disappointment

On a whim decided to go to Gounod's Faust tonight at The Orpheum Theatre in Memphis, TN. My friends were going and it sounded interesting but, to be honest, all I knew about it was that a man sells his soul to the devil. Immediately when I heard the words "soul" and "devil" I made all sorts of assumptions about how deeply mysterious and interesting it would be. My assumptions turned out to be irrelevant to the actual play and I was disappointed. It started when I had to drive in a separate car from my friends because I, unlike them, had to go to the theatre on the hope that they'd be selling tickets at the door. Got my ticket, but had to park in a different parking lot that was farther away from where my friends parked. I walked in late and got seated in the back next to a lady with a nasty cough and a teenage boy who wouldn't stop twirling his glasses between his fingers and letting out dramatic "sigh" noises.

The Orpheum Theatre is on Beale street so there was plenty of commotion: people, horse carriages, trollies, and cars. Despite the predominately African American population of Memphis, there were no African Americans dressed in fancy schnancy clothes walking into The Orpheum to see this production. Got sad because I thought about how messed up it is that races are divided in this way. The people working traffic were African American, as were the security officers. However, all the snobby people walking into The Orpheum in sparking gowns were Caucasian. I was thankful to be wearing clothes that represent "the true me," namely, jean capris, black flip-flops, and a blue, cotton, v-neck t-shirt from Banana Republic.

Felt unsure about where to go once I got into the theatre, since I had never been there before, and felt like people would judge me based on being a strong, single woman in jean capris. Thought they wouldn't accept me. I was immediately shocked that all of the actors and actresses were Caucasian except the man who played the devil, or Mephistopheles, who was African American. Could that be any more of an ignorant idea? Given the stereotypes and generalizations that exist in society, how could the directors and playwrights overlook or misinterpret the obvious problems with this dramatic organization?

Most of the arguments I make are sort of weak, in my opinion. Perhaps that is why I find it so difficult to make arguments. But that is something I should discard, since it's a break-through of my insecure self onto the stage of my secure authorial blogger self. With that, I walked back to my dorm room and got into bed.

what's it to you?

I tried not to listen to their conversation by focusing my eyes on the words on the page in the book I was reading.  I thought if I really stared at them I would process them more deeply.  I squint my eyes and look sharply at each word as I pass through the lines on the page.  It is going to make me get lost in its wonder.  The words of this genius writer were going to finally come alive inside my brain.  It was only a matter of time before these words effect my whole brain.  If I just look deep enough into the black font on the page, each part of my brain will analyze the meaning at once.  Out of this will emerge the most thorough and accurate interpretation imaginable.  The resultant thoughts are the perfect mix of judging what's here and what's just in my mind.  I'll catch all the details and expound upon the argument the author is trying to make.  It isn't as easy as I make it seem to be such a good reader.  All of this would have happened if I hadn't been distracted by the conversation next to me.  They outnumbered me by 3:1 which made my weak attempts at self-talk an epic fail.  I even stole the word epic from their conversation.

I overheard one of them making a joke to his friends about whatever seemed to pop up in his head.  He decided to make a cyberspace joke about the availability of personal information about people we know on the Internet.  For that matter, the information is available for people we do not know, as well.  Anyway, the joke was to say to his friend sitting across from him at the table something like, "Jezebel, I saw on the Rhodes network that you declared your history major."  Then, instead of stopping the weird computer stalker lingo, he continued on, reading off statistics about him, like his phone number, address, residence, year, major, and full name.  It was actually really funny and it even sounds funny when I type it out, which is always a good sign.

my bookbag's burnin'

Is it possible to be completely mute? Today I have hardly spoken at all. At lunch I learned some French and felt like I was being instructed on my mouth movements. I was being instructed on how to move my mouth. There were two aliens shaping their mouths into strange puckers of French. They were asking me to follow them onto the spaceship of puckered French lips and noises I understand when I tell jokes in English or try to make a friend laugh.

If there ever was a smallest creature, I think it would be me. I would feel the same as I do now if I was the smallest creature. Maybe when I turn 23 I'll feel like a grown-up.

I wake up everyday knowing on some level that, come midday, I'll wonder what it means to be alive. I can imagine people's responses if I were to ask them what it means to be alive. That God loves me. That I exist in space as body mass. That you are able to love. That you are an animal with a large frontal cortex.

Garbage.

Glass

I've been thinking the world is made of glass. It came to me in a dream one night as I strolled outside pulling glass flowers from glass mulch with my magnetic hand. Surprise overtook me but a moment later I put each flower back in its place. Looking around me, people were able to collect entire tree trunks and grow too tired for the limbs.  They'd leave them behind in heap on the ground.  But they would walk away much larger because the glass pebbles become a part of them.

Gravity still exists such that only humans have equal magnetic force to pick up things in the environment.  Glass pebbles are held to the ground, to each other, and to human magnetic hands.  There is variation in the extent to which these three forces pull them.  Pebble to pebble is the strongest magnetic pull.  Next are humans followed by gravity.

The glass was always the same size despite the person, animal or object.  It varied in how many pieces of glass were required to compose the object.  So every object is composed of many teeny tiny glass pebbles that are pulled together to form shapes.  Since pebble to pebble connections are the strongest, it is possible for humans to sit on glass objects like chairs.

Rain on Easter Sunday

Stayed up until early this morning painting and applying to jobs in Brooklyn, NY.  I applied to at least ten jobs last night, mostly by e-mailing them my resume, references and a subtle hint of desperation.  I refrained from telling them that I would do anything to get hired in Brooklyn and that all I want when I graduate is to go to Brooklyn.  I couldn't tell them that I would do anything to be hired but maybe it was evidence that I was applying in the early morning hours of Easter 2009.  Nobody applies for jobs at that time and, if they do, it's like an underground closet competition thing all surrounding the job search.  More than a search these days, getting a job is like going on a competitive hunt, where there are other hunters going after the same prey.  I am adamantly against hunting because it is repulsive and the work of the devil!

Woke up at noon as a result of what I said in the previous paragraph.  I didn't spend much time feeling bad about waking up so late because there was absolutely nobody moving on campus in the middle of the day.  It was the middle of the day and not a creature was stirring, probably because they were all off campus enjoying delicious Easter breakfasts with their families.  Since I clearly wasn't missing anything in my immediate vicinity, I decided to sit around my room and read Responsibility and the Moral Sentiments for Metaphysics.

