license,
showing that he's been to school
and learned of all the varieties
of loss. For this reason
a haircut can make me nervous;
sometimes I close my eyes
and hear only the snip
of the scissors, their two gleaming halves
talking of the balance that is here, the partnership
between this man in a blue smock
and the hairs faithful as rain,
that even before birth and after death
flow tirelessly out of the head
toward the comb and the blade.
ROWBOAT
An oar is a paddle with a home. This arrangement seems awkward at first, as if it were wrong; the wood knocks in the oarlock, and would much rather be a church steeple, or the propeller of an old airplane in France. Yet as it bites deep into the wave it settles down, deciding that the axe and the carpenter were right. And you, too, are supposed to be sitting this way, back turned to what you want, watching your history unravel across the waves are your legs brush against the gunnels. Your feet are restless, wanting to be more involved. But your back is what gets you there, closer to what finally surprises you from behind: waves lapping at the shore, the soft nuzzle of sand.
SUGARHOUSE
After the funeral, my mother and her sister
were caught for days in the sugarhouse
of their parent's belongings, sorting through dishes
and clothes, tables and chairs, dividing much of it
between them, throwing some things out, giving
others away and setting the dearest things aside
to be divided later. In this way
they boiled the house down
until they were left with the two last
precious things: the maple syrup pitcher
and the sugar bowl. As if
after childhood was poured away
each vessel was still sweet
from years of caring, though empty now.
SUPERMARKET HISTORIANS
All historians should be supermarket cashiers.
Imagine what we'd learn;
"Your total comes to $10.66,
and that's the year the Normans invaded Britain"
or, "That'll be $18.61, the year
the Civil War began."
Now all my receipts are beaches
where six-year-olds find bullets in the sand.
My tomatoes add up to Hiroshima,
and if I'd bought one more carton of milk
the cashier would be discussing the Battle of the Bulge
and not the Peloponnesian War.
But I'm tired of buying soup cans
full of burning villages,
tired of hearing the shouts of Marines
storming beaches in the bread aisle.
I want to live in a house
carved into a seed
inside a watermelon,
to look up at the red sky
as shopping carts roll through the aisles
like distant thunder.
THE LIGHT ABOVE CITIES
Sitting in darkness,
I see how the light of the city
fills the clouds, rosewater light
poured into the sky
like the single body we are. It is the sum
of a million lives, a man drinking beer
beneath a light bulb, a dancer spinning
in a fluorescent room, a girl reading a book
beneath a lamp.
Yet there are others- astronomers,
thieves, lovers- whose work is only done
in darkness. Sometimes
I don't want to show these poems
to anyone, sometimes
I want to remain hidden, deep in the coals
with the one who pulls the stars
through a telescope's glass, the one who listens
for the click of the lock, the one
who kisses softly a woman's eyes.
APPLE
Sometimes when eating an apple
I bite too far
and open up the little room
the lovers have prepared,
and teh seeds fall
onto the kitchen floor
and I see
that they are tear-shaped.
Chesterton
We can't help but fall into a ritual, no matter how simple, of day to day life. It is simply beneficial to our health and well-being to be able to find recluse in the well worn necessities- sleep, sitting down for a meal, commuting, laundry. This tasks are so menial and silly, yet take up most of our waking lives. Picking up the clothes from the floor and making the bed seem so unnecessary when all of my work will be undone in a matter of hours by none other than myself. But some of these things we simply cannot escape. Many individuals, raised on the belief that a mid-sized SUV and 9-5 job will bring success and happiness in itself, find themselves drowning in these inescapable chores. Sometimes they aren't even chores. Sometimes they are just situations, conversations that we find ourselves in repeatedly. How many times can you go to a party on a Saturday night and drink a few beers uncomfortably in a corner? This is supposed to be the climax of the week! The reason you worked for hours beforehand- to reward yourself with some relaxation. But even these moments, pregnant with expectation, can seem worn-out and thin. They lose their meaning because, honestly, you can't help but repeat yourself over and over in life. It is simply impossible not to do so. This is the cue for feeling a terribly empty sense of doom coming over the horizon. Life is like a coloring book. In itself, it is, or oftentimes can be, completely meaningless. It is up to you to fill in the blanks, give it color, movement and emotion. You have several mediums to work with- religion, work, love, family, adventure. All of them serving as different pens, pencils and paints, at your own disposal to change your outlook. Your life can be nothing, or it can be everything all at once. It all depends on how you choose to make it. It can be filled with moments so banal as waiting for the light to change, pouring the milk out of the carton and changing the sheets. Or you can use your imagination, fill them with excitement and novelty. The novelist Chesterton divulges his definition of the imagination as "not to make strange things settled, so much as to make settle things strange." Whenever I ride down hills on my bike and catch a glimpse of my coat snapping behind me in the wind, I imagine that I am a roque wizard flying stealthilly through a modern civilization, oblivious to my mischevious presence. Driving my car over the winding mountain roads, I lose my will power to the brute mentality of a stampeding ram, tumbling around bends and scurrying over hills. Here is an excerpt from an article I read about Chesterton:
"Most of the inconvenienes that make men swear or women cry are really sentimental or imaginative inconveniences- things altogether of the mind. For instance, we often hear grown-up people complaining of having to hang about a railway station and wait for a train. Did you ever hear a small boy complain of having to hang about a railway station and wait for a train? No; for him to be inside a railway station is to be inside a cavern of wonder and a palace of poetical pleasures. Because to him the red light and the green light on the signal are like a new sun and a new moon. Because to him when the wooden arm, of the signal falls down suddenly, it is as if a great king had thrown down his staff as a signal and started a shrieking tournament of trains. I myself am of little boys' habit in this matter. They also serve who only stand and wait for the two fifteen."
As we grow older, many of us shed our imaginations. We figure it is not real and therefore it is no longer useful to us. Who are we to make a final ruling on what is real and what is not? And as children, our imaginations were just as real to us as the dog bowl or our dinner napkin, so why should that change? It would be completely useful to us, in my opinion, to stimulate our imaginations despite our age. Next time you walk into the kitchen to prepare that sandwich you have been eating for months on end, why not transform that butter knife into an ax that you delve into an enemy soldiers, or loaf of bread's, side as you defend your Kitchen homeland from the ruthless invaders of Hungary. (har har, get it?)
