So Close to the Edge...Trying Not to Lose my Head

I now understand better as to why I feel the need to clean right when I begin working on a new project. When my physical surroundings are cluttered, so are my thoughts. Right now, in the middle of this move, my mind is in complete jumbles. My brain is almost entirely un functional right now. My rational side has disappeared. I cry over the slightest misunderstanding or misplacement. The idea of what you own owning you is never more true than during a move. Why do I have all this stuff? What is the point? And why do I need to take it with me?

The physical move of these objects though is nothing to the purgatory place of the in between. The waiting to get from one place to another with all your shit. All I can say is that I am more than ready for all of this to be over. And to begin the start-over yet again. I’d like my mind back, soon, thank you.

The Art of El Riding

While on the El yesterday I got this major urge to be the annoying one. 93% of the time I get on the train there is at least one person being obnoxious. I wanted to start singing really loud, I wanted to start dancing up and down the aisles asking people for money, asking them if they wanted to hear a poem I wrote. Of course I didn’t do any of these things, but it got me thinking about why certain people stay composed and calm while others are ridiculously out of line in public spaces. Obviously it has to do with some sort of personal etiquette, some inner knowledge of respectfulness. Or maybe just socialized common sense.

It’s interesting to examine these ideas by looking at our current technological advancements—there is no real facebook etiquette for example but many of us have adapted basic social skills on that particular media site such as not posting secrets of another person’s on their wall, actually responding to inbox messages, de-friending people who are not really our friends and who we do not actually want in our lives, etc.

Yet, is this sense so common, take the El for example, that the CTA has to tell people that they should let an old or disabled person sit first; the CTA has to tell people not to talk to loudly on their phone, not to let their music volume get out of control etc. I’d like to say that I can’t believe these things have to be said over and over again, but I’ve seen the people on the El and sometimes I wonder how they could even make it to the train stop without tripping over the sidewalk and dying.

Anyhoo. Sometimes I would like to just let it all go, to pretend that I don’t know better and dance and sing through the train cars, but then I don’t because I don’t know if there will be an even crazier person who will shoot me for annoying them. Therefore I stay seated, with my iPod at a low volume level, all my belongings on the seat with me, my mouth shut, my eyes staring forward until I reach my final destination.

Goodbye Shithole... I mean Chicago.

Well. My time in Chicago is nearing its end and to be quite honest I am ready for it. It’s hard for me to write this blog because I feel it’s just going to be so negative but I have to get it out. This city sucks. Granted I know I am going to miss particular people and I am sad to leave them but I am in no way upset that I am getting the fuck out of this place. It just was not right for me in any way.

Saturday I had plans to go to the beach. Friday a massive storm came in and by noon thirty the next day an electric pole near our apartment had fallen over causing the entire 4 block grid to lose power. There were still looming gray clouds in the sky. And the weather channel said it was going to rain off and on the entire day, though it didn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway because the rain had caused major sewage leakage and the lake was again filled with e-coli and who knows what other types of damaging bacteria and infectious diseases. This exemplifies my time here. Original plans never actually happening. People claiming to come to things then changing their minds last minute or just completely ignoring the invitation to begin with. No spontaneity—everything here must be planned planned planned. And in the end, it doesn’t matter because the plans always have to be rearranged. Expectations are rarely met. And there are so many creepy, smelly, cracked out people here that I am so happy for the day when I can walk down a sidewalk somewhere and not have to encounter the strangeness that are the strangers in Chicago.

I feel really bad writing this by the way, since there are 3 million people in the city and I know that they don’t all suck. And I know the city has some positive elements to it, though at this point it’s hard for me to see them. I don’t know what I’ll actually miss. I guess I will discover that upon leaving and going somewhere new.

What I have learned though is what I don’t want and sometimes that can be more powerful of a discovery than getting what one needs.