Ate sushi for a late lunch around 3:30 p.m.  I'm still warming up to sushi, honestly, and given that it's pretty raw stuff it makes sense that it's something I have to grow accustomed to.  When I eat it I think how this is the closest to real eating that I'll probably ever get.  Everything in sushi is so raw and uncooked that I believe it is a more natural way for humans to eat than chomping away on Oreos.  Processed foods are tasty but I do not think they are ideal for human beings most adaptive functioning.  Especially if the goal is to live past age 30, I think taking the sushi route is a worthwhile thing to consider.

Felt comforted by the knowledge that my friends are probably back on campus now.  If not now, they will be tomorrow, and so I can return to my group who I never should have left anyway.  I regret my decision not to go to the cabin with them over the break but, at the same time, I needed my own time to think.  Sometimes I surprise myself with how shy I am when I am honest with myself.  I'm not sure I'd ever talk if I didn't have to or wasn't so crazily curious about how people are doing.  The only reason I talk is to gather information about people around me.  Is that even possible?  Am I such a unique human being that I can have the knowledge that I only speak to collect information and not for a selfish reason?  The answer is usually somewhere in the middle of my thoughts so maybe there are times when I talk just to talk and other times when I talk to eventually be in a situation where I can listen.

Vomit Trap

Figuring Things Out

Goals Come Spring

My goal today is to write every time I sit down to do anything.  I may have to do something else first and then write but regardless, my goal is to write.  I want to do it so that I am reminded of where I am and what I am doing.  Writing helps me to know myself, both in general and at specific moments.  It would make the goal to always write a little easier if I came up with a few questions to ask myself when I feel like there is nothing to write about.  I have tried this recently more so that I have in the past and I believe it will eventually work really well.  Lately I have asked myself the obvious question:  Why is there nothing to write about?  Usually inside I feel what I recognize as apathy, depression, and hopelessness.  A voice inside my head says to stop fooling myself into thinking I have intelligent things to express through writing.  I don't know whose voice it is but I listen to it way too often.  It is the voice that reminds me of my small place in this world, of all the people who will read what I write and say there is nothing happening, and of all of the people more humble than I am who have worked much harder than I have to be writers.  I don't know why I'm so surprised that I give up on myself when I look at what I think before I pull the plug.  My thoughts are not hopeful.  They are disappointed in relationships, education and the world.  I'm sad for internet aliases rather than good communication, the squelching of creativity rather than the worship of it, and the destruction of all that is natural like the trees and forests.

"The optimist is an embodiment of Spring."  If this is so then I must embody winter although I can't stand the cold.  Since I don't embody winter, there must be something wrong with this quote that I read on someone's facebook status.  But what if there isn't anything wrong with it?  My little brother, the optimist, surely embodies spring.  so it must be true.  My only complaint is that I am not being referenced in this quote and it has little to do with me.  It is those other sweet people whom this quote belongs.  I don't know when I stopped considering myself a sweet person but I think it was around the time when I began to comprehend how it is that a person can be so disgusting as to use a person for this quality.

Why am I so upset that I was used because of being sweet?  That's a reason to celebrate!

I Know I Exist

Touch Me and Go

Nighttime for me is not for work because that is what day is for.  Night is a time for mystery, fantasy, and mystical visions of worlds unseen.  At night I want to crawl into the darkness and experience a lover's lips in a way that cannot be done in the light.  Darkness is not just an absence of light; it has qualities all its own.  I can't see in the dark so I must struggle to touch and find the heart of a lover who wishes me to.  I fight to feel what lessons vision cannot teach.  With my hands I do everything to have a lover feel my intentions which are to warm them up ever so softly.  When it is light again I want them to see the day as a great adventure or a curious opportunity to go searching for what's true.  When I loved this lover I thought they loved me too.  But those times are over now and I have no capacity to know if this lover loved me ...

Loving a lover who is only a part of my life for a short time is a devastating truth about life that I cannot trust.  The liquid love ran through my fingers, and is that not the closest to loving that we will ever get?

What is the best way to love a person?  Does it depend on the person, surely it must.  Will I ever learn the worth in postponing sexuality to allow a relationship time to grow?

so cover me in dirt

Have you ever felt like everyone is so busy being themselves that you just are left alone?  It isn't that I wish my friends were different because I cherish them as they are.  It's just that publicly, out there in your car or sitting at the coffee shop, this focus on the individual self as being a refuge gets in the way of good connection.  Maybe I'm afraid that I will become the person I talk to, like parts of them will travel through the space between us and come into me.  Even abstractly that is impossible, because no matter how empty I feel, I am full up to my limit with matter.  I have a heart that is my own and it works just fine so I don't need to feel what yours is like.  Why should I be so interested in yours if you aren't interested in mine?  Because my identity is so wrapped around connections and magic between persons that I just can't bear to search for fairness that isn't there.  I don't have time to always think about motivation and consequences behind every single action.  Having the intelligence to do this is so good that it will pull me down into a damp, mold infested well if I use it too often.  Oh, forget it, I fear I'll never be able to call myself intelligent without feeling like a fraud or an impostor.  When I work hard I begin to question myself, perhaps just to make sure I'm using my energy for productive efforts.  For example, women's rights are a productive effort.

As we lay back and think

Writing is a way to keep from disappearing.  It's like that moment right before you begin when you don't know why you're here.  Okay, I'll take it easy with the second person.  I often don't know why I'm here on earth and there may not be a reason.  Many people believe there is definitely a reason.  I don't care I just want to understand people and what we are doing on the earth.  At any moment I can ask myself what I'm doing and have two responses: (1) sitting in the Trezevant common room blogging on my laptop as Valeria sits on the blue jean couch reading a book and (2) contributing to a moment in history, making history, changing Valeria's life, having my life changed by Valeria, being a ghost, an alien, a contributing factor to the pollution of the atmosphere.  

