and why am i still online? doing stupid quizzes? yeesh.
You have a lot going for you, but most people will only remember you for one thing, and a lot of them will try to copy it. They'll all suck at it, though. Besides, you've got better stuff.
i've been working on a story/project, both for my multimedia narratives class and also as a longer-term art project, called (at least for now) Unabashed: The Adventures of Jamilla Jubete. i'll write more about it eventually, but i started feeling awkward about the word "unabashed" (thought it was starting to sound too clunky) and decided to look it up on Thesaurus.com and on Dictionary.com to find some possible alternates.
and then i found this:
"un·a·bashed adj.
1. Not disconcerted or embarrassed; poised. 2. Not concealed or disguised; obvious: unabashed disgust.
adj : not embarrassed; "a tinseled charm and unabashed sentimentality"- Jerome Stone; "an unembarrassed greeting as if nothing untoward had happened" [syn: unembarrassed]"
anyway, that "a tinseled charm and unabashed sentimentality" phrase is so perfect for this story and this character that i'm not changin' it. at least for now.
become a lot more well-versed in cuban, afro-cuban, and good latin music in general.
(i have a lot of other more important to-dos in life, but i'll be putting up more arts and culture-related to-dos here, i guess.)
i furled a couple of good sites you can see over there--descarga is one, and then i found another previously-unknown-to-me awesome-looking online record store, dusty groove america.
i have to giggle really hard whenever i remember that the names of my family's first cats were, no joke, blackie and whitey. they were black and white, so i guess we were just really unimaginative, but geez--that's awful.
also, i almost wrote "swilly" instead of "silly" for the title of this post, but i think i like "swilly" better.
i'm almost done figuring out some things that needed figuring out.
i sent my manuscript/work samples out to a literary agency today. thank you, M.Y., thank you! (i still have no idea who is out there actually reading this)
i haven't left the house much over the last few days...i've been doing work and hibernating and procrastinating. i'm posting this partially to help me stop procrastinating, as i've been doing for the last hour or so.
i feel bad b/c again, i'm handing in work overdue and i realize this is really inconsiderate to my professor. this gives me the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach again.
ok - good things: i cleaned the kitchen pretty thoroughly i made a couple of appointments i needed to make i straightened out a problem with my email account i made the living room look like not such a disaster i didn't spend money on lunch/coffee out like i felt like doing i re-sent out a bunch of emails by two weeks from now i'll be more on track with organizing some things i'll be getting a check for my last freelance gig in a couple of weeks i have a home, sustenance, and covering. i'm serious - i often forget how important this is and that i'm doing OK as long as i have these basics.
i think this blog is turning into less what i thought it was going to be about, and more about my process of slogging through some difficult personal and art stuff. this is ok, right? i don't think this is going to be the chirpy, upbeat, info-packed blog i had envisioned, but maybe that's good; for me, anyway. in that case, i sort of wish i'd preserved my anonymity again for this one--but at the same time, maybe it's good for me to learn not to be so (relatively) guarded and careful and crafty about how i come across with almost everyone in the whole world.
i don't know why, but comments are double-posting for some reason.
i had a very up-and-down day today--anxious and distracted for most of the morning and early afternoon, and then a little more resolved and focused in the late afternoon. i got really upset about the financial incident i referred to earlier (it involves mortgage payment drama--UGGHHHHH) and started sobbing as soon as i hung up the phone. i don't know why, because i was pretty calm on the phone while Mean Nasty Unnecessary Collections Woman (we have never sent in a late payment, just had some processing snafus with the bank where we have our checking account) was unnecessarily mean and nasty and rude.
maybe that was cathartic or something, because afterwards i managed to push myself to make a couple more phone calls and wrap up some tasks for the day, then do a load of laundry, make dinner, and get ready for work at the OG. dinner was low-carb pasta with a quasi-sauce of ground turkey, tomatoes, zucchini, onions, and garlic seasoned with bay leaves, oregano, a teeny bit of red wine, and a little shake of crushed red pepper. yum.
