jenegade's blog

Takeoffs and Landings

 It seems as though a more reasonable expectation for frequency of blog updates is now once a month. I think that's okay, because if I think of something really important to say, I'll do that, either in emails to friends at home or phone conversations with my family. I even write things down in my day-to-day to-do list, although that's been off for a few weeks now, as I've been so busy. But busy is really good; I definitely prefer it to any alternative, a reality which has been the defining feature of my adult life. Perhaps my adolescent life too. 

To cover all the bases: Work, school, life. I was promoted in November to AGM at my tea shop, which has been nice. The money is sorted out, more or less, and it is really quite fun being in such a high volume store over the holidays. It's multifaceted, of course; for every really great customer picking out some lovely gift, there's someone demanding, standoffish, and difficult to connect with. But that's the gig. Black Friday has come and gone, and it was spectacularly busy. I like working the full time hours, although now I have a callus from wafting tea, and my legs/back/neck perpetually hurt after each shift, but it's kinda a good hurt, like being good and tired, rather than just being tired. The tired of accomplishment, I guess. 

My eyes have the similar sort of tired going on from my classes. My biology class is officially over, as I presented my research topic the day before Thanksgiving. I handed in my final paper on the same topic, epiphytic lichens and bryophytes, the Saturday after Black Friday. Shortly after, I presented my final paper topic for my archives art history class. I've gotten so much out of that class, and feel blessed to have taken it, especially considering I didn't have the forethought / good judgment to make it my initial choice. I've been doing research on photographic documentation of ephemeral and/or site-specific art for weeks now, and my research paper is due during the second half of this week. I am excited to finish it, and to have two full days off in a row (Monday Tuesday) to devote to writing up my notes. After that paper submission, I'll be done for the semester. It's a strange thought, my first semester of graduate school completed. I've already registered for next semester, and I'll be taking a class about psychological perspectives on art, an anthropology course about ethnography of the image, and a history of photography art history course. I'm so excited, although I also know it'll be a ton of work. The good type of overload. 

I'm heading back to the East Coast for a week at the end of December, and then again in January for two weeks; my first trip home is for the holiday, a much needed trip to see my folks and sister and friends. I'll head back to Portland for a few days around the new year, then I'll fly back out to Atlanta for corporate training for my gig. I'll be there two full weeks, which will be very strange. It's a trip I've heard about for years now; so many coworkers/friends have gone through it, and now it's my turn. It feels odd. 

I've been really luck to have lots to do around the city with friends this past month. A particular highlight was my trip to Pix Patisserie (the one in SE), where I indulged in some of the most delicious macarons and hot chocolate. I've also finally made it out to Hawthorne, where hip Portland is, and spent some time bar-hopping downtown, even ending up at this great little speakeasy with a creperie as a front.  I am loving this city, and only hope that I'll find time and friends to do more outdoorsy things once the weather is nice again. Speaking of the weather, while it is now actually raining daily for weeks at a time, I prefer it so so much to the Providence winter blasts and sleety, wet, gray snow. For example, today it was in the mid-fifties. Amazing. Balmy even. 

Which hasn't stopped me from decorating with snow-themed Christmas decorations. As I'm so looking forward to going home for the holidays (even though I'm flying out on Christmas Eve, god help me), I think the Christmas spirit has gotten me even more than usual. Here are a few pics from the homestead. 

 

Synopsis

I had the same dream last night, the one I've had over and over again since I was 18, the one I thought I had left in Rhode Island. It isn't a nightmare, it's not like I'm falling or screaming soundlessly; there's always a plot, not the same plot, and a person. But as there's nothing so tedious as hearing about another person's recurrent dreams (really, you wouldn't think so, but it is true), I'll elide the rest.  

Nonetheless, it shook me, an unexpected red string of continuity in an otherwise disjointed narrative. I woke unsettled, a bit pissed off. How did you find me here? 

