Def
Delve
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Monday, June 21, 2010
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Good things / bad things.
Haven't posted in a long time...my blogs are becoming less frequent due to my heavy work load at school, but mostly because I haven't really been in the mood to engage in this specific format for some time.
I've been doing a lot of inner work, and most of it is too private to elaborate on here. I'm a pretty free person; I often discuss things online that some might consider best left in my head. Most of the time I would disagree, but in this case, I'll save it for me; it feels too intimate. Long story short, it has been productive inner work, and that's all that matters.
---
I don't know...I miss the days of nearly a decade ago, when I designed my own website, and although it wasn't technically extravagant, it was a forum I didn't share with hundreds of millions of other people. There was something exciting about maintaining my own blog (which I called "Commentary," because the term "blog" hadn't even been coined yet). Nowadays, everybody and their grandmother has some sort of web presence (thank you MySpace and Facebook), and well, it just doesn't seem that special, anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suddenly going to ditch all technology, shut down this blog and my personal website and never be heard from again...it's just all the goddamn chatter of people who shouldn't be chattering that's driving me crazy.
Look, it's like this. Plenty of people probably feel my posts are frivolous, self-indulgent, etc., and they're right. But sometimes, I'd like to think that an idea, irritation or experience I share in this public forum might incite, inspire or entertain someone else. My blog is rooted in ego, yes, but the connections I've made with a few wonderful people through my website, blog or hell, even MySpace has been invaluable and not motivated by anything self-serving.
What I don't want to do is post undeserved, vitriolic comments regarding people who have done nothing to me, spread hate, or say hurtful things I might regret later. I just wish everyone who posted something on the Internet felt the same way. Sharing one's innermost thoughts, even if dark, can be useful, for both the writer and reader. What's not productive is mean-spirited, sexist/racist/intolerant/cruel bullshit I see dominating public forums today.
People might also argue that some of what I've posted has been mean-spirited or judgmental. Judgmental--absolutely. But if I do say things that seem mean-spirited, you must understand they are tongue-in-cheek and are said to drive a larger point or message home. And sure, they serve as venting measures, too...but they're not slanderous, which is wrong and hateful.
As an example of what I mean:
When the reptilians come to take over in 2012 and start reviewing what knee-jerk, stupid, insipid, jealous crap we post online, I don't blame them for stealing our souls and making us into stew (thanks Whitley Strieber, for that mental image). We have this wonderful forum that offers us the opportunity to create positive, progressive change, and instead, we corrupt it with stupid, jealousy-inspired tirades, homemade midget porn and cruel and slanderous insults to people like Hillary Clinton--who was attacked mercilessly with inane and false accusations, and Madonna--who is going through an obviously painful and sad divorce. I know that many out there are posting wonderful art; are producing valuable information that is now accessible through a few keystrokes...and for that, I'm grateful. But for the rest of you jerks? Get off the 'Net and find a new hobby. I wish it were one that actually contributes to society, but I'm sure that's a completely unrealistic hope, given society's precedent for stupidity and cruelty.
I know the idiots are here to stay. Here's hoping I can keep my chin up long enough to maintain my voice, as insignificant as it may be--to effect a change in minds, even if on such a minuscule scale as this.
---
THINGS I'M REALLY F-ING SICK OF (and there are so many more than this, but here are a few):
Reality anything. It's not real, people. It never was. It has single-handedly destroyed nearly all integrity in television, and has reached out its diseased hands to affect film, documentary, and our worldview in general.
Small-minded fucks, of every stripe. Everywhere I go, there they are. Put 'em in the reptilian stew, I say.
Idiots on my campus who insist on wearing shorts and flip-flops in 30 degree weather. It's their prerogative, I guess, but it just makes them look stupid, not tough--which is their goal, I think. Oh yeah, add to that all the spitting from young men. I'm constantly navigating my rolling bag around disgusting pools of sputum on campus. Really, didn't they gave up spitting for "cleansing" purposes back in the 1700s? Get with the times. Besides, it makes you look like a redneck.
People who meander into my path (or often, into me) because they're staring zombie-like into their cell phone screens reading a text, or are madly typing one out with their thumbs. See Dr. Mike Austin's blog (and my rambling response) to this. You should read his blog anyway; I may be biased because he's one of my Philosophy instructors and mentor for my senior thesis, but I think he's an insightful person.
