art, ceramics, personal, self care, self-publishing, writing

Pen tinkering. Ceramics. Plus the hard stuff.

Last night I was having issues with my new TWSBI ECO stub-nib fountain pen hard-starting and skipping (that is, not writing well). Today I looked up possible reasons…and I think what happened is that the pen had likely rolled in my hand, causing me to write more with one corner of the nib than the other. This, plus the pressure I used to try and get it to write correctly, pushed the nib out of alignment with the feed. I could see it today with my 10x loupe. (I originally got the loupe for Geology classes. This is another occasion on which, I’m glad I never tossed it.)

I nudged everything back into position (this nib and feed are looser than on my initial ECO [a Medium nib], but that’s likely because when I tried to adjust the Medium’s nib and feed, it was dry, thus unlubricated and fragile). We’ll see how it works.

Last night I realized that if I flooded the feed with ink by manually advancing the plunger in the ink reservoir to expel all the air, I could get it to write again. But I really shouldn’t have to do that.

It’s like a puzzle in a pen. Anyhow, that’s just part of what I came here to write about.

As I may have mentioned…we’re getting rid of things over here. Last night as well, M had separated out a bunch of glassware and ceramics from storage, and told me to pick out anything I wanted to keep.

There is a small stoneware vessel, black and gunmetal glazed, which I made in high school…it’s about 4″ wide, maybe 2″ high. I don’t know what I’d use it for, but it’s beautiful. I washed the dust off of it and dried it…and holding it later, still warm from the water, I found another beauty to it: because I made it with my own hands, it nestles down right in my own hands. Still.

Apparently, my hands were fully grown when I made this pot. :)

I wasn’t expecting to find beauty in a tactile form…but once I did, I rescued two of my other pots…a pinch-pot and another which I had thrown, both from high school. This was to remind me of the beauty I could create with my hands.

I’m not in love with the decoration on those two — both of the latter are painted with underglaze and fired with a clear crackle glaze on top. The crackle glaze doesn’t make for a great surface feel. They’re…from early on in my development. But I kept them because they’re good as examples of form. I also kept the black and gunmetal piece because it’s just beautiful.

In the near future, I should be cleared to practice ceramics, again. There’s a place I can go which has a lot of time devoted to ceramic making, and will fire my pieces for me. As the major expenses (and barrier to making) ceramics are in the kiln, wheel, and stable wedging tables…it’s a big help. (Well, I don’t know if the wedging table is really a big expense. I know it’s hard to find something suitable; clay is a fairly sturdy material to be pushing around on top of it.)

So I am hoping to get back into this. Even though it will probably mean having to go back to routinely moisturizing my hands. :) If M and I do both get back into it (she also has taken years of ceramics classes), there’s the possibility of getting a wheel and kiln, ourselves. I know she has thought about it. So have I.

I think, at least, a kiln would make me feel safer than a torch. Though, the same place that does the ceramics, also gives Jewelry classes (both basic beadwork, and Silversmithing). I have a couple of semesters of Silversmithing practice under my belt; it would be interesting to get back into it without worrying about explosions or accidentally burning the building down.

Or maybe I should say, there will be other, more experienced people, around to help prevent those outcomes. And it won’t necessarily be my fault, if it happens. As a third benefit, I’m pretty sure the Fire Department has been called out there, before.

I also, last night, began writing again about gender and sexuality in a hard copy. As a note to myself, it’s in the pink journal…

I made the connection between avoiding making myself vulnerable and the reactions I’ve gotten in the past because I have made myself vulnerable, particularly from M, and also the Internet.

It makes sense not to go into some of this stuff with her. I think she may appreciate it, if I didn’t. She just isn’t the greatest person to talk to about emotions…she’s more action-oriented, and doesn’t know what to do if I’m talking to her about something she can do nothing to fix. She also is quick to snap to judgment…even if she doesn’t understand the situation. I don’t want to be exposing new tender baby shoots of ideas to that.

I had thought that when I had finally figured out my identity, that was it; I was done; I could stop working on it and obsessing over it, and move on with the rest of my life. But, in reality: the story doesn’t end when you figure out who you are. It is an answer, but life goes on, and along with it, the story continues.

And sometimes…what you think you’ve figured out, isn’t the whole story. (Such as: “I’ve figured out who I am; now how do I interact with the world?”) Or the answer isn’t sufficient to last you your entire life. You find out that the categories you used to figure yourself out as a youth were flawed, or you realize that the way a person looks has little to do with the person they are beneath (but much to do with their experience), which revolutionizes the way you think about people. Or you realize maybe you can be attracted to a range of people, despite being celibate. Or maybe gender isn’t always (or perhaps, ever) the prime qualifying category you love in others.

It’s just that way.

At this point, I kind of wonder about the efficacy of working in a fictional format…as versus a blog one, or a semi-autobiographical one. It’s one of those things you’ll want to know before you post anything online. :) Basically, posting it verbatim online counts as publication, and will take First Publication Rights away from others, which are generally what traditional Publishers seek to acquire from an author before publishing a work. They tend to want to be the first to bring it to the world — though there are exceptions.

Of course…there’s also the question of whether one wants to publish their work in book format, or in ebook or PDF format, or as part of a website or blog. That’s a really big question, though; not one which I feel confident about tackling in public, at this point in time. What I will say is that…I’m leaning towards the blog format, right now. Tentatively.

I know that it’s easier for me to write articles, than it is to think about tackling a long, integral whole that I keep secret until some future time at which I sell my intellectual rights to the work. It’s fairly certain that I won’t make a fantastic amount of money off of it, but I didn’t get into writing to do so.

It’s more important to me to reach people who need to hear from my experience and perspective, to help them figure out where they stand in this whole diverse world. Because it really is diverse; moreso than I ever could have really imagined, as a youth.

art media, organization, painting

Seeking myself out

Today was spent eliminating excess — and organizing remaining — art materials. I also finally made it into the office to view and organize the altar area; this led to looking over the bookshelves and attempting to see what parts of those shelves I used, and what I didn’t. Like, things I would read, as versus things that were taking up space. Did I know I had so many craft books? (No. No, I did not.)

I’m still not sure what to do about the books I’ve made extensive notes within. Do I just keep them for the rest of my life?

There are a lot of books I want to read, that I just haven’t. I haven’t had time to, or I haven’t included the memory of them in the floor plan in my head. :) I also have almost a full shelf of books for studying nihongo, to read.

My big fear is that I’m going to end up talking like Siri because of learning mostly from books. There is a pitch/intonation thing going on in Japanese language which it doesn’t seem people think is very relevant; basically you learn it by listening and mimicking. One of my undergrad textbooks tried to demarcate intonation with symbols…but that wasn’t easy to decipher.

