my_window_seat: (Default)
It's been raining for hours. That steady thrumming on the roof and lisping slap of drops in pooled water, the infrequent sussuration of cars sloughing over streaming asphalt - I know these sounds, but they aren't familiar, here.

And the sky - at 4am it's dulled some now, but there's still that lavender glow, like a flashlight under a pillowcase. The refraction of city lights shot through water and trapped under a thick flannel of cloud cover.

A long time ago, I was in an alien city, far away from home and everyone I felt safe with. I didn't know how to feel, who to trust, least of all myself. The only thought that seemed clear in my mind is one that comes back to me from time to time, like right now. It was the middle of the day and the sky was clear and blue and nothing like right now, nothing at all like this moment and at the same time exactly like this moment -

The sky is empty, and it feels like an echo.
my_window_seat: (Mask)
Today was one of those days that made me seriously question my value and my ability to reach my goals someday. And it wasn't just because I couldn't get the knack of driving 3" wood screws through platforms in Stagecraft. That's where it started, though.

I realized after a good half hour of gyrating this way and that to try to angle myself into the right position to put my full body weight into the battery-operated screwdriver - forcing in, reaching a stopping point with 3/4's of the screw still stubbornly in view, backing it out, driving it back in again, listening to the screech as the head strips further and further away because I can't keep the screwdriver angled squarely against it - then dropping the screwdriver in disgust, walking away, walking back, trying again - wash, rinse, repeat -

What did I realize?

That again - I'm faced with a task that I know I'm doing incorrectly, and yet I can't find the solution to making it work.

And that as my frustration increases, I'm scaring the people around me.


There are days when I feel like I'm 'better' than I used to be. That I'm 'improving'. Days when even the most confounding blockages roll off me, and I'm able to just - let it ride.

Those days are far fewer than the days like today.

At least it feels that way. Sometimes - most times - I really don't know.

It's even harder when this kind of thing happens in an environment in which I should be able to make things work. Or at least, I should feel comfortable with doing my best, and letting that be enough. I have possibly one of the best teachers a person could possibly want for this class. Richard is patient, knowledgeable, laid back - he gives instruction and then doesn't hover over us to see that we're doing things just right but allows us to experiment with what we've gathered and adjust it to make it work for us -

Yet even in the perfect environment, I found myself up against a wall. One of my own making. And then projecting that wall around me, complete with barbed wire, barking dogs, and machine gun turrets.

I don't wonder why people are scared of me.

I just wonder how much of that is just 'who I am', and how much of it is really something that I can find a way to stop - being.

Mostly, I wonder how much of it will always stand in between who I am and who I'd like to be.

And whether the me that I am in my 'better' moments is really sufficient to offset the me behind the gun turret. The one who causes other people to duck and side step, staying out of range.

I'm tired.

All I can do is keep trying. All I can do is hope that there's a balance point, even if I can't see it.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.
my_window_seat: (Default)
Wow, was I in a foul mood today.

S'okay overall though, I guess. I realized it for what it was and just pretty much breathed through it, realizing that it wasn't due to anything other than fatigue. Haven't been able to sleep for shit for about a week now.

I'm telling you, though - days like this, folks ought to be glad that I don't carry firearms. Especially some of my classmates.

In film class tonight, while we were discussing some of the lighting characteristics in Citizen Kane, the twat sitting two rows behind me pipes up with, "Well, I'm an actor, so I understand and applaud Welle's use of dramatic key lighting to draw focus to just his actors - because that's always the most important element of the action taking place on a stage - everything else is just a distraction."

::beat - deep breath::

I came soooooo close to turning around and saying, "Oh, yeah, toots? Well, I'm a director, and I am now reminded of and understand Hitchcock's reference to actors - they may not be cattle, but they deserve to be treated like it. Now shut the fuck up before I use my pen to carve a dramatic statement into your neck, you hollow little bag of ego."


I wish I could have a voice-over narration for my life for just one day...
my_window_seat: (Default)
Am running entirely on caffeine and vitamins right now. And 80's hippie rock and industrial. I am a Love and Rockets and Gary Numan-powered robot at the moment.

Strangely, this does not feel like a bad thing.