Some people use writing to convey lies and reveal secrets they do not know are true of themselves.  We have such wonderful capacities for denial that sometimes these stories make us feel right at home.  Celebratory dances of denial last night made me sleep better when I finally returned to my room.  Valeria and I went to a dance club and I tentatively entered the building, knowing how many crime scenes from T.V. and movies take place at clubs.  I took in all the silent messages sent by the people around, perhaps finding enough information to convince myself we were safe so that I could get on with the dancing.  The man at the entrance who asked for our I.D.s, then the man right as we entered the doors who asked us to walk through a metal detector, and finally the man blocking the door to the dance floor, who told us we had to wait fifteen minutes, were deemed safe.  It would have been so nice if that were true.  I am shocked when the dance floor finally opens up and I walk into an episode of CSI or Law and Order, except the dance club is nearly empty and I am standing there.  I survey the room, giving each corner a quick glance, and notice that each of the three bars is manned by a man in black, standing such that we cannot see their faces.  Their arms are crossed behind their backs and the glowing bottles of alcohol behind them are clear, white, and illuminated.  It looks like a trip to the North Pole except buried in the snow are bottles of Smirnoff.  That just does not work as an association, so what is the deal with advertising these days?  Why must alcohol look so otherworldly and special?

Pandora has saved my musical life

I try harder each time I blog not to worry about how other people will like or dislike it.  It is a block to writing but it is also a catalyst, something that pushes me on and keeps me motivated.  I am like a leech on the ideas of my peers.  Other people's interpretations of what I speak and write are valuable so long as I continue to fight with words via more writing.  Gets confusing to entertain too many perspectives, though, when it is more economical to stick to one and do it well.  I set myself up for a life long learning process that will continue to change as years pass.  I like working to understand what people enjoy, find funny, or beautiful.

Some days I hate myself for procrastination, failing to speak, and really just anything at all that doesn't sit right.  Unfortunately for me that can sometimes be a lot of moments of dissatisfaction with self.  In the end, though, I know I will be okay.  I'm scared of taking the next step after graduating from college because I'm not sure what is the best decision to make.  In terms of a job, I fear getting into some position where I'm not happy and cannot express myself freely.  I need to use my creativity in the work I do or else I'm not really alive fully.  If the job and life I build for myself does not allow me to be holistically present at all times, I'll begin to feel it sort of internally.  At that point I'll need to, most likely, disappear and basically take off running.  How many expectations does a person need for a job before s/he has even been hired?  Not many, I guess.

People respond well when I give them specific locations that I'm considering for doing job searches.  They commend me for a sort of organization or good decision making that they assume I have done.  I don't know what I have done and usually don't when it's in shades of gray.  That's my life, basically a world in shades of gray where every person's heart glows inside their chest in all sorts of colors: pink, orange, green, and blue.  You can imagine which people have which color heart... 

 

There's Gotta Be More

Sat in the library today, staring curiously out the window, asking myself, 'Is this really it?  Is this all that college is made of?'  Something needs to happen, I thought, right now.  Nothing ever does happen so I'm going to take on the role of making things happen in my writing.  The secret is that no one can ever know my writing and also know me, because I am so not my writing.  The writing reflects lots of things about people that are not very much related to me.  I am quite boring and I see life as being also quite boring.  I admit that maybe I'm just in a pessimistic mood because, even when I love someone, they do not under any circumstances love me the same way.  More than that, they rarely even start up conversations with me and I begin to feel like I'm outside of my body.  I'm floating along near the ceiling like a smoky substance and though I know I'm in the room and visible, I'm still searching for something more than what is clearly happening in the room.

Ate dinner at the Rat with Maria, Josh, Brennan, Stephanie, Valeria, Daniel and Kayla.  Felt good when Josh laughed at my joke.  Felt hurt when Stephanie ignored me and again when I got up to leave.

Talked with Julia tonight in the Middle Ground about a whole range of topics, such as dogs and cats, dads, families, lesbian existence, homosexual men, characteristics of male power, and sleep.  Laughed with her about my dad's childishness even at after 50 years.  Showed her lame pictures of my cat and dog, Sandy and Spikey, that my dad took.  Said bye to her when she went to exercise.

Walked from my dorm building to the library, to the lair and back to the library, then to the rat then the library.  Runny nose.  Grumpy mood because it is cold.

discontent

Today I reached a point where the number of Friday nights I've spent in the middle ground at Rhodes has gotten way too high. Despite the number of times I have come here on desperate Friday nights, they fail to repeat any patterns. The middle ground on friday nights here is always different week to week. The energy in the place shifts with the pairs, or solo persons, working here on their latest assignment from the professor. People vary in their misery or eagerness to learn but I keep thinking to myself that I don't really know what is going on for the other people around. Anyway, each and every time I've spent evenings in here on weekends I have felt out of place because I am not content. I know there is somewhere better out there in the world where I would have more fun or experience more beauty. I want to be there where it is better and not here where it is constrained. I want a lot more out of life than the experiences I have on this campus, though I love this campus. I'm held tight into a group of college students and because of it people in the real work will make assumptions about me that I am intelligent and driven. The people here are so similar and so different; I'll never understand.

Eating dinner earlier, I saw Darren. He came into the room with his tray of food and sat down at a table to my right. I was sitting at a table of seven or so men checking in with them because of volleyball at 7:00 p.m. That was in less than a half-hour and I wanted to touch base with their group knowing I would see them soon and need to play volleyball with them. I didn't want to feel like an outsider, even though I'm thinking lately that is what I will always be. I knew Darren had sat at a table near my and was eating by himself, but I didn't dare look at him. If I did, I would show my weakness, a pain that is so real. When I stood up to leave, he stood up and walked out before I had a chance to. As I walked out of the rat, I saw him walking down the darkened path of the sidewalk with his black hood over his head. A small figure, seemingly needy, not needing me at all.

Later, after I had lost my keys, I walked over to Robb where he lives and stood outside the door for a while waiting for someone to exit the building so I could get in. Usually I have my fob to get into buildings but I lost my keys a few hours earlier so I was stuck out in the cold rainy and creepy darkness, feeling like I was doing something wrong. I had made brief eye contact with someone sitting in the darkened social room right next to the door, but I was afraid of what they would think of me. We are supposed to have fobs to use for entering buildings and since I didn't, I didn't feel like I deserved to get into the all male dorm where Darren lives. Besides, I feared that it was Darren sitting there in the dark watching t.v. by himself in the social room. I did not feel safe there and I could not deal with what could happen if I got into the building and found him. He might not even look at me.