i made a grand total of $22 at the OG tonight. oh well. those "i used to have my own office" blah blah blah stupid crap feelings are dissipating. i mean, i still have them, but whatever. you gotta do what you gotta do. working at this restaurant when it's busy sort of feels like being in a video game. you're like, navigating around tables and people and short little flights of steps in this cavernous building with bright lights, and zipping around hazards like a little hole in the floor near the bar station and ice on the floor in the kitchen. i picture myself waddling quickly and efficiently (well, mostly efficiently) from table to computer (where you enter the orders) to kitchen to station to bar and back.
for those not familiar with restaurant lingo, "station" is usually where servers can get cups and glasses and fill up drinks; there is usually stuff there like to-go boxes, straws, condiment bottles, a sink, ice, fountain drinks, iced tea maker, coffemaker, etc.
at this place there are also these goofy running workplace practical jokes that usually involve telling an ususpecting employee to go get something that doesn't exist. i.e., "can you go find the left-handed grill scraper?" "i want you to go bring two bacon stretchers from the back." and in my case today, i was told to go get "ice magnets" from next to the "can of steam." it didn't seem fishy until someone told me to go get them from the walk-in fridge. i was wandering around in there, looking up at the top shelf obediently as i'd been told, scanning boxes for the appropriate ICE MAGNET label, when it occurred to me that it was a joke.
i came out of the walk-in and asked a group of servers and a manager, but they all kept insisting really straight-facedly that it was real and that i'd see it if i just looked for the can of steam. i finally said, "well--i still don't know what the can of steam is! it just sounds so...abstract! it sounds fake!"
and then everyone started laughing and saying, "yes, because it IS fake!"
ah ha ha ha ha. i am just so smart.
and the OG is just so hilarious.
but the fake zen of running around filling up ice bins and rolling silverware helped me get my mind off Other Crap. which was good.
now i'm very sleepy. when i came home, i arrived to find that p. had undertaken this massive reorganization of our bedroom and had arranged all of our little knicknacks and tchotchkes on the dresser, and was even burning candles and stuff. it was so nice to have one more slightly arranged and decorated spot in our wreck of an in-progress apartment, i cried.
i did them! goood for me. they are hung. there is starting to be stuff on them. i finished shortly before i had to start getting ready for work. I really had to make myself stay focused on getting it done, but it was very worth it.
sort of along these lines, i've been thinking. wellbutrin. should i do it? i have all these samples left over from when my pdoc was trying me out on it. i've definitely been feeling a lot of weird anxiety and some depression--not deep sobbing depression, but this weird buzzy guilty anxiety i get about once or twice a year. i don't recall having this when i was on meds. i was pretty resolved i didn't want to go the med route again, but i'm starting to think otherwise. it's like to get anything done, no matter how small, is this big struggle that involves a lot of deciding and undeciding and talking myself into things. ugh.
i'm finally starting the arduous? fun? task of putting my studio together, something i've been both dying to do and beating myself up a lot over not doing. i'm putting up shelves, so i got the first set of brackets? or whatever they're called? up. and now i'm taking an email break, natch. i have to be at work at the OG by 6pm. i set my phone alarm to tell me to STOP at 4:30pm. if i get my butt away from the computer, i can have these shelves up by that time.
i almost put "by that time, i think" - but that wasn't convincing enough for me. i am going to have a snack, and then i am going to
minha is sleeping on the chaise, where we'd decided no doggie bodies would be allowed to sit, but she looks so comfortable that i can't bring myself to yell "no! minha, no!" to get her off of it.
i'm behind on my multimedia narratives class, and need to email philip and complete my final project.
i let myself get too paralyzed by feelings and emotions. ah, feeling. how did "feeling" get to become a musical genre in spanish? as in, "el rincon del feeling," for example.
there's big beautiful sun coming in my living room window, but the sky behind the trees is flat and gray.
i feel quivery and jello-livered. i need a place where i can vent, and this is not it. i think that being off my meds makes me more susceptible to confusion, changing my mind, overthinking things, being impressionable. i haven't felt like eating properly in awhile--i mean, it's not like i'm starving or anything, i'm a big girl, i'm not going to waste away anytime soon--but this is not normal for me. i just want to feel normal again. i know from experience that this takes time. i should be ok in a few days.