It's been brought to my attention that my journal of late has neglected to document anything reasonably positive.

Um, I'll fix that. 'Cuz cool stuff is happening.

As soon as I get more than 3 consecutive minutes free.

No, really.


Off to class...
my_window_seat: (Average Day)
Rats. I kinda wish I had my camera right now.*

Because a picture of my foot tonight would be an object lesson in why Anger Management is a good thing.

After spending 4 days trying to just get through to someone, somewhere who could help me get my prescription filled (I started this quest last week), I ended up getting the most bizarre and frustrating series of messages on my answering machine, which I was checking in the 15 minutes I had between classes, advisory meeting, work, etc. etc. etc.

And listening to them on the payphone, I can feel my frustration level rising and rising at being sent over and over through the same mazes time and time again -

And I just lost it.

I kicked the floor.

And after limping around the rest of the day, I come home and take off my shoes and socks -

And wow - my second toe (the longest one) is puffed-Cheetoh mass of every color of the rainbow.

And I think it's broken.


Not even worth getting an official doctor's opinion on - wouldn't be able to get a fecking doctor's appointment anyway, and who wants to spend 3 hours in the ER just to get an x-ray to confirm the obvious and have them tell me there's nothing you can do for a broken toe anyway?

Way to go, ~D~.

The one bright spot - the one, singular, scintillating bright spot - aside from FINALLY getting my prescription (after waiting and hour in line OUTSIDE the pharmacy, because they now lock the doors and only let one person in at a time as one person leaves - I shit you not) and another hour and a half inside -

Oh, yeah - the one bright spot was a really good discussion with my Ancient Legacy prof after class tonight, about how one becomes a teacher at the community college level. It seems I have to have at least a Master's Degree - but the advantages include spending your time in school actually focusing on the topic you intend to actually teach rather than an Education Major (hack, ptooiey!). I have such a poor opinion of the educational system as it is - I don't want to immerse myself in a Major that pretty much goes against all my personal beliefs about how people should be able to learn. I'd much rather spend my time, oh, I don't know - learning more about what it is that I actually want to teach.

I know. I'm such a rebel.

So yeah.

It sounds overly breezy and like I haven't thought it out, but I'm really just getting tired and want to wrap this long-winded entry up.

I want to teach. Part-time, at the community college level. And I want to spend the other half-time working on arts programs for challenged youth - like what I'm trying to put together for Service Learning next semester. I still haven't heard anything back from the woman running that department, and this is two e-mails and two phone messages later. I'm giving her until the end of this week - after that, the next step is going the the head of her department.

Gah. Just babbling now.

Time to do some homework...

*NOTE: ~N~ this is not a hint. Just a wry observation. ::wink:: )
my_window_seat: (Default)
When I get 'like this', it's like being trepanned and having your brains replaced with hot lava and Pop Rocks. A condition few would envy, I imagine.

But what those of you who don't experience infrequent bouts of temporary insanity don't understand is this -

It's horrifying, but at the same time, it's something I wouldn't ever want to lose.

It's having every nerve ending stripped bare, sometimes only for just a few hours, and seeing everything with a kind of clarity not possible at any other time. A distorted clarity in some ways. A contradiction in terms. It's insanity, true - but it's also sanity of a very indescribable kind.

It makes empathy with those who are permanently mentally ill much easier.

It makes communication and relating to the rest of the 'normal' world very challenging.

It's madness, and it's fuel of a kind that makes the impossible sometimes, if only briefly, possible.

I don't expect anyone to understand or make allowances for me anymore.

I don't make allowances for myself.

It's not easy to be this way, but when the burning is the brightest, there isn't any other way I'd rather be.

Off to class again...
my_window_seat: (Default)
When I'm 'like this', about the only thing that brings true, unmitigated gleeful pleasure to my blighted little soul is Stromkern.

No, I mean it.

Pop that CD into the player, and with the first few brain-flattening thumps, the corners of my mouth curl up in the Grinchiest little smile you could possibly imagine.

Evil, evil glee. With lots of rage and base. Wheeee!

When I'm 'like this,' it really reinforces my certianty that my continued singleness is the only really and truly altruistic thing I can do for the rest of the human race. To inflict me on another human being would be tantamount to justifying the rape, torture and murder of another person's soul.

