Tonight, if all goes well, will be the last night I sleep in my apartment. Moving is an emotional experience for me. One residence to another represents on situation or phase of life transitioning into another. You pack your things, sort through what you hope will be useful in the next stage, discard what you fear has been holding you back, and you put faith in what's ahead.
Mostly over the years, moving has been a kind of running. Escaping from one bad situation to another, from one rough relationship smashing onto the rocks into a tiny lifeboat with only hope as my compass, one fear forcing me through the pain and into the next, these are my experiences in the fine art of a wandering life. This time it isn't like that. Choice marks this move in ways it hasn't the past. There's no fearful fleeing. I am moving in hope. I am moving in faith.
When I say that I am moving in hope and faith I ask that you realize two things. One I take neither of these concepts lightly. Two, I mean more than the physical move, I rarely do physical things for even primarily physical reasons. So, I'm scared. It's easier to move when you have to, when you have a cliff behind you and certain doom edging towards you, take your chance with the cliff and jump. Jumping for fun? Jumping just hoping that it will be better? Crazy talk.
I don't have much luck with cliffs. There are some major ones I've crashed off in the last two years. I'm not really remembering any flying going on, a few awkward flaps of wings on the way down maybe, no real flight though. With each chance and choice we write our stories, tonight, on the eve of another cliff, the beginning of another stage in life, I put what little faith and hope I have in the dream that my someday is coming, that there really are brighter days, fuller moments, and more love, in an increasingly closer future.
Tonight I don't want to be nostalgic, I really didn't have the best of times in my first home. It meant a lot to be here, it was a safe haven and a comfort, it was everything I needed, but it wasn't full of memories of love. Tonight is about hoping that my next home will incorporate that element. And with it a purpose will grow for my life.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Stuff
Okay, so neither of these uploaded as well as I would have liked. The second one is actually a copy of the original scanned into the computer. Which is lame that it required me to make a copy of something so I could scan it but whatever. Anyways, it's more art, for the fans.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Quotes
"Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not.
Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end.
Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of the bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
There is only one serious question. And that is:
Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself.
Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time.
Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon."
-"Still Life With Woodpecker" by Tom Robbins
Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end.
Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of the bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.
There is only one serious question. And that is:
Who knows how to make love stay?
Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself.
Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time.
Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon."
-"Still Life With Woodpecker" by Tom Robbins
Monday, November 9, 2009
Tweaking
So this is the newest thing I've done. It has also been one of the better of what I would call "happy art" projects for me. It isn't what everyone might call happy but this is something I created that doesn't exclusively draw from the darker regions of my mind. Usually those tend to produce results I find easier to put into art. This piece feels at least up to par with some of my dark arts though. ;) Tell me what you think. I love comments. I am after all a drama queen at heart, just dying for your applause.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Brief Book Reviews
Man in the Dark - Paul Auster
The story is told over one night, maybe its for that reason it feels so much like a dream I've had instead of a book I've read. It's how a house of insomniacs passes the evening. In particular the grandfather. He tells a story to himself to keep his own world at bay, while bringing himself into the story. I'm a sucker for characters and this is definitely a character driven story. I find myself relating so well to the mind of this man, identifying with him while he pushes and pulls bits of his life apart, pushes and pulls fragments of his own world into fiction, pushes and pulls a history of relationships and events around sorting out his own life. It's as if the whole of his world hinges on this night.
If I had to rate the book I'd give it a four out of five. While I really enjoy the things of Auster that I've read parts of me always feel a little like I've been there before. He has no moments in which I find myself compelled to rest in the story and ponder ideas, no words that force me to slow and admire their beauty or truth. Instead he wanders through dark streets that always remind me of a black and white film. He feels like a friend at night. So I like this story (and the New York Trilogy) and I'd certainly recommend them, but I won't change my favorite facebook book list to add him.