Perhaps all the events of today sprung from the flavor of that dream; I booked a ticket home for Christmas. I relocated a poem that I loved but forgot by a poet from Providence. (Feverish Propositions - Rosemarie Waldrop). I ate reheated shepherd's pie (Dad's recipe) and chocolate chip cookies (Mom's). 

My weeks have rhythm now; my budget nearly totally fits the bill of my lifestyle--I am almost self-sufficient. And even in this reduced state of social engagement (before the new friends happen), I still find myself without time, all the time, stretching hours, rushing, checking and double-checking. 

Now I'll express that universal wish for more time that seems so ubiquitous that you'd think we'd have solved it already. Man, if only the whole Inception dream-state, amplified time-feel thing were real. Do you think you could conjure yourself the books you wanted to read, as the architect? 

Regardless, as this will not likely occur, I wonder if there will ever be a time when I feel as though I am not planning for some abstract future time in which I have time to read and think and write. And meet people. And paint and draw and write. It's not that it's coming, and I'm in the period of time before it Happens. It is horizon-like, isn't it? Ever-receding. Which is why it is my intention to stop with the planning for the next phase, as This is the phase that is most important. Perpetually, This. 

On a less ruminative note, I think that I love the kirie style prints of Ryo Tagaki more than most of the visual art I've seen in my life. I have his 2011 Yume and Balloon calendar, which I purchased from the Reed Bookstore as a self-gifted birthday present. I think that I will also buy a print for myself for Christmas, and hang it in my cottage. I love it, but I worry I will fill my whole place with these, if given half a chance. They're so radiantly lovely. These are my two favorites, and I am having a hard time deciding which to get. Considering they're $30 with a glass frame, it's accessible(ish), even to an impoverished student.

 

 

Jumping Forward

In keeping with the general tradition of me getting caught up with my own business and completely disregarding any attempt to faithfully blog, I have disregarded this most recent of attempts to blog. But man, I've been busy! So here's the quick round-up since my 9/9/10 post. So much to cover!

Three lovely friends have visited me all the way out in Portland since I moved here in August; J. came to stay with me mid-September, and we explored my neighborhood a bit (including my very favorite coffeeshop, Guapo, in which I am currently writing, drinking hot chocolate, and chilling out); we saw the infamously bad cult classic The Room at Cinema 21 in NW Portland; we went hiking at Multnomah Falls; we ate Voodoo doughnuts and ran around crazy, rainy rainy Portland, taking refuge in Powell's. Also, I finally got to give her the birthday present I'd been making for months and months (like 3 months after her birthday, but still!), which was a Buffy comic-book collaged three-clock mantle with comic-style portraits I madeof myself, her, and our friend. The portraits took the longest time (~10 hours each, although I spent less time on mine); the whole time, I lamented how much quicker the process would have been with a Wacom tablet, which, lo and behold, my Mom and Dad gifted me for my 24th birthday.

 

 

 

  
Speaking of which, my dear friend A. came to Portland for the week of my 24th birthday, which was the best of all possible presents! We explored, starting off the week with pumpkin-picking at Sauvie Island, then a trip downtown to Powell's (NOT the first, which is in Chicago, I learned), to Voodoo, and to Chinatown, where we strolled through the lovely Chinese gardens there. Then we head up to the Oregon Coast for my 24th, starting in Astoria (lovely Column, pretty pretty sunset, no visible sealions) and ending in Seaside (afterhours, so post-toursit time, with the yummiest sushi). We then headed up to Seattle the next day to meet up with some friends of A., saw the waterfront, the original Starbucks, the Space Needle. The next day we took it easy, checked out Reed, and had dinner at home & watched TV (My So-Called Life, Avatar: Last Airbender, & Buffy), which is always one of the highlights of visits with friends. I miss having someone to watch TV with, true story. 