The folks who still seem to think that listening to bone-shattering bass in their vehicles is cool. I sometimes think my entire reproductive system is going to fall out onto the ground when these vehicles pass on the street, the vibration is so profound. I do not marvel at the majesty of the experience; I marvel at how the vehicle's occupants escape serious brain damage. Wait, maybe they don't, and that's the point. More for the reptilian stew!
THINGS THAT I NEVER TIRE OF (there's more here too, by the way):
The pleasure my cats bring me--comfort, companionship, humor (yes, kitties do very funny things) and I even love it when they're occasionally pissy. It's usually warranted, as I have have my face in one of theirs, going, "Kitty Bug! Kitty Bug!" or some similar exclamation. There is nothing like an animal to remind you not to sweat the small stuff, and that sometimes, the pleasure of a purr or outstretched paw is all one needs to feel better.
Trips out of town. I just came back from an Honors Conference in San Antonio, and man, it felt damn good to get a change of scenery. It was just enough time to savor, and left me refreshed and ready to return to my obligations.
Old episodes of The Prisoner. It's a brilliant 1960s BBC TV series starring Patrick McGoohan, my favorite show of all time (just barely edging out Twin Peaks), and one I re-watch at least every couple of years. The themes continue to be relevant, and it is unlike anything you've ever seen on TV. Thank you to my bro for introducing me to it so long ago. Check it out.
Goofy, simple pleasures, like turning on my lava lamp after a long day for aesthetic and contemplative comfort; the little painted wooden armadillo I bought in San Antonio, whose head bobs when you touch it; the beautiful crimson and gold leaf I picked up on campus at the beginning of fall and put in my car, just because it made me feel good. That sort of stuff. It keeps me fresh, keeps me young.
For someone who has laid off blogging for a while, I've certainly had a lot to say tonight. Well, hey, at least I feel better now...and I only slammed those who deserve it, right? ;)
I've been doing a lot of inner work, and most of it is too private to elaborate on here. I'm a pretty free person; I often discuss things online that some might consider best left in my head. Most of the time I would disagree, but in this case, I'll save it for me; it feels too intimate. Long story short, it has been productive inner work, and that's all that matters.
---
I don't know...I miss the days of nearly a decade ago, when I designed my own website, and although it wasn't technically extravagant, it was a forum I didn't share with hundreds of millions of other people. There was something exciting about maintaining my own blog (which I called "Commentary," because the term "blog" hadn't even been coined yet). Nowadays, everybody and their grandmother has some sort of web presence (thank you MySpace and Facebook), and well, it just doesn't seem that special, anymore. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suddenly going to ditch all technology, shut down this blog and my personal website and never be heard from again...it's just all the goddamn chatter of people who shouldn't be chattering that's driving me crazy.
Look, it's like this. Plenty of people probably feel my posts are frivolous, self-indulgent, etc., and they're right. But sometimes, I'd like to think that an idea, irritation or experience I share in this public forum might incite, inspire or entertain someone else. My blog is rooted in ego, yes, but the connections I've made with a few wonderful people through my website, blog or hell, even MySpace has been invaluable and not motivated by anything self-serving.
What I don't want to do is post undeserved, vitriolic comments regarding people who have done nothing to me, spread hate, or say hurtful things I might regret later. I just wish everyone who posted something on the Internet felt the same way. Sharing one's innermost thoughts, even if dark, can be useful, for both the writer and reader. What's not productive is mean-spirited, sexist/racist/intolerant/cruel bullshit I see dominating public forums today.
People might also argue that some of what I've posted has been mean-spirited or judgmental. Judgmental--absolutely. But if I do say things that seem mean-spirited, you must understand they are tongue-in-cheek and are said to drive a larger point or message home. And sure, they serve as venting measures, too...but they're not slanderous, which is wrong and hateful.
As an example of what I mean:
When the reptilians come to take over in 2012 and start reviewing what knee-jerk, stupid, insipid, jealous crap we post online, I don't blame them for stealing our souls and making us into stew (thanks Whitley Strieber, for that mental image). We have this wonderful forum that offers us the opportunity to create positive, progressive change, and instead, we corrupt it with stupid, jealousy-inspired tirades, homemade midget porn and cruel and slanderous insults to people like Hillary Clinton--who was attacked mercilessly with inane and false accusations, and Madonna--who is going through an obviously painful and sad divorce. I know that many out there are posting wonderful art; are producing valuable information that is now accessible through a few keystrokes...and for that, I'm grateful. But for the rest of you jerks? Get off the 'Net and find a new hobby. I wish it were one that actually contributes to society, but I'm sure that's a completely unrealistic hope, given society's precedent for stupidity and cruelty.
