Memory. Judgement. Imagination.
Memory. Judgement. Imagination. These are capacities I used in the last 24 hours.
I don’t feel I have a chip on my shoulder. Over the years, people have tried to hang their inaccurate world views onto me. I feel I have largely let it fall of me successfully. The most recent example of this was a conversation with mother, where she told a story about going to her gay hairdresser. It was her way to express her acceptance of gay people. Little did she know about my lack of acceptance for straight people. Her comment reminded me despite all her travels, she remained an ignorant and naive heterosexual.
I spent the last two weeks cramming information into my brain for the insurance licensing exam. To my surprise and relief, this morning I was able to pass it. It had been a while since I have taken exams. Really, the age of 30 was the last time. I was afraid my long and short term memory were shot after that. I was relieved to find out, I still had enough short and long-term memory capacity to memorize enough to pass this exam.
It has been about a month since I last went to a hula class. I stopped going when I was told I have no choice but to participate in the raffle, a $100 responsibility. It left a bad taste in my mount the way this was handled, and I haven’t gone to practice since then. Prior to the point, I would say I was one of the most conscientious and devoted class members. Always showing up for class, and sometimes for the optional practices on the weekends. However, this raffle and how there was no choice but to participate, rubbed me the wrong way. You could say, I’ve been holding a grudge. I also think the raffle was only a symptom, not the cause. In the grand scheme of things, $100 is not so important as to quit a hobby I’ve engaged in for three years over. Rather, the rude way with which class liaison El railroaded people into participating was only the latest example in a broader trend of actions: decreasing concern for students, lack of caring, increasing demands. The teacher has been more absent and has paid less attention to our class and what we are learning, really ever since the recital a year ago. He has left the teaching to his helpers, sometimes not showing up to class. As a halau, demands increased for donations and volunteer hours. Most of all, I felt the magic that was there in the beginning, slipping out of the class little by little. It’s been a month now since the last time I went, so I couldn’t say how much magic is left there.
I sent $100 to El to buy my way out of the raffle, and to buy myself some more time to decide whether I will return. My main reason for joining three years ago was to meet guys and learn how to move my hips in sultry ways. The cultural/ancient aspect was interesting as well, but wasn’t the visceral, motivating factor that pulled me in. In that regard, all the cute guys have either quit or whoever is left is married. All that’s left is El and other older women. I don’t feel inspired. That’s really the bottom line.
Satisfied by passing my exam this morning, I decided to spend the evening reading, “The Reluctant Fundamentalist,” by Mohsin Hamid. It is pretty good so far and easy to read. It is nice to set aside a time for imagination. So much of modern life is a rush. It’s like everyone seems to have become a rat, and made rushing their priority. Fueled by caffeine, and so forth. This book is set between Lahore, Pakistan, Greece and New York. It paints interesting images that lend themselves to the imagination. Pulling in scenes from Mongolia, the Middle East, sun drenched Greek islands, the interiors of a chauffeured car driving through the streets of New York. They are places I have been before and can easily imagine and recall from my memory. It is nice to remember, as I know but have forgotten, fallen out of touch, that much of the Middle East, even purportedly conservative places like Pakistan, are actually not so scary, but can be pleasant places to spend time. And gay friendly too. Not in the western expressionist sense, but in a middle eastern spiritual sense.
I don’t feel I have a chip on my shoulder. Over the years, people have tried to hang their inaccurate world views onto me. I feel I have largely let it fall of me successfully. The most recent example of this was a conversation with mother, where she told a story about going to her gay hairdresser. It was her way to express her acceptance of gay people. Little did she know about my lack of acceptance for straight people. Her comment reminded me despite all her travels, she remained an ignorant and naive heterosexual.
I spent the last two weeks cramming information into my brain for the insurance licensing exam. To my surprise and relief, this morning I was able to pass it. It had been a while since I have taken exams. Really, the age of 30 was the last time. I was afraid my long and short term memory were shot after that. I was relieved to find out, I still had enough short and long-term memory capacity to memorize enough to pass this exam.
It has been about a month since I last went to a hula class. I stopped going when I was told I have no choice but to participate in the raffle, a $100 responsibility. It left a bad taste in my mount the way this was handled, and I haven’t gone to practice since then. Prior to the point, I would say I was one of the most conscientious and devoted class members. Always showing up for class, and sometimes for the optional practices on the weekends. However, this raffle and how there was no choice but to participate, rubbed me the wrong way. You could say, I’ve been holding a grudge. I also think the raffle was only a symptom, not the cause. In the grand scheme of things, $100 is not so important as to quit a hobby I’ve engaged in for three years over. Rather, the rude way with which class liaison El railroaded people into participating was only the latest example in a broader trend of actions: decreasing concern for students, lack of caring, increasing demands. The teacher has been more absent and has paid less attention to our class and what we are learning, really ever since the recital a year ago. He has left the teaching to his helpers, sometimes not showing up to class. As a halau, demands increased for donations and volunteer hours. Most of all, I felt the magic that was there in the beginning, slipping out of the class little by little. It’s been a month now since the last time I went, so I couldn’t say how much magic is left there.
I sent $100 to El to buy my way out of the raffle, and to buy myself some more time to decide whether I will return. My main reason for joining three years ago was to meet guys and learn how to move my hips in sultry ways. The cultural/ancient aspect was interesting as well, but wasn’t the visceral, motivating factor that pulled me in. In that regard, all the cute guys have either quit or whoever is left is married. All that’s left is El and other older women. I don’t feel inspired. That’s really the bottom line.
Satisfied by passing my exam this morning, I decided to spend the evening reading, “The Reluctant Fundamentalist,” by Mohsin Hamid. It is pretty good so far and easy to read. It is nice to set aside a time for imagination. So much of modern life is a rush. It’s like everyone seems to have become a rat, and made rushing their priority. Fueled by caffeine, and so forth. This book is set between Lahore, Pakistan, Greece and New York. It paints interesting images that lend themselves to the imagination. Pulling in scenes from Mongolia, the Middle East, sun drenched Greek islands, the interiors of a chauffeured car driving through the streets of New York. They are places I have been before and can easily imagine and recall from my memory. It is nice to remember, as I know but have forgotten, fallen out of touch, that much of the Middle East, even purportedly conservative places like Pakistan, are actually not so scary, but can be pleasant places to spend time. And gay friendly too. Not in the western expressionist sense, but in a middle eastern spiritual sense.