The Stranger- Albert Camus
When you read frequently you'll notice authors are sometimes like reading lists themselves. They often reference other books, authors, or topics. In fact if you start working your way through one book you and you deeply wish to understand it, if it has any great merit, you could probably spend your whole life just working through the secondary works of one whole book. That's why I picked Camus. First and foremost because he shows up in all the books I read as a reference (including the one I'm reading now) and second because he's published philosophical works. I'm a snob. I feel like I should know about all philosophers and while I don't always enjoy reading their stuff if they've published a fictional piece I really should read it.
So I picked up Camus. And yes, I decided which book to take home based on how many we are modeled for in the store. Modeling is determined by what we sell, therefore, in my own way I picked a "best seller".
The story is about a man who goes to his mothers funeral, meets some people, and kills a man. Maybe I just gave away the plot. Maybe I just told you the whole book. There isn't much to it. I guess I wasn't a huge fan because the main character has almost no emotions. Which is the point of the story, I understand how objectively it's told, I understand, hell even enjoy the structure (written very much in an american fashion) but there is no way for me to connect with the story because there are so few real emotions or even ideas to reach out and hold.
I left the story feeling like "That's it?" Maybe I should try another one. They're short stories, it's almost no work to get through one, maybe if I lower my expectations I'll see what all the fuss is about. Maybe you can explain it to me. I feel like if I was to sit and talk with someone about it maybe I could "see the light".
The Hellbound Heart- Clive Barker
Have I mentioned how much I enjoy recommendations? I do. I thrive on them. Music, movies, shows, ideas, television, activities. You name it. But books are my favorite. I love having someone hand me a book and say "You should read this." Not a James Patterson novel or Nora Roberts or even Shakespear. I like it when its one of theirs. Like a secret fantsy or a hidden mystery of the self. One of my coworkers from the store suggested this.
Interesting. Dark. To the point. I was impressed with how well the characters were painted in such a short time. I understood them, all of the very different personalities, so well. Identifying with the darkest needs and hungers while simulaniously retaining the innocence of the gentle contrasting parts. Humanity itself was well characterized in such a short summary.
I was a little disappointed, I'll admit, by the lack of grey areas. There was black and white by the end. No struggling to overcome tension within, no inner termoil I like to see so much in my stories. All of the drama and action was outside the characters. They dealt with them in a rather character static way without much real arch for any of them.
Maybe a three in five? Ratings are a lot harder to give, and ideas a lot harder to have, when there is no one to talk with books about. I wish I knew people I could trust to give feed back about books, what makes a good book, what elements they like to see, what writing skills mark different authors. The ease is definiately greater when in the company of others.
The story is told over one night, maybe its for that reason it feels so much like a dream I've had instead of a book I've read. It's how a house of insomniacs passes the evening. In particular the grandfather. He tells a story to himself to keep his own world at bay, while bringing himself into the story. I'm a sucker for characters and this is definitely a character driven story. I find myself relating so well to the mind of this man, identifying with him while he pushes and pulls bits of his life apart, pushes and pulls fragments of his own world into fiction, pushes and pulls a history of relationships and events around sorting out his own life. It's as if the whole of his world hinges on this night.
If I had to rate the book I'd give it a four out of five. While I really enjoy the things of Auster that I've read parts of me always feel a little like I've been there before. He has no moments in which I find myself compelled to rest in the story and ponder ideas, no words that force me to slow and admire their beauty or truth. Instead he wanders through dark streets that always remind me of a black and white film. He feels like a friend at night. So I like this story (and the New York Trilogy) and I'd certainly recommend them, but I won't change my favorite facebook book list to add him.
The Stranger- Albert Camus
When you read frequently you'll notice authors are sometimes like reading lists themselves. They often reference other books, authors, or topics. In fact if you start working your way through one book you and you deeply wish to understand it, if it has any great merit, you could probably spend your whole life just working through the secondary works of one whole book. That's why I picked Camus. First and foremost because he shows up in all the books I read as a reference (including the one I'm reading now) and second because he's published philosophical works. I'm a snob. I feel like I should know about all philosophers and while I don't always enjoy reading their stuff if they've published a fictional piece I really should read it.