My fear is that I’m going to have to travel to the City to take classes so that I can learn the correct way to speak. That’s at least 45 minutes away, several days a week. But, I should remember, there is also the option of a Japanese Cultural Center. No, I didn’t intend to rhyme.

I know I keep going back and forth between Japanese and Spanish. Basically, Spanish would be a lot easier for me because I took four years of it as a youth. It would also be more useful, where I currently live. But there are significant and personal cultural reasons for me to learn Japanese, despite functionality being much more distant than facility in Spanish. It’s kind of like questioning whether to do the easy and useful thing which I have personal (post-colonial) psychological barriers to; as versus the hard thing that connects me with a deeper understanding of my cultural heritage, which I’ve wanted to do since I was a child.

Today I was cleaning out my art stuff. We’re basically getting rid of what we no longer use. I’ve marked most of my pastels for the Center for Re-Use, though I kept some of the collection…the ones that didn’t seem too dried out, and which I knew were relatively safe. These are Conté, Carré, and Prismacolor NuPastels where it comes to the hard pastels; and Rembrandt soft pastels, plus a couple of open-stock Blick soft pastels.

When I say, “dried-out,” I mean that I’ve had a pastel stop being able to draw, incise the paper instead, and literally shatter like a plate on being dropped, before. It’s likely because the pastel I’m thinking of (a Rembrandt, which I consider a less-risky company, though some may differ; there are issues of potential contamination of carbon black, and the ever-present Titanium White scare) is kaolin-based; kaolin is a form of clay. It would explain why those pastels were so incredibly soft when I got them (touching them would make them draw on you), and why they eventually stopped working. I did find today, though, that if they’ve been stored inside a plastic bag, they’re less likely to die.

There are also some charcoals and General’s White Charcoal in my “Dusties” kit (they make dust), though I’m still paranoid about not knowing what “General’s White Charcoal” is made of. I don’t think it’s charcoal. So far as I know, it’s a trade secret. It doesn’t help the paranoia to know that Flake White (lead-based) is still in use as a pigment in oil painting. So far as I know, though, Flake White would be a warmer shade of white than is the White Charcoal.

I also let that Blue Pumpkin nib which I used to test black inks (and a white ink), the other day, soak in pen cleaning solution. I wasn’t prepared to see all the stuff that came off of it! (I put it in one of the little clear polystyrene vials I got for bead storage.) But I do know now that the white India Ink I have (Dr. Ph. Martin’s Bombay) is basically the most suitable thing in my present arsenal where it comes to white highlights or corrections over marker.

Beyond that, it’s the most useful thing I have to draw in white, with high detail, on a dark surface (I used Strathmore Artagain black paper). I just haven’t tried it on translucent marker paper yet. The paper or board used as a surface for those potential marker (or ink) drawings, will likely limit my options.

I also have Daler-Rowney Pro (Process) White, but that stuff is so thick (basically a paste) that it needs to be stirred and diluted before use. I’m thinking maybe that was intentional (as regards monetary value and compact packaging), but I wasn’t expecting it not to work out of the package with either a dip pen or a brush. Of course, maybe I should just treat it as a watercolor paint, scoop some out to work with, and then work water into it with a paintbrush. That seems to be the most logical next option, if I’m trying to test all my white inks and paints for opacity (other than known Zinc White, because I know Zinc isn’t opaque).

That, in turn, is happening because I’ve realized that white acrylic ink markers lack precision and opacity where it comes to being used as correcting pens. I still haven’t tried the needle-tip Posca that I’ve seen, but…well, markers. They aren’t as versatile as paints or inks used with brushes or dip nibs; at least, not without blending.

I’ve also found that a size 0 round paintbrush isn’t that small. At least, sometimes. But my 2/0 (two sizes below 0) is freakishly small. No, I don’t know if paintbrush sizes are standardized.

Anyhow…I’m still not certain what’s happening with the acrylic colors. I could paint in acrylic; it’s just that I’m not driven to do so, relatively. The fact also remains that I don’t have a wide variety of brushes to use with acrylics (a lot of long, narrow flats, some fans, and some filberts, plus the gesso brushes)…though I do like hog-bristle better than most of the synthetics I’ve used (some of which I outright hate — I mean, they squeak and chatter across the surface).

The problem in my case is that I don’t like using stiff (or blunt) brushes…and stiff brushes are needed to stand up to heavy-body paints. Most of our acrylics are heavy-body, whereas I’m known for using even heavy-body acrylics so that they appear to be transparent watercolors. I guess that should tell me something.

The question for me is whether or not getting a wider variety of brushes would help me transition back to canvas and acrylics. I’m leaning towards, “no.” At the same time, M and I have accumulated a lot of acrylic paint over the years. On top of that, I have no way of knowing which of those tubes are structurally sound, without trying to open them and potentially having a chemical spill on my hands — literally. (Liquitex tube paints, in particular, I know to have lids and necks that will sometimes fail. Like the cap unit will peel away from the rest of the tube. Then again, I have no idea how old those tubes were, individually.) That means that I have no idea how much usable paint I actually have.

If there were anything which could draw me back to painting in acrylics, it would probably be the chance to work with opaque colors, in large scale, and to work out an underdrawing and underpainting before ever beginning — and to edit, in-process. There’s also the chance to save a canvas by just gessoing over the whole thing if I don’t like what I have.

But I can work with opaque colors by using gouache; I can use large brushes (and large papers) in watercolor. The rest of it seems particular to working with canvas or panel, gesso, charcoal/pastel, easel, and acrylic glazing medium. I know the process.

I guess that — like learning Spanish language (I had a choice of Spanish or French; I would rather have had a choice between Japanese, Cantonese, or Mandarin, the latter two of which, I could actually use) — is another one of the things that I did because I had to, not because I particularly had a great desire to. It was a learning experience.

The thing that really bothered me when I was taking painting classes was the fact that the act of painting would basically grind down my hog-bristle brushes. I’m thinking this was from the marble dust in the gesso, or from painting on rough plywood panel. It’s something I haven’t experienced with any other type of paint — though granted, I’ve only worked with water-based paints, not oils.

I was told to save the good brushes for oils, because oils don’t do the same thing. The wear on the brushes could also have been from the fact that I was using student-grade gesso. I don’t think I’ve ever used professional-level gesso. I’ve seen it. I just don’t think I’ve ever bought any — with the possible exception of once purchasing Golden. Not sure.

The other thing about getting rid of a lot of this stuff…a lot of it is about prioritization and considering who I actually am, and what I actually want. Not in an abstract way, and maybe not even in a way that compromises anything to the vicissitudes of present reality…though I’m getting abstract.

