Things crescendo, and then they fall, I feel like. Talent, careers, classes, natural disasters, the economy...
Today I got into a moment when all I could think about was breathing, imagining a rasping, shallow breath in my mind and magnifying my own breath. This was before and after Chem section. I walked, because I shouldn't ride my bike, and when I got out of section the strangest feeling overcame me. At this point I'm used to intense moments of feelings, but this was just...nothing, like a white canvas waiting to be filled with noise. The University was empty, so that added to the wasteland feel, but I have a feeling it's not too far off from what one feels/hears when one's drowning. A little calm in the storm before death takes over.
I don't panic. I rarely freak out over anything, but I do let things build up until I break over - so that's my version of freaking out, a delayed reaction unfolding rather than an immediate explosion. So for this crescendo I decided to take a long, long walk around most of the campus. I do everything I usually do: take off my shoes, lighten my load, and walk where the ground is hottest so that the heat distracts. I didn't have my harmonica this time, but it wasn't nighttime. I play Latin guitar music on my iPod touch's Pandora, and I walk, for a really long time.
At one point I passed by a broken Skye bottle, which is one of my favorite alcohol bottles because it's such a deep blue. And I consider the shards for a moment, a long moment. Just gently. I decided that my red wouldn't mix too well with this solid blue to make purple, and that I'd better not try. But the bottom of the bottle had broken clean off so that it was just a round plate of slightly curved glass, like the round glass pieces in your bio lab back home, with hardly any fencing at all. I took it as a memento, and the guy upstairs currently has it right now, but I'll get it back from him, soon.
Alessandra had a dream about making a kaleidoscopic wind chime out of pieces of colored glass. I want to try it, if only I can figure out how to cut a hole in the glass.
From a peer: Frankenstein's monster is the representation of the neglected human soul, which turns violent. Some part of you mutates, then quietly sleuths around killing your loved ones until until you die. But until you die, it'll always be in your shadow, and you know it, and you can't get rid of it. You just know that it's always there. But my question is, can we prevent the birth of the monster? Once the original monster is created it seems pretty easy to prevent it from pro-creating. But the Frankenstein created his monster just as easily as any student might come up with a mathematical proof. Frankenstein's monster is his master thesis, he created unknowingly yet thinking he was onto to something new, something great (wouldn't the secret of life be great for medicine?). It's a sequential process: you find something bugging you in the back of your mind, you explore it, you'll probably find something disgusting that's true, but that you'd wish later that you didn't stumble across.
Is it unavoidable? Do romanticists always find the darkness in themselves whenever they went soul-searching? And should this serve as a warning to readers about their own self-exploration?
I'm still trying to flesh out answers for my SLE93 final...so much to go through.
Monday, May 31, 2010
GaGalicious
Lady GaGa - SPEECHLESS by =thegirlinthebigbox on deviantART
the lie for which we K I L L by =thegirlinthebigbox on deviantART
leather studded KISS by =thegirlinthebigbox on deviantART
I do wish she'd had taken better pictures of these gorgeous pieces, though.
Driving
Strawberry by ~StacyD on deviantART
I'm not above making fun of animals every now and then :)
Father picked me up today and we drove around campus, plus a little bit of El Camino. It was nice; I like driving. It's just a set of manual movements that's relatively simple if you're going under 35mph. It's something that I feel accomplished at, and I can just sit there and drive and drive and drive. In a way, it satisfies that need to run, run, and keep on running. Granted, my friends probably aren't too happy I've joined the cult of air polluters, and I'd prefer running miles on the back of a horse than in a hot car, but it's something. Watch it, next year I'm liable to run off campus for weekend long trips to the beach to be in complete isolation - if I can afford it, that is.
That's a goal for next year: get out and see the world on weekends, rather than stay coup up here all the time. I'd take my homework with me.
Yaaaawn by *Saari on deviantART
Um...
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Simple
If people just lived more simply, my life would be so much easier. And their lives would be easier, too. But nooo, we love complications.
It's karma, Jessi says. Karma.
Ew.
Are we sane yet?
It's karma, Jessi says. Karma.
Ew.
Are we sane yet?
Romanticism
Last night I went to bed at 8pm and this morning I found myself in a sun-square at the LGBT-CRC, a gay short-story book in-between my feet and a sense of quietude. I'm never warm enough, and the moment I move away to sit at the computer and write my body goes into a mini-shock. But the point of today is how much I fascinate myself.
Whenever I explain my thoughts to others, everything becomes so trivial, minimalized so that life's just a breeze and everything's just peachy. 'You're fine', they silently say, 'everything just fine, and you're a normal, rational human being'. How different the picture is when viewed in solitude. Everything's a bigger mess when you're alone, and when I look inside, sometimes everything's alright and sometimes there's a black monster lurking. Sometime there's soaring determination to move the world, or apathy. Sometime there's despair, and a distinct desire to end a life. That's the monster that society is worried about, but in isolation it's really interesting to wonder why the monster exists, and what I can do about. I think the world is so scared of homocidal monsters that it does its very best to push it away.
Two types of philosophers come to mind, book-ends of SLE93: the romanticists and the existentialists. The romanticists explore the world by looking into themselves, embracing the beasts they say exists within every human soul and struggling with it for the best outcome. Some go mad, and some produce the most horrific inventions, such as Frankenstein's monster. These creations are the reflection of the human soul at its worst, paying attention to it rather than ignoring it. The existentialist - or more specifically Satre's No Exit, determines our existence through the eyes of others. Our identity is subject to the objectivity of the Other. It's the first time in our curriculum where the human spirit is defined by what others think of him, not the philosophies he creates in self-observance.
In having ourselves objectified by others is to minimize the monstrosity that we are capable of producing, which makes the world a little safer. If our actions were in a state of checks-and-balances with our community, we are less likely to perform actions which harm the species. If we isolate ourselves, what we produce carries less consideration for the community if the well-being of the society was not the motivational drive. That is, if we went into isolation to dissect ourselves, what we find is much more potent. In Satre's world it requires a group of individuals to hammer out our essence in a constructive way, into something useful and productive, an essence much more easily distilled when we work by ourselves.