So I picked up Camus. And yes, I decided which book to take home based on how many we are modeled for in the store. Modeling is determined by what we sell, therefore, in my own way I picked a "best seller".
The story is about a man who goes to his mothers funeral, meets some people, and kills a man. Maybe I just gave away the plot. Maybe I just told you the whole book. There isn't much to it. I guess I wasn't a huge fan because the main character has almost no emotions. Which is the point of the story, I understand how objectively it's told, I understand, hell even enjoy the structure (written very much in an american fashion) but there is no way for me to connect with the story because there are so few real emotions or even ideas to reach out and hold.
I left the story feeling like "That's it?" Maybe I should try another one. They're short stories, it's almost no work to get through one, maybe if I lower my expectations I'll see what all the fuss is about. Maybe you can explain it to me. I feel like if I was to sit and talk with someone about it maybe I could "see the light".
The Hellbound Heart- Clive Barker
Have I mentioned how much I enjoy recommendations? I do. I thrive on them. Music, movies, shows, ideas, television, activities. You name it. But books are my favorite. I love having someone hand me a book and say "You should read this." Not a James Patterson novel or Nora Roberts or even Shakespear. I like it when its one of theirs. Like a secret fantsy or a hidden mystery of the self. One of my coworkers from the store suggested this.
Interesting. Dark. To the point. I was impressed with how well the characters were painted in such a short time. I understood them, all of the very different personalities, so well. Identifying with the darkest needs and hungers while simulaniously retaining the innocence of the gentle contrasting parts. Humanity itself was well characterized in such a short summary.
I was a little disappointed, I'll admit, by the lack of grey areas. There was black and white by the end. No struggling to overcome tension within, no inner termoil I like to see so much in my stories. All of the drama and action was outside the characters. They dealt with them in a rather character static way without much real arch for any of them.
Maybe a three in five? Ratings are a lot harder to give, and ideas a lot harder to have, when there is no one to talk with books about. I wish I knew people I could trust to give feed back about books, what makes a good book, what elements they like to see, what writing skills mark different authors. The ease is definiately greater when in the company of others.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
This Week The Trend
Okay. If I would post more regularly then I wouldn't need to make this as long as it's going to be. I'm sorry. Here are the topics I plan on dealing with today. First I will explain my weekend which should give you a general sense of my life. Next I will write two reviews on the last two books I finished. I will number these so that you can skip around at will. Thank you for your time and patients.
1. The weekend
For me weekends begin on Friday. Usually not even after five. The weekend starts sometime around three-ish, as I'm cementing my plans. Half the fun of the weekend is anticipation. This Friday around 3 my Barnes boss called me while I was working. He asked if I would pick up an evening shift that night. I did have plans already, I was supposed to go see a movie or go to dinner with a friend, however this friend is often unreliable so I tend to view plans as "loose." I told him I would. He said, "Ok. Since you're coming in tonight I will give you a treat when you get here." Which immeditately sent my wheels turning.
My shift that night was mostly frustrating as my mood swang wildly with the comments of my coworkers. I had decided to wear the clothes I had on from my OCG job since I had a "jeans coupon" and this turned out to be a problem. I was aware that it is highly unusual for me to not be much more dressy and I knew that there were some psudeo rips in the jeans so I okayed them with one of the managers first and said that I would be willing to change if she said so. She said they were fine. Less than half an hour later I took a bit of a verbal beating from my boss about how I looked. It was "teasing" the kind of teasing that means something. Unfortuantely in that form I am defenseless.
