Tag Archives: survive

Connections Crossing

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Life: the waking dream that hazes between points of rest. Each moment is taking place in an external world that my inner world just made up based on that same external world made up by everyones’ own inner world. I dream so vivid that times asleep become more real than the day to day.

I keep searching for truth and on the way I often fancy the notion I’ve found some. We make our own truth and it only becomes more and more apparent as we trust what our senses tell us. Our senses hear what others chose to feed us. Even as we accept it as reality, we know that deep down we’re victims of everyone’s filter, especially our own. We experience a reflection of a reflection spiraling off into eternity, so we may as well be blind.

I’m bound to this world the same as everyone else. Sometimes I get notions of how really lost and alone we all are as a whole who shares the same wants. Humanity, the race of contradictions, struggles to see behind the masks of one another. When I look at you, I try to see past our posturing and learned responses.

Connection crosses us so easily and is severed with the slightest touch. As we’re all seeking it as savagely as we pull away from one another, it’s a wonder we survive.

Resolutions

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Here’s to the people who need a holiday to be forced into making personal goals and resolutions and my pity to you.

I was memed by Andrew Badera over at Flip Bits Not Burgers. I don’t refer to him as one of those people, because as workaholic, I’m sure he was just stating his current top five goals.

That’s the point of this post, a response to a meme, and a statement of why I refuse to post my ‘resolutions’ as a special post. I’ve been resolving to and actually working my ass off all this year. I sold a bunch of work this holiday. I’ve not moved in a year and it feels great. I work at a job I enjoy and have been there for over six months now where I literally learn at least something new every day. I am currently on my first paid vacation ever. I refuse to make this happy holiday about finding something else wrong with myself and my life that needs improvement.

Instead, I am going to, and encourage you all to celebrate. With all the ups and downs, I feel like I made it out on top this year. Even for those of you not exactly on top, you made it out at least. That’s worth celebrating. That’s worth a breath of air, a congratulations, and a couple days focusing on relaxation and letting loose if you can spare them.

Happy New Years from The Seize, and hope you all had a blast.

I’m mutating this meme and tagging people to list five things (or more) that say they survived this 2008. These can be five reasons you have to celebrate like I did, or five reasons you’re ready to wash your hands of this year for those of you who just made it through.

1. Lloyd at lloydhumphreys.com
2. Kabren at kabrenlevinson.com
3. h31n0us at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations

…and you can tag as many people as you feel like or no one if you like.

Work & Work

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The system is that was go to school to go to school to get a job to get money to live. Where’s the time to enjoy the life or the money we make (if there is any left after living). Many of are expected to be at work even when we’re not working or be on call. We look forward to retirement which may not happen before we die and when it does we will be either too old or poor to enjoy it. We take part in this cycle because it’s what we’re born into. The most that most of us can do is try to get that job that you somehow identify yourself with. That way, when it becomes the all consuming meaning of your life, it won’t feel quite so empty. When you admit that you are so much of your job, hopefully it is something you can at least take a piece of pride in. Relate it to a piece of your true self are a large notch above most of the working world.

The double irony of all of this is there are those of us who enjoy working. My entertainment mostly consists of work, but it’s work that I chose to do. It relaxes me in its own way. I put my full self into it with gusto. This is the sort of thing most of us dream about getting paid to do on a regular basis. Many people can be happy with a job they don’t identify with. I am the type of person who will probably not feel completely whole unless I have a job that I own. I want to work somewhere were I have pride, pronouns like ‘my’, and see myself in products of my labors. That may sound a little selfish, but all I’m asking is to work in the world as me, and not just be a moving, warm body that goes from day to day. I want more, I’m willing to work hard for more, but none of us knows how to get that (even the people that have it). They would look at you or I and say “I dunno.” or “Work hard.” as if that’s all they did to get where they are. They say it as if it’s not what you are doing. A few honest people have told me to be in the right place at the right time or talk to the right people.

Life doesn’t give you much to go on. It’s so hard even just to be and remain you.

I look at the people my age who I know and they are struggling with this aspect of their lives. They have college degrees and resumes and mad skills and talents. Yet, still, they fall into few categories. I have friends who get jobs they love, but they’re temporary or don’t actually support them. Internships are supposed to get you the better job tomorrow, just like college was. How many jobs is a person supposed to have to support their life? I have friends who find themselves out of work due to weather, economy, and simply being the low man on the totem pole. It seems like we have to pick up the ‘any’ job or drown. And then there are those that have better than the ‘any’ job, secure, but still somehow utterly miserable. They work for X Corp. which is part of their field, but no matter what they were hired as, they find themselves as little more than a glorified receptionist / personal assistant. Low man on totem pole is always looking for work whether or not they have a job and is scraping by for money even when they have a job. If you have the money for fun after everything else, it’s a must to survive life. You can’t work so many hours at a job, even one you like, and then when the weekend comes say, “I would socially interact with you, but I need to pay the bills.”