"Most of the inconvenienes that make men swear or women cry are really sentimental or imaginative inconveniences- things altogether of the mind. For instance, we often hear grown-up people complaining of having to hang about a railway station and wait for a train. Did you ever hear a small boy complain of having to hang about a railway station and wait for a train? No; for him to be inside a railway station is to be inside a cavern of wonder and a palace of poetical pleasures. Because to him the red light and the green light on the signal are like a new sun and a new moon. Because to him when the wooden arm, of the signal falls down suddenly, it is as if a great king had thrown down his staff as a signal and started a shrieking tournament of trains. I myself am of little boys' habit in this matter. They also serve who only stand and wait for the two fifteen."
As we grow older, many of us shed our imaginations. We figure it is not real and therefore it is no longer useful to us. Who are we to make a final ruling on what is real and what is not? And as children, our imaginations were just as real to us as the dog bowl or our dinner napkin, so why should that change? It would be completely useful to us, in my opinion, to stimulate our imaginations despite our age. Next time you walk into the kitchen to prepare that sandwich you have been eating for months on end, why not transform that butter knife into an ax that you delve into an enemy soldiers, or loaf of bread's, side as you defend your Kitchen homeland from the ruthless invaders of Hungary. (har har, get it?)
Monday, June 30, 2008
natural adaptations
this is me recounting an event that i witnessed
I was riding my bike home, salt crusted and sunbaked, from a full day at work
and after jeff had left me riding up the hill, i decided to walk.
I walk my bike up this steep hill almost everyday, aside from a moments rest it gives me time to look at a part of my world that i usually narrow-mindedly speed past.
And on this day I realized why.
I started with a fawn
and this grazing fawn balanced some how on spindled legs on an almost impossible slant
I watched the fawn,
in earnest, I stopped walking, stood against my bike and watched this fawn.
and as the sweat began to find its resting place my shirt, seeping in and cooling me down, my eyes adjusted to find nearby another fawn.
they stepped a cautious tango through the tangle and the slope
bending their necks and bowing to seek out sustinance, then heads rising to reveal their guarded eyes.
still focused only on their side of the hill, in their organic diorama, which in all respects the cosmos must have plopped me in front of it for an unknown reason
came the mother
she was so much closer, but she came to me last
her tan hide mocked the thick tree trunks
she was lower and could reach for food at her own eye level
this is when i started to really watch
i saw the mothers strong coat able to fit nicely into the shade
she could afford to go lower, but she still watched her children after each bite
and the spots of a fawn mirror the sunlight hitting the redwood needles through the filter of the tall canopy
they creep through the sunlit and jump through the dark
the deer weave in and out of my vision
and that is when i realized its near perfection
its simple skin had saved it
this is why it survived
as the deer moved after awhile, so did i
the clicking of my bike as i walked it was not an example of stealthness though
they hopped, or at least the fawns hopped, to the saftey above quickly
as a well worn instinct they scattered and slanted out of the sun
the mother found trees to move slowly behind before breaking out into a gallop
i was content
i feel that things were learned
I was riding my bike home, salt crusted and sunbaked, from a full day at work
and after jeff had left me riding up the hill, i decided to walk.
I walk my bike up this steep hill almost everyday, aside from a moments rest it gives me time to look at a part of my world that i usually narrow-mindedly speed past.
And on this day I realized why.
I started with a fawn
and this grazing fawn balanced some how on spindled legs on an almost impossible slant
I watched the fawn,
in earnest, I stopped walking, stood against my bike and watched this fawn.
and as the sweat began to find its resting place my shirt, seeping in and cooling me down, my eyes adjusted to find nearby another fawn.
they stepped a cautious tango through the tangle and the slope
bending their necks and bowing to seek out sustinance, then heads rising to reveal their guarded eyes.
still focused only on their side of the hill, in their organic diorama, which in all respects the cosmos must have plopped me in front of it for an unknown reason
came the mother
she was so much closer, but she came to me last
her tan hide mocked the thick tree trunks
she was lower and could reach for food at her own eye level
this is when i started to really watch
i saw the mothers strong coat able to fit nicely into the shade
she could afford to go lower, but she still watched her children after each bite
and the spots of a fawn mirror the sunlight hitting the redwood needles through the filter of the tall canopy
they creep through the sunlit and jump through the dark
the deer weave in and out of my vision
and that is when i realized its near perfection
its simple skin had saved it
this is why it survived
as the deer moved after awhile, so did i
the clicking of my bike as i walked it was not an example of stealthness though
they hopped, or at least the fawns hopped, to the saftey above quickly
as a well worn instinct they scattered and slanted out of the sun
the mother found trees to move slowly behind before breaking out into a gallop
i was content
i feel that things were learned
Sunday, June 22, 2008
fortune cookies
"Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes."
"No problem leaves you where you found it."
"Knowledge and not doing are equal to not knowing at all."
"Your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change."
"Only she who attempts the absurd can achieve the impossible."
"No problem leaves you where you found it."
"Knowledge and not doing are equal to not knowing at all."
"Your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change."
"Only she who attempts the absurd can achieve the impossible."
spices
-picking up pennies
-helping my mom
-cooking for friends
-organizing my room (throwing out things i do not need, simplifying)
-making lists
-writing stories in my head
-laughing at my own jokes
-playing practical jokes
-the magnetic fields
-talking to my dogs
-kissing my dogs
-making friends (on paper and in real life)
-sand in my ears
-sandwiches
-blowing bubbles (underwater and with soap)
full blown, pre-meditated post coming soon!
-helping my mom
-cooking for friends
-organizing my room (throwing out things i do not need, simplifying)
-making lists
-writing stories in my head
-laughing at my own jokes
-playing practical jokes
-the magnetic fields
-talking to my dogs
-kissing my dogs
-making friends (on paper and in real life)
-sand in my ears
-sandwiches
-blowing bubbles (underwater and with soap)
full blown, pre-meditated post coming soon!