The night went back and forth between friendly chatter and petty comments that dug deep. One minute I'm feeling fine, the next I feel like the world is out to get me. First I'm part of the group, turn, I'm being attacked by it. It was that kind of night. Turns out my treat was two tickets to the ballet of Jack the Ripper. I would be sitting with my boss and a few other people from the store. I was both excited and nervous. He told me that if I needed any schedule tweeking he would fix it so I could make the show Sunday (today) at two. I was already scheduled for an 8-12 shift for change over so it would work out.
Saturday I worked on my Harley Quinn costume after sleeping late. I did lots of sewing and arranging. In the end I'm really proud of how good it turned out. Although I am a bit disappointed that I didn't get to put on a show for anyone who would appriecate it. I went to work without the costume on at 4. There were employees there in costume but since I had taken so much crap the night before about jeans I wasn't prepared to deal with another night of feeling exiled over something so petty. In the end I still had a similar situation while listening to some of my coworkers talk about other peoples clothes and becoming increasingly sensitive about every way in which they precieve me. For some reason I truely care what these people think, for the life of me I can't imagine why.
After work I went to a friend of a friends house where she was at a "house party." They were already drinking and putting on costumes. We had planned on going out for a quick drink in our costumes at a bar downtown before calling it a reasonably early night. I showed up, met all the new people I didn't know, and changed. We hung around for a bit before the very drunk couple who lived in the house, and my very drunk friend, threw everyone out so we could cram into my car and go downtown. By 11:30 we were pulling out of the driveway. Not nearly soon enough for me since I had a 6:30 wake up call. After much irritation and paying for parking, driving downtown on halloween of all nights!, and getting everything organized my drunk friend realized she forgot her id back in wyoming. I was unhappy to say the least. We all piled back into the car and drove back. Since I refused to go back downtown (unwilling to shuttle everyone back and forth from Wyoming to Grand Rapids all night) we compromised and went to Magoos, a lame little bar in Wyoming, which had the benefit of being close.
After arriving getting myself one drink and beginning to finally settle into the evening my friend almost immediately steared me into a conversation with a hockey player who was in town with one of his team mates for the weekend. He was attractive, uncostumed, and claiming to be a "Bible Salesman" for the night. We chatted most of the evening while I avoided my friends getting drunker by the minute, to the point where the guy she was talking to made sure I was the one driving and that I was aware of how much she had been drinking. I kept an eye on the party as a whole, mothering no small amount. The couple I had met that night got into a fight at the bar, some kind of "he said she said" cheating situation. When the lights came on I thanked my hockey player for his time and when to shuttle the drunken bunch home.
This lead to a turn of events I was not expecting. The girl, so angry and drunk, stormed away without him. Once at the car she said, "Step on it!" My friend waited until he came over and asked if he was riding home with us. (Originally they had planned to take a cab home but there is no way they remember that at this point.) The boyfriend tried to get into the car, at which point the girl jumped out of it and began slapping him. He walked away and got a ride back to his place with some friends. I drove her back to the same house, where all her things were along with the boyfriend. The car driving him pulled up into the lawn followed by the girl brother and his friends blocking me into the driveway. They began fighting out in the lawn at nearly three am. It was a domestic distrubance. So unreal to me. Finally, after talking my drunken friend out of trying to drive anywhere I dragged her back to my apartment, having left the couple to fight it out themselves. My friend slept on my couch and I showered and went to sleep feeling like this must be someone elses life.
Early this morning I woke up to go to work. I shared the bathroom with my friend, now hungover. I made it to work and did a changeover with a select few memebers of the staff. I had heard one of the managers explaining to another employee that the people who were picked to do this job were so because of their already open schedules. I know that this isn't likely the case. The changeover was like a KB changeover, as remarked by the two members of management who were there. I remember how those worked, the people who work them are the ones part of "the club" and yes, it does mean your special. It might be petty but the nostolgia and elitness of it does make me feel good. Even though in some ways it also feels like a trick so that I can be mocked more. It's the same way that I feel about the tickets.
