icky mettle
i thought i would start posting on here much more than i currently do. sad i think. for a long time this here LJ was been a regular place for me to record the variousness of my life. not that those events have much import on the internet as a whole. or the import of the lives of the people who read this thing. honestly, if you read this, im sure we talk once in awhile through internets or maybe, gasp, in person...whatever that is.
that said, i have my mind on the future right now. for the first time in my life i don't really know what i should do with myself. i'll be finishing my time in tuscaloosa in may. bittersweet to say the least. give or take a few months and i count it at four years here. ive made many friends. had many wonderful experiences and i will be sad to leave those things behind. but i don't know that staying here would be best for me. there is the possibility of an instructorship. decent money. insurance. stability. all good things. but maybe i should cast a wider net?
cleveland looms. city of wonderful friends and familiarity. i should go? i love it there. i love the weather. i love the food. i love how the place is put together and i love how it is falling apart and i think i could do some good both for myself and city. the place is plagued with losing its best and brightest. brain drain isn't even the word. and yet, i know a really great group of people up there who are working on positive things both in their own lives and in the public sphere...and i want to be a part of that. i realize it is completely ridiculous to have such fondness for a place. for something static. i was born there and i lived there for a long time and i have very deep connections with people. but still, i wonder how close i can get to the things i loved once upon a time. everything will be different and, if it is going to be different, why not in any other city? maybe even a place that would provide me with more opportunity.
opportunity. i guess that translates into work. into moving to a place so i can get a job and live. and those things are important, right? i have medical issues to think of now. i need insurance. i need check ups. i hope to find an employer who can help with that. who knows what the job situation will look like come summer 2010...who knows how the whole insurance game is going to change over the next 8 or 9 months. maybe i won't have to worry about it? but really, everyone seems so selfish that i bet i will. and i bet it will be just as difficult and shady as it ever was.
when i graduated undergrad i knew i would go back to my parents house. then i got a job as prep guy and then a cook. and then somehow i found my way to a masters degree and now im working toward my fine arts degree and once it is done im going to be more clueless and lost than ive ever been AND i have to worry about more adult stuff like debt and health...yuck.
when i got sick, someone i knew from the loos emailed me asking how i was. she was a professor who visited and she heard from someone else that i had problems. she told me to keep on. that the world needs more art. and i believe she is right. i believe that we need people to create no matter what. and it makes me sick that i think so much about jobs and insurance and money and not about writing or what i could do with it. and it makes me sick that i get down on writing/publishing given how little people read. i convince myself that no one cares when, everyday, im surrounded by people who love reading and writing. everyday, i read and write. and i get STOKED on other people's writing. i get butterflies in my stomach. i sit and read and sometimes, when i find the right thing, my jaw hangs open and i feel huge weights come off me for a second and it is a kind of glory i can only find on the page. those feelings battle huge waves of uncertainty and sadness for me. and in brief moments, they win. this is amazing.
today, i came home feeling about as awful as i ever have. i sang in a band this weekend and i loved it. after it was over, after that thrill and fun, it felt like my insides were eating themselves. i woke up like that sunday morning. and ive stayed like that. and today it just got worse. then a friend brought me bakery. and i felt better. and then i swayed back into the bad again. who knows why i spend so much time feeling down. i guess it's just easier than working on being happy? so i got home and i laid down in bed and looked up at the ceiling and yelled at the cat(goddamn cat) and ran through a bunch of stuff in my mind only to just felt worse and worse. then i got a package in the mail. it was a cd. and there was a note from a friend up north who had heard about the sickness and decided to send me a cd that helped them through some hard time. and the note said they wished they could be here and that they wanted to help. and i just about lost it. everything. i felt guilty and immature. i felt weak. i wish i owned a machine that could punch me in the face because i could have used a long session. how the hell could i sit in my bed acting like i was when i know such incredible people?
so on one hand my mind is dragging the fucking river of self pity. while out in the world people are making me pie and sending me cds with notes that say; 'steve, i got your back, friend'. fuck. i am a lucky guy. so for the moment i feel like a million dollars and i thought it would be a good thing to talk about on here. sorry so much of this information is vague. i know it must be frustrating and it sure as shit doesn't make for good storytellin. but that's the way it has to be, generalities and veiled allusion. I'M JUST LIKE VIRGINIA WOOLF! take that, virginia. i just took your ass to the lighthouse and back again. wacka.
tonight, to honor these lovely people, i'm gonna do what i usually do, write for a few hours, read, maybe drink a beer and go to bed. but it'll be all for y'all. promise. to anyone who reads this, thank you for always. to the pie-maker and the letter writer...you both humble and amaze me...i owe you bakery and music. perhaps i will bake a cake that can play on a turntable. let us all listen to minor threat and run in a circle.