Friday, June 13, 2008
i am glad we are able to share this joy
I have been in a funk. Without school or a job to fill my days, it has been hard for me to find a sense of purpose. WIthout a sense of purpose, I feel useless and my days lose their meaning. I tried to fill my days with the little hobbies that keep me happy but it was hard to connect them all to a bigger purpose or sense of duty. One of the biggest problems was most of the days I was by myself, patiently and eventually impatiently waiting for my friends to get out of school, finish their finals or finish their shift at work. Being with someone who truly cares for you and vice versa makes all the difference; even the silliest of conversations or the most menial of chores is filled with a warmth and a familiarity when you are able to share it with someone who knows you. Not everyday and every meeting has to be filled with monumental, earth-shattering discoveries and adventures. Simply being aware of someone's presence physically and emotionally is really all you need. Sure, you can complain about how uneventful your night was, sitting at the same coffee shop as always, drinking the same hot tea. But at least you are given the chance to sit down and enjoy each other's company, share stories and share a laugh. I really enjoy the phrase "to share a laugh". To be able to split joy, and its physical appearance (laughter) with another person, is a really meaningful and fulfilling opportunity.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Songs for the moment
Most of the time I like to think of sining this to a particular point on my life,not really a person but a situation. Or I think of a good time singing this to me, if that makes sense.
and this is just beautiful.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Caught up in things, you know?
It is the end of the school year for many people out there. As for me, it is the closing of my first year of college. It is an end to the tumultuous existence that I call on campus living. And so, with the added hubbub of final papers and exams, I must also move out of my small space that I have somehow crammed so many knick-knacs into. This process results in a great deal of trash, not just from me, but from all who are going through a similar situation as you could guess. And now to the point, which is that while throwing out some assorted garbage and recyclables I stumbled upon a calender.
This calender
Happiness by Robert Doisneau
he is famous for his black and white Parisian street scenes, catching the innocent joy of precocious children, or the love and humor of the common man and woman.
I wanted to share this story not only because I enjoy the calender I know own, but because of how I came across such lovely images. I stopped being caught up in my own waste, and I found something lovely. I kindly advise you to sometime do the same
This calender
Happiness by Robert Doisneau
he is famous for his black and white Parisian street scenes, catching the innocent joy of precocious children, or the love and humor of the common man and woman.
I wanted to share this story not only because I enjoy the calender I know own, but because of how I came across such lovely images. I stopped being caught up in my own waste, and I found something lovely. I kindly advise you to sometime do the same
Saturday, June 7, 2008
strangers
One of my last days in San Francisco, I was reading in the sun at Dolores Park. A group of young people walked by, announcing to everyone at the top of their lungs that a water balloon war would commence in half an hour. Anyone brave enough was welcome to join. If you know me, you know I am incredibly shy. I knew this was something I did not want to miss, however, and I stowed my book away in my purse and quickly walked up the hill towards their headquarters. I may never see these people again, but my afternoon was made that much more interesting just because I was willing to break free of my shell and get soaked with total strangers. I documented the event with my oktomat action camera:
Thursday, June 5, 2008
yeah, what patrick said
"In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and know I had to put it on the grindstone again and hammer it into shape and put a whetstone to it, and know that I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say, or smooth and well-oiled in the closet, but unused."
-Ernest Hemingway
So don't let the bruises, bumps, scrapes and broken hearts get in your way.
-Ernest Hemingway
So don't let the bruises, bumps, scrapes and broken hearts get in your way.
TO MY BEST FRIEND IN THE UNIVERSE ON HIS BIRTHDAY
"symmetry"
thank you for being my best friend. for calling me to tell me you punched a bus. for lifting my spirits. for sharing your world view with me. for cooking me quesadillas. for giving me piggy back rides. for being my brother. for sharing your secrets. for understanding and encouraging me. for laughing at me and for listening to me. for your weird, planned laughs. for your green shoes. for your obsession with soul music and strong female characters. for saying poop all of the time. if there were best friend marriage, i would ask you to be my best friend husband, but there is no such thing, so you are just my best friend patrick. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! THANK YOU KAREN AND TOM GILL FOR FUSING YOUR CELLS TO CREATE PATRICK GILL 19 YEARS AND 9 MONTHS AGO TODAY!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I don't want to be careful, I want to feel alive.
Ruth Fisher
I will always love Ruth Fisher
I am watching the first two seasons of Six Feet Under
call me if you have my number
we can watch it together
I will always love Ruth Fisher
I am watching the first two seasons of Six Feet Under
call me if you have my number
we can watch it together
ITS RAINING CANDY
I really enjoy pinata's. They are just so childish, and yet appropriate for any age. Perhaps it is because they allow me to relive tension in a colorful fashion. Or maybe because it is one of the only times I like being fooled, you know with a blind fold and the dizzying spins. And there is always a surprise waiting inside.
Glass man
Recently I have felt a sort of empathy to, more in some ways an intrigue and fascination with, the character of the Glass Man in Amelie. He waits, waits for events to come to him, as he perfects one moment that he has seen so many times before. But it never really is the same moment, little anomalies show themselves, so really the original painting is just a template that is to be built off of. I feel like I have been stewing recently. I do leave my room, but much of my time is spent in reflection ,wherever I am. I like the Glass Man. I do believe change could benefit this man's life, but ultimately I am enraptured by the fact that he can dilate a moment, freeze it and send so much time exploring the complexities of it.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Patrick's list of things
here are my little I can find joy in now:
- Swedish fish
- laying down for extend periods of time
- keeping a small flower in a glass of water
- the moment after talking things out with people
- noise canceling headphones
- copious amounts of water, in my belly or expanding in front of me
- the way my hand wraps around my cracked yellow mug
- cracking my knuckles and back
- David Sedaris' commentary on life
- tofu
- the smell of tomato sauce
- Swedish fish
- laying down for extend periods of time
- keeping a small flower in a glass of water
- the moment after talking things out with people
- noise canceling headphones
- copious amounts of water, in my belly or expanding in front of me
- the way my hand wraps around my cracked yellow mug
- cracking my knuckles and back
- David Sedaris' commentary on life
- tofu
- the smell of tomato sauce
ill make it up to you
the last few posts have been slight downers. like, hey, life can suck and you are gonna die but get over it and be happy kind of downers. lets practice those lists again, you know, of stuff that makes you happy. here is what has been making me happy:
-carrot juice
-grinding coffee beans at the grocery store (the smell and the sight)
-how hoarse my voice gets after recording humming onto garageband
-riding my bike (downhill)
-organizing
-meeting new people
-prank phone calls
-remembering to take my vitamins
-my soap from trader joes that smells like honey and oats
-bodey the dog
-what a terrible jogging partner my dog, pukka, is
-what a fantastic cuddler my dog, pukka, is
-practical jokes
-the bruises on my legs from sledding down cardboard hill
-finding straw in my underwear from sledding down cardboard hill
-carrot juice
-grinding coffee beans at the grocery store (the smell and the sight)
-how hoarse my voice gets after recording humming onto garageband
-riding my bike (downhill)
-organizing
-meeting new people
-prank phone calls
-remembering to take my vitamins
-my soap from trader joes that smells like honey and oats
-bodey the dog
-what a terrible jogging partner my dog, pukka, is
-what a fantastic cuddler my dog, pukka, is
-practical jokes
-the bruises on my legs from sledding down cardboard hill
-finding straw in my underwear from sledding down cardboard hill
Monday, June 2, 2008
lovey dovey mix
this lovely mix cd is going out to kim, who requested it via myspace.