How does this carry any application? And why the hell am I talking about it? 1) To study for SLE93 oral exam and 2) to explain why I should not embrace the humanities. If I am someone who embraces the self and throws myself into solitude, I rob myself of the checks-and-balances which society enforce. Without the other I had better not dare look into myself because when I do, the black monster finds an easy prey and I lose myself in my own darkness and light. By myself it is a safeguard to examine the sciences with a critical, unbiased mind and to consider only the world and never myself. This way, we lock up the monster.
The only problem is to figure out how to keep the attention entirely focused on the sciences and not the self.
I went in writing this thinking I would come out with something brilliant, and now I'm not so sure. In any case, time for breakfast. If it comes as any enlightenment, I need some resolution to life problems before I can focus my mind on salvaging my chem33 grade.
Whenever I explain my thoughts to others, everything becomes so trivial, minimalized so that life's just a breeze and everything's just peachy. 'You're fine', they silently say, 'everything just fine, and you're a normal, rational human being'. How different the picture is when viewed in solitude. Everything's a bigger mess when you're alone, and when I look inside, sometimes everything's alright and sometimes there's a black monster lurking. Sometime there's soaring determination to move the world, or apathy. Sometime there's despair, and a distinct desire to end a life. That's the monster that society is worried about, but in isolation it's really interesting to wonder why the monster exists, and what I can do about. I think the world is so scared of homocidal monsters that it does its very best to push it away.
Two types of philosophers come to mind, book-ends of SLE93: the romanticists and the existentialists. The romanticists explore the world by looking into themselves, embracing the beasts they say exists within every human soul and struggling with it for the best outcome. Some go mad, and some produce the most horrific inventions, such as Frankenstein's monster. These creations are the reflection of the human soul at its worst, paying attention to it rather than ignoring it. The existentialist - or more specifically Satre's No Exit, determines our existence through the eyes of others. Our identity is subject to the objectivity of the Other. It's the first time in our curriculum where the human spirit is defined by what others think of him, not the philosophies he creates in self-observance.
In having ourselves objectified by others is to minimize the monstrosity that we are capable of producing, which makes the world a little safer. If our actions were in a state of checks-and-balances with our community, we are less likely to perform actions which harm the species. If we isolate ourselves, what we produce carries less consideration for the community if the well-being of the society was not the motivational drive. That is, if we went into isolation to dissect ourselves, what we find is much more potent. In Satre's world it requires a group of individuals to hammer out our essence in a constructive way, into something useful and productive, an essence much more easily distilled when we work by ourselves.
How does this carry any application? And why the hell am I talking about it? 1) To study for SLE93 oral exam and 2) to explain why I should not embrace the humanities. If I am someone who embraces the self and throws myself into solitude, I rob myself of the checks-and-balances which society enforce. Without the other I had better not dare look into myself because when I do, the black monster finds an easy prey and I lose myself in my own darkness and light. By myself it is a safeguard to examine the sciences with a critical, unbiased mind and to consider only the world and never myself. This way, we lock up the monster.
The only problem is to figure out how to keep the attention entirely focused on the sciences and not the self.
I went in writing this thinking I would come out with something brilliant, and now I'm not so sure. In any case, time for breakfast. If it comes as any enlightenment, I need some resolution to life problems before I can focus my mind on salvaging my chem33 grade.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Support
Whooo, ok, today didn't go so well. BUT: it may still pick up. In any case, there are some things I wanted to say.
Today I am proud of you. You didn't cry when you got a 55% today in Chem33. You cried when you got the 59% in Chem31B. You didn't cry, and you picked yourself up and got ready for a three-day-long study session. You didn't cry when you forgot your ID card today and couldn't make your LiveScan appointment. You didn't cry today when you fell off your bike and crouched on cement clutching your crotch (try saying that three times fast) in pain, watching the loose leaf papers fly away as people walk by without a glance in your direction. Instead, you helped a caterpillar you saw on the ground being harassed by two ants. You didn't cry when you reflected on the unfairness and cruelty of the world, and how much you wanted to be away from it all. Instead you lived, and biked harder even when your bike is broken. Now it's more than a little dented and you shouldn't ride it anymore, but that's something you can fix in the summertime.
You've made so much progress this year that I'm proud of you.
Life gets better, I think. Even when people misunderstand you, hate you, and ignore you, it's worth it to hold on. I have no idea what you're holding on for, but hold on, damn it. Don't think of that black hole and when you dream, dream of something better. Do it to defy the world. Say the name of every person you know who loves you, and even if they're few and far in-between, every name is worth a million butterflies. Don't be afraid of names. Do this for me.
And if you need to cry, cry. I'd be proud of you still.
Support by *photoport on deviantART
Breathe in. Breathe out. I support you.
Now finish your cookie and take a shower.
Today I am proud of you. You didn't cry when you got a 55% today in Chem33. You cried when you got the 59% in Chem31B. You didn't cry, and you picked yourself up and got ready for a three-day-long study session. You didn't cry when you forgot your ID card today and couldn't make your LiveScan appointment. You didn't cry today when you fell off your bike and crouched on cement clutching your crotch (try saying that three times fast) in pain, watching the loose leaf papers fly away as people walk by without a glance in your direction. Instead, you helped a caterpillar you saw on the ground being harassed by two ants. You didn't cry when you reflected on the unfairness and cruelty of the world, and how much you wanted to be away from it all. Instead you lived, and biked harder even when your bike is broken. Now it's more than a little dented and you shouldn't ride it anymore, but that's something you can fix in the summertime.
You've made so much progress this year that I'm proud of you.
Life gets better, I think. Even when people misunderstand you, hate you, and ignore you, it's worth it to hold on. I have no idea what you're holding on for, but hold on, damn it. Don't think of that black hole and when you dream, dream of something better. Do it to defy the world. Say the name of every person you know who loves you, and even if they're few and far in-between, every name is worth a million butterflies. Don't be afraid of names. Do this for me.
And if you need to cry, cry. I'd be proud of you still.
Support by *photoport on deviantART
Breathe in. Breathe out. I support you.
Now finish your cookie and take a shower.