I once thought that my feminine appearance and slight attractiveness would be enough to entertain a guy. Since then I've developed a sort of self-esteem around my personality and not around my appearance so much. When I sat once with Darren talking to the side of his deep, deep face, neither of those pieces of me were enough to get him to look at me. I was not a human being. I do not think it was me who was feeling that way; I know it was Darren who does not feel alive. I still felt it all the same . . .

heart in guitar

White Culture, Black Culture, Multiculture

I just finished reading a book by the author Helms called A Race is a Nice Thing to Have. It's about how white people need to learn to own their race and be proud of it without being racist. It makes this a realizable goal through the steps it offers:

1) making a decision to abandon racism

2) observing the ways in which racism is maintained in your environments

3) learning the difference between expression of racism and expression of white culture

4) discover what is positive about being white

I am working on number four, discovering what is positive about being white. What does it mean to be white? It means that I check off the Caucasian square on all forms. I guess I'll have to work on the answer to this question. Any ideas?

dealing with time

It is so difficult all the time to deal with the day's hours.  They just drag on and on and it's always a matter of what has to be done and what doesn't have to be done.  So long as I'm running on another's watch I always feel like it's just another thing that I'm required to do.  I stop enjoying it somewhere along the way but I'm not upset about this.  It isn't a sad thing to acknowledge how little I enjoy showing up to places when other people request it or being prompt in responding to an e-mail.  Rather it's just the way it is right now and I'm okay with that.  So how is it right now, you ask?  Right now I am trying to get myself motivated to study for a class that I'm already thinking I'm going to do poorly in.  That isn't the best way to start out studying for a quiz now is it?  The better way is to start by thinking that I can do this and this can be done.  That's the way that will get me some place.

Can people change implicit stereotypes?

I think that within the context of a supportive and caring relationship implicit stereotypes can most definitely be changed.  I think it is a lot of hard work and that it takes time.  Time eases all potential pains, including ridiculous stereotypes.  In addition to requiring time, willingness to change is also needed to change implicit stereotypes.  The person needs to have a willingness to let themselves change and be changed.  A certain dedication to improving overall well being is needed in the individual's personality and morals, such that they are doing checks on what they learn each day, making note of when things change.  Thus they would consider a change in implicit stereotypes significant enough to notice that it has occurred over the course of let's say four years.

Backing up a bit to define exactly what is an implicit stereotype.  Implicit stereotypes include oversimplified images, conceptions or opinions of people that operate on an unconscious level.  There are so many of these that we actually think at times that we don't have any all.  In fact, we are just using them all the time to evaluate ourselves and other persons around us.

An example of a context in which implicit stereotypes can change is the therapeutic clinician-client relationship.  If the clinician sparks certain stereotypes for the client then the direct and clear relationship they are about to form can potentially alter the client's thinking of this type of person.  Other persons who can have that sort of impact on implicit stereotypes are close friends as well as teachers.

I'm Romantic

It has taken me a number of years to establish myself as a romantic.  I smile on impulse when I hear romantic stories, not just any smile but the type that extends through the whole face to the ears.  That's the type of smile that I have as my goal these days, especially since I'm finding it hard to smile at all.  So I set my stakes high.

If there's one thing that will cheer me up it's a real love story.  The story needs characters that I'm drawn toward with a level of obsessiveness.   The effect of these stories on my affective position is an increase in childlike joy, including laughter.  There are some distinctions that I need to make in how it is that I love these stories.  I don't like the stories where the love spans all through childhood and lasts into adulthood and then on through to old age.  Wait, I take that back, I do like those.

I don't like the stories of one partner hurting the other in some unfair move in the game of love and they still end up together despite it all.  Actually, I like those too.  I especially like the stories where the love moves one or both of the partners into doing sort of silly things.  For example one partner all of a sudden decides they need time alone right when they should be confessing their love.  Really though I don't know what I'm talking about there, either.

What romance means to me is a willingness to imagine what it is that you desire and to go for it.  Finding a partner who is willing to go there with you is the best thing, someone who is open-minded enough to strive for real romantic love, the passionate, silly, dedicated kind.  This can only happen within the context of a close relationship, though.  It doesn't work when both people aren't all for it.  I've experienced that before and it's just no good.  Intimacy is so important.  The bounds of intimacy are endless.  I can see it lasting far into old age.

Judgment and Decision Making: I need contacts, wait, maybe I don't

I have been learning about how people aren't always the best judges of behavior because they are imperfect thinkers.  It has been drilled into my head that what we think we know we, in fact, do not.  I'm beginning to get frustrated with it because it is resulting in a questioning of everything that I think.  I need contacts, or wait, maybe I don't need them.  Maybe I just think I need them.  I can't wait until this Judgment and Decision Making class is over.

i know why i'm here

I figured out what it is that I'm doing at college.  According to Daniel Gilbert in his book titled Stumbling on Happiness, I am following Shakespeare's wisdom to:  "go to your bosom, knock there and ask your heart what it doth know".  Essentially all of my courses are asking for students to do some deep identity searching and finding.  We're writing endless journal entries that all have to be personal about our lives and our journeys and so on.  So who knows, maybe I'll emerge from this more self-aware with a stronger identity.  At least that seems to be the goal . . . of every single one of my current professors, so I better like it.

what am I doing at college?

Alright it's time for this blog to be put to some good use. I need help with my schoolwork already and it is only the second day of class. I am going to use this blog entry to work through an assignment of mine, so bear with me. The book is Even the Rat Was White, by Robert V. Guthrie. I already feel awkward just from the sound of the title so can you imagine how I am having difficulty? I can't get around the stupid title. It sounds like something that was just pulled out of a hat. I don't understand the logic. I understand what the point is but I don't understand the logic. By that I mean that I know very well what rats look like and I know there are different colored rats. There are all different colors of rats, so why is this book saying that rats are white? Sure, some of them are, but some of them aren't.