I don’t want to over-plan every day. I don’t want to surround myself with negativity. I don’t want to live so far apart from my friends. I don’t want to hang out in my apartment because I’m too frugal to go out and do anything or I can’t find anyone to do anything with. I don’t want to have to deal with crazies on a regular basis. I don’t want to miss the stars or the sunset because buildings and lights are in the way.

I know, I did earn two masters degrees here, I did record an album, play live shows, start an arts organization etc. but these are things I DID. On an every day basis it was not so grand. Most of the time I was lonely, depressed, and sad. Trying daily to figure out what I was doing wrong, why everything always felt off balance. I was in the wrong place is all. And now I am moving on and re-centering. Rediscovering. Starting over, yet again.

I thank those people who have had a major impact on my existence in Chicago, some will be greatly missed and some I am happy to never have to see again. Goodbye and good riddance Chicago. Good luck with your e-coli, your even crappier economy and your corrupt politics.

I know it hurts to say goodbye, but it's time for me to fly.

The Art of Losing

The other night a certain person who is very close to me divulged a secret informing me that he never tries to win when he plays games. He in fact does not like to win and when we play board games and the like he purposely doesn’t put in 100%.

Immediately I have an ethical problem with this. Granted I am a sore loser, I can in fact be rather bitchy when I do not win BUT the only way for me to work on becoming a “good sport” is to occasionally lose WHEN someone gives it there all AND plays the game correctly.

I know my poor sportsmanship comes from a deep-seated competitive family. I do find it odd that I still suffer from such a subconscious need to be the best. To be better than. Even after all these years of learning how to critically examine, to dive deep into the theories of oppression, to understand our engrained system of capitalist control, I still am not able to lose gracefully.

I do not take any pleasure in seeing the happiness of another’s victory over my own. Perhaps it’s the only-child syndrome. I do not have the selflessness of the oldest sibling. But selflessness in a competitive game is well, fucked up. What is the point in playing at all if one of you is purposely trying not to win, the only way this would even work is if you both were trying to purposely lose, either way you might as well not play at all. It’d deceitful at it’s best. I am not a 7-year-old child who needs a board game self-esteem booster. Granted I may need a self-esteem booster but I’m not going to get it playing Cranium or Twister that’s for sure.

In the end, I told this certain person that I refuse to play any more games with him until he chooses to actually play to win. I need to know that my victories mean something, that they are genuine. That I am a 100% winner, because I know deep in my heart I am.

Another Media (pill) Conspiracy

TV is making us all depressed. And they’re doing it through our subconscious. Anyone who has ever watched an hour of afternoon or late night tv can attest to this problem—too many depression commercials. At first when I saw these I thought they were kind of funny; I said some pretty mean jokes such as: “well if I were that ugly I’d be depressed too.” But then it got really old seeing all the ugly depressed people, so I would start changing the channel because they were bothering me so much, but then, at the exact same time on another channel a fucking depression commercial was on. Granted it was a different one but it didn’t make it any better. Depression was following me around.

The television was trying really hard to convince me I was depressed. It happened on more than one occasion. And to be quite honest sometimes it worked. It’s like that concept where you share the emotions of the other people around you, so if you’re around chipper happy people you’re in better spirits etc. Well they don’t have chipper happy people in the television, no, not in a way that makes you want to be around them. Television has clogged buttholes, and unclean catheters, flaccid penises, hemorrhoids, over action bladders. No wonder depression and anxiety is so predominant, we don’t know how to control anything below our waists.

But on to another point. Why is it that we need pills for particular emotions? If we’re depressed or anxious we have to take control of that because it’s wrong to feel that way. Why? Why can’t we have a day or two where we feel bad. The problem isn’t that we feel depressed or anxious or angry or sad it’s that we don’t know how to really feel it, to get in-tune with it and understand why we feel that way. If we can begin to understand that yes, some days we may not feel as wonderful as others and we just have to power through, feel it, and move on, wouldn’t that be better than being doped up on pills that really just mask our true feelings? (I am sure that some people really do have a chemical imbalance but I do not think it’s as many as who are actually on the pills right now, if that were the case then would it really be an imbalance or just how a large minority of people are actually composed?)