myspace.com/thebigblanket
add us!
if you want a copy, or another mix cd, or a penpal, or want to hear a story, or want me to send you some stickers, or a drawing, just email us!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
interiors
I sure seem to post a lot about movies. Maybe it's just because this is right after my thoughts on "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly". These movies just make me think, especially about this big things like life, death and the happiness we are all grasping for in between. I will probably write more about other aspects of this film in the future, but here is the first theme that really got me going.
For some background information, this was Woody Allen's (praise him) first drama. He is known for his romantic comedies, such as Annie Hall, but he is really capable of capturing raw human emotion, human relationships and especially human drama. It's like, he draws you into this normal situation involving people you would see anywhere, there is nothing different about them at all except you can relate to them. Woody will tuck in the most beautifully phrased dialogue and narrative into lonely taxi rides or walks in Central Park. And if you really pay attention, the visuals usually mirror the meaning he is trying to send.
The scene that really dug into me started with Diane Keaton staring out of the window in her Connecticut home. The camera focuses on the dead tree branches, criss-crossing each other at sharp angles and harshly contrasted with the white snow. All of the colors, inside and out, are muted, bland and stark. She begins to sweat and walks downstairs to talk to her husband, stating:
"I just experienced the strangest sensation... It was as if I had a sudden.. clear vision where everything seemed sort of awful, and predatory. It was like, it was like I was here and the world was out there and I couldn't bring us together... I suddenly became hyper aware of my heart beating and I began to imagine that... I could feel the blood sort of coursing through my veins and my hands and in the back of my neck, ohh. I felt precarious, it was like I was a machine that was functioning but I could just conk out at any second..."
I felt that this was one of the main, although lesser, themes of the movie. The fragility of life, the realization of mortality and so on and so forth. Have you ever just stopped, listening to your breathing, stared and your hands and tried to wrap your mind around the fact that you are alive? It is uplifting and absolutely terrifying at the same time, because with life inevitably comes death. Without death, however, life would not be so beautiful. It is carefully balanced and incredibly fragile. Every moment is unique and can never be recreated. What you choose to do with your time is that much more fantastic, simply because that is what you chose to do with your incredibly limited time.
"I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we're moral, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." (from a movie that my roommate watched, not sure which one, but helps drive home the point I am trying to make).
So many people strive for a sense of immortality, especially through notoriety and fame. But the stress that ensues this futile searches makes it pointless. To live life fully, live it for the sake of living it. You are only given so much time, so do not waste it on things that do not bring you joy. This even includes the little things. A few days ago I decided to give up reading this Mark Twain book because honestly I found it boring. I thought to myself, "If I die tomorrow, I would have regretted putting so much time and energy into trying to read this long, boring book." So I picked up Hemingway's short stories, which so far have all ended in violent deaths. Interesting coincidence, but beside the point.
So, if there is something that is giving you trouble, do something about it. Reconcile your differences, shed yourself of your worries and simply do what you want to do. After the death of my friend a few months ago, it hit me that life is not a movie. What I mean is, there is no set beginning, middle and end. It all merges together a bit awkwardly, there is no clear portrayal of good and evil, not distinct problem and solution followed by a vignette and credits. Despite your plans, life often cuts you off, as if in the middle of a sentence. You think you have all the time in the world to get out what needs to be said when all of a sudden Death himself adds a period where a comma should be.
Sure, one day you will die and no offense, you will probably be forgotten. But by then you will be dead and you won't care much. So just get the most of it while you can, and, however grim it might sound, keeping the idea of death nearby is a good reminder.
For some background information, this was Woody Allen's (praise him) first drama. He is known for his romantic comedies, such as Annie Hall, but he is really capable of capturing raw human emotion, human relationships and especially human drama. It's like, he draws you into this normal situation involving people you would see anywhere, there is nothing different about them at all except you can relate to them. Woody will tuck in the most beautifully phrased dialogue and narrative into lonely taxi rides or walks in Central Park. And if you really pay attention, the visuals usually mirror the meaning he is trying to send.
The scene that really dug into me started with Diane Keaton staring out of the window in her Connecticut home. The camera focuses on the dead tree branches, criss-crossing each other at sharp angles and harshly contrasted with the white snow. All of the colors, inside and out, are muted, bland and stark. She begins to sweat and walks downstairs to talk to her husband, stating:
"I just experienced the strangest sensation... It was as if I had a sudden.. clear vision where everything seemed sort of awful, and predatory. It was like, it was like I was here and the world was out there and I couldn't bring us together... I suddenly became hyper aware of my heart beating and I began to imagine that... I could feel the blood sort of coursing through my veins and my hands and in the back of my neck, ohh. I felt precarious, it was like I was a machine that was functioning but I could just conk out at any second..."
I felt that this was one of the main, although lesser, themes of the movie. The fragility of life, the realization of mortality and so on and so forth. Have you ever just stopped, listening to your breathing, stared and your hands and tried to wrap your mind around the fact that you are alive? It is uplifting and absolutely terrifying at the same time, because with life inevitably comes death. Without death, however, life would not be so beautiful. It is carefully balanced and incredibly fragile. Every moment is unique and can never be recreated. What you choose to do with your time is that much more fantastic, simply because that is what you chose to do with your incredibly limited time.