But I have to write up a journal entry about the first chapter of this book, and here is what I've got for you:

Why do people such as Gustav Fritsch, J.H. Shaxby, H.E. Bonnell and others mentioned in Chapter 1 always have to define the human exterior in order to accept its existence?  The defining of different skin colors, hair textures, hair colors and lip thicknesses seems meaningless to me.  It is offensive to be broken up into parts and this approach breaks up an individual's exterior and makes it into something to be studied and for conclusions to then be made based on what is found.  No one in their hearts wants for their lip size to be defined.  In addition, these scientists and philosophers gain recognition for coming up with tools to measure something as arbitrary and immeasurable as the human exterior.  You won't gain a thing by learning how to quickly categorize people by the size of their lips.  And you surely won't learn anything but social awkwardness if all you are doing is staring at their pores to determine if there's any makeup covering up the natural color.

In these days of makeup and plastic surgery, tools and techniques such as those mentioned in chapter 1 are useless.  For example the tintometer, color tops, color blocks, color standards, and photometer used to define what a person's true skin color is useless.  So many things affect skin color such as exposure to sunlight, acne, diseases such as Dermatillomania or compulsive skin picking, tanning beds, and all sorts of other ways people can change whatever it is that natural means these days.  What is important is not defining natural skin color but being able to look at other human beings without having to think about it.  There is so much more beyond what's on the outside of a person.

Relieved

I just sat through my first class of the semester!  What a relief to have that first class finished; now I can begin enjoying it.  Where the logic is in that I don't know but something about the first class makes it minutes to endure rather than a class to enjoy.  But I don't have to deal with that anymore because the first class is behind me.

I'm a little disappointed because based on my reading load it seems as though I am going to have to stop reading for pleasure.  I am in the middle of a great book, Jodi Picoult's Salem Falls, that I don't want to abruptly set down while I read required texts.  Unless I speed through my class readings it looks like that's what I'll have to do.  Maybe I can save my pleasure reading for a specific time of the day.

I am looking forward to my swimming P.E. class because it is an excuse to get into my 1-piece black Nike bathingsuit and swim around like a dolphin.  Swimming is serious business and the moment I learned this was the moment I put down my bikinis and went for the real deal.

my improved room

After some decorating work, the room is starting to look even better!

Wise Words by Sleeping Beauty

Sitting on my bed as I wake up I feel its wooden frame and cushy mattress hold me.  It holds my weight and I surrender myself into the folds and creases of its covers.  I've been awake for an hour now but still I am sitting on my bed daydreaming about sleeping.  The sheets are warm from the night before, their warmth reminds me of dreaming.  The pillows are just right.  I've been to another world in my dreams, lived another life.  As I dream, my room surrounds me in a protective cover.  It must have been a good night, filled with dreams that may haunt or thrill me but will never be uncovered.  At least for this morning they are forgotten, perhaps only momentarily?  The warmth brings me back to me dream; I was at a gas station having car trouble.  A semi truck driver walked over and asked for help and threw a pile of money at me.  The money fell splat into a puddle of green ooze, out of which I began picking each individual dollar bill.  I remember shaking each dollar bill off, trying to clean them.  Sleeping becomes a delight, and the bed whispers for me to doze off once again.  But something stops me.  The bed will hold me up and let me dream all over again tonight.  With that in mind, I move on with the day's tasks, while my bed gets a chance to rest.

Barack Obama's Dreams from My Father

I just finished reading Barack Obama's Dreams from My Father and am feeling happy with the book.  It is about discovering roots and finding a base for them in the present, a place where they fit in with the current way of life.  It was about mixing things together and changing well-formed opinions into better-formed opinions, with more workable truth for them to rest on.  Obama travels to New York, Chicago, and to Kenya, as he learns about his family and about how his experience can help him understand the experiences of others.  The book is wise and interesting from start to finish.  In the final pages of the book Rukia says about identity and what it means to be an authentic person:

"They live in a mixed-up world.  It's just as well, I suppose.  In the end, I'm less interested in a daughter who's authentically African than one who is authentically herself" (435).

And Obama says of the baobab trees:

"They both disturbed and comforted me, those trees that looked as if they might uproot themselves and simply walk away, were it not for the knowledge that one moment carries within it all that's gone on before" (437).

I found these statements to be very wise, offering tremendous insight into one way of understanding life.  The first quote I considered incredibly peace promoting, emphasizing the truth inherent in an individual as opposed to forcing something onto them at a time when it is not appropriate.  The second idea that "one moment carries within it all that's gone on before" gives me a sense of inner tranquility, knowing that it's okay to carry with me all of my mistakes and successes.  But I also know that with the history of racism, sexism, classism, heterosexism, ageism and ableism, that some may not find this idea as comforting as I imagine for myself.

the gym

Gym memberships have been, in my experience, well worth the expense.  At school and perhaps when holding down a career any outlet for built up energy and excitement sounds great.  The gym has been that for me; it has been a place where I can go when I need to sweat, sweat, sweat!  And afterwards I feel much better than I did before just because of the endorphins that are released during exercise.  Because I do cardiovascular exercise via the elliptical machines and bikes, I can also go away knowing that I did something good for my heart.

It feels and sounds a bit ridiculous to be holding the gym up on a pedestal, saying that it is great and this and that.  After all, it's just a gym.  But it is one of the few activities where I can say that I've always been happy to have gone and it has only made my life more flexible.  It opens up possibilities and does a world of good.

What's the point in going on about how great a gym membership is when many people don't have one?  I don't know.  But my day has opened up after heading to the gym this morning and I needed to let you all know!

Lilies

I'm working on bringing my room to life with flowers like these Lilies in my windowsill.  Above them I have a wind chime!

adjustment

According to some, moving to a new location can be one of the most stressful experiences of all. If that is true, it easily explains my current state as I am bombarded with change.  Do transitions ever get any easier?