Don't touch My Hard Hat....
Today is hard hat day.
I'll explain when I'm not feeling so suicidal.
While you're at it, add some boots.
I'll explain when I'm not feeling so suicidal.
While you're at it, add some boots.
Where's Welly?, originally uploaded by christophe dune.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Snippets
Too many things happening lately.
Skype: realized I had access to it from school computers. Been trying to get back in touch with everyone, now that I'm in final countdown.
Justin Beiber: I know, he's so strange! But so catch! Even better than trashy Ke$ha.
In-house draw today: I find a roomie for next year and pick the room to live in. Excitement. Looking so much towards my own room next year. Decor will be epic.
I've gained two pounds this year! But all the fluff! All my muscles turned to fat! Need to do some physical activity that doesn't involve running around in circles.
Reached the top of a stress wave yesterday: did a horrible test. Spent the rest of the evening watching TV and movies. Need to de-stress in time for finals...
I'm really kinda hungry right now...but missed breakfast with all these blog posts.
Peace, keep that attitude running.
Skype: realized I had access to it from school computers. Been trying to get back in touch with everyone, now that I'm in final countdown.
Justin Beiber: I know, he's so strange! But so catch! Even better than trashy Ke$ha.
In-house draw today: I find a roomie for next year and pick the room to live in. Excitement. Looking so much towards my own room next year. Decor will be epic.
I've gained two pounds this year! But all the fluff! All my muscles turned to fat! Need to do some physical activity that doesn't involve running around in circles.
Reached the top of a stress wave yesterday: did a horrible test. Spent the rest of the evening watching TV and movies. Need to de-stress in time for finals...
I'm really kinda hungry right now...but missed breakfast with all these blog posts.
Peace, keep that attitude running.
Hipster Dykes
I might be one, can't I? Now, I find that I don't generally like the regular hipster dyke, but, this one's a charmer:
Talking to Brittenelle
More after the cut!
Talking to Brittenelle
More after the cut!
Lost: The End
Season finale was good, but not going back to watch all the episodes I've missed. Which is most of it. I liked first season, then it seemed as thought things got stupid. Evangeline, please don't stop making movies/TV shows, so that I can keep loving you. My celebrity crushes run deep.
Ok, love this last one after the cut.
Gleek Poker Face
This week's episode of Glee was just...amazing. Beyond all doubt. Gleecap.
I hope this link works after five years, but basically, Idina Menzel and Mini Idina singing acoustic Poker Face from Lady Gaga. And for the record, acoustic versions of Paparazzi, Poker Face and Bad Romance are all fantastic: Youtube it.
And no, I'm not going to call her anything else but mini Idina:
(I can't even remember her name)
Move Over, Polar Bear
Move Over, Polar Bear
By SINDYA N. BHANOO
 | |||
| Associated Press A poster candidate? |
A new study in this week’s Nature concludes that smaller mammals also face great risks as the planet warms.
The researchers came to this conclusion after inspecting fossil remnants from the planet’s last major bout of global warming, 12,000 years ago.
In that period, the end of the Pleistocene epoch, many large mammals like mammoths, mastodons, dire wolves and short-faced bears became extinct. But small mammals also suffered, the researchers say: the number of species dropped by 30 percent.
This new information may aid efforts by scientists to forecast the effect of global warming on the animal kingdom. Temperatures on the earth’s surface have increased more than 1 degree Fahrenheit over the last century, and this past decade was the hottest in the last 150 years.
“The small-mammal community that we have is really resilient, but it is headed toward a perturbation that is bigger than anything it has seen in the last million years,” Elizabeth Hadly, a professor of biology at Stanford and a co-author of the paper, said in a press release.
Dr. Hadly and her colleagues excavated deposits in Samwell Cave, in the foothills of the southern Cascades of Northern California. It’s gritty work, as reflected in the photo below.
A previous version of this post referred to the early 1900’s as the dawn of the industrial age; the industrial era began in the 18th century.
 |
Jessica Blois |
Thursday, May 6, 2010
An Idiosyncratic Apartment in the Village
This comes pretty close to my dream home.
A petite exterior - will work temporarily, but eventually I need wilderness outside my home.
A cozy living room.
The coolest cubby hole ever! Hopefully it's a little bit more open than it looks, though. Otherwise, too claustrophobic. But oh-so-soft!
Haven't given too much thought to the kitchen yet, but this could work.
Gardens That Grow on Walls
This copy is for your personal, noncommercial use only. You can order presentation-ready copies for distribution to your colleagues, clients or customers here or use the "Reprints" tool that appears next to any article. Visit www.nytreprints.com for samples and additional information. Order a reprint of this article now.
Gardens That Grow on Walls
By KRISTINA SHEVORY
 |
| Matthew McGregor-Mento and his green wall in Manhattan. Credit: Trevor Tondro for The New York Times |
GIVEN the chance to accompany a team of botanists on a plant-collecting expedition to South America, most gardeners would probably be satisfied with the experience. They wouldn’t come home and try to recreate the rain forest in Manhattan.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Secrets
Sometimes, the most disturbing thoughts creep into my mind.
On some days, I reflect on how I would feel if both of my parents died in a car accident and my sister and I were still alive.
Today, I was thinking about how I'd feel if something happened to put me in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My initial reaction was the thought that I would sleep for a week, spending very few hours awake and seemingly giving my body all the rest that it needs. This may or may not reflect my current sleep debt in college. Then, I imagined myself being very solemn and quiet, reflecting upon what my life has been up to then and what I would be doing from here on out. There's a certain amount of regret and unhappiness at the missed opportunities of things I've always wanted to do, never did, and now never will. But more importantly, there's a not-too-insignificant sense of relief.
Not too briefly the thought flashed through my mind that with this decapitation, I'd no longer have to study science and become a scientist. The burdens of having to conduct research and make meaningful discoveries in the sciences is lifted from my shoulder, a burden that I never knew was there because it's been with me for as long as I can remember. Stuck in a wheelchair, it's not very logical that I would be working in a laboratory. What, then, would I do? I'd make art, read all the books I've ever wanted to read, watch movies, and learn how to play the guitar. I'm at one of the most beautiful college in the country, and one who caters very well to disabilities. Life would still be beautiful.