"I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we're moral, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." (from a movie that my roommate watched, not sure which one, but helps drive home the point I am trying to make).
So many people strive for a sense of immortality, especially through notoriety and fame. But the stress that ensues this futile searches makes it pointless. To live life fully, live it for the sake of living it. You are only given so much time, so do not waste it on things that do not bring you joy. This even includes the little things. A few days ago I decided to give up reading this Mark Twain book because honestly I found it boring. I thought to myself, "If I die tomorrow, I would have regretted putting so much time and energy into trying to read this long, boring book." So I picked up Hemingway's short stories, which so far have all ended in violent deaths. Interesting coincidence, but beside the point.
So, if there is something that is giving you trouble, do something about it. Reconcile your differences, shed yourself of your worries and simply do what you want to do. After the death of my friend a few months ago, it hit me that life is not a movie. What I mean is, there is no set beginning, middle and end. It all merges together a bit awkwardly, there is no clear portrayal of good and evil, not distinct problem and solution followed by a vignette and credits. Despite your plans, life often cuts you off, as if in the middle of a sentence. You think you have all the time in the world to get out what needs to be said when all of a sudden Death himself adds a period where a comma should be.
Sure, one day you will die and no offense, you will probably be forgotten. But by then you will be dead and you won't care much. So just get the most of it while you can, and, however grim it might sound, keeping the idea of death nearby is a good reminder.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
little things that made me happy on my train ride home from a less than fortunate series of events:
- seeing a gentleman who looks unshakably hip, making zooming car noises when walking through the el station just like a child .
- mango smoothies
-walking home from the student center with a burrito meal deal without the to-go cover for the sheer bliss that can only come from inhaling rice like a vaccaum periodically
- seeing a gentleman who looks unshakably hip, making zooming car noises when walking through the el station just like a child .
- mango smoothies
-walking home from the student center with a burrito meal deal without the to-go cover for the sheer bliss that can only come from inhaling rice like a vaccaum periodically
le scaphandre et le papillon
The last night I was visiting my dad in Oregon, I watched this movie in bed and alone. This trailer, along with the blurb on the DVD case, hardly grazed the surface and the strength of this film. Expecting an uplifting story about the perseverance of the soul, I was floored by the weight of Jean-Dominique Bauby's story.
At the peak of his glamorous lifestyle, he suffered a stroke and was left completely paraylzed save for one of his eyeballs. Without even the ability to swallow his own spit, he is forced to communicate through blinking his eye- one for yes, two for no. Jean-Do often compares himself to a diver inside a diving bell, hence the name of the movie. He is completely trapped inside his body, capable of seeing, hearing and understanding the world around him but prevented from being able to interact with it. The story is incredibly heart wrenching, but at the same time completely appropriate for the big blanket.
It takes a while for Jean-Do to come to terms with his condition, especially since he was used to fine dining, fast cars and beautiful women. In order to escape his self-pity, he escaped into his own mind, using his imagination to make his immobile life worthwhile. There was nothing he could do about his situation, so he had to make the most of it. He dreamed up exotic lands, rich dishes and fond memories.
"I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory."
“Hold fast to the human inside of you and you’ll survive.”
This reminded me of the end of "The Stranger" by Camus, when Meursault is in jail waiting to be executed. His days are long and boring and he feels that he is starting to go crazy in his cement cell. But instead, he starts to make due with what he can, examining his lawyer's ties and watching the birds from his window.
"At that time, I often thought that if I had had to live in the trunk of a dead tree, with nothing to do but look up at the sky flowing overhead, little by little I would have gotten used to it." Part 2, Chapter 2, pg. 77
"And the more I thought about it, the more I dug out my memory things I had overlooked or forgotten. I realized then that a man who had lived only one day could easily live for a hundred years in prison. He would have enough memories to keep him from being bored. In a way, it was an advantage." Part 2, Chapter 2, pg. 79
Etty Hillesum's diary was also brought to mind. Although I cannot find the exact quote, she speaks of the expansiveness of the soul and how it is more vast than any landscape known to man, in the physical sense. While biding her time in the concentration camps, she would scour her soul for the smallest ounce of beauty so as to avoid losing herself completely to the destruction around her.
Also, I think many of us can relate to how trapped Jean-Do felt after suffering his stroke. We are bound by language, time, society, expectations and so much more. Many people exhaust themselves trying to control their own fates, but it is impossible to succeed. I found it an interesting coincidence that I saw this film the night before I left the small meth town in Oregon where my Dad lives, where I hardly left the boundaries of the lot, save for going to the grocery store. I passed my time, when allowed to, reading "The Tao of Pooh" as in Winnie the Pooh. If you are not familiar with Taoism, it is essentially about how you should simply let things be as they are, not try to push them in a certain direction, especially if they do not want to budge. It is not preaching apathy, but encouraging you to accept the way the world is unfolding around you and be at peace with it. One of my favorite Winnie the Pooh quote that exemplifies this idea is the following:
“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”
“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”
“Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.”
The point is, we all get stuck in some awful situations, some short-term, some long-term and some forever. If that is the way your live is, and there is nothing that can change it, why fret over it? Spend your strength on the things that are in your power. In order to make this more applicable to many of our young lives, say you studied for a test but did not do so well. Why are you gonna fuss over it after the fact? It is not as if your stress level will raise your grade point average, so just move on. Think of yourself as in the passenger seat and God, Allah, pure energy, Nirvana, fate, whatever is in the front seat. Maybe you can hold the wheel every now and then while the big guy lights his cigarette, but other than that you do not have much control of where the car is going. So lean back, relax and enjoy the view.
Don't forget to watch "Le scaphandre et le papillon" also known as "The diving bell and the butterfly".
Thursday, May 22, 2008
PANDA
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=90258411
watch the first video
I fully endorse the idea that just looking at a panda can make you happy.
watch the first video
I fully endorse the idea that just looking at a panda can make you happy.
I feel that it is our generation that we have discovered and very much tested the idea that appearance has become our canvas of self perception or perception in general. Maybe we have defined ourselves as the visual generation, because we have taken it upon ourselves, with great pains, pleasures, and will power,to wear what we perceive ourselves as or what we desire to be perceived as.
