(no subject)
Today it was brutally windy. So of course I wanted to bike to the Art Museum, straight into the gale, constant standing-up heavy force necessary. Mike was obliging so we piled it on and off we went. Despite being about 19 F with the windchill, I was sweating when we got there. The wind was evil and wanted me homeside. I only wanted to leave. I felt like I was screaming into an abyss the effort it took making a path uphill.
Speaking of screaming. My anger of late surprises me. And taking really violent terms. Not that I have actually hit anyone or anything. Or plan to. But when I'm frustrated with my computer, I shriek I want to punch the screen and throw it out the window. When a customer's a dick I tell my coworker I want to slap his heads off. I've been telling everyone I am going to kick the shit out this semester, grind it into the ground until it is dead and my work is done. I sometimes see people's eyebrows raise and I know I'm being weird. I try not to talk this way but other words don't seem to do justice to the rage in my gut. Which begs the question. Why am I so angry. I don't know.
I'm very disappointed lately. With what exactly, I do not know. I feel another great cosmic shift in my thinking. I'm reaching another point of turn. To update you on technical terms: Next year is closer than you know. I've begun researching internships for next summer. This week I finished my portfolio and updated my resume. I'm about to start sending it out.
It's interesting, reviewing my own chronology of work. Uplifting to see progress over time. Not so much disappointment there. I have pride in my work; I know I did most of it the best I could and it mostly turned out well. Mostly. Like everyone I of course want more out of myself at every turn but I do see my successes and they reassure me. I'm trying to be adult about it. Telling myself very slowly and carefully that every mistake is an opportunity to grow. Taking that small strip of road between 2nd and 4th on Fairmount when I could take Spring Garden and looking at a mural every day that tells me, "Be the change you want to see." Truer words I could not conjure. I've been reminding myself that if changing for the better were easy everyone would do it, constantly, and we'd all be angels and saints.
There are things I am doing to try and be less angry. Whenever something seems particularly unjust. I remind myself that there are no rules saying life will be fair, your friends will be good, your body will work. There are no rules saying we will all be beautiful. There's no rule saying you'll get what you want, ever, even once. There's no rule saying you will be a success. What I take from this is that you must therefore work your fucking ass off for the things you hold dear. Work your fucking ass off being a good friend. Work your fucking ass finding and buying a house. Work your ass exercising. Work your ass housecleaning. Designing. Hoping.
The newest version of me cares a lot more for my career, for my home, for a base level of satisfaction with a snapshot of my life any moment of the day. I'm tired of being around anything not worth working my fucking ass off for. What's the point otherwise. Why do I even get up. Why do I even get on my bike and ride out the fucking house.
Things that have been making me cry: Drugs, failure, sickness, death, disappointment. Addiction. Loss of opportunity. Loss of dignity. Loss of life. I cry when I read the news sometimes now. I can't listen to too much about Iraq, or soldiers, or families because it makes my nightmares worse. Yes I still have nightmares. Lots of them lately of course.
Things that have been making me hopeful: Home-buying research, internship research, babies, dogs. I want a dog very badly because I am certainly not having any goddamn baby. I can't have either though cause I'm never home as it is. I think people who leave dogs alone at home for endless long hours are cruel. At the very least they should have TWO dogs so they can play, or snuggle, or something. In any case I am really into putting my face into a dog's side and itching their ears and talking into their fur about nothing. It works a lot easier now that I've been to the doctor and gotten some real allergy medication. Man what a difference this shit makes. I know exactly what I'm working for these days: Health insurance.
Reasons I'm moving ever onward: I'm actually making progress on the mortgage front, I'm actually thinking about what I want to do when I graduate, I'm actually thinking about where I want to live, as in owning-a-house live, not renting-a-place live. I'm noting the effects different people have on my mood, my enthusiasm, my intellect. I'm realizing how important being excited is to me in general. I'm reassured I have some predictable reactions.
In that vein, things that have been exciting me lately: Madeleine L'Engle's A Wind in the Door, which I first read almost two decades ago and continues to make me feel at one with the cosmos on a very fundamental level. The colors navy, ivory, pearl-white, and tan. Handworked metal. Silk fabrics. History circa 1750-1850, especially the transition from pre- to an Industrial world. The heartbreak involved in a mass reorganization of paradigm thought. The inherent loss and rebirth of self. What else? Exotic birds, plumage in general. The band Mahogany. Sydney Stewart. Meggie McCabe. Plants, especially the ones in my home. New growth. Sun-behind-fast-moving-clouds. Homemade histories.