My friend from the night before had agreed to be my "date" to the show. After getting out of work I came home and changed into jeans and a nice sweater and we went out to lunch before meeting a few Barnes folks at DeVos. I sat with the old KB staff, meaning my store manager and a merch manager plus their wives and my friend. There were ten tickets total. The others were several rows behind us and went to are crm and her fellow and one of the girls who has joined the staff within the last year and is running a department and her husband.
The show itself was amazing. I wish that I could see it again because I feel like there was so much I missed. I know that I was more nervous and edgy than I needed to be about interacting with the people I went with though. I tend to go into these situations really defensive and tense because I worry about what hurtful thing I will hear next. For some reason these little petty jabs always dig me deeper than they should. While I am the queen of judgemental often times I feel like I am an amuture next to these folks.
Following the show I went home and slept. Naps are required when you get only three hours sleep. Upon waking I realize what a deep sense of lonliness has set into my life. I was with other people during nearly all of my waking (and some of my sleeping) hours this weekend, but I failed to feel truely conneted for most of it. There are a few notible execptions but overwhelmingly I feel irrelivant both to myself and others.
Now I'm doing laundry and trying to talk myself into cleaning a bit more of the mess that has become my apartment. Looking at the length of this post I realize already that I can't make it longer by adding my reviews to this. These are my weekend stories, the reviews for Man in the Dark and All Families are Psychotic will follow this week (I hope).
1. The weekend
For me weekends begin on Friday. Usually not even after five. The weekend starts sometime around three-ish, as I'm cementing my plans. Half the fun of the weekend is anticipation. This Friday around 3 my Barnes boss called me while I was working. He asked if I would pick up an evening shift that night. I did have plans already, I was supposed to go see a movie or go to dinner with a friend, however this friend is often unreliable so I tend to view plans as "loose." I told him I would. He said, "Ok. Since you're coming in tonight I will give you a treat when you get here." Which immeditately sent my wheels turning.
My shift that night was mostly frustrating as my mood swang wildly with the comments of my coworkers. I had decided to wear the clothes I had on from my OCG job since I had a "jeans coupon" and this turned out to be a problem. I was aware that it is highly unusual for me to not be much more dressy and I knew that there were some psudeo rips in the jeans so I okayed them with one of the managers first and said that I would be willing to change if she said so. She said they were fine. Less than half an hour later I took a bit of a verbal beating from my boss about how I looked. It was "teasing" the kind of teasing that means something. Unfortuantely in that form I am defenseless.
The night went back and forth between friendly chatter and petty comments that dug deep. One minute I'm feeling fine, the next I feel like the world is out to get me. First I'm part of the group, turn, I'm being attacked by it. It was that kind of night. Turns out my treat was two tickets to the ballet of Jack the Ripper. I would be sitting with my boss and a few other people from the store. I was both excited and nervous. He told me that if I needed any schedule tweeking he would fix it so I could make the show Sunday (today) at two. I was already scheduled for an 8-12 shift for change over so it would work out.
Saturday I worked on my Harley Quinn costume after sleeping late. I did lots of sewing and arranging. In the end I'm really proud of how good it turned out. Although I am a bit disappointed that I didn't get to put on a show for anyone who would appriecate it. I went to work without the costume on at 4. There were employees there in costume but since I had taken so much crap the night before about jeans I wasn't prepared to deal with another night of feeling exiled over something so petty. In the end I still had a similar situation while listening to some of my coworkers talk about other peoples clothes and becoming increasingly sensitive about every way in which they precieve me. For some reason I truely care what these people think, for the life of me I can't imagine why.