Or anyway, it would just be mean, ya know?


An unexpected visit at work today - thank you, you know who you are, and you are neato-mosquito. :)

Off to class...
my_window_seat: (Default)
And you know what else?

I'm going to keep all my classes, and keep my workstudy job, and figure out something with the Service Learning thing next semester, or something like it.

Because fuck anyone who tells me that "it can't be done" or that my only function is just to fill in the neat little boxes in their idea of what should or shouldn't work or what a person should or shouldn't be trying to do with themselves.

I wasted a good twenty years of my life thinking that what other people had to say had more value or relevance to my life than anything I did or thought.

Just fuck off if you think you have a better idea of what I'm supposed to be doing.

Because of course, I've got it allllllll figured out.

Yeah. Right.

So what?

I'd rather go down my way than someone else's.

Not that I'm exactly, like, crystal-clear on what 'my way' is or anything yet.

Or anything.


I think I just need to go away and just tune everyone and everything out for a while. Not like I actually have that luxury - my DVR counselor wants me to resubmit an updated Education/Career Outline again. And I have to go back in and arm-wrestle with academic advising at TVI over the credits they've magically lost or decided not to transfer since the last time I went in - and if I don't dot all the i's and cross all the t's in my future plans the way DVR wants I'll have to find some other way to make up for the resources I won't have available through them anymore -

Screw this. I'm tired of thinking about it.

Going to go do some homework.

I'm never going to fucking grow up though, am I? I'm not going to be anything other than a fucked-up rebellious teeneager. And I'm never going to be able to figure out what the fuck I'm doing or how to do it, am I?

Fuck everyone and everything right now.


my_window_seat: (Default)
If anyone else is in the mood to tell me what is or isn't possible for one human to accomplish -

Do me a favor. Just save it for someone else.

I'm so really not in the mood.

And anyone who feels like reminding me that my company is only welcome so long as I'm chipper and cute and fuzzy - don't expect to see me around again. I'll remember when I am feeling chipper and fuzzy and all that again - and I won't be interested in looking you up.

Not that I'm feeling, you know, pissy and out-of-sorts or anything...
my_window_seat: (Default)
Only have a few minutes; biology class next.

Am probably going to have to drop one of my honors classes. I just don't have enough time to get all my homework done, and I don't have any time at all for anything to go wrong.

As it is, will have to take time off work, on two different days, just to get a stupid prescription filled - don't be poor in New Mexico folks, because poor people take it up the keister as far as health care. The automated line for the pharmacy now tells me that I can't renew my prescription automatically, as they're "doing construction" for the next two weeks, please wait for an attendant - then hangs up on me. Repeatedly. 45 fucking minutes of my day spent calling there, calling the business office to let them know there's a fucking problem here, folks, getting 8 different numbers to call to try to connect with a human being, NONE of which connect me with a person - they either ring and ring and ring - 20+ rings with no action - or send me directly to voicemail, or tell me to 'dial 0 for an attendant' - and FUCKING HANG UP ON ME AGAIN.

Hey, I just need thyroid medication - what if I had a fucking heart condition you cocksucking fuckwads? You'd have given me a fucking heart attack by now just trying to get medication.

So yeah - will have to take time off work to go in, wait two hours in line so I can hand them my goddamn prescription, have them tell me I have to come back in to pick it up because refills require 24 hours to process - yeah, it take them 24 hours to count a fucking handfull of fucking pills. Then come back and wait at least another two hours in line to pick up the prescription.

Don't be poor. It's just a bad idea.

And don't take too many classes, because that's a bad idea, too. At least if your poor and have to work at the same time - which is just about everyone, so I know I'm not special that way.