On some days, I reflect on how I would feel if both of my parents died in a car accident and my sister and I were still alive.
Today, I was thinking about how I'd feel if something happened to put me in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. My initial reaction was the thought that I would sleep for a week, spending very few hours awake and seemingly giving my body all the rest that it needs. This may or may not reflect my current sleep debt in college. Then, I imagined myself being very solemn and quiet, reflecting upon what my life has been up to then and what I would be doing from here on out. There's a certain amount of regret and unhappiness at the missed opportunities of things I've always wanted to do, never did, and now never will. But more importantly, there's a not-too-insignificant sense of relief.
Not too briefly the thought flashed through my mind that with this decapitation, I'd no longer have to study science and become a scientist. The burdens of having to conduct research and make meaningful discoveries in the sciences is lifted from my shoulder, a burden that I never knew was there because it's been with me for as long as I can remember. Stuck in a wheelchair, it's not very logical that I would be working in a laboratory. What, then, would I do? I'd make art, read all the books I've ever wanted to read, watch movies, and learn how to play the guitar. I'm at one of the most beautiful college in the country, and one who caters very well to disabilities. Life would still be beautiful.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
4036
I've been at the community center since 1am and have been up for most of the time since, trying to pull together a Prospectus for SLE93.
Good lord I'm tired. And still a long day ahead of me. Coffee and tea time.
Good lord I'm tired. And still a long day ahead of me. Coffee and tea time.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Working Against Depression Pt.1
Setting Up a Realistic Work Space
Realistic...right, ok.
1. What do I dislike about my environment?
There are people in it, and I can't play my music - I hate having to wear earphones now and become entangled in wires. Often it's too chilly, because I become very sensitive to the cold. Sometimes it feels very small and cramped, say those cubicles in the library (I really love a wide desk to spread out on, and a cushion for my bum).
2. What are three simple changes I can make in the next few days?
(Ok, this is really hard. I can't remove the people from my room, which is the only place where I don't have to share the space - everywhere else, it's public commons. I need a space that feels as though I have an absolute right to be there (this is difficult because I try to be very polite and sensitive to others' properties), and I need to be in a space where I have access to all my stuff to work with, so it needs to be a space I can part-inhabit. Like right now, I'm in Julia's room and she's not here, and I've decided to just make it my room because I can't deal with anymore unhappiness shit.)
Visit Julia's room more often. I'd ask her for reservations, but I think since she's out of her room so much anyway, it may be just easier to start visiting and wait to start work when she's gone.
3. What do I need to change in my environment to help me get things done in a timely manner with the least amount of stress?
- no people
- music for math
- no IMing
4. Who can help me with this?
Julia F.
5. How can I keep it going?
The space? Or the work?
Self-talk, get myself to sit down with the work once the environment is right. What do I do when someone comes in? Don't answer the door if Julia's not here, for one.
6. Where am I most productive?
In my room, when I'm not depressed. When I am depressed, I'm easily distracted and I have yet to find a space that works, except by doing things to help me feel less depressed, which takes up a lot of time and sometimes doesn't work.
7. What are my options, considering my present situation?
There are times when I can just go into Julia's room when she's not there, and she'll be gone for a few hours, and no one will have had the same idea to sneak in and use her room, too. I hope she doesn't mind, though; I can't ever tell if she's annoyed at people staying in her room all the time or not. Doesn't she need a room to herself sometimes, like me?
There's also the WCC/LGBT-CRC. The latter is usually occupied, but not always the former. To have people tromping around over head is slightly annoying, but around 3am, there's no one there.
I can also work to change my sleeping pattern, so that I'm awake at times when other people aren't. It's difficult, however, since I have to be up by 9am most weekdays. I don't focus well in the mornings, right after I wake up. The tendency to treat myself to internet (like right now) is a lot greater than late at night, when I've been up for a few hours and can urge myself into homework. So I need to wake up pretty close to when I need to start doing stuff, so that I can get up and get moving to someplace straight away without dawdling near a computer. So I should head to bed around 2am, but the quiet hours don't really start until 1am. This is very difficult.
8. What is the best work environment I've ever experienced?
Tonight I spent the night at the WCC, with cups of coffee, my laptop, and a patience for a fair amount of reading. If only I wasn't so tired and unfocused starting around 3am.
Ah, but oops, I'm not supposed to spend the night at the WCC. If I do utilize this space, I must make sure to be out by 6am.
Realistic...right, ok.
1. What do I dislike about my environment?
There are people in it, and I can't play my music - I hate having to wear earphones now and become entangled in wires. Often it's too chilly, because I become very sensitive to the cold. Sometimes it feels very small and cramped, say those cubicles in the library (I really love a wide desk to spread out on, and a cushion for my bum).
2. What are three simple changes I can make in the next few days?
(Ok, this is really hard. I can't remove the people from my room, which is the only place where I don't have to share the space - everywhere else, it's public commons. I need a space that feels as though I have an absolute right to be there (this is difficult because I try to be very polite and sensitive to others' properties), and I need to be in a space where I have access to all my stuff to work with, so it needs to be a space I can part-inhabit. Like right now, I'm in Julia's room and she's not here, and I've decided to just make it my room because I can't deal with anymore unhappiness shit.)
Visit Julia's room more often. I'd ask her for reservations, but I think since she's out of her room so much anyway, it may be just easier to start visiting and wait to start work when she's gone.
3. What do I need to change in my environment to help me get things done in a timely manner with the least amount of stress?
- no people
- music for math
- no IMing
4. Who can help me with this?
Julia F.
5. How can I keep it going?
The space? Or the work?
Self-talk, get myself to sit down with the work once the environment is right. What do I do when someone comes in? Don't answer the door if Julia's not here, for one.
6. Where am I most productive?
In my room, when I'm not depressed. When I am depressed, I'm easily distracted and I have yet to find a space that works, except by doing things to help me feel less depressed, which takes up a lot of time and sometimes doesn't work.