i just read sandra cisneros's bio info on some site somewhere, and it made me feel like crying. actually, i did cry. i'm not sure why, though.
i want/need to spend more time writing, and less time thinking or working around writing or talking about writing or finding other things for myself to do. i get in my own way a lot. and i'm really paranoid. i miss that about the meds--i wasn't nearly as paranoid.
in view of a recent, very right-on comment abt the state of this blog, i'm going to try to loosen up as well as post more frequently. part of what i think inhibits me from posting regularly is stressing over what i'm going to write, who is going to be reading it, and how it's going to sound. i feel like i definitely can't speak as personally as i did on that (super-top-secret, but not really) other blog, but i think this could be a good space to post semi-personal stuff and experiment with my writing. and based on the lack of response to that last "Helloooo?" post, it seems like i can safely assume none of my IRL friends are reading this? although, now that i think about it, are there any IB folks out there?
finally, also in the interest of loosening up, i'm going to try reverting to my old habit (which predates brainzaps--there, i said it) of shrugging off the importance of proper grammar and capitalization and just typing in all lowercase letters. i'd stopped doing this in my personal email communication and elsewhere online for awhile (although not on IB) b/c i felt like it sounded sophomoric and unprofessional, or something, but what the hell--i don't need to be totally professional here. right?
anyway, last week i attended the annual alternate ROOTS meeting (which is more like a week-long conference/retreat for artists/educators/activis ts) in arden, north carolina. i just got home yesterday. while it's still pretty fresh in my mind, i wanted to put down some sketchy thoughts and recollections on the whole thing:
jo carson's awesome storytelling the first night - talking to her afterwards about "taking liberties" with rewriting oral history in order to create an interesting, compelling story. she said, "it's not a story unless a character makes a decision." that a decision has to be made during the unfolding of the story, or it's just stuff, talking, exposition. i gotta try that...
red mud on my sneakers, the little red pile of mud and grass that collected in front of the shower in our cabin crazy interpersonal stuff the night dedicated to adora dupree, crying at performances and watching other people cry, thinking about how people cried at the end wondering how i ended up participating in all this cheesy hippie crap and not totally minding (minding a little bit) butterfly stomach all the time brownies getting myself to perform, thinking about how i always say, "i'm not a performer" "i don't like to stand up and talk in front of people" "i don't really do that kind of performance" and thinking how it would be better if i just stopped saying that and getting in my own way feeling like in a way i feel more allied/more in common with the performing arts community than the visual arts community olive's amazing performance watching the dancers from olive breaking in elfir talking to all these other smart, amazing, talented twenty-something year old people doing great work and great projects and realizing i can just move forward with my own without letting it take over my whole life feeling awkward and uncomfortable, a lot conversations on the sofas in the "comfort room" by the cafeteria my progressively more stinky black sweater
getting more clarity on the plane ride home about fpp
I'm feeling kinda lonely on here...I guess I got used to having a more, er, robust readership before, on my old blog. I had regular commenters, with comments on nearly every post. Now, not so much.
I guess I don't need to have constant feedback, and although I already emailed a bunch of my friends to tell them about this blog when I started it, part of me secretly hopes they're not reading it.
But then I miss having comments. If you're my friend, and you're reading this, disregard what I said about not wanting you to read this. I guess I'm just being neurotic. Come out of the woodwork and post a comment!
If nobody still does, I'll try not to feel pathetic. Oh, geez.
I knew there was another reason why I shouldn't go to Taco Bell.
These efforts have been going on for awhile, but I didn't really know about it until recently, when I came across some information about it on another site.
On NPR the other day, there was a story providing some historical context for the ethnic cleansing and attacks on African refugees by Sudanese government-backed militia groups (known as the Jingaweit--pronounced "janjaweed") in Sudan's Darfur province. It was noted that there hasn't been much attention to this crisis in the mainstream media yet.
Today, this story appeared in The Miami Herald. Its focus is on the militia's targeting of children, and underscores how horrific the situation is.
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