I know the idiots are here to stay. Here's hoping I can keep my chin up long enough to maintain my voice, as insignificant as it may be--to effect a change in minds, even if on such a minuscule scale as this.
---
THINGS I'M REALLY F-ING SICK OF (and there are so many more than this, but here are a few):
Reality anything. It's not real, people. It never was. It has single-handedly destroyed nearly all integrity in television, and has reached out its diseased hands to affect film, documentary, and our worldview in general.
Small-minded fucks, of every stripe. Everywhere I go, there they are. Put 'em in the reptilian stew, I say.
Idiots on my campus who insist on wearing shorts and flip-flops in 30 degree weather. It's their prerogative, I guess, but it just makes them look stupid, not tough--which is their goal, I think. Oh yeah, add to that all the spitting from young men. I'm constantly navigating my rolling bag around disgusting pools of sputum on campus. Really, didn't they gave up spitting for "cleansing" purposes back in the 1700s? Get with the times. Besides, it makes you look like a redneck.
People who meander into my path (or often, into me) because they're staring zombie-like into their cell phone screens reading a text, or are madly typing one out with their thumbs. See Dr. Mike Austin's blog (and my rambling response) to this. You should read his blog anyway; I may be biased because he's one of my Philosophy instructors and mentor for my senior thesis, but I think he's an insightful person.
The folks who still seem to think that listening to bone-shattering bass in their vehicles is cool. I sometimes think my entire reproductive system is going to fall out onto the ground when these vehicles pass on the street, the vibration is so profound. I do not marvel at the majesty of the experience; I marvel at how the vehicle's occupants escape serious brain damage. Wait, maybe they don't, and that's the point. More for the reptilian stew!
THINGS THAT I NEVER TIRE OF (there's more here too, by the way):
The pleasure my cats bring me--comfort, companionship, humor (yes, kitties do very funny things) and I even love it when they're occasionally pissy. It's usually warranted, as I have have my face in one of theirs, going, "Kitty Bug! Kitty Bug!" or some similar exclamation. There is nothing like an animal to remind you not to sweat the small stuff, and that sometimes, the pleasure of a purr or outstretched paw is all one needs to feel better.
Trips out of town. I just came back from an Honors Conference in San Antonio, and man, it felt damn good to get a change of scenery. It was just enough time to savor, and left me refreshed and ready to return to my obligations.
Old episodes of The Prisoner. It's a brilliant 1960s BBC TV series starring Patrick McGoohan, my favorite show of all time (just barely edging out Twin Peaks), and one I re-watch at least every couple of years. The themes continue to be relevant, and it is unlike anything you've ever seen on TV. Thank you to my bro for introducing me to it so long ago. Check it out.
Goofy, simple pleasures, like turning on my lava lamp after a long day for aesthetic and contemplative comfort; the little painted wooden armadillo I bought in San Antonio, whose head bobs when you touch it; the beautiful crimson and gold leaf I picked up on campus at the beginning of fall and put in my car, just because it made me feel good. That sort of stuff. It keeps me fresh, keeps me young.
For someone who has laid off blogging for a while, I've certainly had a lot to say tonight. Well, hey, at least I feel better now...and I only slammed those who deserve it, right? ;)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
From The Daily Om...
August 14, 2008
Not Alone In The Dark
Looking At What We Don't Want To See
It is one of life's great paradoxes that the things we don't want to look at in ourselves are the very things we need to look at in order to know ourselves better and to become more fully who we are. The feelings that make us want to run away are buried treasure full of energy and inspiration if we are willing to look. These feelings come in many forms, from strange images or snippets of information to recurring dreams and feelings that rise up seemingly without a reason. Whatever shape they come in, and no matter how scary they seem, these messengers bring the information we need in order to grow.
When we are tired of pushing something down, or trying to run away from it, a good first step is to write down what we think we are avoiding. Often this turns out to be only the surface of the issue or a symbol of something else. Expressing ourselves fully on paper is a safe way to begin exploring the murky territory of the unconscious. The coolness of the intellect can give us the distance we need to read what we have written and feel less afraid of it. It helps if we remember that no matter how dark or negative our thoughts or feelings may be, these are energies shared by all humanity. We are not alone in the dark, and all the gurus and teachers we admire had to go through their own unprocessed emotional territory in order to come out the other side brighter and wiser. This can give us the courage we need to open the treasure chest of what we have been avoiding.