7. What are my options, considering my present situation?
There are times when I can just go into Julia's room when she's not there, and she'll be gone for a few hours, and no one will have had the same idea to sneak in and use her room, too. I hope she doesn't mind, though; I can't ever tell if she's annoyed at people staying in her room all the time or not. Doesn't she need a room to herself sometimes, like me?
There's also the WCC/LGBT-CRC. The latter is usually occupied, but not always the former. To have people tromping around over head is slightly annoying, but around 3am, there's no one there.
I can also work to change my sleeping pattern, so that I'm awake at times when other people aren't. It's difficult, however, since I have to be up by 9am most weekdays. I don't focus well in the mornings, right after I wake up. The tendency to treat myself to internet (like right now) is a lot greater than late at night, when I've been up for a few hours and can urge myself into homework. So I need to wake up pretty close to when I need to start doing stuff, so that I can get up and get moving to someplace straight away without dawdling near a computer. So I should head to bed around 2am, but the quiet hours don't really start until 1am. This is very difficult.
8. What is the best work environment I've ever experienced?
Tonight I spent the night at the WCC, with cups of coffee, my laptop, and a patience for a fair amount of reading. If only I wasn't so tired and unfocused starting around 3am.
Ah, but oops, I'm not supposed to spend the night at the WCC. If I do utilize this space, I must make sure to be out by 6am.
Rejuvenated
Or at least, I hope so.
My spirits have been flagging so much lately that Friday night I had another one of my mental breakdowns, except it was one of those where rather than feeling violent and wanting to lash out against the world, I felt as though I was drowning in all the confusion and intricacies of the world. Life felt very wrong, very confusing, very frustrating and depressing. I think it had to do with a combination of Primo Levi, Freud, Karl Marx, A Clockwork Orange, and "The Waste Land". Major depression going on in SLE-world. I took myself outside under the stars and talked at myself, and still things weren't better.
Joan and I negotiated a sleepover for Saturday night to help me cope. It was my rejuvenation trip. I was to help her throw a party on Saturday, then keep to myself for the rest of the night. Life was good, for 24 hours. We started setting up the tables, drinks and preparing the food at ten, then enjoyed good food and company until six. There were old teachers, new friends, and little children underfoot. Rustle clambered under a bed and for a few hours I did, too. Delicious food mixed in with daily conversations, nothing too extraordinary, nothing too taxing if I didn't want it to. And I ate so much.
Saturday night was a bit more productive. Joan and I talked about the various things in my life that's bothering, and while we did not reach any helpful conclusions, she was there to listen and I voiced my thoughts. The beauty of friends is that they're just always ready to listen with their hearts, not their ears. You don't need a problem solver, just a willing heart. It's like saying I Love You, which should be done more often and without fear of engagement. I finished Levi and went to bed at 1am.
Sunday morning Larry, Joan and I took a long walk on the trails. I was exhausted and ready to rest for the rest of the day. Listen to myself: ready to take a rest because I needed a rest, without care about the workload. Can I be a rebel and not do anything? And not feel guilty? Guilt has been my shadow for as long as I can remember. Can I rest myself and love myself without consequences?
I miss the feeling of rewarding, productive work. It's been a while since I've applied myself to something with all my heart because it was something I believed in, because it was something I wanted to follow through, something I felt would change the world for good. Life is just filled with people who shout and scream nonsense, and it fills my life with nonsense, when really I want my life to be filled with meaning. I want to feel God in my words and inspiration in my fingers. I want the life in my heart to flow out my mouth and fingers and be expressed in everything I do. Right now, there's an ivy wall between my heart-soul life-force and my exterior expression. My inbox builds up as I lack the energy to chase down problems in my life, so instead the problems persist. I lock myself in my room and wait for release, when really I should be out in the world looking for happiness.
It comes like a cat, softly and warily, but it wants to build a bridge of trust. It won't come if there's too much noise or sudden movements, or if life's too busy. It needs an open heart, mind, soul, and eyes. It comes when you build glass walls around yourself and mute society. Sometimes, I think it's better to lock yourself in your own world and find that happiness within. Don't lose yourself too deeply in the currents of life and submit yourself to unhappiness. Don't be afraid to take the time to wipe the fake smile from your face, ignore people, and gaze out the window, lost in yourself and apparent depression, if that's what it takes to recognize the happiness shining from your heart.
I have so much junk food to share with the dorm.
I'm not here to cater to your programs and your projects. I'm not obligated to reply to your emails in a timely manner because I don't work for you, and I don't necessarily care about the projects that you care about. Rather than spreading myself thin on things I don't care about, I want to focus my energy on identifying what does mean to me, and put all my heart, soul and energy into that. I want the freedom to say: I don't care, because I am so tired of trying to care about everything, trying to do everything and get everything under my belt, because that's what the ideal college student should do. Let me figure out what I want to do, and then I promise you I will put my heart and all into it.
My spirits have been flagging so much lately that Friday night I had another one of my mental breakdowns, except it was one of those where rather than feeling violent and wanting to lash out against the world, I felt as though I was drowning in all the confusion and intricacies of the world. Life felt very wrong, very confusing, very frustrating and depressing. I think it had to do with a combination of Primo Levi, Freud, Karl Marx, A Clockwork Orange, and "The Waste Land". Major depression going on in SLE-world. I took myself outside under the stars and talked at myself, and still things weren't better.
Joan and I negotiated a sleepover for Saturday night to help me cope. It was my rejuvenation trip. I was to help her throw a party on Saturday, then keep to myself for the rest of the night. Life was good, for 24 hours. We started setting up the tables, drinks and preparing the food at ten, then enjoyed good food and company until six. There were old teachers, new friends, and little children underfoot. Rustle clambered under a bed and for a few hours I did, too. Delicious food mixed in with daily conversations, nothing too extraordinary, nothing too taxing if I didn't want it to. And I ate so much.
Saturday night was a bit more productive. Joan and I talked about the various things in my life that's bothering, and while we did not reach any helpful conclusions, she was there to listen and I voiced my thoughts. The beauty of friends is that they're just always ready to listen with their hearts, not their ears. You don't need a problem solver, just a willing heart. It's like saying I Love You, which should be done more often and without fear of engagement. I finished Levi and went to bed at 1am.