Anyway, I am looking forward to enrollment clearance on Tuesday and classes beginning on Wednesday.  Then I will get into the swing of things and be able to participate in class discussions.  My class lineup includes the following: Senior Seminar Identity Development, Counseling Psychology, Judgment and Decision Making, and Women in Music.  A total of four classes, the lineup is very promising in the content that it covers.  Identity Development should hopefully be a nice mix of self-care plus learning about how others develop their identity and how it may differ from our ways.  Counseling Psychology should be great as I have officially decided to go for the L.P.C. (Licensed Professional Counselor) or L.C.S.W. (Licensed Clinical Social Worker) track.  Judgment and Decision making may test my own study habits in addition to teaching about how people judge a set of circumstances and come to some decision.  It has the potential to be an annoying topic, though, because it in itself seems judgmental.  Who is to say they know about how other people make decisions.  Isn't that a very complex cognitive process?  I'm not so sure people know that much about it, so the class will be interesting; clearly I have a lot to learn.  Women in Music fulfills a fine arts requirement and it will be great to get that finished since it is senior year and I'm looking toward the finish line.

 

With all of the things I have to look forward to comes a whole other group of things that I have to deal with.  It's hard work looking forward to things; it takes up lots of energy to look forward to something, especially when there's excitement involved.  I am excited to be in my dorm room, for example, but am not happy about what happened last night as I tried to fall asleep.  The air conditioning unit began making this loud noise of water rushing.  Water rushing sounds like it could potentially be pleasant but it was not.  It was annoying and I had to listen intermittently throughout the night to this terrible gurgling noise.  Thankfully, today a man from physical plant came in to fix it and I learned that it was indeed water gurgling.  He had to tighten the nozzle on this thing to get it to shush up, which, I am proud to report, it has.   Now that the air conditioning unit is fixed, tonight will be a lot better.

the night i decided to stay up

Why, you might ask, did I decide to stay up tonight rather than go to bed?  It was a spiritual moment of sorts that kept me up.  I needed to let myself enjoy my own time.  I know how to do it and do it often; it's just when it comes to bedtime I often like to escape into the sheets.  It's a refuge that keeps me from facing myself: a person capable of spending time alone.  It's a growing up process I guess.

I stayed up tonight to enjoy some alone time.  I make bracelets out of string, read Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama, and plan out my schedule for the next few weeks.  Classes start this week so it was a fun process to plan out my schedule, being that there is so much in it.  I don't know how I feel about being busy; I change my mind everyday.

Well, after all that writing about the huge move from home to college, I am finally here and unpacked.  Can you believe it?  Not only am I here, 14 hours away from where I was yesterday, but I am unpacked and comfortable here.  That's quite the transition.  I can't believe I made it!  All with the help of my mother.  Couldn't have done it without her.

college bound

Getting myself off to college has been quite the hustle. First I had to spend weeks preparing mentally for the drive and the major change in location that comes with it. Then I had to say bye to people that mean so much to me and have been in my life consistently over the summer. One of the most meaningful goodbyes came at the end of a long shift at the coffee shop. My boss came in for about the seventh time that night to say bye and give each other a hug. I have learned a lot from her as well as that job and I will miss it. I'm thankful though that I have something to miss because it hasn't always been that way in the past.

Following all this I wanted to do some shopping before I took off so that my life would be easier when I arrived in Memphis. I didn't want to save everything for Memphis because the bills would get overwhelming. It was better for me to spread it out and buy some things ahead of time here at home while I had the time. It was either shop or sit and think about leaving so I took the less challenging of the two, the big wuss that I am.

Last I had to pack the car with all of my stuff: bedspread, books, clothes, laptop, TV, and other things. I was determined to do it on my own without any parents interfereing and taking control of the situation. I got all of my stuff the car and felt better having done it. Basically my point is that there is nothing else to worry about. There is nothing to worry about. There is nothing left to do. There is no more that needs to be said. There is not any holding back or any futher steps that will come before my big trip off to college. I am going and that's all that is happening. Frightening, huh? And you'd think this was my first year! But it isn't my first year leaving home, it's my fourth. I am used to this -- I just don't know what awaits.

I'm getting all sorts of excited about heading back to school in the near future. I leave in 3-4 days depending on if today is counted as a legitimate day. Of course today is always a legitimate day but when doing countdowns it is definitely more convenient for days to be crossed off the map as if they never did exist. Thursday is the big driving day which I am not looking forward to for any reason other than for its result: dropping me off in another state, 16 hours away from what is familiar. I like the thrill of being dropped off in another state to attend college. With such huge independence I do all sorts of wild things that you can't even imagine. For example I go to local parks and go on solo hikes around ponds with birds that flap their wings and turn their backs on me. Those days are always difficult to handle; the rejection is the worst especially when it comes from Canadian Geese.

About the car ride: I can't stand being in the same position for more than an hour at the absolute max. It really is unfortunate that I'm about to be stuck driving for 16 hours all in one long Thursday. It will be an endless amount of double yellow lines and pavement, with signs along the way to remind me of how many McDonalds and Arbys and Dairy Queens there are in the US. All those signs do is make me feel bad for myself for being on the road for so long. When I've gotten to the point that I've seen at least 5 hours worth of those dreadful signs I know I have been driving for too long. All that aside, I know that I want to get to where I am going and I know I need my car to come with me. That car is a good piece of machinery; love isn't just reserved for human-human interaction. I love my car, not for what it is as an object but for what it represents: a technological advancement that has lead to our being able to traverse the continent in just a few days time.

I will make it through the drive somehow. Maybe I'll sit down and meditate on my arrival: I will be peaceful, awake, ready for the new location. I won't be grumpy from 16 hours in the car. No, no I will step out from the car with a skip in my step. It will be a blessing to be planted in a new place. Hopefully that mentality will last.

walking the dog

I've started taking my black labrador retriever on walks at the nearest recreation center to where I live. I figured it would be a worthwhile investment of time to take him to a new place where he can test his nostril skills out on some new turf. He has lost his vision as well as his hearing so his nose is about all he has left. He uses it for everything. It's so refreshing to see him following his nose as we take our walk on sidewalks, through fields and on trails.

Anyway, the first time we went on our adventure he had no idea where I was taking him. He thought he was going to the Vet, and since that was the case he was clueless as to what fun he was about to have. The second time, however, he was so excited to hop in the car that he was shaking. He was ready to go!