Basically though, if you are feeling a little off I would not recommend turning on the television. If you need to veg out put in your favorite movie or album because the TV is OUT to GET you and turn you into another anti-depressant zombie. Pharmaceutical companies want you to want them and they will do whatever it takes to get you hooked on something, even if it’s a made up disease like wrinkly butt syndrome.

If you find this opinion on anti-depressants offensive I believe there’s a pill for that (it may cause diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, shortness of breath, difficulties urinating, thoughts of suicide, difficulties sleeping, and or a light butt rash.)

An Etsy Spot to Shop: NEW GREEN HAT ATTACK!

Check out my NEW awesome green hat, knit by the amazing Allison. Get your own or something like it by checking out her etsy page Perknitious, click here to enter and shop!

She also has her own knitting blog, if any of you all are interested, check it out by clicking here!

Conceptions of Inception: A dream is a wish your heart makes

I, like millions of others, saw the movie Inception (Christopher Nolan) over the weekend. Ryan and I barely go to the movies because we’re too frugal but the summer heat had about cooked us and we needed to cool off. I enjoyed Inception because it was a thinker film, I even enjoyed the moments during the film in which I was in a state of WTF because that rarely happens. In any case, the next day I was watching the TV show At the Movies where they review, discuss etc. and one of them talked about the director’s lack of really tapping into the subconscious and irrational state of dreamland.

So here’s my argument. The dreamer in this film was an architect, a rational minded architect. The dreamer recreated and rebuilt reality inside the subconscious. Thus the strange scary experiences that usually happen during dreams didn’t in these particular cases because they were set-up dreams, not just wanderings. For example, take the movie The Cell (Tarsem Singh) in which Jennifer Lopez enters into a little boy’s mind and then later a deranged sociopath. These scenes were fucked up and frightening because she was just diving right into their subconscious trying to figure them out psychologically from the inside.

I’ve always been drawn to the surreal imagery of The Cell, but I completely understand Nolan’s choice to limit the scope into a more reality-based play on physics and time as opposed to also adding another element of the overtly surreal; it was already deeply layered and slightly confusing and I do not think it could have handled having snake-monsters, flying jellyfish, shape shifting vampires, palm trees made of candy, etc. Though maybe in another like-minded film that isn’t so action-based and can play around in the creative realms of the mind a bit more. I felt like the worst scene was the third layer of the dream, the snowmobile action scene. Out of everywhere they could have went, could have designed, they went there? It seemed to lack imagination both in the design but also in the basic director's choice. At that point, and perhaps because it was nearing the end, I was a bit disappointed as I felt it fell to easily into a stereotypical action sequence instead of a mind-altering thrill extravaganza.

But in any case, I am looking forward to the continuation of these ideas through film, perhaps a A “Cell-Inception” combo movie. I’d be down with that. But for now, I would recommend people go check it out, even if it’s just to get out of the heat for a couple of hours.

Why I Wouldn't Want to be a Vampire

I just finished the second season of Tru Blood. Since we watched them on DVD, 2 to 3 at a time I've had vivid dreams, not quite nightmares but not really pleasant. The show is rather silly if you think about it, humans falling in love with vampires, humans shape shifting into other animals, maidens of satan warping human minds causing orgies and over-indulgence.

In any case, vampires today are "it"; they are our human obsession, everyone seems to want to be one or do one and well I doubt I'd shoo a hot vampire away if he wanted to get it on, I know that I would never want them to turn me, to "make me." And here are the only two reasons I need.

1) Food. Vampires only drink blood, because well, they're dead. I enjoy eating food (and drinking) too much, ice cream, lasagna, apples, strawberries, vodka tonics, margaritas, french bread, salsa, giant over-stuffed burritos, smashed potatoes, chocolate, garlic! All of that and more would be gone for eternity, which brings me to my next point.