Sunday morning Larry, Joan and I took a long walk on the trails. I was exhausted and ready to rest for the rest of the day. Listen to myself: ready to take a rest because I needed a rest, without care about the workload. Can I be a rebel and not do anything? And not feel guilty? Guilt has been my shadow for as long as I can remember. Can I rest myself and love myself without consequences?
I miss the feeling of rewarding, productive work. It's been a while since I've applied myself to something with all my heart because it was something I believed in, because it was something I wanted to follow through, something I felt would change the world for good. Life is just filled with people who shout and scream nonsense, and it fills my life with nonsense, when really I want my life to be filled with meaning. I want to feel God in my words and inspiration in my fingers. I want the life in my heart to flow out my mouth and fingers and be expressed in everything I do. Right now, there's an ivy wall between my heart-soul life-force and my exterior expression. My inbox builds up as I lack the energy to chase down problems in my life, so instead the problems persist. I lock myself in my room and wait for release, when really I should be out in the world looking for happiness.
It comes like a cat, softly and warily, but it wants to build a bridge of trust. It won't come if there's too much noise or sudden movements, or if life's too busy. It needs an open heart, mind, soul, and eyes. It comes when you build glass walls around yourself and mute society. Sometimes, I think it's better to lock yourself in your own world and find that happiness within. Don't lose yourself too deeply in the currents of life and submit yourself to unhappiness. Don't be afraid to take the time to wipe the fake smile from your face, ignore people, and gaze out the window, lost in yourself and apparent depression, if that's what it takes to recognize the happiness shining from your heart.
I have so much junk food to share with the dorm.
I'm not here to cater to your programs and your projects. I'm not obligated to reply to your emails in a timely manner because I don't work for you, and I don't necessarily care about the projects that you care about. Rather than spreading myself thin on things I don't care about, I want to focus my energy on identifying what does mean to me, and put all my heart, soul and energy into that. I want the freedom to say: I don't care, because I am so tired of trying to care about everything, trying to do everything and get everything under my belt, because that's what the ideal college student should do. Let me figure out what I want to do, and then I promise you I will put my heart and all into it.
Eat, Pray, Love
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Mother and Mega-Star, Happily Balanced
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François Duhamel/Columbia Pictures Julia Roberts, in “Eat Pray Love,” coming in August. |
MALIBU, Calif.
TOM HANKS is on the line. “What am I,” he joked, “just another in your long line of I Love Julia calls?”
Well, yes, as it happens. Call around to movie industry associates about Julia Roberts and the love gushes forth. Mr. Hanks, who starred with her in “Charlie Wilson’s War” (2007), said flat out: “There’s no professional I admire more than Julia. Working with her is like having a fabulous dinner conversation with somebody you really like and who really likes you and is loaded with energy and intelligence.” Mike Nichols, who directed her in “Closer” (2004) and “Charlie Wilson,” unabashedly testified, “Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep and my wife” — Diane Sawyer — “those are the three women I love.”
Her newest admirer is Ryan Murphy, who directed her in “Eat Pray Love,” which opens Aug. 13. “We laughed within 30 seconds of meeting each other and haven’t stopped since,” said Mr. Murphy, who is best known as one of the creators of “Glee.” “She was a real collaborator on making the movie and a real leader on the set.” Also a fan is Elizabeth Gilbert, author of “Eat, Pray, Love,” the best-selling 2006 memoir (200,000 copies in hardback and 6.2 million and counting in paperback) on which the movie is based. “There’s this luminousness to Julia,” Ms. Gilbert said. “It’s almost as if she was always lit from behind. If she wasn’t a movie star, the only other job she could have would be professional fairy.”
The object of all this affection sits curled up in a comfy chair in her sewing room, upstairs in her sprawling but unpretentious, family-friendly house in Malibu. Her latest sewing project is whipping up personalized, oversize pillows for her three young children to loll upon while reading. Ms. Roberts has asked a reporter to meet her here at 9 a.m., an hour when moms are up, not movie stars.
At 8:59 a.m., Ms. Roberts, in worn jeans and a yellow cotton cardigan, was securing her 5-year-old twins, Phinnaeus and Hazel, into a car so that her husband, the cinematographer Daniel Moder, could drive them to school. “Have fun,” she told the kids, waving goodbye as the family’s two dogs, Myrtle, a rescue mutt, and Louie, a Labrador, barked excitedly.
Fun is something Ms. Roberts is having a lot of these days. She is relishing marriage and motherhood — “We are happy as clams,” she said — and works only when she wants to. “I am fulfilled by my own life on an hourly basis. Every little moment is amazing if you let yourself access it. I learn that all the time from my kids; children are so filled with wonder. My youngest son” — Henry, almost 3 — “woke up at 5 a.m. the other morning and said to me, ‘It’s a beautiful day, Mama!’ What’s more precious than that?”
Ms. Roberts has been a major movie star — the biggest female box office draw — for 20 years, ever since she fetchingly guffawed her way through the romantic comedy “Pretty Woman” in 1990. She was 22 at the time, a slip of a girl with a gigantic smile and a boisterous laugh. “She was young, but just fearless, and she was obviously popping off the screen,” recalled Garry Marshall, who directed her in “Pretty Woman,” “Runaway Bride” (1999) and this year’s “Valentine’s Day.” “Watching her grow up has been one of my pleasures.”
Now 42, Ms. Roberts still has a smile as wide and a laugh as infectious, but a lot has happened in her life since “Pretty Woman”: two marriages (the first to the singer Lyle Lovett, the second to Mr. Moder in 2002); motherhood to her brood of three; winning an Oscar as best actress for “Erin Brockovich” (2000); and roles in more than 30 movies, including crowd-pleasers like “My Best Friend’s Wedding” (1997), “Notting Hill” (1999) and “Ocean’s Eleven” (2001).
Along the way, she learned to handle fame — gone are her days as a tabloid staple for broken engagements and romances with actors like Kiefer Sutherland, Jason Patric and Benjamin Bratt — and blossomed as an actress. “She’s so beautiful, people don’t completely realize that she’s an actual great actress,” Mr. Nichols said.