 

 

Most recently, X. came to visit me this past weekend, and it was glorious. I think that one of the more difficult parts of my transition to the West Coast existence has been not seeing  him / hanging out / watching TV with him every day after work or school. The trooper that he is, he arrived on Thursday night and left Sunday morning, then flew all day, only to get back to work the following early morning. We had two full days together: day one we went to Multnomah Falls and did some hiking, then saw a movie at night; day two we went downtown, walked around a bit, of course had Maple Bacon Bar doughnuts at Voodoo, and I cooked Chicken Parm that night which we ate while watching the epically, epically bad A Boy and His Dog, a 1975 sci-fi flick with a young Don Johnson and his telepathic, mentoring dog travelling around a post-apocalyptic landscape. With a setup like that, what could possibly go wrong? (Read: everything. Horrible movie.) 

School has continued to go well, although it is at this point (predictably, as we're in the 2nd half of the semester) that things are getting particularly busy. The canopy crane trip for my biology grad seminar was so cool, and yielded a nice personal harvest of delicious chanterelle mushrooms, and now I'm focusing on my final project, which is due in 2.5 weeks, on canopy epiphytes. 

   

Art has continued to bring up lots of interesting questions regarding the representation of history; I feel like every week we deal with some of the big issues that have made museum studies and public humanities so fascinating to me in the first place. My case study is coming up the week after next, on the Encyclopedia of Tlön, a work that I quickly fell in love with, but need to do even more work on to be in a good place for the presentation. I also am working toward a thesis statement for my final art paper, which I am writing on the photographic documentation of ephemeral art, looking at people like Andy Goldsworthy, Richard Long, and Robert Smithson.

I am currently planning to take three courses next semester: Psychological Perspectives of Art; The Ethnography of the Image; and History of Photography 1839+. This heavier schedule will depend a bit on my planned work schedule in the coming months.

On that note, work is at a really interesting point. On Monday, I was promoted to Assistant General Manager of my tea shop, which means I'm assured full time hours, which sort of alleviates (at least some of) my Big Money Worries. I really hope to do a good job at this, although I hadn't really expected to ever step into the AGM role. I am tentatively coming home to Rhode Island for Christmas as well, although because of the nature of the retail Beast, that is sort of 'in the air'. 

I am happy here. I'm cooking every day, I'm reading a lot, watching lots of TV and movies, and doing my homework diligently enough. I've been doing well at work, selling bunches of tea and tea stuff to lots of lovely folks. I just have a free-floating fear that this all is unsustainable, that somehow, all of this is temporary and time spent visiting RI is going to feel like coming up for air. Strangely, I don't feel that way yet, just that I'm afraid that I *will* feel that way when I go back. I've been having small nightmares about it, I think. 

On a lighter note, I feel like I've seen some persistent themes in Portland: many wacky doughnut shops, tons of bowling alleys, Blockbuster videos are still alive and well, and it seems like all the hot men I see in the city on the day to day are carrying babies. (What's up with that?!) 

Settling In

Today I got around to decorating the loft of my apartment. It's been comfy from the beginning, but it lacked any real embellishment minus the bedside lamp and the flokati rug. I've added four square tiled mirrors on the far wall to bounce some light around from the front room and the skylights, set up in an asymmetrical 2-by-2 pattern. I also got another bamboo, considering I never kill them, and I like them very much for that reason. I added another wall scroll, foliage and pandas, to the wall adjacent to the loft ladder. The main impetus to my redecoration was a poster sale outside the student union, which reminded me very much of the ones that used to be at Brown. It was likely the same company. Either way, I got a lovely print of one of Henri Rivière's Thirty-Six Views of the Eiffel Tower (1888 - 1902) that looks to be influenced by Hiroshige. 

The colors are better on mine, but the idea is there. I also got a couple of smaller Hiroshige landscapes (both covered in snow as well) that I once had in my dorm sophomore year in Providence. I got much smaller size, (11 x 14" or so) though, and hung them over the bed. The result is a much homier loft, and Hiroshige or Hokusai prints always make me feel like I'm home. 