that said, i have my mind on the future right now. for the first time in my life i don't really know what i should do with myself. i'll be finishing my time in tuscaloosa in may. bittersweet to say the least. give or take a few months and i count it at four years here. ive made many friends. had many wonderful experiences and i will be sad to leave those things behind. but i don't know that staying here would be best for me. there is the possibility of an instructorship. decent money. insurance. stability. all good things. but maybe i should cast a wider net?
cleveland looms. city of wonderful friends and familiarity. i should go? i love it there. i love the weather. i love the food. i love how the place is put together and i love how it is falling apart and i think i could do some good both for myself and city. the place is plagued with losing its best and brightest. brain drain isn't even the word. and yet, i know a really great group of people up there who are working on positive things both in their own lives and in the public sphere...and i want to be a part of that. i realize it is completely ridiculous to have such fondness for a place. for something static. i was born there and i lived there for a long time and i have very deep connections with people. but still, i wonder how close i can get to the things i loved once upon a time. everything will be different and, if it is going to be different, why not in any other city? maybe even a place that would provide me with more opportunity.
opportunity. i guess that translates into work. into moving to a place so i can get a job and live. and those things are important, right? i have medical issues to think of now. i need insurance. i need check ups. i hope to find an employer who can help with that. who knows what the job situation will look like come summer 2010...who knows how the whole insurance game is going to change over the next 8 or 9 months. maybe i won't have to worry about it? but really, everyone seems so selfish that i bet i will. and i bet it will be just as difficult and shady as it ever was.
when i graduated undergrad i knew i would go back to my parents house. then i got a job as prep guy and then a cook. and then somehow i found my way to a masters degree and now im working toward my fine arts degree and once it is done im going to be more clueless and lost than ive ever been AND i have to worry about more adult stuff like debt and health...yuck.
when i got sick, someone i knew from the loos emailed me asking how i was. she was a professor who visited and she heard from someone else that i had problems. she told me to keep on. that the world needs more art. and i believe she is right. i believe that we need people to create no matter what. and it makes me sick that i think so much about jobs and insurance and money and not about writing or what i could do with it. and it makes me sick that i get down on writing/publishing given how little people read. i convince myself that no one cares when, everyday, im surrounded by people who love reading and writing. everyday, i read and write. and i get STOKED on other people's writing. i get butterflies in my stomach. i sit and read and sometimes, when i find the right thing, my jaw hangs open and i feel huge weights come off me for a second and it is a kind of glory i can only find on the page. those feelings battle huge waves of uncertainty and sadness for me. and in brief moments, they win. this is amazing.
today, i came home feeling about as awful as i ever have. i sang in a band this weekend and i loved it. after it was over, after that thrill and fun, it felt like my insides were eating themselves. i woke up like that sunday morning. and ive stayed like that. and today it just got worse. then a friend brought me bakery. and i felt better. and then i swayed back into the bad again. who knows why i spend so much time feeling down. i guess it's just easier than working on being happy? so i got home and i laid down in bed and looked up at the ceiling and yelled at the cat(goddamn cat) and ran through a bunch of stuff in my mind only to just felt worse and worse. then i got a package in the mail. it was a cd. and there was a note from a friend up north who had heard about the sickness and decided to send me a cd that helped them through some hard time. and the note said they wished they could be here and that they wanted to help. and i just about lost it. everything. i felt guilty and immature. i felt weak. i wish i owned a machine that could punch me in the face because i could have used a long session. how the hell could i sit in my bed acting like i was when i know such incredible people?
so on one hand my mind is dragging the fucking river of self pity. while out in the world people are making me pie and sending me cds with notes that say; 'steve, i got your back, friend'. fuck. i am a lucky guy. so for the moment i feel like a million dollars and i thought it would be a good thing to talk about on here. sorry so much of this information is vague. i know it must be frustrating and it sure as shit doesn't make for good storytellin. but that's the way it has to be, generalities and veiled allusion. I'M JUST LIKE VIRGINIA WOOLF! take that, virginia. i just took your ass to the lighthouse and back again. wacka.
tonight, to honor these lovely people, i'm gonna do what i usually do, write for a few hours, read, maybe drink a beer and go to bed. but it'll be all for y'all. promise. to anyone who reads this, thank you for always. to the pie-maker and the letter writer...you both humble and amaze me...i owe you bakery and music. perhaps i will bake a cake that can play on a turntable. let us all listen to minor threat and run in a circle.