But my appointment with my DVR counselor last week was - discouraging to say the least. Not only did she rag me out - nicely, but still - about my class load this semester, but she pretty much rode down the Service Learning thing I wanted to get going for next semester. For the right reasons; she doesn't want me to take on too much. Understandable. But her primary focus is for me to just hurry the fuck up and get my AA from TVI; to her, I shouldn't be doing anything else at all other than that. My problem with that is that that AA isn't going to really do jack shit for me other than just prepare me to go to the next level of school - I'll still need, at the bare minimum, a BA to be of any kind of work-related use. THe Service Learning thing would at least give me some recent, concrete experience in my field to point to so that I could try to get some kind of relevant work during the year that I would need to take off from school in order to once again qualify for in-state tuition rates back in Washington. Because that was the idea - to move back to Washington and get back into school again. But even community college rates are fucking obscene unless you have residency, so there's that year off - do I want to be doing some kind of totally bullshit office work or waiting tables for a year while my drive to even be in school oozes out of every pore?

Everything feels totally fucking impossible right now. I don't fucking know what to do, what direction to go in -

Well, upstairs is the right direction at the moment, I guess.

Off to class.

I just want to go home and cry right now...
my_window_seat: (Moi)
Why is it that the older we get, the more we fight against the compunction to express the quickly felt emotions? When someone does something that's too - oh, adorable to ignore. Or so frustrating that you want to pinch their head off. Those things that for a few seconds send the stimulus running through your system, with good feelings or bad - for a few minutes, they give you that jolt.

But we don't seem to do anything about them anymore, or not as much. Not as often. We don't tell someone, "I love you when you're..." or "God, sometimes you can be such a cunt, you know?"


Being held 'accountable' for our emotions one too many times in the past.

Not wanting someone else to take what we say as an indication of something permanent, for good or for ill. It's not like I really, you know, love you or anything. I'm pissed at you now, but it doesn't mean I really, like, hate you or anything.

We don't trust the other person to understand the transitory nature of our reactions to them.

Maybe we're no longer sure when it is that they are transitory.

Maybe now it feels like too much effort to tell the truth, especially by accident, or we're afraid of the repercussions, the repair work that will have to be done. Or just tired by the idea of it. Not so much fear as a weary resignation.

Maybe I just need to somehow get a little more sleep these days, eh?


Off to class...
my_window_seat: (Frances)
This. Is it.

This is it.

This is what I want to do with my life.

How do I know this?

Because it's what I keep coming back to, time and again. Over and over. It's always this.

I want to work with challenged youth populations in a a creative arts and constructive way.

I want to teach.

I want to combine these things in a simple enough way that I can make a difference to someone else the way certain people made a difference to me.

I can't really describe how I feel right now, except that the top of my head feels like it's going to come off. Er, in a good way. It's just that this is what always happens when I really get into the guts of what all is possible here. The synapses all start firing at once - BAM*BAM*BAM - the ideas start coming - all the pieces fall into place -

It just feels so right.

By the end of the Service Learning Orientation - which I pretty much had to talk my way into because the Cerebus guarding the door didn't want to let me in unless I was 'already enrolled in a class with an instructor who is offering Service Learning as part of their curriculum' - was lucky enough to be able to talk to the Program Director, who, when I explained what I was interested in doing, welcomed me in - whew! -

Anyway - by the time the orientation was over, I already had it all figured out. How I want to approach my professor tomorrow to see if I can twist his arm into incorporating SL into one of the classes he's teaching next semester - any class really, just something in the theatre arts.

I'd be fine with going into an existing program at one of the agencies that works with homeless kids - but I could also go a step farther, if there was a need that I could fill. I kept scribbling down notes during the lecture, and came up with:

A semester long project, with a group of teens who write, direct, stage and produce their own production, either a full-length existing work, or (my personal favorite) a multi-part vignette production of short one-acts written by the kids themselves. About themselves, who they are, what they think might be their purpose on the planet. Or just randomn shit they want to talk about. It's all good.

Program structure: approximately 12-13 weeks in length; two 90-minutes sessions per week or a single 3 hr. session near the end of the period for pre-production rehearsals. Performance in a professional venue (approach the Sunshine, the Kimo, Popejoy, the Outpost, etc.), admission fees/proceeds/donations to benefit the agency (Barrett House, Working Classroom, etc.)

Possibly work in a partnership with existing organizations - visiting artists or artists-in-residence at Tricklock or the Outpost. Maybe with students in the Theatre Arts program at UNM.

Can look into possible funding sources for program needs - federal or community block grants, foundation awards.