I've been getting quite a bit of work/domestic tasks/cooking done in the absence of full-time hours at work or a large, boisterous social life. I think that it is good for me to stay in sometimes; it feels like I'm putting up a foundation for my adult life. I am able to complete all of my readings for class as well, and to really think about the direction of the courses I'm in. I think that I'm more awake and mindful as a student than I've ever been. I think that years of working with others on school work has made me approach my own work in a way that is vastly different than it was before. A nice benefit of that experience. 

This week has been lovely, and I feel happy to be here. I had a calm Labor Day--got some errands and some reading done. I also saw Going the Distance, mostly out of enduring love for Justin Long. it was okay, but cruder than I expected. Tuesday I had work, but then got to see a coworker play music at a local cafe. He was great, and I was having fun until I realize that my wallet was missing. Thankfully, I found it at home, but it was in that moment that I became reacquainted with the feelings of aloneness and isolation that I always fear will emerge on the day-to-day. I think it was a positive exercise after all because I had to make the decision to stay calm, to not call anyone on the East Coast (as it was around 1 AM there), and to realize that it would have sucked, but it would not have been the end of the world. A few phone calls, a few inconveniences, and that's it. See, I can do this. 

Today I read for my bio class at the local coffee shop again, did a couple of errands, and went to class. Then I went to a gallery opening at the college library which featured three local abstract artists. I chatted with a few people from my art class--it was nice to see people I knew---and then came home to cook dinner. That was largely successful (breaded chicken with fresh mozzarella and basil on top). Tomorrow my art class will be meeting with one of the artists from the show--I'm psyched for that---and then I have the rest of the day free. I am going to go and buy a bulletin board at Target (I found a gift card with like $20 on it, FTW.) Friday I have work, but I've got the whole weekend free, so I have a few plans. One is to finish the birthday present I've been making for the lovely and talented friend that is visiting me next week. The other is possibly going to an area meet-up event. Lastly, I might drive out to the Oregon Coast to see what it's like. Not certain, though. Definitely donuts will be involved. :)

The Physical Move / The Digital Move

So, this is different. 

Today I heard the news the Vox is closing its doors at the end of the month. I can't say that my Vox blog played an integral part in my life, as I've only updated sporadically over the last four years, and I'd only connected with a handful of people through that blog, most of whom no longer post. But still, it was something. I feel for the people who are taking it much harder than me, who have built whole communities on the site. Either way, apparently my stuff is being ported over. 

I meant to update this past Sunday, but that didn't happen. I've been in Portland, officially, for two weeks and a day now. It feels much longer, because everything's more-or-less in swing---the apartment is all set up and feels remarkably like home; I started work at the tea store; I started classes. I even went out one night with a group of people. 

I think one of the largest adjustments for me at this point is how much free time I currently have in contrast to, say, this time last year. At that point, I was doing both the teaching gig and the tea gig. When I wasn't working, I was with friends or family, or worrying about / working on grad school admissions, or reading/watching tv/watching movies. Now, I have about 20 - 25 hours of work a week (so far, although the holiday season is coming!), and two classes. It gives me a substantial amount of time to, well, not be engaged in something pre-planned.

Here's how I've been filling my free time:

First of all, I've made sure to do all of my readings for my two classes ahead of time, and thoroughly. Walking back on campus was blissful; I forgot how much I missed it. I'm taking two courses this semester: a grad seminar on Northwest forests and an art history course on the archive as a form, especially in contemporary art. The art history course deals with so many of the questions that have come up for me in my own research - how to document the past, and why; who gets access to archives, who decides; what are the intentions of the archivist; can history really be reconstructed with any accuracy; what are the inadequacies of text and image to present truth or to present an argument - among others. This course's readings (so far) have been quite theory-heavy, which I've heard is a trend at my school, so I am trying to be diligent in my approach to the materials. I'll be honest, I've been reading with a digital dictionary handy, to help me parse out the meanings of 'ontological datum' and 'discursive paradigms of the modern', etc. I think that some of it is context--I haven't read in this particular scholarship prior to this class, so I'm getting used to the macroscale arguments. I remember going through this with my archaeology readings as well, way back when, (still working through the meaning of 'post-processual archaeological field practices'). 