Within the parts of ourselves that we don't want to look at, there are emotions that need to be felt. Unfelt emotions are stuck energy, and when we leave emotions unprocessed, we deprive ourselves of access to that energy. When we feel strong enough, we can begin the process of feeling those emotions, on our own or with guidance from a spiritual counselor. It is through this work that the buried treasure of energy and inspiration will pour forth from our hearts, giving us the courage to look at all the parts of ourselves with insight and compassion.
Not Alone In The Dark
Looking At What We Don't Want To See
It is one of life's great paradoxes that the things we don't want to look at in ourselves are the very things we need to look at in order to know ourselves better and to become more fully who we are. The feelings that make us want to run away are buried treasure full of energy and inspiration if we are willing to look. These feelings come in many forms, from strange images or snippets of information to recurring dreams and feelings that rise up seemingly without a reason. Whatever shape they come in, and no matter how scary they seem, these messengers bring the information we need in order to grow.
When we are tired of pushing something down, or trying to run away from it, a good first step is to write down what we think we are avoiding. Often this turns out to be only the surface of the issue or a symbol of something else. Expressing ourselves fully on paper is a safe way to begin exploring the murky territory of the unconscious. The coolness of the intellect can give us the distance we need to read what we have written and feel less afraid of it. It helps if we remember that no matter how dark or negative our thoughts or feelings may be, these are energies shared by all humanity. We are not alone in the dark, and all the gurus and teachers we admire had to go through their own unprocessed emotional territory in order to come out the other side brighter and wiser. This can give us the courage we need to open the treasure chest of what we have been avoiding.
Within the parts of ourselves that we don't want to look at, there are emotions that need to be felt. Unfelt emotions are stuck energy, and when we leave emotions unprocessed, we deprive ourselves of access to that energy. When we feel strong enough, we can begin the process of feeling those emotions, on our own or with guidance from a spiritual counselor. It is through this work that the buried treasure of energy and inspiration will pour forth from our hearts, giving us the courage to look at all the parts of ourselves with insight and compassion.
Friday, December 14, 2007
I'M DOOOOOONE!
Handed in the last of my assignments at 10 am today. Ran some errands, then bought myself a bottle of cheap champagne.
It is 4:35 pm, and I am drunk.
Normally, I'm not a self-congratulatory kind of person, but I've accomplished quite a lot in the last four months. More than I ever thought I could.
Yay for me!
It is 4:35 pm, and I am drunk.
Normally, I'm not a self-congratulatory kind of person, but I've accomplished quite a lot in the last four months. More than I ever thought I could.
Yay for me!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Brain on overload...must slow it down.
Some gems from school...
Sign on EKU ladies' bathroom wall: "Please turn water off completety!!!"
Um, yeah! Good to see you go want us to go one step beyond mere conservation--turning off the water not only completely, but "completety!"
Overheard loud (is there any other kind?) cell conversation from bottle-blonde-orange-tan-early-twenty-something:
...So, I guess we're back together...I mean, he missed two of our anniversaries...first with training, and then with Iraq...
Not that I'm a proponent of the war at all, but, you'd think she might cut the guy a little slack? It's not like he passed on their "anniversary" to go strip clubbing with his buddies, or something.
Overhead convo between two students, hanging out and smoking between classes:
"So, when I got out of jail, and I was only in for a week..."
Um, (shudder)...hey, wait...aren't you in my Ethics class?
Today, during said Ethics class, I glance over at what I'd call a "Buffy"; I'm sure today's generation has a different name for them...sorority types, again with the blonde hair/fake tan...and see that she's kicked off her flip-flops, pulled her bare feet into the seat, has lifted her blouse and is idly playing with her belly-button ring. I feel like I'm watching someone publicly masturbate. Later, she begins furiously copying notes (that apparently, she's already taken--it's the same bubbly handwriting) and I actually see her make a heart over one of her "i"s. It was all I could do to keep from exploding with laughter; a truly mind-blowing moment. Later, she stared at me with derision when I did audibly laugh (snorted, even--couldn't help it) at the instructor's attempt to delineate between what was meant by the blanket statement "abortion is wrong." He said, "Does that mean pushing a pregnant person down the stairs, or having a procedure done?" Who knows what Buffy was thinking about me--she went back to bearing down on her notetaking with the iron grip of a cheerleader known amongst the football team for her intense and quickly executed hand jobs.
Also in the twice mentioned Ethics class is a really bright, cute young guy who sits beside me. I was kind of surprised to find out early on he was ROTC, because he doesn't seem militaristic or posture-y at all. He occasionally adds what I would consider moderate to liberal comments to class discussion. We chat occasionally, and today he was more talkative than usual.