After work I went to a friend of a friends house where she was at a "house party." They were already drinking and putting on costumes. We had planned on going out for a quick drink in our costumes at a bar downtown before calling it a reasonably early night. I showed up, met all the new people I didn't know, and changed. We hung around for a bit before the very drunk couple who lived in the house, and my very drunk friend, threw everyone out so we could cram into my car and go downtown. By 11:30 we were pulling out of the driveway. Not nearly soon enough for me since I had a 6:30 wake up call. After much irritation and paying for parking, driving downtown on halloween of all nights!, and getting everything organized my drunk friend realized she forgot her id back in wyoming. I was unhappy to say the least. We all piled back into the car and drove back. Since I refused to go back downtown (unwilling to shuttle everyone back and forth from Wyoming to Grand Rapids all night) we compromised and went to Magoos, a lame little bar in Wyoming, which had the benefit of being close.
After arriving getting myself one drink and beginning to finally settle into the evening my friend almost immediately steared me into a conversation with a hockey player who was in town with one of his team mates for the weekend. He was attractive, uncostumed, and claiming to be a "Bible Salesman" for the night. We chatted most of the evening while I avoided my friends getting drunker by the minute, to the point where the guy she was talking to made sure I was the one driving and that I was aware of how much she had been drinking. I kept an eye on the party as a whole, mothering no small amount. The couple I had met that night got into a fight at the bar, some kind of "he said she said" cheating situation. When the lights came on I thanked my hockey player for his time and when to shuttle the drunken bunch home.
This lead to a turn of events I was not expecting. The girl, so angry and drunk, stormed away without him. Once at the car she said, "Step on it!" My friend waited until he came over and asked if he was riding home with us. (Originally they had planned to take a cab home but there is no way they remember that at this point.) The boyfriend tried to get into the car, at which point the girl jumped out of it and began slapping him. He walked away and got a ride back to his place with some friends. I drove her back to the same house, where all her things were along with the boyfriend. The car driving him pulled up into the lawn followed by the girl brother and his friends blocking me into the driveway. They began fighting out in the lawn at nearly three am. It was a domestic distrubance. So unreal to me. Finally, after talking my drunken friend out of trying to drive anywhere I dragged her back to my apartment, having left the couple to fight it out themselves. My friend slept on my couch and I showered and went to sleep feeling like this must be someone elses life.
Early this morning I woke up to go to work. I shared the bathroom with my friend, now hungover. I made it to work and did a changeover with a select few memebers of the staff. I had heard one of the managers explaining to another employee that the people who were picked to do this job were so because of their already open schedules. I know that this isn't likely the case. The changeover was like a KB changeover, as remarked by the two members of management who were there. I remember how those worked, the people who work them are the ones part of "the club" and yes, it does mean your special. It might be petty but the nostolgia and elitness of it does make me feel good. Even though in some ways it also feels like a trick so that I can be mocked more. It's the same way that I feel about the tickets.
My friend from the night before had agreed to be my "date" to the show. After getting out of work I came home and changed into jeans and a nice sweater and we went out to lunch before meeting a few Barnes folks at DeVos. I sat with the old KB staff, meaning my store manager and a merch manager plus their wives and my friend. There were ten tickets total. The others were several rows behind us and went to are crm and her fellow and one of the girls who has joined the staff within the last year and is running a department and her husband.
The show itself was amazing. I wish that I could see it again because I feel like there was so much I missed. I know that I was more nervous and edgy than I needed to be about interacting with the people I went with though. I tend to go into these situations really defensive and tense because I worry about what hurtful thing I will hear next. For some reason these little petty jabs always dig me deeper than they should. While I am the queen of judgemental often times I feel like I am an amuture next to these folks.
Following the show I went home and slept. Naps are required when you get only three hours sleep. Upon waking I realize what a deep sense of lonliness has set into my life. I was with other people during nearly all of my waking (and some of my sleeping) hours this weekend, but I failed to feel truely conneted for most of it. There are a few notible execptions but overwhelmingly I feel irrelivant both to myself and others.
Now I'm doing laundry and trying to talk myself into cleaning a bit more of the mess that has become my apartment. Looking at the length of this post I realize already that I can't make it longer by adding my reviews to this. These are my weekend stories, the reviews for Man in the Dark and All Families are Psychotic will follow this week (I hope).
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