In the biology course, I am looking forward to the awesome field trip to a forest canopy in Washington later on in the semester. Also, I want to see how useful infographics / visual literacy frameworks can be in learning science (in this case, botany, biology, ecology, and geography in particular). I also think it will be a good introduction to the program, as the class has a relatively large enrollment ~15 people. 

In terms of visual literacy research, I'm sad to say I've more or less shelved things for the last two weeks, but I think I needed that time to get used to work, school, and the city. I will be jumping back into it in earnest next week, and tomorrow I am outlining a full independent study syllabus for it. 

I thought it would be cool to list a few places that have become comforting points of interest for me in Portland since my arrival -- I wish I had images to go with, but links will have to do for now. 

• The College Library - I am in love with our library, and I think my time working at the Brown library has created an impression of happiness/safety/curiosity/comfort/industry that I associate with all libraries, and it doesn't hurt that this particular one is gorgeous. There's one particular reading room that I've been using, a tiny, narrow space that houses recent periodicals and four or five comfy reading chairs with a glass ceiling that lets in plenty of light, along with a spiral staircase up to an open walkway with a rare book collection above. Additionally, there's a media library with circulating DVDs (they have Buffy, among other things) in the basement. I think I will continue to go there often. It makes me feel like I belong on campus. 
• Guapo - This is a comic book store & cafe that's in my neck of the woods in Portland. I've been heading there in the morning, getting tea or coffee, donuts, and doing class reading. I really really like the vibe there, and will probably patronize it more once I continue my exploration of comics. They also specialize in different styles of mochas, so there's that! Check it out.
• Limbo - This is an incredible produce and herb and tea store that's also in my neighborhood that has some delicious, fresh, local, & organic produce and dry herbs. They have a wall of herbs and teas and spices that made me break out into a goofy grin/smile when I checked it out today. Now my plan is to start mixing my own teas. :) They unfortunately don't seem to have a link. I'll get a pic next time I'm there. And it's next door to the Trader Joe's, which I also love. (TJ's masala lentil dip & $4 bottles of Sangiovese have rocked my world.) 

And there it is. Three places that I now know in Portland, all of which are reasonably hip. I was also in the parking lot of a branch of Voodoo Doughnut earlier this week in NE, while driving with a few new friends over to a bar in downtown (Saucebox) to celebrate a birthday. So that kind of counts. Speaking of donuts, I'm totally going there tomorrow. Mm. Donuts. They're open 24 hours a day. I could go now or twelve hours from now or 2 AM. Nom nom nom. 

Okay, last thing. Speaking of nomming, I have been cooking more in the last two weeks than I ever had in my life. A quick list of things I've made: breaded chicken cutlets and pasta with veggies; chicken parmesan; eggplant parmesan (the most delicious!); breaded pork chops and applesauce (I learned breading as my first cooking technique, if you couldn't tell...); guacamole; and, nutella and strawberry crepes (Christian's are better, but I tried...). 

This week, I'm making tacos, chicken & vegetable masala, tofu stir-fry, and heirloom tomato caprese salad. I'll prolly try to bread something too. *grin* 

A Hierarchy of Needs; or, How I Moved to Portland & Hoped for the Best

In fall of 2004 I started school at Brown University, approximately 17 miles from my parents house. I graduated in May 2008, did some lab work in Guatemala City, watched my sister get married, and then started a new job which involved teaching, which I held for two years. Almost exactly a year ago I started a job at a tea store as well, that opened in Providence. The two years after college were disorienting and busy. I'd like to say I continued to grow up, to learn things, and to become a better person, and there are ways in which that assessment rings true. Having said that, in many ways, things felt stagnant and counterproductive and, always, temporary, as if I had a plane to catch or a phone call to make that was always just out of reach. 