What I mean is that I’m fairly certain I know what I want. I also know where wanting those things gets inconvenient. From age, I know that I’m unlikely to stop wanting what it is that I want, just because it’s inconvenient; rather, I’ll likely end up halfway chasing those inconvenient things for years on end (like buying book after book on learning Japanese, as a symbol to myself, and not reading them), while I waste time and energy and brain space paying lip service to what the world tells me I should want, instead.

So I should just do what I want, and be who I am. That’s the fastest route to attainment.

Right?

personal, philosophy, psychology, self care, spirituality

Reclusiveness?

Today, I didn’t go to work. It was intentional. Unfortunately, the vast majority of today was spent asleep. That…may have been a good thing, if I’m looking at keeping up my immunity. However, it did feel like time wasted (especially as I was called at least three times yesterday and this morning, to pick up an additional position).

I’m getting better at laying out my future Substitute positions. Last night I figured out when and where I’d work for the next two weeks, though I expect to be called in for more. As it stands, though, I can predict the minimum amount I’ll be paid — at least, unless I get sick. I’m starting to get concerned about the latter. I have a hint of throat irritation, though in the scheme of things, it’s nothing. What it means is that I need to continue to eat, drink water (especially), and rest. Some Zinc and Vitamin C probably wouldn’t hurt, either.

Over the past week, the weather has changed from Fall to Winter, rather dramatically. Of course, it isn’t quite Winter, yet: though I have always said that it would make sense for the solstice to mark the midpoint of Winter, rather than the beginning. But I can’t really change the Gregorian Calendar by myself.

Last night, I did lay out a number of things to do today, but to be honest, most of what I’ve been doing is eating and sleeping. I’m pretty sure it’s because it’s what I’ve needed to do…considering that one of us is already sick. There are a lot of things I could be reading: in particular, I bought a number of books on Reader’s Advisory which would help me out with work. I am concerned, though, about my vision, particularly when I’m looking at digital displays (e-books): if I read for too long, my vision blurs and doubles, and I can’t really get it to un-blur. I usually end up sleeping it off. It’s a bit disconcerting.

There is that 20-20-20 rule, where every 20 minutes you focus on something 20 feet away for 20 seconds, but in an interior environment, I do have to get up and find something that far away — like looking down a hallway. Generally, where I read, I don’t have anything that’s actually 20 feet away for me to focus on. It’s also extremely easy for me to lose track of time while I’m reading. 20-20-20 is easy when I’m reading something I don’t want to be reading, as it breaks up my reading time into short bursts. But when I’m actually absorbed; when the writing is actually good; it can be a bit difficult.

But if it will make it so that I can read for more than a couple of hours at a time, it will be worth it.

I’ve been intending to write in here over the past several days, but it has been a bit of a challenge, as I’ve also been questioning the use of sharing my inner thoughts with others. The difference between the way I feel now and the way I’ve felt before likely has to do with the fact that I’m more socially engaged on a daily basis.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it, but I have had a tendency to not have a lot of real-life friends. However, with the new job, I’m dealing with people almost constantly, including co-workers, patrons, and more distant colleagues. When I’m not at work, I have my family. It’s alleviated some of the need to be social.

On top of that, there are some upshots to communicating in ways that aren’t…you know, publicly recorded.

What I have been doing is writing by hand, but I’ve also been watching my blog languish. It’s just one of those things where, if I don’t see myself putting out some form of generativity or creativity, I get…well, a little sad. Since I’ve been blogging for over a decade at this point, I have a tendency to look online for evidence of my own existence.

The major issue I’m dealing with is anonymity, the lack of it; or possibly entering into a phase of my life where discretion matters. Either this, or I’m just experienced enough now to do things differently than I did as a youth. I knew the time at which I would know better, was coming. I’m just not sure now, at what time it’s going to actually fully kick in.

There is, that is, the question of what to do when you know that actions can elicit consequences, positive, negative, or neutral. As a youth, a person has the excuse of not knowing better. As an adult, one actually knows that they should know better, because they’ve made enough mistakes as a youth. And it helps when we can leave those mistakes behind.

In an era when we’re all free to publicly surveil ourselves and each other, however, I don’t know to what extent that is possible. Nor do I actually know to what extent it ever will be possible again, in my own lifetime.

So the thing about writing…is that it displays some of the innermost parts of one’s own sense of self, and experience of life, to others. Of course, some of this is by choice; a lot of it is unconscious. But it seems that to participate in public life, it’s required to show others a bit of who one is. While it is granted that in my later years of experience, this has been more positive than not — the earlier years were fairly nasty.

As a child, I learned that the more others knew about my own identity, the more accurately they could target attacks directed at me. So I learned sometime as a pre-teen to hold back information and promulgate disinformation, so that when they attacked me, they were (from my perspective) attacking someone else. They didn’t really know who I was, and that made it clear.

I haven’t had to do that for a while. The major difficulty here is not knowing who you are, because you’re too busy throwing people off your trail to practice being yourself. It wasn’t until around my 35th year that I began to get a good grasp on who I actually was. That, in turn, required a lot of unraveling social constructs, learning about people different from myself, and realizing that one of my most salient identities was not a positive, culturally preexisting statement, but a negation of multiple other identities. Despite that, it also includes elements of what I am not: I don’t force myself to conform wholly to being or not being one thing, because those “things” ultimately don’t exist. I have the choice to believe in them or not; I choose not to.

And then, there is the point that pretty much no matter what happens, this is the life I’ve got now, maybe the only one I’ll ever get; and that I really shouldn’t have shame about who I have been or who I am. It’s a work-in-progress. There’s also the point that it isn’t like anyone else is perfect, either. It’s kind of a “human condition” sort of thing.

Earlier tonight, I started to get into more depth on what I’m referencing…but those thoughts aren’t fully formed yet, and I know from past experience that maybe I should wait and think on them, and in three to five years, they’ll be fully formed and available for discourse. Until then, my discussions are speculation, because my thoughts and experience are relatively incomplete.

As a note to my future self, though: these thoughts are including the possibility of being agender/asexual (thus why I have spent so much time on the Internet without my body or sound with me, to code my gender) and having an atheist tendency (though I do have my own, “spiritual,” or at least, “contemplative,” bent; my beliefs have been challenged recently by the specter of our species destroying all life on this planet). I don’t think I would go nihilist, but there is the question right now of what is happening in this country and globally, that brings into question the value (particularly, pragmatic) of “faith” as versus the vulnerabilities that are inborn in faith.