The walks have gone well so far. I just need to keep it up! It's hard to drive the dog 15-20 minutes to the recreation facility where we go on our adventures. I'd be easier if I perhaps lived ON the recreation grounds. That'd be the life. But he and I we're on our way to happier days and happier nights, primarily a result of our walks together.

writing in anticipation of going to work

Starting today I am working like a mad woman. I work 8-9 hours everyday beginning today (Monday) at Market Street Coffee, my second home. I have a lot of mixed feelings about working so frequently. One, it is good because it keeps me busy in these 20 days remaining of my time at home. Two, it is bad because I am surrounded by delicious food that makes me want to eat constantly. Eating gelato and cookies constantly is in my opinion a great idea when I'm up for it. But honestly, I'm not up for it. I need to be able to sleep well this week and if I eat loads of chocolate enhanced food then I know I won't even make it past the first sleep stage. I know for sure I won't get to REM, which is the only point there is in sleeping because it leaves fabulous pieces of dreams in my head to carry around throughout the day. So in conclusion because I do not plan on eating gelato and cookies all night I think it is a good thing that I am working so much. I will make good dinero which will serve me well in my future endeavors, for example my first couple of weeks back at school will call for some money.

Market Street Coffee is a great place to go for coffee. I hope the whole world comes in and visits, just make it before 9:00 pm because that's when we start getting ready to close. Yes, it's true we close at 10 pm not 9 pm but we start getting ready to close way before its necessary. It keeps work what it needs to be: work. Keeps me on my toes.

trying to see the good in my parents

It has been a day like no others before. I can't think of much that I've done other than read, go to the gym and eat. As I prepare for bed I can't find anything entertaining to think about. Maybe I'll try some meditation, like focusing on a phrase that is calming for me such as : '. . . as you sit on the soft chair it holds you.' There is no chair; the sentence just seems to work as a relaxing agent.

Now that I take a moment to think about the day, I think there are some things that I learned. I learned to take criticism seriously and not to let it stop me from doing the work I know I want to do. After dinner tonight I asked for my parents opinions of two of my art pieces, one of which my Dad flat out said he did not like. He had reasons and I listened to them. I proceeded to change the entire painting later this evening, turning it into a beautiful landscape. Landscapes are a secret talent of mine. My parents were astounded when I showed them the change. Their reactions were helpful. I might not have wanted to hear them but they were reactions like any other reaction, to art.

updated version of my latest painting.

I need some time away

It has come to my attention that I need time away from everyone and everything. I need the beach and its sand between my manicured toes. The color on my toes this month is a dark red, so dark red that it is almost the color of dried blood, making it nearly black. You can read into it any way you'd like.
Where I want to go used to be to visit a friend of mine in CA. But now that has slipped out of my grasp and I'm no longer holding the boat that would have taken me away to where I needed to be: away from here and with him. Oh how I wish I was with him.
But I let go of the ropes and the boat is floating passengerless out into the open ocean on a dark warm night, silent as it crosses the moon's beaming path. The water laps against its sides as the world yearns the lack of me on board the boat to my version of heaven i.e. visiting my friend.
So next up is a beach trip. I will be by myself, I will read on the beach and get a healthy tan by myself. I will get food by myself and go to bed by myself and it will be totally about me and for me. I will relax. I will miss people like so much that I'm sure I'll find some nice ones to talk to. I'm leaning toward somewhere easy like Bethany Beach. My parents are comfortable with Bethany since we've been there so many times and the prices aren't too bad at this one place we're familiar with. I'll give you an update if I get away on this little vacation after all, but for tonight that's where my head is it. Hopefully I'll even dream about it.

Mom

Here's a pic of my Mom done with acrylic on canvas.

2007-2008

2007-2008

Sierra Nevada Mountains

Here's a painting done with acrylic on canvas of a photo taken on Outward Bound. Outward Bound is a nonprofit group that takes people out into the wilderness around the US and world. The trips usually have a focus such as: sailing, or backpacking, with a particular time restraint and age group. They teach about surviving in the wilderness and getting along with members of a team, as well as techniques such as Leave No Trace. It was so worth it and I reccommend Outward Bound for anyone.

decisions, decisions

I'm open to suggestions. I have to decide what to do about a potential visit to see a friend of mine. He lives in CA and I in VA, so this is a long-distance trip over which I would be flying. There is by no means nothing wrong with flying. It is the superb luxury. Walking into that tiny enclosed space with all those other cozy passengers -- there's nothing better! There is even a convenient bathroom that has lately been filled with soap that actually smells good. Last I checked that had a scent from Bath'N Body Works to use as hand soap. Once there was some lotion as well. How can we complain when we have airplane bathrooms with these things? How can we complain when we're pissing (or ...) into a pretend toilet. What we all know but don't want to admit is that we are suspended in the air right now. There is no toilet use. Anything we let out is just flying out the bottom of this airplane and probably smacking some poor unsuspecting bird in its face, or on the top of its head more likely.

Back to the decision that I have to make. It has to be made before Friday because that is my day of departure. I want to see this friend of mine because he is open, kind, intelligent, very funny, and handsome in kind of a Adam Sandler sort of way. By that I mean a sweet sort of sexy - the kind of guy you want to lay back and relax with.

Now the only thing getting in the way between me and him is my parents. They question the safeness of this potential trip with me being a single female traveler and all. I am young, they say, (young compared to who, you, my parents? well of course.) and it would put me into a position that may turn out being unpleasant. But isn't that how we learn to avoid those unpleasant situations in the future: by being put into those very positions by free choice? Regardless, nothing unpleasant is going to happen to me on this trip. He's a great guy and we want to see each other. It should be no more complex than that.

But it is because my parents have threated not allowing me to return to where I go to college for fear that my ability to make safe decisions regarding my humanness would be left questioned after such actions were taken. I'm sure just about everyone in the world can relate to this situation, but that's not the point. The point is something I am unsure of.