So one day, I found myself standing in my kitchen with two of my closest friends from Brown, exactly a year after graduation, contemplating the future. I had failed to apply to graduate school that year, despite reasonably well-formed intentions to do so. A second round of application due dates were approaching that fall, and the largest and angriest anxiety in the pantheon of my anxieties was that I would fail to apply again. What I said to them as I stood, sad backpack fastened to my chest, was that I needed a program that was interdisciplinary, rigorous, customizable, and reasonably structured. 

A few months later I put a phrase (albeit a somewhat imperfect and jargon-y one) to what I want to study: visual literacy. A lovely customer at the tea shop asked me one morning, "But isn't all literacy visual?" and I launched into my (short, I hope) elevator speech. She came back a few weeks later, proclaiming, "Of course! And also, there's braille!", sweetheart that she was. My best attempt at a definition is a paraphrase of Susan Metros (2008); it has two important components: the ability to make meaning from visual messages, including the ability to ethically judge accuracy, validity, and worth; and the ability to make meaningful visual messages. This is a somewhat selfish pursuit--my memory is almost exclusively visual, and a good deal of my verbal processing is navigating/naming mental images. Myself aside, I'm fascinated by the nature of images. We can simultaneously access and assess multiple images; we simply can't address multiple texts in the same way. Enough of that. Suffice it to say, I'm hooked, and I see some reasonably diverse possibilities for career paths that relate to these themes. 

I applied and was accepted to a Masters program here in Portland, and I will spend a couple of years here, hopefully accomplishing two things: one, gaining a better sense of the literature on the topic, and thinking/learning/talking/writing about its implications in public humanities, museums, and higher education; and two, studying and (hopefully) mastering some skill set of digital design tools, attested by a portfolio of images/works. I have a vague sense of the next step; I either want to work for a multimedia design firm which deals with public humanities content, or to apply to a digital humanities / public humanities / digital media PhD program.

Those are the big ideas. Now for the logistics. 

Two weeks ago my friends, family, & I packed up all my stuff into my car and drove cross country. Christian drove with me, the saint that he is, and helped me guard my material possessions, drive 3500 miles, and settle in at my new apartment. He left yesterday, and that was tough. Today was better. 

(I should have started writing all of this down so much earlier than today, of course. It is my intention to post every Sunday about the state of things.)

Here's where the hierarchy of needs come in. 

I've got a truly lovely spot in Portland, a cottage that's completely my own, that I've made my own (with a bunch of help from Christian, the Saint). So housing is covered. I cooked chicken cutlets all by myself (mostly, with a bit of digital help), so food is also set. My bed is super comfy. All the physiological tier are covered. 

I've got a job at the local branch of the same tea store I worked for in Providence, and everyone there seemed lovely and cool. Financial aid worked out okay too, so I've got some help in that regard. Resources are tight but certainly not scarce. I'm not certain if I want to pursue the teaching thing out here too. I brought the materials, so I could. It would be an efficient means of support, too. We'll see. Either way, Safety tier is taken care of. The Love/Belonging tier, alas, is currently supplemented by the phone and the internet. I hope to find friends in Portland. I very very very much hope to. 

My main concern, though, which I've chatted about with a good friend back in RI, is this guilt I feel for not wanting to explore Portland immediately. I feel as though I should be out doing Portland-y things, taking in this great city that I've just met, but I am reluctant. I think, as my friendly wisely noted, that these things will come with time. I'll explore, I'll feel surer of my footing, and I'll encounter the things I envision. I've just got to give it a bit of time. And to retain a sense of humor. Don't think twice, it's all right. 