But that’s another question. And I don’t have it in me to answer it, right now.

money, personal, psychology, self care, work

Saying “no”? (TW: mention of sexual assault)

Yes, yes…it’s Thanksgiving. I am at home with the heater on, in bed, with the computer. I could have gone to a family gathering, but seeing that actually eating there is gambling with my gastric health (I’ve gotten sick from eating extended family’s cooking more times than I can count), I’ve decided not to go.

Well, there’s that — plus the fact that they try to force me to eat — plus the fact that those gatherings are bizarre due to the people invited and/or present, whom I am expected to get along with. As someone who appears to be a young female (I’m not that young), I’m at increased vulnerability for things like uninvited attempts at gaining and holding my attention and groping, although the latter will almost definitely instigate immediate hostile retribution on my part. That is, the one person who I know would try something like that is afraid of me. :D I also keep my guard up around him, so he doesn’t have an opening to sneak in.

You get my point.

Why has he historically been invited, even though he has a record of this? Why are his friends invited?

“Why is your family dysfunctional?” you ask, rather. I don’t know. Not entirely. But I have a feeling it’s because no one in that family has learned to say (or insist), “no.” Or to accept, “no,” for an answer.

It’s also really, extremely cold outside, at least for here. Yesterday we had hail that didn’t melt, for a very long time. This is basically the first serious storm we’ve had since Spring (if you don’t count the windstorms that caused our power company to temporarily shut down service, about a month ago).

Right now…well, I go back to work tomorrow, because I haven’t yet learned how to decline invitations to work when I try and TAKE TIME OFF. So…yeah, I guess I have that problem, too. I’m hoping to carve out some more time for myself in this next month, however. I’ve been trying to work at least ten out of every fourteen days, even if it’s just a four- or five-hour shift.

I think I got a little spoiled on getting paid for putting in 75 hours over two weeks, so getting a paycheck for half that much when I work about 40 hours over two weeks, is a bit disappointing. It’s still about twice as much as I got when I was an Aide, however. The major difference besides that is that I’m allowed to work up to full-time, whereas before I could only work up to half-time. Still no benefits, but if I make it through Probation, I’ll be allowed to settle at a permanent branch as a salaried employee, with the possibility of health, dental, and vision coverage.

So…looking at where I stand right now, I am…I’m okay, financially. It helps that I’m living with family, otherwise I couldn’t do this.

The thing about work is that the more I work, the easier it is, to work. That makes it kind of scary to consider taking time off of work. But I’m pretty sure I could use it.

As regards the holidays…there’s nothing right now that I really want, that I don’t have. That’s part of the reason I’m okay with going to work, tomorrow. I’m offsetting what I’ve done already. :) Today has been…nice, but, you know, boundaries. If we all had appropriate boundaries, it could have been nicer.

Christmas, in particular, has been historically tough for me. When I was young, it was the day when all my relatives (aside from nuclear family) showed me how much they didn’t know who I was. So I learned, eventually, that my close family had a much better idea of my identity, aside from a “little girl” stereotype. (I’ve found, over much of my life, that people have tried to guess at my identity from seeing my appearance — which is a poor way of gauging anyone.) I also eventually learned that if I wanted something, I should get it myself, for myself.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that. Not to rely on other people to know who I am, or what I want. Right now, I have what I want.

I guess this actually is turning into a Thanksgiving post, isn’t it? I’m happy to have a job, and my family, and to be able to just stay home and warm when I could be out. (It doesn’t make sense to be out in this cold, though.) I’m also happy that I’m beginning to be able to set boundaries and just not go to a place which is more emotional labor, on my part, than celebration.

Coming up…coming up, I’m hoping to spend more time at home. I’m still not sure what the optimal amount of time is for me to be working, though I might know more about that, next month. This was my first time of actually trying to work 2/3 of the days I could (approximately 5/7). Yesterday at work was tough…mostly because I was categorized as an Opener, and hadn’t been told so. I shouldn’t be in charge of dealing with some of this stuff (I have been told in Training), but apparently that doesn’t mean I won’t be put into that position.

I can smell food warming, right now. I should probably sign off, so that I can have some time to rest my eyes before heading off to eat.

Anyway, happy Thanksgiving, though I know it’s likely just a U.S. thing. :)

art, beadwork, career, libraries, work, writing

Tension: adult priorities, student habits

I’ve realized that I don’t have to start with words, if I want to make a story. Especially if I want to tell it using graphics. I have been looking through notebooks, and sketchpads, old blogs…records, you know. It may be that accessing the visual part of my brain may relate more of this (very internal) story than trying to code it into language, which sounds as though it goes against logic when I’ve historically used words over images to access inner realities.

But cartoons don’t have to be stereotypical. They often have been, but they don’t have to be.

Right now I’m dealing with the story in my mind growing more distant, and feeling more inconsequential, than I’m used to. I’m coming off of four days in a row of training at work, though (most of which was spent on-desk), which…makes it hard to get out of work-mode. I realize I have some anxiety about being the first (actually, now, second) point of contact for the public, but I’m getting more confidence around it. It’s also to the point where I don’t want to avoid the work, because I know that just makes it harder to engage again.

I guess it’s like fighting a phobia through exposure.

I also am finding…by giving this a chance, I’m also opening the possibility to convince myself that I like doing this. A lot of what I’m doing now is what I’ve been building up to over the last decade; what I’ve seen Librarians doing but have been forbidden to try (due to my job description). It’s not the end point, but it is nicer to be able to help people in many of the ways I couldn’t, over all those years.

Of course, it’s not as though my old work situation was perfect; but there are a lot of ways to approach work, and I haven’t found any of the various ones I’ve seen to be, “better,” yet. I’m talking here about workplace politics. It helps to be a bit agnostic about these, I’ve found. Although, granted, that’s probably (in itself) a position.

Anyway…didn’t mean to get into work stuff, but today was my last day of training (as has yet been scheduled). I’m finding that this is a really great job if you love to read. My biggest deficit at this point is likely dealing with Reader’s Advisory, as I have my own interests, and haven’t read a novel cover-to-cover in quite a while.

I should try that again.

My thing right now is wondering how much of my time that’s going to take up, outside of work but for the purpose of work. Of course…if I became a novelist myself, which…I would think to be beyond my capabilities at the moment: it would also be good training for that.

The program I attended in Undergrad really only prepared us for short-story writing. Novels are reserved for the MFA. (At one time, it seemed distant.)

And then…there is the obvious point of getting back to my Art as a generative measure for my writing, among other things. The issue, majorly, is…moving into a phase of my life where I have work, and then I have hobbies. The work is being a Library Assistant (for now). The hobbies are now primarily my writing, my art, and my beadwork. Reading also has to fit into there, somewhere; and Japanese language acquisition should also have some space, if I’m going to continue in a Public Library position. That’s on top of necessities such as cooking, driving, and exercise.