Speaking of screaming. My anger of late surprises me. And taking really violent terms. Not that I have actually hit anyone or anything. Or plan to. But when I'm frustrated with my computer, I shriek I want to punch the screen and throw it out the window. When a customer's a dick I tell my coworker I want to slap his heads off. I've been telling everyone I am going to kick the shit out this semester, grind it into the ground until it is dead and my work is done. I sometimes see people's eyebrows raise and I know I'm being weird. I try not to talk this way but other words don't seem to do justice to the rage in my gut. Which begs the question. Why am I so angry. I don't know.
I'm very disappointed lately. With what exactly, I do not know. I feel another great cosmic shift in my thinking. I'm reaching another point of turn. To update you on technical terms: Next year is closer than you know. I've begun researching internships for next summer. This week I finished my portfolio and updated my resume. I'm about to start sending it out.
It's interesting, reviewing my own chronology of work. Uplifting to see progress over time. Not so much disappointment there. I have pride in my work; I know I did most of it the best I could and it mostly turned out well. Mostly. Like everyone I of course want more out of myself at every turn but I do see my successes and they reassure me. I'm trying to be adult about it. Telling myself very slowly and carefully that every mistake is an opportunity to grow. Taking that small strip of road between 2nd and 4th on Fairmount when I could take Spring Garden and looking at a mural every day that tells me, "Be the change you want to see." Truer words I could not conjure. I've been reminding myself that if changing for the better were easy everyone would do it, constantly, and we'd all be angels and saints.
There are things I am doing to try and be less angry. Whenever something seems particularly unjust. I remind myself that there are no rules saying life will be fair, your friends will be good, your body will work. There are no rules saying we will all be beautiful. There's no rule saying you'll get what you want, ever, even once. There's no rule saying you will be a success. What I take from this is that you must therefore work your fucking ass off for the things you hold dear. Work your fucking ass off being a good friend. Work your fucking ass finding and buying a house. Work your ass exercising. Work your ass housecleaning. Designing. Hoping.
The newest version of me cares a lot more for my career, for my home, for a base level of satisfaction with a snapshot of my life any moment of the day. I'm tired of being around anything not worth working my fucking ass off for. What's the point otherwise. Why do I even get up. Why do I even get on my bike and ride out the fucking house.
Things that have been making me cry: Drugs, failure, sickness, death, disappointment. Addiction. Loss of opportunity. Loss of dignity. Loss of life. I cry when I read the news sometimes now. I can't listen to too much about Iraq, or soldiers, or families because it makes my nightmares worse. Yes I still have nightmares. Lots of them lately of course.
Things that have been making me hopeful: Home-buying research, internship research, babies, dogs. I want a dog very badly because I am certainly not having any goddamn baby. I can't have either though cause I'm never home as it is. I think people who leave dogs alone at home for endless long hours are cruel. At the very least they should have TWO dogs so they can play, or snuggle, or something. In any case I am really into putting my face into a dog's side and itching their ears and talking into their fur about nothing. It works a lot easier now that I've been to the doctor and gotten some real allergy medication. Man what a difference this shit makes. I know exactly what I'm working for these days: Health insurance.
Reasons I'm moving ever onward: I'm actually making progress on the mortgage front, I'm actually thinking about what I want to do when I graduate, I'm actually thinking about where I want to live, as in owning-a-house live, not renting-a-place live. I'm noting the effects different people have on my mood, my enthusiasm, my intellect. I'm realizing how important being excited is to me in general. I'm reassured I have some predictable reactions.
In that vein, things that have been exciting me lately: Madeleine L'Engle's A Wind in the Door, which I first read almost two decades ago and continues to make me feel at one with the cosmos on a very fundamental level. The colors navy, ivory, pearl-white, and tan. Handworked metal. Silk fabrics. History circa 1750-1850, especially the transition from pre- to an Industrial world. The heartbreak involved in a mass reorganization of paradigm thought. The inherent loss and rebirth of self. What else? Exotic birds, plumage in general. The band Mahogany. Sydney Stewart. Meggie McCabe. Plants, especially the ones in my home. New growth. Sun-behind-fast-moving-clouds. Homemade histories.