 

23

I turned twenty-three. It seems like a very adult age. 

In the words of Regina Spektor, which somehow seem pertinent recently:

People are just people

They shouldn't make you nervous

The world is everlasting;

it's coming and it's going.

If you don't toss your plastic

the streets won't be so plastic. 

And if you kiss somebody,

then both of you'll get practice.

The world is everlasting.

Put dirtballs in your pockets

put dirtballs in your pockets

and take off both of your shoes. 

'Cause people are just people,

people are just people, 

people are just people like you.

Initial Assessment

I have to find the words for all of this. After nearly six months of hiatus from writing, I am striving to attain some sort of assessment of this current state of things. Perhaps if I start with the bare essentials, if I set some the stage, the rest will fall in place. I live at home, with my parents. I live in my once-bedroom-converted-to-guest-room-reconverted-bedroom. Most of the time, I sleep here. Sometimes I don't. Now my room has two bookcases, one I hauled in when I moved back in April. It has furniture that's vastly too big for the space. A new addition, two whiteboards are screwed into my walls, providing a canvas for graduate school plans / meanderings / random thoughts / strategies. 

The other night, I cycled through all of the movie trailers that are currently posted on the iTunes website; I made of list of the ones I want to see. I just saw It Might Get Loud, which I enjoyed immensely, even though it is Sunday. It made me feel good, at least for the time that I was there. I spend a lot of my spare time reading, too. I peruse Digg for interesting stories, building up ten or twenty tabs in my browser to cycle through. I'm reading this series of very long novels that prominently features time travel. I'm on the second on in the series. I update my Twitter, sometimes frequently, sometimes not, and I worry a lot about my internet presence, because I was recently advised that I must be. I drink a lot of tea, a function of my job, and I try to turn others onto it as well. I troll the internet for tea supplies. I read books for work, some for pleasure, buy what seems like hundreds of test prep books. I have been preparing for the GRE for what actually boils down to 14 or so months at this point. I am taking it in two weeks. It seems nominal, at this point, but I know it shouldn't. 

I have two jobs. By day (and weekend nights), I am a sales lead at Teavana. By night (and weekend day), I have another job, which I can't talk about. I don't work for the CIA. Otherwise, it's off limits. I spend a majority of my time thinking about each of these jobs, scheduling, remembering to eat between, driving. I commute a lot, but I like the morning commutes to Teavana, and I like opening the store there. Between these two things, I am busy, tired at the end of the day, and happy to get my paychecks. They go to bills, mostly from Brown or field work expenses from years ago, if not gas, tea, food, books, music, media. 

I spend a lot of times learning words like lugubrious, lachrymose, apotheosis, inculcate, canard. More, I worry about time. I look at the clock, I look at the calendar, I feel the changing weather, and I watch the leaves turn toward autumn. I worry that I'll not apply to graduate programs again this year, that I'll waste another year procrastinating. I am worried that I have nothing to say in my personal statement because I have too much to say. I worry that I will come across as unfocused. In truth, I am unfocused. I want to study all things (okay, not medicine, law, business, accounting, dance, nursing, banjo-playing, etc.); I want communicate that I want to think through all my ideas about information, images, visual learning, education, public humanities, outreach, public history, storytelling, and so on at a university or college with other like-minded folks, that I can't think about things on that level here because I'm thinking about my work or my future in the abstract sense. 

I see the application process unfold in front of me, (and I would like to note, matter-of-factly and with all acceptance that this has had very little practical application in my life, that I was very, very good at school). Some mornings, I look at my schedule and I know with certainty that I will not be able to complete anything in the process on that day. I know that I won't do any self-improving that day. As you may see, I have planned this poorly. 

That's the basis of my dilemma. I see things unfold on all of these different levels. I see the daily tasks, the practicalities of every day life. I see my bills, my daily commute, my first cup of tea, my on-the-run lunch, my books for work, my emails, my schedule, timesheets, paychecks. I see the month in pay periods, then in days off (also newly rare), then in occasional 13-hour days.