The question is what I cut out so I have time for my priorities, based on a future life path; and what to do if those priorities ever become dissatisfactory. There is also the question of what I am doing now, not what I want to or think I should be doing. What do I like to do as versus what I think I should like to do, based not on who I think I am, but who I am. It’s hard to gauge when I’ve had a schedule like I’ve experienced in the last two months (for the past four days, I’ve been working six hours a day…which is new, for me).

I’m aware this is a delayed entry into adulthood (“psh! Six hours a day?”), and that I’m lucky to have had so much free time for so long. At the same time, though, I have actually been working (even though some say being an Aide isn’t a, “real job,” which I now find to be an insult to Aides everywhere). I’ve also been in school for the vast majority of the time I’ve been employed, so I have had assignments, and things I had to do: at least to keep my GPA up, so that I could continue on to get my Master’s. That was so that I could be cleared to eventually become a professional on a national scale (note that the requirement for a Master’s in a Library- or Information-related field to be able to apply for Librarian positions, is an ongoing debate in the Library world).

Yes, that was stressful. But it’s over, and there’s only a necessity of doing it once.

I may also have the detraction of being over-educated, though that likely isn’t bad in any way other than having too many options. That in itself can also be a problem, though: I have heard of a study stating that the more options people have, the less satisfied they are with having settled on any one of them.

Maybe the painful choice here is in deciding whether to be an intellectual, or whether to be a maker (maybe I can be both). I caught all kinds of negative attention when I was young, partially because I was perceived as more intelligent than others. So although people like Cornel West and Malcolm Gladwell continually attract my attention and respect (though I still haven’t read anything by either of them, I’ve only seen the interviews), becoming like them…there’s a risk to it. Of course, though, most who think in public would know that, and have gone on beyond, despite it. Adults who still have the minds of children shouldn’t be permitted to control the lives of others, that is.

I still think it was cute when one of the kids I helped, commented that I was, “really smart,” because I knew about manga and could pronounce Japanese! (When kids are kids, and are supposed to be kids, it’s different.) I suppose it’s possible to be knowledgeable about a lot of things, yeah?

Maybe the problem actually is being multi-faceted — and being at a junction between consuming and producing, not knowing where to place my priorities. I have been writing this based on the assumption that I would need to either do one or the other, but reading broadly was recommended in my Creative Writing program. It would also enable me to write Nonfiction.

I also realize how important it likely is, to know a language which is not English: it means that one gets a window into how life is outside of the English-Only-speaking-world. That, in turn, is useful in building resistance to political propaganda. These things mean that:

  1. Library Work
  2. Reading
  3. Writing, and
  4. Learning Japanese (a life goal since Middle School)…

…are my core four things.

I am not sure to what extent I’ve just hit my limit, with beadwork. I can check my records to see when it was that I started to buy beads and make jewelry, again. The thing is, it’s an expensive hobby — and I don’t know that I’m committed enough to it to keep buying materials, or to deal with the legal end of it. Designing is one of those things that is fun, but I don’t need to be putting as much resources into designing as I have been — particularly as I still don’t know how to do all the basic beadweaving stitches.

I would still do micro-macramé, though. I just would. That means seed beads and cord. I have those. I think it’s just the gemstone and metal stuff that I see as unjustified.

So that’s:

  1. Micro-macramé
  2. Beadweaving

Drawing and painting can also be expensive, but they allow a greater latitude for storytelling (which was something I was purposely avoiding when using beadwork to get back into the creative process). When I was going back over my sketchbooks…I realized what I was doing when I was drawing from life. I was finding things that interested me, and then trying to express, via drawing, why they interested me. That, in itself, means that color is indispensable for my practice. This also means that markers and paints, in particular, ought to be something I really consider using — or, not throwing away, if they’re still good and usable.

Particularly: there are five media that I’m interested in at the moment:

  1. Pen and ink
  2. Alcohol markers
  3. Acrylic markers
  4. Gouache
  5. (Transparent) Watercolor

That also implies pencil and eraser, though I have those. These can all be combined with each other in order to make mixed-media standalone or sequential art pieces. So there, we have Language, Form, Line, and Color.

Anyhow, I’m reading back over this entry, and I’m thinking that my proposed activities look diverse enough! I wonder how this compares to past Priority lists…

…and what to do with everything else…

art, craft, seed beads, self care, technology

Taking account: Humanities/Social Sciences/Arts/Crafts…yeah,

I’m not a Hard Sciences person, and I shouldn’t try to be one for the sake of being like my dad. I’m not him.

Today, instead of JavaScript training, it’s back to tiny tiny beads for me, and macramé. Micromacramé. Nanomacramé? ;) I have been using size 11° seed beads, 3mm Czech fire-polished beads, and C-Lon Micro, which are all very tiny, and kind of made for each other.

I didn’t even realize before breaking back into my 11°s that they’re basically about 2mm across. Using a pattern that looks like a macramé version of Daisy Chain (without the roundabouts), I’ve been able to tinker my way to a smaller version of what I was working on last with standard C-Lon and 8° beads. I don’t know if I’ve posted images of it here, yet — or if that was on an alternate blog (which is down, for now).

Right now I’m not even sure as to whether I should go back to Photoshop. I think I would post a lot more images if it were easier to modify them…though what I’m using now has a lot of options (and likely more technical options than at least PS Elements), it isn’t the most intuitive program. Its UX isn’t great.

I’ve been reading Adolfo Best-Maugard’s A Method for Creative Design (first published in 1926). It’s been interesting, though at this point (30 pages from the end of the book), I don’t think I’ll purchase it. There is some interesting content, but the book is based on a pretty idiosyncratic viewpoint which I’m not sure I buy into. I mean, it’s interesting to read, but whether I accept the author’s argument is something else.

There’s also this thing about the context of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s that seems to resonate with me. I wouldn’t be surprised if the author was influenced by Spiritualism, which was active around the same time period. Both reflect a desire to seek out what is common between all the world’s peoples, at an early stage of globalization.

Best-Maugard essentially analyzed world or “primitive” art and broke down many of the designs he found into simple constituent elements which could be rearranged into various two-dimensional representations. What’s disappointing for me about this book is that it seems he is only teaching a method based on one form — the spiral — meaning that there is a lot more that he holds back. I would have preferred a longer edition with fewer drawings, explaining or demonstrating further these other primitive forms. As it is, I haven’t so far seen him speak about the latter; only that they exist, and that he isn’t going into them.