Psychlogy of Women textbook

The love relationships chapter stands out among the other chapters of the textbook because I am so interested in how these relationships work for different people. The topics included in the love relationships chapter are so immediately applicable as they discuss issues that arise in daily life over power dynamics within relationships. When I flipped through the textbook at time of purchase I stopped at this chapter and read as much as I could. Going to read it the second time around the issues and terminology seemed so familiar, as I had read it before out of curiosity. My interest in love relationships is insatiable. So when a textbook presents these topics to be discussed in Academia I am thrilled!
There are certain characteristics that males and females look for in a partner to share a friendly, sexual, or romantic relationship. Both men and women clearly include attractiveness as one of their priorities. Men, especially, are said to be more visual than women and give a lot of attention to physical appearance. But what does that mean men and women are looking for? What are men and women looking for when attractiveness is rated as being particularly important?
I am going to begin questioning of the relativity of attractiveness. The emphasis that attractiveness is an absolute that should be everyone’s goal to reach via diets, tanning, waxing, hair coloring, or plastic surgery is harmful. Attractiveness as a concept that can be defined is not helpful; it is relative, and created on a very individual basis. The question to be asked: is attractiveness relative and if so why is it not advertised that way? Instead the traditional statement that “men and women value attractive individuals,” only leaves everyone thinking to himself or herself something like: ‘oh – I guess that means they value skinny, athletic, symmetrical individuals, which excludes me’. Though there are certainly beauty standards that when met qualify a person as being especially attractive but there is a problem with this sort of logic. The question we need to be asking of people is not what is attractive but what is attractive to you? With the addition of those last two words, to you, we change the whole question. It even begins tapping into a different part of the brain, requesting that the person think from a more honest space inside of them. We grow up learning about things outside ourselves as well as about ourselves and sometimes we find two very distinct worlds. We may be attracted to more robust body types with bridge noses and a few pointy teeth because pointy teeth are sexy. At the same time we may know very well that what is attractive is thin, athletic, symmetrical proportions and a healthy overall appearance. But that isn’t what is attractive to us.
Ask love partners why their partner is attractive to them and then ask them what special quirks their partner has in his or her physical appearance and we find answers that are very different, almost coming from different places in the brain.
The point is to improve mental health and longevity and one way we can do that is by acknowledging these two different questions: what is attractive verses what is attractive to you? What is attractive to you allows the person to think about their own appearance in relation to others and come up with a response that not only benefits society because of the truthfulness of it but also benefits the person because it allows them to answer from a more truthful stance.
Perhaps it would be helpful to look at the roots of this ideal beauty in women. Women created the concept of ideal beauty back in the early days of marketing because it was them who were interviewed, not men. Women were interviewed and asked to report on what they thought men found most attractive. Men were never asked and if they were they would report a very wide range of features that they find attractive. For example men might prefer able-bodied women with more curvy features. The point is that attractiveness is relative and should not be discussed without including this disregarded aspect. What is attractive is indeed skinny (very skinny), athletic, healthy, symmetrical, etc. But what is attractive to me is a very different story.

return, return, return!

While in the midst of scanning my "Favorite Places" through a computer I had not used for years, I came upon a link to this blogger thing I once created. I had forgotten about it entirely. I am very upset with myself for this. I know very well how important it is for me to write out my thoughts and feelings and yet me in all my naivete continue to forget. But there is no need to be a self-downer. This blogger is going to be totalmente positivo. Actually it will be honest which means that if I am fucking pissed off I will curse you making you so afraid that you have to X out the entire screen, AOL and all. Maybe even RESTART your entire computer system.

So much has changed in my life since I wrote those original three blogs. I wrote them one night during freshman year. Like with most of my experiences on this Earth, I can only remember how I was feeling on those nights. That's the problem; all I was doing at the time was feeling. When I meet people or am so much as in the same room as people I can almost immediately sense their specific aura. A lot of people claim to be good at this hyper-vigilant and intuitive stuff but the difference here is that I get it right. I get it right because I didn't (especially not in the past) mix anything about myself with my views of other people. That's why I had 2893749238472983479283 friends until I decided to cut off all social ties and do some serious self-care ... that was after I went through periods of intense depression, severe eating disorder issues, insomnia, etc. So anyway - I was and am still able to see people the way they want to be seen. I do it unconsciously. That's what I see when I look around. I have a filter and it filters out the bad stuff. This was a good thing until I started getting into relationships that were not ideal for me or for what I want in life. And then evil people caught on to what seemed to be a weak sense of self with an insatiable desire to love others .. and then everything just went nutso. But really all of this is just blabber. I am not trying to write a good post .. I'm just getting myself excited for writing good posts every single day until I die happy.

because you dance in my head...

in psychology class my teacher was telling us that often times we don't know what it is that attracts us to certain people. and she brought to our attention that the statements "i am interested in men" or "i am interested in women" are invalid statements.. because they incorrectly claim that we are interested in every single man or woman in the whole world. something to think about ...

About as much as I understand life,
I understand why you persist in my mind
and kiss me sweetly in my dreams.
my straightforward trajectory is lost,
as my eyes are lost in yours.

thanks margaret

this blog is entirely dedicated to my beautiful and amazing friend margaret...because she suggested i make a webblog. little did she know it was actually a brilliant idea for me at this point in my life because i always have so much on my mind.

goodnight.

not yet accustomed to blogging.

I went out to dinner with some amazing people tonight. While we were eating dinner my focus was on the table next to ours. There was a beautiful family with children who were creating quite a scene...not in a negative way or anything. At one point the little girl had the "balloon man" (who was walking around entertaining the kids) make her an extremely tall crown out of those balloons that can be twisted into shapes ... and she was so beautiful. Anyway, at one point I noticed her father staring at her for what seemed like forever in this loving gaze. And it was in that moment that I was reminded of how unbelievable the relationship between parent and child really is...and how fascinating humans are in general. we make love and create new life...and the new life is so much like us...and somehow, as parents, we have to refrain from wanting to caress and hold these little balls of joy that are known as our children 24/7 -- and somehow parents do. so as i looked into the father's adoring eyes, I remembered how my dad used to look at me when i was little....And I remember a week ago when I was at home...and how my dad still looks at me the same way...that loving gaze that says you are my heart. this is love. When I have been away from home for awhile and I walk through the door...he sees me and his face lights up like I am a christmas present. he doesn't stop smiling for a really long time as i update him about life ... sure, it dies down as we get back into our normal schedules ... but it is in these moments where love is completely uninhibited that it warms us to the bone...and feelings like that aren't easily forgotten. oh, my father. he would die if it meant saving me...i know that seems sort of expected, oh of course your parents would die for you... but stop and think about it... internalize it... love isn't so confusing afterall. love is in my father's completely honest reaction.... his selfless expressions of delight as he hugs me like a big goof ball and kisses me with his big sloppy lips ...

I lay my head down tonight with a smile.