Then, I see my friends, nights when I can stay out late watching movies, talking about things, making long-distance calls to stay in contact, weekly at least. I see my weeks in terms of trips out of state (rare outside the summertime), my family commitments, movies, opportunities to go out dancing, plans to spend the  night here or there. I see everyone's trajectory, and I see my own.

Another level entirely: companionship, love, romance, commitment, dating, marriage. I have always loved these things. Now, they lose their pull for me, as if that part of me is scar tissue, and I see it but can't perceive it, can't feel it, and certainly don't act on its behalf. I once believed that the obvious path for all who desired it included some sort of partner, that unless you intentionally avoided it, love would come, and it would eventually fit, be right, work out, and move through the various stages of whatever. Now, I don't know that I'll ever really, romantically love anyone. It seems an absurd thought to me, but also entirely plausible. I have had relationships, and they have not worked out in the end, and perhaps there are no more in the future to be had, because I don't want to do the things that I did previously again. 

All of these levels. Work, friends, education / occupation / life plans, love (or lack thereof), all swirling around. And on top of that, time ticks, disappears, is never retrieved or rebuilt. Never pauses. Each day, each week, each month marches forward. How does anyone ever do anything? I want to be satisfied, and I now I have been before. But I can't get no satisfaction. And it weighs on me. 

Springtime

It's beautiful again in Providence, which happens, (as they used to say) the first and last month that students are at Brown. So that means that the time is coming, the end-time of the spring semester, and a year (almost) has passed since graduation. What is it that I'm doing with my life again? 

Last night I had a lovely chat with [friends] about all of this---the icky middle year that we're experiencing, the resulting listlessness and frustration and worry that it will not pass, and we will continue to feel like this forever. I'm starting to feel something different, too, something I worry about and crave nonetheless.

I guess what I want is the same thing I wanted at the end of high school, something I had through college, some group of people to careen around with. I miss the camaraderie, and that's the constant craving I've had all my life, or at least since playing all of those RPGs that focus around a group of different but like-minded individuals... 

I keep saying I'm working on it, the whole state of mind thing, and really what I'm doing is indulging in the same escapist pop culture pursuits that I have always resorted to when I've felt sad and restless. I watch my sci-fi television, read my speculative fiction books, sleep too much, over-prepare for work. I want to stop feeling like this, and the frustration is welling in me. 

Where's the no-holds-barred version of myself that I cultivated in college? Because this version sucks. 

Sweet n' Toxic Nostalgia

I read through a bunch of old LJ posts and comments just now. Keep in mind, I knew that this was a very stupid idea even before I embarked on the stroll down memory lane, but, the masochist that I am, I strolled nonetheless. I don't have anything really coherent to report about that. It seems as though I was a lot wittier back then, or perhaps I'm being indulgent of my 16-year-old self. There are lots of cliches on both ends--I was angsty, confused, happy, and a startlingly alternating combination of worried-to-death and not-a-care-in-the-world. And now, I'm longing for the good old days. 

The funny thing about all of this (funny strange, not funny ha-ha) is that I know I can change things. Intellectually, I know that this life is something that I want to do big, shiny, sparkly, dangerous dangerous things with. It's the inertia that's got me down---I'm headed (and have been headin' for a bit over 6 months) in a direction of routine which includes work, sleep, social life, (in order of volume, highest to lowest). Add to that my complaints about my life, and you've got a perfect mess. A hot mess. 

"Take control of your life, young Jenna," my Brown advisor/mentor/guru/idol said to me somewhat recently. I'm working on it, man. But how is it that I'm more lost now than I've ever been? Is it merely a trick of perspective? Grass being greener on the other side of four years? Tune in next week for future adventures of post-graduate aimlessness and self-loathing!