Anyhow: as much as I appreciate the fine arts, and love the color mutability possible in painting…painting isn’t easy for me at this point. I’ve been attempting to get back into it…but for some reason…flowers aside, I’m not drawn to common subjects, like portraits or landscapes or figures. I just don’t see the point. I can appreciate art made with these subjects, but it’s not my art.

That could be me coming from a writer’s background, too. In writing, conflict and tension are the main drive behind the narrative: in fine arts, it seems people reproduce (or create) the placid and agreeable a lot of the time, and I haven’t been able to reconcile these two modes or methods.

One of the things that has struck me is that it’s possible my native method is more lexical; as stringing different colors of beads on colored thread and tying those threads together, echoes the form of language or parallel processing. It’s just a thought: I’m not even totally sure about it yet.

But one thing I realized today is that I really did not want to get back to my JavaScript training. I got to my course, looked at it, and decided to do something else. I know I focused on Digital Services in school, but I think the experience of training under that method has made it clear how little I like to interface with computers in computer-language. It’s not quite arcane; it’s more binary.

And the beads were staring me in the face (I bought maybe 14 little 7.5 gram vials recently: no point in getting a whole lot of any one color when I hadn’t seen them), and I had bought a lot of tiny C-Lon, so I just went and got the stuff out. No reason to get the stuff if I’m never going to use it.

For some reason…dealing with beads and cords and color…it’s relaxing. Whereas work on the computer is more often than not, tension- and anxiety-inducing. Not to mention that it’s likely in the process of destroying my eyesight.

Before going to an online Master’s program, I thought it would be OK to be on the computer more. But being intensively on the computer for 6+ hours a day is something I don’t think I could tolerate.

But really, the Digital Services path only really determined seven to eight classes out of the twenty I took.

Yeah, I guess that’s a lot. Like, a third.

Maybe what I need is really to decompress and stop taking classes for a bit. It would be ironic if taking these classes taught me that I didn’t like the subjects the classes were about.

It really wasn’t too bad, until I took Database Management and Fundamentals of Programming. Then…I was like, “what did I get into?” I also don’t have a Computer Science or IT background (or even a Hard Sciences one after high school, although I still love Geology and Astronomy), so I’m at something of a disadvantage in the digital field. I know that if I want to stay current in Web Development, it will take constant acquisition of new skills to keep up with the pace of technological change. I’m not sure that I care enough to actively choose to do that for the rest of my life.

Maybe that’s why the people in those positions get paid so well.

At this point, I’m clearer that I am a Humanities and Social Sciences person, although I don’t think Sociology is where I want to be. I attempted that for a couple of years in my undergraduate training. It was depressing.

Psychology was easier and more engaging, but I never really went deeply into it. History was amazing — particularly World History. I loved that: being able to fit pieces of thoughts together into a coherent image. I also loved Ethnic Studies, even though I took classes just different enough from my own position to be able to expand my view. Though I somewhat regret not having taken Japanese-American Literature, I also know that I’m immersed enough that nothing in an undergraduate class on it would have been new to me.

I also regret not having bitten the bullet and taken Japanese Language & Literature as my undergraduate major. I don’t regret having honed my English writing skills, but I am irritated that people devalue good writing so much. There is also the issue of being able to ever find work or a way of being in Japan in which I wouldn’t be exploited, being a dark-skinned female (kokujin, or “black person,” is still an accepted term in lieu of amerikajin, even if the “black person” is also “American”) with no plans on marriage or children…but yeah, insider stuff.

It was likely my experience with my birth family — and trying to be included in an Asian clique — which caused me to lean against learning Japanese language, though.

I could get further into that, but I won’t.

In any case…I’ve been finding people just kind of randomly on the Reader who do things that no one else does. Like the person who paints silk scarves, or the person encouraging me in tatting. There are a few of us who do regularly post on beadwork, but not many. I get many more “Likes” on my painting posts than on my beadwork posts…but that doesn’t mean I should work on my painting, instead.

Seriously. I think more people can just connect with painting, whereas bead weaving or beaded micromacramé is relatively niche (which is a good thing so far as niche markets are concerned, but)…

It’s just kind of tough to be disconnected. I should probably go out of my way to join a beadwork forum or two, though as my specialization is beaded micromacramé at this point…yeah, that’s…that’s kind of special. (I was inspired with the macramé bug by someone working with cords and gemstones, though what I do is much different from their work.)

I wonder if giving resources would help others get involved in the hobby? I’ve been reluctant to do so, for my own reasons…

career, LIS, self care, spirituality, work, writing

Grounding myself, collecting my thoughts.

I have been hesitant to get back on my computer, recently. It seems I’m getting less narcissistic, though something that came up in the composition of this post is purpose.

After having gone through an online Master’s program, I’m increasingly valuing my time away from the computer, and questioning how much computer use is ideal in my life. It’s why I accepted the offer of working for a Public Library just recently, in a Public Services capacity. This is as versus putting more energy into Web Programming.

I’ve learned a good deal about the psyches of my co-workers, and actually, even though people can be irritating at times, getting to know their personalities and why they like (and dislike) what (and whom) they do, is interesting. As well, the difference in worldview and outlook between lower-level support staff through paraprofessionals through professionals, is interesting. Although I don’t think I would get a PhD in Psychology, I’m just becoming more interested in the inner workings of people, as versus machines.

Maybe that’s a reason I became interested in the Humanities, in the first place. Way back, it was just easier for me to experience others through writing, than through interaction. I think I’m getting better at the latter, though.

If I were thinking about things in an alchemical sense, I believe math, logic, programming, and philosophy would be related to an Air element, while what I’ve been doing recently — with writing by hand, and dealing with crystals (which has gotten me interested in geology, chemistry, and physics again) — is likely related to the Earth element. For a very long time, I have had severe problems with grounding…or, in other words, I lived within my thoughts more than I lived in the external world.

In a case like this, avoiding the computer for other projects — like reading physical books (which I’ll have to do, as a Librarian) — it’s a step in the direction of reconnecting with physicality. I actually can say that’s pretty important, even though for me, it’s difficult.

It shouldn’t be: for almost all of recorded history, there was no Web to addict people, or to virtually replace peoples’ lives, or to escape into. But for most of my life, I’ve heavily depended on my intelligence, whether that was my intellect or my sense of spirituality. I also know that I need to continue reconnecting with physicality…like by helping more with food preparation, and getting out and exercising. And, maybe, dealing with friends, or with people I would like to be friends.