He said she has a probing intelligence, comes to a role preternaturally prepared and has such a crystal-clear understanding of the character she is portraying that she seemingly glides through scenes. As evidence, he recalled a particularly demanding scene in the corrosive romantic drama “Closer” in which Ms. Roberts’s character is pressed by her husband (played by Clive Owen) to reveal intimate details about her adultery. “We did it seven times and she blushed at the same exact point every time,” Mr. Nichols said. “Now, who can do that? Most actors have to do work to produce emotion; Julia has to do work to suppress it.”
In “Eat Pray Love,” which also stars Javier Bardem, James Franco, Viola Davis and Richard Jenkins, Ms. Roberts gets to display bushels of emotion as a woman seeking answers to life’s big questions. The role was the most taxing she has taken on — she’s in every scene and traveled the globe during the nearly four-month shoot — since she had her children.
“I was really exhausted when it was done,” Ms. Roberts said, “and I loved every second of it.”
She first encountered “Eat, Pray, Love” when her agent sent her a copy upon publication. Thirty pages in, Ms. Roberts snapped the cover shut and put the book down.
It wasn’t that the actress didn’t like or relate to Ms. Gilbert’s perspicacious memoir about how, after a divorce, she spent a year searching for balance and harmony in her life while traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia.
Quite the opposite: “It cast a spell on me,” Ms. Roberts said, sipping from a mug of herbal tea. “I immediately got on Amazon.com and ordered a copy for my best friend in Chicago. I sent it to her with a note saying, ‘I want to be reading this while someone I love is reading it at the same time.’ ”
Ms. Roberts said the emotional and spiritual journey depicted in the book — and now, she hopes, in the movie — resonated with her. “We all kind of have that moment in our lives,” she said, “sometimes it’s just for a weekend, or a month, or even a year, when you think, ‘There’s no way out.’ You have to learn to find peace within yourself, to exorcise that restlessness and judgment. You have to learn, ‘Why can’t I just be happy with my life?’ ”
Among the things that make Ms. Roberts happy now is having her family with her when she’s working. The Roberts-Moder clan moved en masse for “Eat Pray Love,” spending time on location in New York City (where Ms. Roberts maintains an apartment), Rome, India and Bali.
Her kids got to watch as Mom gained seven pounds in Italy eating her way through platefuls of pasta and pizza; suffered a fever of 102 in India but still insisted on being on the set for Mr. Jenkins’s big scene; and endured humidity so intense in Bali that she was practically squeegeeing off the sweat. “I’ve never changed clothes so many times in the course of a day,” Ms. Roberts said.
With “Eat Pray Love” now behind her (except promoting it this summer), Ms. Roberts, next up, has a small but significant role in “Larry Crowne,” a comic drama in which Mr. Hanks, who co-wrote and is directing, plays a member of the nouveau unemployed who enrolls in a junior college. (“To be able to get her in your movie is a hail-Mary pass,” Mr. Hanks said.) After that, there are films she is considering, and she’d like to give Broadway a go again, maybe improving next time upon the decidedly mixed reviews she received for her debut effort, “Three Days of Rain,” in 2006.
“She has nothing to prove,” Mr. Nichols said. “She’s doing what she enjoys. I think that her family is her life. She loves movies and making them. She’ll do it whenever she feels like it, can find the time and, most of all, can bring her family with her.”
Ms. Roberts confirmed that she is indeed choosy about roles these days, weighing the juiciness or challenge of a part against family considerations. “I say you can call me, but I don’t necessarily call everybody back now,” she said, laughing. “I’m not off the market, but my decision-making has more components than it used to.”
She is getting within spitting distance of 45, an age when substantial movie roles tend to disappear for most actresses. There’s always one gal, however, who successfully bucks the odds: in the late ’60s and ’70s, it was Katharine Hepburn; in the ’80s and early ’90s, Shirley MacLaine; currently, it’s Ms. Streep. In terms of looks, talent and track record, Ms. Roberts would be a smart bet to fill that slot in coming years.
She name-checked Frances McDormand and Annette Bening as actresses she admires for successfully balancing formidable careers and family. “And Meryl, of course, that goes without saying,” she said. “But, then again, we have no idea what it might have taken for Meryl Streep to get out the door some days.”
TOM HANKS is on the line. “What am I,” he joked, “just another in your long line of I Love Julia calls?”
Well, yes, as it happens. Call around to movie industry associates about Julia Roberts and the love gushes forth. Mr. Hanks, who starred with her in “Charlie Wilson’s War” (2007), said flat out: “There’s no professional I admire more than Julia. Working with her is like having a fabulous dinner conversation with somebody you really like and who really likes you and is loaded with energy and intelligence.” Mike Nichols, who directed her in “Closer” (2004) and “Charlie Wilson,” unabashedly testified, “Julia Roberts, Meryl Streep and my wife” — Diane Sawyer — “those are the three women I love.”
 |
Photofest Richard Gere and Julia Roberts in the 1990 film “Pretty Woman,” which helped establish her as a major star. |
The object of all this affection sits curled up in a comfy chair in her sewing room, upstairs in her sprawling but unpretentious, family-friendly house in Malibu. Her latest sewing project is whipping up personalized, oversize pillows for her three young children to loll upon while reading. Ms. Roberts has asked a reporter to meet her here at 9 a.m., an hour when moms are up, not movie stars.
At 8:59 a.m., Ms. Roberts, in worn jeans and a yellow cotton cardigan, was securing her 5-year-old twins, Phinnaeus and Hazel, into a car so that her husband, the cinematographer Daniel Moder, could drive them to school. “Have fun,” she told the kids, waving goodbye as the family’s two dogs, Myrtle, a rescue mutt, and Louie, a Labrador, barked excitedly.
 |
Clive Coote/Columbia Pictures Julia Roberts with Jude Law in “Closer” from 2004. |
Ms. Roberts has been a major movie star — the biggest female box office draw — for 20 years, ever since she fetchingly guffawed her way through the romantic comedy “Pretty Woman” in 1990. She was 22 at the time, a slip of a girl with a gigantic smile and a boisterous laugh. “She was young, but just fearless, and she was obviously popping off the screen,” recalled Garry Marshall, who directed her in “Pretty Woman,” “Runaway Bride” (1999) and this year’s “Valentine’s Day.” “Watching her grow up has been one of my pleasures.”