2) Immortality. Ick. If I can no longer eat, which is one of my main pleasures in this life why would I want to live FOREVER? I've met people. I don't think I'd want to be here forever and watch the stupidity repeat itself over and over again. The only positive thing about being a vampire would be my ability to help with population control. But seriously. I know, the idea of immortality seems beautiful and grand in theory, but the more I've thought about it the more boring living forever has become. Of course I am aware that I will never be able to experience all that life has to offer, but isn't that kind of the point? To not regret or neglect each day you're given. To take in as much as you can?

Sure vampires are "hot" right now but undoubtedly that sucking blood thing will lose it's charm eventually and become, well, gross. In the meantime I will enjoy my garlic bread and sunlight and the thoughts of my certain ultimate demise (I hope later than sooner).

Times, They are a Changin'

Time. It slips by. And yet it can feel stagnate. Murky like a muggy gray summer day. I often wonder how I can already be 25. How influenced I am over the power of society to make me feel I must Do Do Do. That I should be constantly accomplishing something. IDK. Sometimes I feel as if I have done quite a bit, done enough to be proud of, and then I feel like I haven’t quite done enough. This particularly happens now, as I apply for jobs and have to make lists to prove that I am worthy, to sell my worth to others. Time. It is not just for money. Why do we make money to begin with? So we can experience joy with others without the pains of hunger or homelessness, with greater ease and access.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on my time in Chicago. It really has been three years and yet three years seems to go much faster now, than three years say in my grade school days. Though lately a day can feel like it’s going to go on forever. I guess I’ve been a bit depressed, which could be obvious by the lack of postings. A friend calls hers postpardimgraduation or postgradim depression or something like that. I mean, what really happens when the life that you’ve known for twenty some years is over, shifts, transforms into something else? Especially when the transformation, the transition seems to take longer than the twenty some years of familiarity.

I know it would help if I had a job. But I don’t. And since I’m moving in 16 days I can’t seem to start any new projects. I can't seem to even write anything. I have even had trouble reading. I am, what some may call, bored. I haven’t been bored in so long and to be quite honest I hate admitting it because there is a deep seated personal belief that no one should ever be "bored". But I am and I know I should just go with it, feel it, let it flow and go out of me so I can move on. And to claim it, know that it is okay. But my goodness how awful it feels. And time, it just creeps by even though I know it's going by so fast. . .

To Done: Milwaukee

Our first beer tour. We each got 4 samples. But in reality, I got like 6 samples and was very buzzed by the time we left. YAY beer! Out of all the sample I liked the first first--the heff, or maybe the IPA, but I always like the IPA.
Beer in the hot hot sun.
Coffee at Altera's. We both had iced carmel royales. Yum.
Can't go to WI without eating some cheese. Dang that was some good cheese. I am happy I don't live their or I'd be fat as a cow. Moo.

V Sweat

I would like to return from my vacation by discussing a topic no proper woman ever talks about: vulva sweating. My vacation was hot. At least half of those days I was in 90+ degree heat. And though my forehead and armpits slightly perspired, by the end of each day my underwear were thoroughly soaked.

To be quite honest, it took less than a day for the soaking, sitting in the sun made it all the worse and the soaking could happen within 15 minutes.

Why are we so afraid to talk about this? If we did perhaps some superstar inventor could make us better, more breathable underwear? Obviously cotton doesn’t cut it. And it’s pretty uncomfortable walking around or even sitting around with this sweat.

I’ve heard men openly talk about their sweaty balls. They have no idea. In the end (hetero) men probably like our (hetero) sweaty vulvas because they don’t have to do as much work to heat us up (gross, I know, but I had to go there).

It would just be great if I could go commando on days like that, and just spread my legs wide and let myself breath. But no. That would be unlady-like and some nerdrapist would get the wrong idea, which isn’t fair to my vulva, it should be able to take in some air, to say hello to the sun, to be open to the world for a moment.