It’s possible that having an impact on my environment — via my work and via my social experiences — is helping erode the need to “publish” (or write with the goal of readership) all the time. Connecting better with my body and having greater self-knowledge, is likely another reason I find myself becoming more invested in offline life. I’ve been basically tied to the computer for two years…it’s probably not surprising that I don’t want to be on it all the time now, when I don’t have to be.

On top of that…there is, as I’ve mentioned before, risk to writing online. Well — there’s risk where it comes to anything online, really. At the point one realizes this, the question of purpose arises…why, that is, would I share parts of my experience online? And does the possible fulfillment of that purpose outweigh the risk? How much of it is social, and how much of it is purpose-driven?

On one hand, I know that I write to share parts of my life with others. Being able to explain what’s going on as it’s going on, both helps me remember what happened, and I think also has a normalizing effect on the situation and others like it (or at least, that’s the intent). I do believe that I started blogging, however, without a clear purpose or objective in mind. The exception is this blog, which I started as a companion to Ravelry (which I don’t use anymore).

That then turned to crafts other than knit and crochet, like sewing, beadwork, lacework. Over time, it then shifted to commentary on what I had to do for my school and my job, instead of what I did with my free time.

I see my free time decreasing in the near future, and moreso later, especially if I get a full-time job. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But it means that I’m seeing I will have to let go of a lot that I did while I had the luxury of extra time.

At that point…I begin to wonder about the core parts of who I am, and what I would take with me, if I had increased resources and decreased time.

One of those things…is the pen hobby. I now have a few fountain pens, which I love. It is a luxury — one doesn’t need expensive pens to write (although none of mine are too expensive: they’re entry-level). But it’s nice to have them, even if it does mean I need to use them frequently. Using them isn’t too much of a problem, when you have a habit of writing for release, or introspection. And when you want the act of writing to be pleasant or customized — or encouraged.

The other thing that I just got back into is mineral collecting, which ties into my mystic side. I haven’t been doing meditation recently, though I should be doing it: exercise and meditation together will reduce my dependence on medication, so that I have the option of going down on my dosage. I feel stable where I am; the only problem is the tendency to gain weight. That, in turn, pretty much forces me to exercise, which will further benefit my mental state.

What I have seen with this is the possibility of crafting a path which enables me to affirm my commitment to extending the time life has on this planet. I don’t believe it will be all straightforward. But it is possible to desire this. It’s also possible to pray for it, or to do spells for it. There’s no proof that will work, but maybe I have greater reach than I think I do.

There is a paradox in using materials extracted from the earth in an attempt to help heal it. The intent to use them to attempt to help the biosphere and its denizens is the reason I feel okay with it. Without that possibility, it’s just collecting; but if I’m going to be collecting pretty things, and not having a lot of time to work with them, maybe this is better than collecting glass beads. For some reason, it does soothe me.

My nature as a human is to create. It might be possible that prayers or directed energy (I don’t know how to describe it in words; all words I’ve known have fallen short) could be useful, even if the mechanics are unexplained.

I wouldn’t be surprised if other things come up in relation to my identity, as I continue to read and write privately. But it’s fairly clear that I have a motive of furthering peace, understanding and harmony, and working against hatred and bigotry. I place a high amount of value on my own integrity, which is why I work in a library system. I also realize the limitations of what I can do as an eventual Librarian, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take action in private.

In this case…it seems as though those goals — exercise, meditation, reading, writing, healing, creation — might be enough to gather around, and focus this blog upon. When I first started blogging as a youth, I don’t know that I had any unifying cause to establish the blog around. Nor did I have an evolved sense of what I was seeking online. I’ve continued in that sense for over twenty years; it’s time to take it to the next level.

I guess I’m just getting older, and thinking things through more.

personal

Gender shift.

For the first time in a long time, I woke up recently with cross-gender feelings. Since I was about 20, I have (or had) been considering gender reassignment to male. It’s been over 15 years since then. It was before I knew things were really more complicated than my being Female-to-Male transgender. (Over time, I’ve gotten to know more variations on gender identity than I knew of in early University.)

Normally these days, it’s more like I’ve been neither a man nor a woman, and happy that way. The option that has presented itself is to masculinize; and then still be, internally, neither a man nor a woman (though that is, honestly, not something I think I could do). I can put on “man” in my mindset, and though it throws other people off (the unprepared expect a “girl”, and my “man” mindset is pretty dark due to being constantly misgendered), it works, though it’s not good for my social adaptation. But it’s still also role-playing. I need to get beyond that.

I had been waiting to see what I would think of transition, while clear-headed (which I was definitely not, in my early 20’s). I don’t think I’m totally clear right now — the thoughts I’ve been having detract from that, largely in relation to not being taken seriously because I haven’t physically marked myself — but it’s notable that my gender identity did shift. That means that on some level, I’m still gender-fluid, and not stably non-binary (the latter of which, I had been hoping for: it makes things a lot easier to deal with).

I did do some writing before this entry on paper, so I got most of the extremely personal stuff out. I think I’m still processing things from relatively recent events, and somehow in my mind went back to the last time I was at a normal developmental place where it comes to intimate relationships. That was high school. (!) It was during that time and shortly thereafter that I felt I needed to be celibate to protect myself and others. It was just way too risky for me at that time to participate in growing in that manner.

This was in no way an issue for other students, though. Maybe I just saw the bigger picture.

It just feels safer to be gender-nonbinary and celibate than it is to obviously have an intimate relationship with someone of one’s own phenotype, or for a female to declare themselves a man (though I know I’m not a man, at this point, so this is moot). For that matter, though, it’s also tough to appear to be a man, and then be constantly challenged to, “live up to expectations,” when you know that you transitioned yourself into an even more vulnerable place than before you began.

Due to a number of factors, I’ve for a long time felt that I must be asexual. But what if that’s not the case? What If I’ve been practicing celibacy (voluntarily not indulging any sex drive) instead of being asexual (experiencing little to no sex drive)? If I need to know I’m recognized as myself and not my image, as a precursor to letting anyone get close to me — and I haven’t let anyone emotionally close enough to me to have the opportunity to get to know who I actually am (as versus what I look like) — that kind of precludes any opportunity for physical closeness.

Of course, with a lot of people, relations just stop at what I look like (assuming female = woman, woman = “girl”; implying all sorts of things about who I must be that I am not), regardless of whether I give them the opportunity to learn. It’s a reason (among many) I’ve broken up with people, before, though I’ve never had a romantic relationship that I was really, “into.”

The major thing I’m dealing with is the fact that I don’t know how to be any kind of woman in a romantic relationship. When I think of myself in a relationship, it’s in a masculine role, regardless of the sex or gender of the other person. (I would also add that I’m not attracted to any one sex or gender, so even though people often assume I’m lesbian, I don’t see this as the case — both because I don’t see myself as a woman, and because I’m not exclusively attracted to women. Most people don’t get that fine distinction, though.)