We play the ‘whose bills’ game with each other. Who has the worst student loan debt? Who has the lowest bank account balance? We all have savings accounts, but they’re for good intentions and future hopes at this point. Who gets by without getting any money from the family since they moved out? Anyone? Anyone?

This is my generation and I’m trying hard to be the exception. But then, most of us are.

Recovery

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a studio mouseTwo months after living in a tent and communal ceramics studio, it didn’t take me all that long to get used to sleeping indoors and in a bed again. When people ask me about what happened, starting off with a “…so, I hear it was pretty ridiculous down there,” I reply with, “Yeah, but it’s water under the bridge now.”

Is it? I’ve been berating myself for not getting as much done as I used to: looking for a job, taking classes, building a studio, and selling work. I feel guilty for giving myself a bit of a break- traveling, spending time with friends and family. I also haven’t been doing much talking about my experience in Virginia.

If you know me, you would think that I’ve been thinking about it a lot, obsessing even. I’m avoiding thinking about it. I have been downplaying it to everyone because I needed to downplay it to myself to deal with it bit by bit, an sometimes, not at all.

I somehow don’t feel like I’m allowed to be hurt by that experience. There are people down there still living in tents and at least making a little bit of art- and they somehow deal with it. Don’t they?

Out of six, one lives in a nice apartment nearby.

Two is from Virginia and has family and a boyfriend that she can visit anytime (and talk to at length). Every time things got really bad down there, she was gone in her car for a weekend that had a habit of turning into a week.

Three is not from Virginia and doesn’t have family there. However, he spent about half the time I was in Virginia traveling. Sometimes he’d leave to go up north without telling anyone.

Four came to ‘look at the place to consider it and be considered for a residency’ with a dufflebag containing all his worldly possessions. He came on a bus, walked the rest of the way, and stayed.

Five came burnt out making production ceramics and with baggage he hopes to unload through drinking and burning things. When I left he still had not even tried to make the one idea he’d been talking excitedly about since I got there. He has built a tee pee and adopted an abandoned puppy.

Six has been there a long time. He’s a passive aggressive mask living in the kiln shed on a couch where he watches the Simpsons on dvd, smokes, drinks, eats, and leaves the communal dishes.

These people, as far as I know, are still there and getting by. So I feel like I can’t act like it was such a bad experience if people are still there and surviving. But then I remember what it was like. People are getting by at the post-college club for wayward kids who may be ambitious and want to make art. For the ones that do want to be serious artists, it’s a fight against those who just want to feel as good as they can doing whatever. More than living in a tent, that was the real issue that made living there hard. I blamed the tent because I thought that if there was a quiet room somewhere to relieve my stress, I could deal with the struggle in the “mentally and creatively rich studio environment (ha)”. It was hostile, tense, immature, and lawless most of the time. One of the residents, I think it was Three, called it Lord of the Flies. That’s the easiest and most accurate way I’ve ever heard it described.

The reason I left was a sudden lack of income. It was also a final breach of trust. Most things I was told while I was there, I believed. Most things I was told were said to me to put me off and make me: go down there, deal with it for another little while, wait for it to get better, and just wait because you have so much invested. I even paid for three months of rent on the studio and then left because the news on my lack of income was at the same time as when rent was due.

Living in a place where you can’t trust that people aren’t deceiving you, eating your food, taking your things, breaking your things, talking about you, going to yell at you, and invading what little space and privacy you do have is not living. It’s surviving.

I survived, but I’m not myself. This past summer in Maine I lived in a space I didn’t feel safe or welcome in. I held in there and saved money, pinched pennies, to go to another place that was supposed to be better, yet was somehow worse. I didn’t feel like myself at the end of the summer. I’m just starting to feel like myself again. I don’t know that I’m ready to think or talk about it much in any real way. I can put people off with jokes about the south versus the north (and how some people think that Virginia isn’t even really the south). Silly tid-bits come easily enough.

Not being myself means I’m not working like I used to. I know that in me, I have the ability to finish up my novel. I know I have the ability to get my studio together faster and get some work made. I know I could have a near perfect score in the it course I’m taking. I know I could have more posts and more site updates. I could have a few more web programming languages under my belt. I could be looking for that perfect job more aggressively.

Would any of that help if I’m not myself? Working harder isn’t going to help me concentrate on doing a better job. I feel like everything I’ve done since I’ve got back has been sub-par. I see the bar that I normally meet or exceed and stare at it. I don’t know why I’m not up there. I tell myself I’m lazy. I am starting to realize that is an easier answer compared to admitting that I took a big blow these past several months. I let things not just get to me, but actually push me down.

I’m going to get up. The sooner I can admit these things and sort through them, the sooner I can be me again. Regardless, I think it’s going to take me some time. I’m relearning how to live and strive again rather than just survive.