If agency is satisfied with the program, could make it permanent - recruit, train and help staff.

Jesus - this is it. This is what happens everytime I look in this direction. All the pieces fall into place in my mind.

It's what I'm supposed to be doing.

I have about another year, year and a half that I'm willing left to spend in New Mexico.

After wasting a huge fucking chunk of the last 8 years, maybe it's time I actually did something.

And maybe, just maybe - I can leave ABQ just a little better than I found it.


Or I could just, you know - keep myself busy for a while. Or something.

my_window_seat: (Hank)
Went to Open Mic night at the Blue Dragon last night - by accident more than anything else; was doing laundry, went to get pizza at BD across the street- oh, uh, it's that night...?

Jim decided to play after all - and if there's anything - I mean anything that man can't do to a guitar - I have yet to see it. I mean it.

Oh, and as I walked in, probably the first thing I noticed was - hey, isn't that [ profile] hacked up on the wall?!?! A closer look, and yea verily, it's Brea's artwork, therefore yes, that must be [ profile] hacked. Go figger. That piece, and the other artwork she had up - wow. I wish I had the major buckage - I'd love to buy the one with the girl in the black overcoat on the blue background...

Anyway - in a foul mood tonight. At the library full-time this week - thankful I am that I don't have to be there forever, or more than 20 hours a week once school starts. And even that - may just have to cut back my hours and live on rice and ramen if I'm gonig to be able to study at all...

Anyway, as mentioned, in foul mood - so will now go play with sharp things. Good idea, huh?
my_window_seat: (Default)
The well-contented vibe has taken a turn for the schlumpfy and depressed.

my_window_seat: (Default)
I wish I knew why some days, for no discernible reason whatsoever, I seem so purely evil.

This is the kind of day that confirms my sincere belief that being single is my good deed to the human race.

On the other hand, I sometimes wonder if I would be better behaved if I felt accountable to someone other than just myself.

Would I scream and rage over breaking a mirror if I knew someone was in the other room? Or would I just shrug and sweep up the pieces? Maybe even make a joke about adding the bad luck on my tab and caution the owner of the next set of bare feet to roam into the bathroom.

I don't know why over the last year I think about it more and more. What I don't want to admit that I want, because I don't believe that I deserve it. With other things, I don't question it - I want, I whine I waffle - then I get off my ass and attain. There isn't nearly as much "ooooh, should I, can I, whingewhingewhinge - oooooh, I don't knooooooow" -

Or at least, comparitively speaking.

Damn near anything else feels possible, compared to the one thing I want more than anything else.


I think I'll go do something obsessive with crafts now.

my_window_seat: (Average Day)
It is colder than - something cold involving swear words.

And I feel like total ca-ca.

And I probably damn near got myself fired form the library today for acting like such a bee-yotch because I felt so damned shitty. I may have redeemed myself somewhat after lunch by being penitent. Which doesn't answer the question of why I seem to have some hell-bent desire to sabotage myself so viciously in work-related situations.

Over the break, I must apply for a tutoring job. Even if I don't get it, I at least have to try. There's nothing wrong exactly with the job at the library. I should actually like it a lot, because it isn't in any way mentally taxing, and I can listen to audio books while I work.

I just feel like I'm wasting my time being there.

I am at an age now where doing anything that doesn't feel like it has value - other than the indordinate amount of time I waste with my computer - feels somehow criminal. I feel like I must somehow be doing something worthwhile, and stamping and stickering books and listening to Dean Koontz doesn't fill that bill.

I wish I wasn't just walking through life wishing I weren't alive anymore. It would be nice to go through a day, even just one day, where I didn't wish I could just go to sleep and not wake up again.


At least school feels worthwhile.

I'm hoping that school continues to feel worthwhile.

I'm hoping that this next semester turns out to be as cool as I'm hoping it will be. Bonus points for heavy lit and theatre classes.

Maybe I can find a way to get back to being something other than bitter.

Especially by the time I get around to actually being a teacher.

As much as I generally despise the human race, I honestly have no desire to infect anyone else, particularly my students, with my brand of existential ennui.

Fingers crossed.

Bright hopes for the upcoming semester.


my_window_seat: (Default)

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