I want to preface this with the admission that I have been known to attract (and be attracted to) the odd younger man or two (GPG knows this), but I don't necessarily seek it out. During our conversation today, I said, "So, what, are you 20, 21?"--the age of my last serious boyfriend--and he smiled and said, "No, 18."
Jesus Christ.
Yep, here's one old lady, signing out.
Sign on EKU ladies' bathroom wall: "Please turn water off completety!!!"
Um, yeah! Good to see you go want us to go one step beyond mere conservation--turning off the water not only completely, but "completety!"
Overheard loud (is there any other kind?) cell conversation from bottle-blonde-orange-tan-early-twenty-something:
...So, I guess we're back together...I mean, he missed two of our anniversaries...first with training, and then with Iraq...
Not that I'm a proponent of the war at all, but, you'd think she might cut the guy a little slack? It's not like he passed on their "anniversary" to go strip clubbing with his buddies, or something.
Overhead convo between two students, hanging out and smoking between classes:
"So, when I got out of jail, and I was only in for a week..."
Um, (shudder)...hey, wait...aren't you in my Ethics class?
Today, during said Ethics class, I glance over at what I'd call a "Buffy"; I'm sure today's generation has a different name for them...sorority types, again with the blonde hair/fake tan...and see that she's kicked off her flip-flops, pulled her bare feet into the seat, has lifted her blouse and is idly playing with her belly-button ring. I feel like I'm watching someone publicly masturbate. Later, she begins furiously copying notes (that apparently, she's already taken--it's the same bubbly handwriting) and I actually see her make a heart over one of her "i"s. It was all I could do to keep from exploding with laughter; a truly mind-blowing moment. Later, she stared at me with derision when I did audibly laugh (snorted, even--couldn't help it) at the instructor's attempt to delineate between what was meant by the blanket statement "abortion is wrong." He said, "Does that mean pushing a pregnant person down the stairs, or having a procedure done?" Who knows what Buffy was thinking about me--she went back to bearing down on her notetaking with the iron grip of a cheerleader known amongst the football team for her intense and quickly executed hand jobs.
Also in the twice mentioned Ethics class is a really bright, cute young guy who sits beside me. I was kind of surprised to find out early on he was ROTC, because he doesn't seem militaristic or posture-y at all. He occasionally adds what I would consider moderate to liberal comments to class discussion. We chat occasionally, and today he was more talkative than usual.
I want to preface this with the admission that I have been known to attract (and be attracted to) the odd younger man or two (GPG knows this), but I don't necessarily seek it out. During our conversation today, I said, "So, what, are you 20, 21?"--the age of my last serious boyfriend--and he smiled and said, "No, 18."
Jesus Christ.
Yep, here's one old lady, signing out.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Year in Review.
So.
It's been a year since I left Los Angeles. Last August 29th, I tearfully gave away the last of the things I couldn't fit into my storage space or my rented vehicle (my low-rent vulturous neighbors were more than delighted to pick through it all), and myself and my three feline children hit the road. We drove straight through the desert, the mountains, the trees--never stopping except for pee breaks and food-on-the-run--until we stumbled, exhausted, into an equally low-rent hotel each night. When we arrived four days later on the doorstep of my parents' home (a respite I truly appreciate and often return to during my darkest life transitions), I think the four of us passed out and slept for a whole day.
I departed from Los Angeles a disenchanted, unhappy person. As I've outlined in detail in my previous blogs, I hadn't reached the place I wanted to be as an artist; I was broke and living in a shitty neighborhood where I didn't feel safe; my relationship of several years had reached its climax--and despite our attempts to make it work, it quite simply, didn't anymore. It was time to hit that big reset button, yet again.
Kentucky is by no means my favorite place to live, despite growing up here. It is very dear to me, a wonderful place to come back and visit; I find it beautiful and bucolic in many ways, but I've never been able to shake that it just doesn't feel like home to me. However, my folks are here, it's fairly affordable, and it seemed the most logical place to take a respite and plan for the future. Initially, I had plans to work on a cruise ship in Hawaii, but after reading horror narrative after horror narrative, combined with the cruise line's apathy in returning my calls, I elected not to dedicate five months of my life to indentured servitude. Instead, I chose to hang my hat here for a bit, to give myself time to really take a look at what was the most progressive, yet most satisfying "next step."
