Thoughts @ MindSay

Mindsizzle!

Hey guys.

Today was nothing special, just another Wednesday.  In women & mass media, we discussed anime and the stereotypes there in.  I haven't watched anime myself, but it was still an interesting discussion.  It ended up evolving into a conversation about Western cartoons since most of us hadn't had much exposure to anime.  It's strange to look back on cartoons from my childhood and to realize that I was receiving all kinds of messages about gender roles that I wasn't aware of, but was still picking up on.  In Spanish I spoke Spanish, and in experimental methods I took notes about designing a survey.  It was all pretty obvious stuff, but I took notes using the new markers I recently got to make my collage for sexualities, so I had fun with it.  I'm busting my ass in stats trying to keep up with what's going on, and I'm doing well so far.  We had a quiz today that I basically aced, which is great.  It boosts my confidence. Right now I'm working on finishing up  my paper for sexualities.  It's been pretty easy because it's basically an inference and opinion paper.  There's really  no getting it wrong.

I talked to my mom  earlier this evening and she's really excited to see me, which is really nice.  I kind of like that I haven't see my family in like five months because it means they're really genuinely going to be happy to see me and they're going to be sure to spend time with me since they realize I'm not around often anymore. 

My brain is going crazy lately trying to finish up all the last minute assignments and tests before the end of the semester/getting ready to visit Carlsbad/preparing to move (we get our keys tomorrow!)/studying for finals/ectectect.  It never ends.  We haven't even started packing or anything, but I think we're going to bring some stuff over to the new apartment on Thursday . Then on Friday we're going to clean up this apartment. That way we'll have a start before we go to Carlsbad and we won't feel so totally overwhelmed when we get back. 

Paper time. OH BOY!

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If I was at college this week, I'd have been seeing Dianne today.
Since I've agreed to attend another block of sessions, I really need to think about some issues I'm going to address.
As much as I'm going to despise it, I'll have to talk to her about that period of time that must not be discussed - 1996-2006. Or "5 to 15" as I call it when it's mentioned.
 
Regardless, there's a lot of things that are bothering me.
Though I'm starting to realise causes behind some of them - I'll get an idea, but then I'll doubt it - I'll ponder if it truly is the real reason behind something. Despite the fact I'm right about virtually everything, I have doubts if I'm right about this or not.
 
If only I could express my feelings through my creative assets like I used to.
I can't write, I can't draw - I haven't made any wav. mixes for ages, I'm starting to suck at Photography - the only thing I really have left are videos. Yes, I haven't lost my skill when it comes to writing scripts - but all these ideas I have, all the scripts I've written and planning sheets I've done - will they all be wasted?
 
If that's the case, I won't have anything left. Sigh.

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I finally managed to get nana's speakers working today.
Even after she was on the phone asking my aunty how to get them working - because she'd managed it before with a different set - Dixie worked it out and we had sound.

So nana was sat at her computer for most of the day playing Solitaire, Freecell and Purble Place.
Purble Place is proper random. It's this shitty little game for kids with matching and puzzles, but nana proper likes it.

I was laid on the bed playing a combination of Shadow The Hedgehog and Super Paper Mario.
With Super Paper Mario, I finished off the 2nd chapter and thought, oh fuck it - then went for the 3rd one.
I'm currently right at the end. I got to the boss but proper died because I didn't have enough HP and I was being proper careless, letting the twat eat me. It's such a SHIT game.

Nana made sandwiches with polony today.
I'm not sure if that was right. Polony is better just sliced up and nommed upon. I took some of it out and replaced it with a hotdog sausage and ate the polony alone. So I had a balance of both, I suppose.
Oh, and we had some pretty epic fucking muffins.

I only feel depressed because I've had my mind elsewhere all day.
Somewhere dark and forboding and filled with endless amounts of failure and despair.

the bloody finger healed and i found some thin leather finger protectors to wear - thimbles on three fingers of my left hand are way too bulky. that and the cooler weather let me get into the studio to frame a few pieces, work some more on "les chat" and contemplate a grey piece that I have the words for. It's funny how I often start with the words.


Once upon a time I called myself a writer.  Having had professional work, poetry and short stories published I believed that the description was apt. When I wrote I always needed a first time to jump start me and while I am now working in a non verbal medium where the use of too many dashes or a spellchecker do not matter I find myself calling upon the thought as articulated internally with a word  to get me going.

For example les chat came to me while watching Abigail, my studio cat, and constant companion everywhere in the house, obsessively follow large moths we call millers.  She is so determined to catch one and chew it's wings off that she won't be deterred by greenies or a piece of fresh salmon. And of course after finally consuming the disgusting  dusty critter she immediately makes this moaning noise and vomits it up. But I am digressing. While looking at her fur I thought about how I had wanted  Russian Blue but ended with her instead because she picked me ( as most pet owners will confess)... ooops get back on track... I thought it would be whimsical to make different fur cat patterns in portraiture ovals and assemble them into les chat. I have not perfect the calico part yet but the blue and the  curly kirk are good and the grey tiger markings are coming along. But my point was it started with words. This bring to mind one of my favorite poems by Frank O'Hara
called why I am not a painter--- which if I find on the internet I will slap up here because I am not going to type it out... But he discusses exactly the same concept that I am fumbling about in this blog to describe.

I don't think I've ever been in love. I'm not even sure what love is supposed to be. Maybe I have been, and I didn't even know it. Maybe my idea of what love is is so fabricated that it doesn't really exist? I'm not cynical, just something I've been contemplating for a long time. I probably started considering what I thought was love since i was twelve years old or so. They say that love is compromise? I understand and believe that to a certain extent, but when do you draw the line? On compromising who you are, what you believe in, the way you act where is compromise actually just reforming yourself to keep someone else happy and not worrying about your own well being, and who am I to ask someone to give up these things to make ME happy? It's just very confusing. Maybe there comes a time when you meet someone that you (love?) so much that you stop caring about yourself and your needs because you need them more than you need yourself? I'm not that dependant.

I agree also that compromise shouldn't feel like a burden, but even in the best relationships I've seen it always seems like one person has to give up more than the other. How can love be permanent? Or perhaps it isn't and never was intended to be? Even if compromise works in the beginning, people are dynamic and constantly changing, are we supposed to one day just become static and cling to our ways? I could not and would never want to do that. Again, I'm not cynical or bitter toward the idea of love, I simply don't understand how it is supposed to work.

It just seems like everything else in our media filled world, from the outside it appears as a portion of something bigger, but when you step away from it, its like a puzzle where the pieces don't actually fit together. The more you step away, the more you realize that its not a picture but a refracted, broken mirror, like city lights, reflected from water. I could totally see myself alone and happy for the rest of my life. But am I supposed to think this way? Aren't we as humans supposed to desire human companionship? Maybe life isn't the broken mirror, maybe I am. It's a lot to think about.

When I'm outside, I feel relaxed and calm, the million thoughts an hour seem to leave my mind and I can just relax. But the moment I go back inside, go to work, go to the store It all comes flooding back, as if the walls and ceilings serve as a pressure system to force it all back into my head, It seems a bit overbearing sometimes, like I just want to tell my brain to shut up and let me be alone.

I just want to be outside. I want to be away from the ghosts of past lovers, past friends, the past me. Away from responsibility of my own actions, and the consequences of others around me.