This notion really resonated within me after reading Jenny's last entry. I feel that in the course of humanity there have been multiple series of constructing and deconstructing normalities based around some skin flaps and behavior tendencies.
Which brings me to an almost oppositional idea (but really I feel its much more of a companion): What are we to do with this skin flaps, behaviors, and even more ideas that we have been told to have and become. And as I often do and feel
one must shake what their mama (did or did not) gave them.
This means we, as a generation of intellect and action, can make malleable what we are given, warp it, preserve it, subtract it, or simply play with it. We can do this with clothing, mannerisms, posturing, and speech. Gender identity now can be taken into our hands, and we can do with what we see fit. Though we are coming to understand the true equity of the human species, this does not me gender roles need to eradicated. they can be reassigned, re-envisioned, redefined, into just roles, without specific groups requirement to follow them.
my final thought is this: that the true self will always find its way through.
I believe ultimately humans have a core encoded with their true self, and no physical boundaries can inhibit this, in fact they should come to embody this core. We are defined by our actions, but our actions are defined by what is within ourselves. And we cannot, we will not be limited anymore. We can work with what we are given to become what we really are. Which in reality is a handful or two off loonies. Gorgeously original class A loonies.
This notion really resonated within me after reading Jenny's last entry. I feel that in the course of humanity there have been multiple series of constructing and deconstructing normalities based around some skin flaps and behavior tendencies.
Which brings me to an almost oppositional idea (but really I feel its much more of a companion): What are we to do with this skin flaps, behaviors, and even more ideas that we have been told to have and become. And as I often do and feel
one must shake what their mama (did or did not) gave them.
This means we, as a generation of intellect and action, can make malleable what we are given, warp it, preserve it, subtract it, or simply play with it. We can do this with clothing, mannerisms, posturing, and speech. Gender identity now can be taken into our hands, and we can do with what we see fit. Though we are coming to understand the true equity of the human species, this does not me gender roles need to eradicated. they can be reassigned, re-envisioned, redefined, into just roles, without specific groups requirement to follow them.
my final thought is this: that the true self will always find its way through.
I believe ultimately humans have a core encoded with their true self, and no physical boundaries can inhibit this, in fact they should come to embody this core. We are defined by our actions, but our actions are defined by what is within ourselves. And we cannot, we will not be limited anymore. We can work with what we are given to become what we really are. Which in reality is a handful or two off loonies. Gorgeously original class A loonies.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
sex, gender and sexuality
In honor of the recent decision to make gay marriage legal in California, I figured I would post about sex, gender and sexuality. I'm not sure if anybody told you, but they are not real. People have made them up, named them, in order to better identify things they have trouble understanding. It's an all to common phenomenon. So, let's start with sex, as in male and female. But it's not just male and female. There are at least five different sexes. You have probably heard of hermaphrodite, and that's one of them. There are mermaphrodites and fermaphrodites, too! Plus, you hear about all this testosterone and estrogen flying around making you more masculine or feminine. Honestly, men and women have nearly equal amounts of it. It's only during puberty that levels may change dramatically. And chromosomes, you know like XX and XY. Well there are dozens of different combinations available for those. Like XXY, XXXY, XYY, even mosaics. Someone with mosaic chromosomes mean that every time you take a sample of their DNA, a different combination appears. Having these chromosome combinations actually is not very rare at all, it is entirely possible and probable that you know some people with one of them. Most of them are insubstantial and cannot be detected by the naked eye, which is why you have no idea about it. Homosexual is a word that was created about 150 years ago. Yes, it is true that some people are attracted more to the same sex or some people are attracted to both sexes, but it is so prude to consider it deviant. Before people gave it a name and decided it was something "the other" does, same sex relations was considered pretty normal. Way back when, in Ancient Greece or somethin', sex between two men was called "heavenly sex". Okay, that sounds kind of cheesy and you might chuckle at it, but it still goes to show their view of it. And when you think about it, it makes sense for it to be so revered. First of all, people of your own sex know more about your body and the way it works compared to the opposite sex (or sexes, as mentioned before). Plus, people are so caught up in vaginal intercourse, as it is the end all of sexual pleasure. It's not. Not necessarily, at least. Given the four most sensitive areas on each sex (which I will not list here for fear of some blogger police rapping me on the knuckles and tut tutting), it probably gets 3.5/5 stars on the richter scale. Haha, richter scale, I made a funny. Okay, if that made you blush, have no fear because we are moving on to the topic of gender. Gender is how you are supposed to act given your sex. You are a boy, so you like blue and play with toy trucks. You are a girl, so you like pink and play with dolls. This is how we are raised and taught to behave from the moment we are born. Ever wonder what you would be like if you had been encouraged to rough house, as opposed to play house, with your friends? Or vice versa? Or both? Females acting feminine and males acting masculine is not how it is done all over the world. It just happens in our neck of the woods because that is the norm for raising children. There are groups of people where both men and women are incredibly aggressive, but equally aggressive nonetheless. There is another group of people that encourages passive, peaceful behavior in both sexes. In some parts of the world, women are aggressive, hunt for food and lead the group, while the men take care of the children and gossip by the river. No joke. This just goes to show that aggressive (male) behavior and peaceful (female) behavior is not mapped out in our genetics. It is not as if we are born as male or female and destined for a personality depending on that sex. It is a bit liberating, isn't it? I mean, now that you know that none of it is real, that it is all a social construction, don't you feel a little more comfortable just being yourself? I myself don't really think of myself in terms of sex, gender and sexuality. I just am, and I do what feels right. These names, labels, are just restricting. You subject yourself to one and you feel obliged to fit it completely. So just be yourself. Here is a quote from Futurama that I think ties this all up quite well:
(Amy is trying to find a guy for Leela, like this ball of energy)
Amy: This is M5438, an entity of pure energy.
Leela: That's great really, but he's just not what I'm looking for.
M5438: (nerdy voice) I understand. One day you will evolve beyond your physical body, and on that day I hope you will pick up the phone.
(Amy is trying to find a guy for Leela, like this ball of energy)
Amy: This is M5438, an entity of pure energy.
Leela: That's great really, but he's just not what I'm looking for.