Now 42, Ms. Roberts still has a smile as wide and a laugh as infectious, but a lot has happened in her life since “Pretty Woman”: two marriages (the first to the singer Lyle Lovett, the second to Mr. Moder in 2002); motherhood to her brood of three; winning an Oscar as best actress for “Erin Brockovich” (2000); and roles in more than 30 movies, including crowd-pleasers like “My Best Friend’s Wedding” (1997), “Notting Hill” (1999) and “Ocean’s Eleven” (2001).
Along the way, she learned to handle fame — gone are her days as a tabloid staple for broken engagements and romances with actors like Kiefer Sutherland, Jason Patric and Benjamin Bratt — and blossomed as an actress. “She’s so beautiful, people don’t completely realize that she’s an actual great actress,” Mr. Nichols said.
He said she has a probing intelligence, comes to a role preternaturally prepared and has such a crystal-clear understanding of the character she is portraying that she seemingly glides through scenes. As evidence, he recalled a particularly demanding scene in the corrosive romantic drama “Closer” in which Ms. Roberts’s character is pressed by her husband (played by Clive Owen) to reveal intimate details about her adultery. “We did it seven times and she blushed at the same exact point every time,” Mr. Nichols said. “Now, who can do that? Most actors have to do work to produce emotion; Julia has to do work to suppress it.”
In “Eat Pray Love,” which also stars Javier Bardem, James Franco, Viola Davis and Richard Jenkins, Ms. Roberts gets to display bushels of emotion as a woman seeking answers to life’s big questions. The role was the most taxing she has taken on — she’s in every scene and traveled the globe during the nearly four-month shoot — since she had her children.
“I was really exhausted when it was done,” Ms. Roberts said, “and I loved every second of it.”
She first encountered “Eat, Pray, Love” when her agent sent her a copy upon publication. Thirty pages in, Ms. Roberts snapped the cover shut and put the book down.
It wasn’t that the actress didn’t like or relate to Ms. Gilbert’s perspicacious memoir about how, after a divorce, she spent a year searching for balance and harmony in her life while traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia.
Quite the opposite: “It cast a spell on me,” Ms. Roberts said, sipping from a mug of herbal tea. “I immediately got on Amazon.com and ordered a copy for my best friend in Chicago. I sent it to her with a note saying, ‘I want to be reading this while someone I love is reading it at the same time.’ ”
Ms. Roberts said the emotional and spiritual journey depicted in the book — and now, she hopes, in the movie — resonated with her. “We all kind of have that moment in our lives,” she said, “sometimes it’s just for a weekend, or a month, or even a year, when you think, ‘There’s no way out.’ You have to learn to find peace within yourself, to exorcise that restlessness and judgment. You have to learn, ‘Why can’t I just be happy with my life?’ ”
Among the things that make Ms. Roberts happy now is having her family with her when she’s working. The Roberts-Moder clan moved en masse for “Eat Pray Love,” spending time on location in New York City (where Ms. Roberts maintains an apartment), Rome, India and Bali.
Her kids got to watch as Mom gained seven pounds in Italy eating her way through platefuls of pasta and pizza; suffered a fever of 102 in India but still insisted on being on the set for Mr. Jenkins’s big scene; and endured humidity so intense in Bali that she was practically squeegeeing off the sweat. “I’ve never changed clothes so many times in the course of a day,” Ms. Roberts said.
With “Eat Pray Love” now behind her (except promoting it this summer), Ms. Roberts, next up, has a small but significant role in “Larry Crowne,” a comic drama in which Mr. Hanks, who co-wrote and is directing, plays a member of the nouveau unemployed who enrolls in a junior college. (“To be able to get her in your movie is a hail-Mary pass,” Mr. Hanks said.) After that, there are films she is considering, and she’d like to give Broadway a go again, maybe improving next time upon the decidedly mixed reviews she received for her debut effort, “Three Days of Rain,” in 2006.
“She has nothing to prove,” Mr. Nichols said. “She’s doing what she enjoys. I think that her family is her life. She loves movies and making them. She’ll do it whenever she feels like it, can find the time and, most of all, can bring her family with her.”
Ms. Roberts confirmed that she is indeed choosy about roles these days, weighing the juiciness or challenge of a part against family considerations. “I say you can call me, but I don’t necessarily call everybody back now,” she said, laughing. “I’m not off the market, but my decision-making has more components than it used to.”
She is getting within spitting distance of 45, an age when substantial movie roles tend to disappear for most actresses. There’s always one gal, however, who successfully bucks the odds: in the late ’60s and ’70s, it was Katharine Hepburn; in the ’80s and early ’90s, Shirley MacLaine; currently, it’s Ms. Streep. In terms of looks, talent and track record, Ms. Roberts would be a smart bet to fill that slot in coming years.
She name-checked Frances McDormand and Annette Bening as actresses she admires for successfully balancing formidable careers and family. “And Meryl, of course, that goes without saying,” she said. “But, then again, we have no idea what it might have taken for Meryl Streep to get out the door some days.”
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Gesundheit
I have to say, nothing's been making me as happy lately as a tissue box and an empty waste basket.
Sorry for the heavy imaging! I turn to Flickr as a reliable source of happiness.
Will be spending today with Ms. Owen; trying to regain some of my sanity after another mental breakdown last night. I could use some friendships right now.
Sorry for the heavy imaging! I turn to Flickr as a reliable source of happiness.
Will be spending today with Ms. Owen; trying to regain some of my sanity after another mental breakdown last night. I could use some friendships right now.
It's Just Paper
Lotus Lamp by ~banerin on deviantART
Garden Box by ~banerin on deviantART
A book possibly by ~banerin on deviantART
Lil' Book by ~banerin on deviantART
Reader's Digest Box by ~banerin on deviantART
So gorgeous. Although I'm not sure I could have the same guts to cut into a book like the last one.