In the year that I've been here, I've worked several "permanent" jobs which proved to be nothing of the sort, and many, many temp assignments. Truly, I never wanted to find any employment that would keep me here too long; my intention has always been to go someplace else. No matter how comfortable Lexington and its environs are, my gypsy heart has longed for a new, or return to a "new again" place where I feel there is more opportunity (and saltwater--I hate being landlocked). And, despite my return to Kentucky serving as an escape from a relationship tornado, I managed to find yet another opportunity to get my heart broken. What can I say? When I care, I care deeply and with hope that it will be returned. There's another life lesson in there for me somewhere, I suppose; I'm still working that one out.
This year has been tough--hell, things have been tough for me since 2005--but I feel I'm finally turning a corner. I'm back in school; two schools, actually: University of Kentucky and Eastern Kentucky University, as a philosophy major. Heady, lofty stuff, but I've always set the bar high, which is why I've probably experienced my share of disappointment. I'm having an amazing time thus far, and only see it getting better. I'm a junior (currently taking 18 hours--again, those lofty goals), and I anticipate being done in a year and a half. So, I'm thinking early 2009, I'm on my way to grad school, back on the west side of the nation--or maybe even Europe. We'll see what opportunities present themselves to me.
Oh yeah, and I'm applying for a grant to develop a one-woman show, incorporating much about my full-circle journey home. It'll be swell, I promise. So, wish me luck, friends. Changer oui!
It's been a year since I left Los Angeles. Last August 29th, I tearfully gave away the last of the things I couldn't fit into my storage space or my rented vehicle (my low-rent vulturous neighbors were more than delighted to pick through it all), and myself and my three feline children hit the road. We drove straight through the desert, the mountains, the trees--never stopping except for pee breaks and food-on-the-run--until we stumbled, exhausted, into an equally low-rent hotel each night. When we arrived four days later on the doorstep of my parents' home (a respite I truly appreciate and often return to during my darkest life transitions), I think the four of us passed out and slept for a whole day.
I departed from Los Angeles a disenchanted, unhappy person. As I've outlined in detail in my previous blogs, I hadn't reached the place I wanted to be as an artist; I was broke and living in a shitty neighborhood where I didn't feel safe; my relationship of several years had reached its climax--and despite our attempts to make it work, it quite simply, didn't anymore. It was time to hit that big reset button, yet again.
Kentucky is by no means my favorite place to live, despite growing up here. It is very dear to me, a wonderful place to come back and visit; I find it beautiful and bucolic in many ways, but I've never been able to shake that it just doesn't feel like home to me. However, my folks are here, it's fairly affordable, and it seemed the most logical place to take a respite and plan for the future. Initially, I had plans to work on a cruise ship in Hawaii, but after reading horror narrative after horror narrative, combined with the cruise line's apathy in returning my calls, I elected not to dedicate five months of my life to indentured servitude. Instead, I chose to hang my hat here for a bit, to give myself time to really take a look at what was the most progressive, yet most satisfying "next step."
In the year that I've been here, I've worked several "permanent" jobs which proved to be nothing of the sort, and many, many temp assignments. Truly, I never wanted to find any employment that would keep me here too long; my intention has always been to go someplace else. No matter how comfortable Lexington and its environs are, my gypsy heart has longed for a new, or return to a "new again" place where I feel there is more opportunity (and saltwater--I hate being landlocked). And, despite my return to Kentucky serving as an escape from a relationship tornado, I managed to find yet another opportunity to get my heart broken. What can I say? When I care, I care deeply and with hope that it will be returned. There's another life lesson in there for me somewhere, I suppose; I'm still working that one out.
This year has been tough--hell, things have been tough for me since 2005--but I feel I'm finally turning a corner. I'm back in school; two schools, actually: University of Kentucky and Eastern Kentucky University, as a philosophy major. Heady, lofty stuff, but I've always set the bar high, which is why I've probably experienced my share of disappointment. I'm having an amazing time thus far, and only see it getting better. I'm a junior (currently taking 18 hours--again, those lofty goals), and I anticipate being done in a year and a half. So, I'm thinking early 2009, I'm on my way to grad school, back on the west side of the nation--or maybe even Europe. We'll see what opportunities present themselves to me.
Oh yeah, and I'm applying for a grant to develop a one-woman show, incorporating much about my full-circle journey home. It'll be swell, I promise. So, wish me luck, friends. Changer oui!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The best part...
...of one of my favorite films.
Truth in writing, truth in performance. It still resonates.
Truth in writing, truth in performance. It still resonates.
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