M5438: (nerdy voice) I understand. One day you will evolve beyond your physical body, and on that day I hope you will pick up the phone.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Getting from here to there
I tend to be a fast walker, especially in my green "leprechaun" oddly heeled foot contraptions. I like to think of myself as observant when out in public, but in all honesty I believe there is so much that I miss in walking with a quicker step and by mindlessly opening up my stride. I think I just like to hear the rhythm of heel to pavement, heel to pavement, and my subconscious wishes to speed it up or make it more audible with forceful steps. I catch myself when I get out of control, you can just imagine what out of control walking looks like for me (there is a whole lot of stomping and swaying and arms are just, and way to fast to be at a relaxed pace). In these moments i then start to walk slower, to better understand the tunnel of trees I am about to walk through, to decide wether that smell is urine or vomit, and to admire the resilient gardens of maintained by people I would like to shake hands with and consider my favorite Chicagoians; It takes a lot of patience to have a garden in a city, next to a college campus (many beer cans and cigarette butts bloom in the night unbeknownst to the gardener), and in Chicago where your efforts are covered for at least four months of the year and the lack of sunlight may hinder your progress.
All this considered, something should also be said about how one carries themselves when they walk. The body language of a walk can exude confidence or apathy. And even if I may sound like some sort of self help book from the sixites, I still believe how someone presents themselves can be a barometer to their view of the world (this is not limiting to the world of clothing and hyegine, but it stature and movement). Sometimes when I am feeling really good, and I can feel it all the way down to my feet, I think my walk is the most relaxed and proud. But then it morphs into some grotesque more than proud trot, and then after checking myself I am able to look around and see little things that make me wonder, that make me happy, and that make me want to find something more.
after thought:
-watching how people walk is incredible, just paying attention to little aspects of humans in motion. try not to look pervy though, no extended stares to the buttocks or groin, in fact no prolonged odd gazes.
-try to make up stories to peoples strides, dont confine them to the story you make, do it all in good fun
All this considered, something should also be said about how one carries themselves when they walk. The body language of a walk can exude confidence or apathy. And even if I may sound like some sort of self help book from the sixites, I still believe how someone presents themselves can be a barometer to their view of the world (this is not limiting to the world of clothing and hyegine, but it stature and movement). Sometimes when I am feeling really good, and I can feel it all the way down to my feet, I think my walk is the most relaxed and proud. But then it morphs into some grotesque more than proud trot, and then after checking myself I am able to look around and see little things that make me wonder, that make me happy, and that make me want to find something more.
after thought:
-watching how people walk is incredible, just paying attention to little aspects of humans in motion. try not to look pervy though, no extended stares to the buttocks or groin, in fact no prolonged odd gazes.
-try to make up stories to peoples strides, dont confine them to the story you make, do it all in good fun
Friday, May 16, 2008
TELL ME THIS IS NOT UPLIFTING
the song
the show is good too
I cant really remember the fourth season
but six feet under was genius
but back to the fact that this song by Nina Simone should be listened to by someone who needs validation for some life choices.
list of songs I seeing parts of when I am alone on the street:
1) Hallejuah- by Leonard Cohen, but I always listen to the Rufus Wainwright version
2) Come on get happy-Judy Garland
3) Valarie- Amy Winehouse
4) Make a Move- Birds fled from me
5) Where do the children play- Cat Stevens
6) I think its gonna work out fine- Ike and Tina Turner (this is actually usually not sung out loud, but danced to and sang in my head when no one is looking at work)
7) Missisipi Goddamn- Nina Simone
8) You are what you love- Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
9) Trouble in Mind- Nina Simone
10) I would rather be blind- Etta James
The last time I was in San Francisco, I walked down the singing with my best friend. We sang and walked from her dorm to wherever we wanted to go, actually singing as if it were breathing or some natural action without the slightest premonition.
I always forgot the words and I was self concious of it from time to time. But Jenny would giggle a little bit, and she only told me I messed up once, even though I knew I forgot at least a section of every song we sang.
It just felt good, it felt right to do. So it was done. I wouldn't mind it if it happened a lot, walking down the street and singing with or without someone, but nonetheless I am happy it happened at least once at the volume I have always wanted it to.
2) Come on get happy-Judy Garland
3) Valarie- Amy Winehouse
4) Make a Move- Birds fled from me
5) Where do the children play- Cat Stevens
6) I think its gonna work out fine- Ike and Tina Turner (this is actually usually not sung out loud, but danced to and sang in my head when no one is looking at work)
7) Missisipi Goddamn- Nina Simone
8) You are what you love- Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
9) Trouble in Mind- Nina Simone
10) I would rather be blind- Etta James
The last time I was in San Francisco, I walked down the singing with my best friend. We sang and walked from her dorm to wherever we wanted to go, actually singing as if it were breathing or some natural action without the slightest premonition.
I always forgot the words and I was self concious of it from time to time. But Jenny would giggle a little bit, and she only told me I messed up once, even though I knew I forgot at least a section of every song we sang.
It just felt good, it felt right to do. So it was done. I wouldn't mind it if it happened a lot, walking down the street and singing with or without someone, but nonetheless I am happy it happened at least once at the volume I have always wanted it to.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I like to think this is what friendship sounds like
by the end I just smile. I grin to large for my face, and then I watch it again.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
EXPRESSION
Sometimes you get mad. Sometimes you get lonely. Sometimes you are both these things, and then you trip over your own two feet when you are walking on a busy street and then you are embarrassed. I myself am not the type to scream and kick it out like some of you. I can feel it boiling just behind my eyes but I refuse to go about my business any differently, except for an extra huff or two. Woody Allen is the same way. He says he can't express anger. It was in a movie, though, but I mean it was a character Woody Allen was playing, and I feel like they are all pretty autobiographical so I am guessing when he says, "my pyschoanalyst says I have trouble expressing anger" it is the truth. Sometimes to release the pressure, I go on long walks with no destination, eat a lot, listen to angry music or make art. Thanks to school, I unfortunately haven't had much time to do the latter. But thank God I turned in my last paper (which, coincidentally was about how African Americans used jazz as a creative outlet that in turn gave them a sense of dignity despite the oppression and discrimination from all sides) and will very soon have time to sit crossed legged on my spotty ol' carpet. Patrick actually introduced me to collaging. Before I didn't think of it as much of an art form at all, but maybe that's cause the only collages I was exposed to were of skinny models and hot shot celebrities on the corkboards in the dorms. Here are two collage artists that are especially inspirational and I know their work will have an interesting affect on what I create in the future:
my little sea pony
crowded teef
We may not all be Picassos, but like these lovely ladies often do, we can fill our lives with art and creativity. Every letter, mix cd, notebook and grocery list are chances to express yourself and mold the world around you to your liking. Remember the play dough thing? It's kind of like that. Just imagine everything is made of play dough. Off you go, now.
my little sea pony
crowded teef
We may not all be Picassos, but like these lovely ladies often do, we can fill our lives with art and creativity. Every letter, mix cd, notebook and grocery list are chances to express yourself and mold the world around you to your liking. Remember the play dough thing? It's kind of like that. Just imagine everything is made of play dough. Off you go, now.
Monday, May 12, 2008
This is one hour of unguided thought- the 25 most salient thoughts
I wrote down the gist of 25 thoughts I had today within the hours of 3:30 to 4:30 pm.
Unguided means I didn't want any particular thing to come into my head, I didn't shut anything out, I just let everything happen and tried to write it out.
Each thought is accompanied by at least one image that I found after googling the main subjects of each statement. Because sometimes I make obnoxious rules for myself, the image must be within the first 5 images, or top 10 if it is just too good to pass up.
This is how I get by.
1)
Oscar Wilde had very pronounced jowls, but I think his velveteen knickers and capes distracted people from them. Cerebrally he is incredibly attractive, and he is a nice looking gentlemen, but I cannot get over his jawline.
I think the long hair also helped hide them.
The only downside to the whole cape thing, it could pretty much convict him of sodomy without even needing a testimony against him.
2)
Playful banter is necessary.
3)
I need to check my mail.
4)
Why do my eyes look green sometimes?
5)
Which is easier to play:
Air Drums
or Air Guitar?
6)
Dead
(the dead sea)
7)
A hair washing is needed
8)
My goatee-mustache combo makes me look more smug than Robert Downey Junior.
(its not as developed as this though)
9)
I might need a new bracelet.
10)
tired
11)
Laurie Anderson: that woman has visions. Even better yet, she lives out her visions.
12)
Oh my god for the first time ever the train actually sounded like the ocean waves crashing.
I used to want that to happen so bad.
13)
I wonder how many people read this blog. Wait why do I care about results so much, shouldn't I just be happy?!
(its kind of a two for one special)
(this is what I got for care so much)
14)
Sexy Results Death from Above 1979
15)
Oh dear lord, I just had this odd sensation. It was like my mind fired a missile within itself to destroy the negative notion I was beginning to perceive.
I am self correcting, I have come to a point of subconscious positivity. Lets make this last.
16)
So tired, but I believe it will only last as long as this class period.
(I am sorry, two photos were required on this)
17)
Time to focus back on the lesson. Get pumped. Lets Learn. Optimism. YEAH.
18)
DEPLOY MISSLES AGAIN DAMN IT! (see thought 15)
(I want you all to know this was found on a site that had Bible Help in the name)
19)
I walked up and down the stairs of the building my class was in today, just to kill time before my class.
20)
The building is seventeen stories, I walked that at least once, and then from 1 to 11
and then just around the building. I think by that time I just wanted to walk and burn off the calories of a ice cream snickers bar.
21)
I have a wedgie because of this.
22)
I want some jicama and hot sauce.
23)
I am embarrassed because someone saw my notes.
24)
There is a rasp, possibly caused by a french accent
or a mucus bubble,
in my teacher's voice.
25)
When I get nervous or uncomfortable, I take off my shoes.
This was awkwardly liberating. It was akw-lib-ating.
Unguided means I didn't want any particular thing to come into my head, I didn't shut anything out, I just let everything happen and tried to write it out.
Each thought is accompanied by at least one image that I found after googling the main subjects of each statement. Because sometimes I make obnoxious rules for myself, the image must be within the first 5 images, or top 10 if it is just too good to pass up.
This is how I get by.
1)
Oscar Wilde had very pronounced jowls, but I think his velveteen knickers and capes distracted people from them. Cerebrally he is incredibly attractive, and he is a nice looking gentlemen, but I cannot get over his jawline.
I think the long hair also helped hide them.
The only downside to the whole cape thing, it could pretty much convict him of sodomy without even needing a testimony against him.
2)
Playful banter is necessary.
3)
I need to check my mail.
4)
Why do my eyes look green sometimes?
5)
Which is easier to play:
Air Drums
or Air Guitar?
6)
Dead
(the dead sea)
7)
A hair washing is needed
8)
My goatee-mustache combo makes me look more smug than Robert Downey Junior.
(its not as developed as this though)
9)
I might need a new bracelet.
10)
tired
11)
Laurie Anderson: that woman has visions. Even better yet, she lives out her visions.
12)
Oh my god for the first time ever the train actually sounded like the ocean waves crashing.
I used to want that to happen so bad.
13)
I wonder how many people read this blog. Wait why do I care about results so much, shouldn't I just be happy?!
(its kind of a two for one special)
(this is what I got for care so much)
14)
Sexy Results Death from Above 1979
15)
Oh dear lord, I just had this odd sensation. It was like my mind fired a missile within itself to destroy the negative notion I was beginning to perceive.
I am self correcting, I have come to a point of subconscious positivity. Lets make this last.
16)
So tired, but I believe it will only last as long as this class period.
(I am sorry, two photos were required on this)
17)
Time to focus back on the lesson. Get pumped. Lets Learn. Optimism. YEAH.
18)
DEPLOY MISSLES AGAIN DAMN IT! (see thought 15)
(I want you all to know this was found on a site that had Bible Help in the name)
19)
I walked up and down the stairs of the building my class was in today, just to kill time before my class.
20)
The building is seventeen stories, I walked that at least once, and then from 1 to 11
and then just around the building. I think by that time I just wanted to walk and burn off the calories of a ice cream snickers bar.
21)
I have a wedgie because of this.
22)
I want some jicama and hot sauce.
23)
I am embarrassed because someone saw my notes.
24)
There is a rasp, possibly caused by a french accent
or a mucus bubble,
in my teacher's voice.
25)
When I get nervous or uncomfortable, I take off my shoes.
This was awkwardly liberating. It was akw-lib-ating.
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