Some of the gender shift I experienced, is likely due to the fact that I’ve decided to stop waiting and hoping for a future incarnation where I have a fully-functioning male body. This life is all that’s guaranteed to me, that is, and I’m living for now, now; rather than for a hypothetical future. Earlier on, as a young adult, I was leaning back on the Buddhism and hoping that a next life would be more fortunate, but I’ve come to realize that, should Buddhism be true, it’s a relatively dark view of the world. For me, in my interpretation.

It’s compounded with knowledge that we’re in the middle of a mass extinction. I don’t really want to choose to believe that I’ll be reborn for eras as a cockroach on an overheating planet because we’ve interfered with the ecosystem so much that the only things that can survive are “less desirable” rebirths. (Although cockroaches do tend to look happy a lot of the time.)

At the same time…what I can do with testosterone to alter my form, is basically not what I’m looking for. It’s just not. I would rather be muscular and still appear female, than look male and be losing my hair and have to deal with (more) acne and (more) facial hair maintenance and (more) body hair and arteriosclerosis and a pot belly, etc. And that’s without what I actually want, which is to be larger than I am and stronger. I basically want to be fully physically male, which isn’t going to happen.

It would be more worth my while to trim down where it comes to my fat, and bulk up where it comes to muscle. Especially as I have no desire for surgery. To tell the truth, I have no desire to inject myself with hormones every week or two for the rest of my life, either.

The issue is not wanting to be considered a, “girl,” on sight; and also for people important to me not to be blinded by my appearance and the things stereotypically associated with that appearance. When those things blind others to who I actually am, there’s a problem. The problem, however, I don’t see as sourced in me: I see it as sourced in society, which is (or was, when I was new to the scene) apparently the main thing differentiating me from a mainstream “transgender” person. It’s the major reason I have not requested a testosterone prescription. The problem is not mine. It’s a systemic problem embedded in the fabric of society, and I just happen to lie at one of the pain points.

On the upshot, I have been presenting a strong “aura” (for lack of a better term) recently, which I don’t see as gendered (though it’s still apparent that I’m female). It’s actually good this way. I don’t mind people seeing me as female, as long as they know that my sex doesn’t determine my gender. Unfortunately, that’s not the case for the majority of society, still; and particularly in formal communications, there is no universally accepted, accessible way to address someone without assuming their gender (or lack of gender). The best thing to do is ask, but do you ask everyone? For some people, it isn’t an easy question to answer, or may feel intrusive (I know). It’s easy, that is, to default to the assumed gender; but it amounts to coming out to the questioner, if the answer is anything different.

The thing I’ve got to be better at is being able to…you know, not intentionally hold back information that interferes with smooth functioning. Of course, there’s a scale here, where at one end I accept and reflect what is expected because it makes social interaction happen more easily; and at the other end, I basically assert who I am regardless of others’ feelings or opinions about it. I may be better off at that latter end, but it’s been a new thing to be accepted on sight. It’s something that I had come not to expect, until I got my first job and realized that people — on the whole — intend to be decent. It’s very different from either school or the Internet.

It is possible to present as masculine for me, still — even though solidly into my “adult” years, now, I’ll need to lose weight if I want to wear clothing made for men. (Aging has come with curves by default.) Right now I’m wearing what fits, and it’s working. It doesn’t say much about my gender, but I’m not sure I should even deal with trying to express my gender through store-bought clothing. I mean, finding something that fits and looks all right and covers my body, is good enough.

And now that I’ve written all that out, I feel better. It’s tiring to get blindsided by these things so often, though in all honesty, it’s been quite a while since I shifted so strongly. Possibly relevant is that in a dream preceding that morning, I saw myself as male…but I was a vampire at an Otherkin convention.

Yes, I know. ;)

No, I’m not a vampire.

;)

jewelry, personal, psychology

Recap, and envisioning my future self.

Okay, so…that bit of time when I was up until after midnight this last Tuesday night/early Wednesday morning, and had to wake early Wednesday? I’m still feeling the aftereffects. (Of course, it is only Thursday. The days seem to be going slower for me, recently.)

I fell asleep by accident at 8 PM last night (Wednesday), then woke up at 3:30 AM (today, Thursday) from the local fox screaming in the backyard. (It’s probably a girl; we read that vixens scream to attract mates.) At that time, I realized I had missed my 9 PM medication…by 6.5 hours…and got up to take it. I also had to eat a little bit to avoid becoming sick from the meds — plantain chips. (It must have worked, as I didn’t get nauseous, and I wasn’t nauseous when I woke up.)

Then I brushed my teeth and got back in bed, to wake up at 9 AM for the live meeting of my current course. That was relatively difficult to get through; I went back to bed at 9:50 after it ended, skipping produce shopping for today.

So…I think that will have to wait until tomorrow, to avoid being on the road during rush hour. We did go out, though I basically had to eat two meals to stay up. The only way I am staying up right now is that I drank a caffeinated soda. I’m also eating some chocolate, which is likely not a coincidence.

I still haven’t written about last weekend, though…I wonder if I wrote anything by hand? I know I did, some. Any names mentioned here would have to be altered or omitted for confidentiality reasons…but basically, my dad’s cousin had a family gathering, and I got to meet family whom I had met maybe once before. There’s a lot of history that precedes me here; some that precedes my father; it’s not proper for the blog, but whose family history is…?

In any case, it was nice to meet people, though I kind of wish I had been more up to the task of being social. Because I’m a shy person by nature, I did do a little tatting at brunch to withdraw a bit. I am amazed at how many people know what tatting is! It’s sweet when they find you and recognize what you’re doing. <3

I’m also starting to really love tatting, or at least the fact that it’s extremely portable, and calming. I find that I can listen and be aware of my environment at the same time as I’m paying attention to what my hands are doing. Having my attention nominally on my handwork, though…it means that I’m not expected to talk.

I guess it’s kind of like the smartphone in the hands of the kid sitting next to me; it gives the impression that one is occupied, though I find that tatting doesn’t take up as much cognitive attention (as versus fine motor attention) as the phone does. I gave him some visual cues to signal that I could talk, but he was absorbed in his phone. I assumed that he didn’t want to talk as much or moreso than myself, so I left him alone.

So…after that, we headed off to Monterey. I still have most of a bag of candies from there (okay, about 60% now)…it’s kind of hard to visit Monterey and not come home with salt water taffy. The time we spent down there, we were with one of my aunts. It was nice to talk with her one-on-one, though I wish I had said more than I did. I just happen to be a listening kind of person, I guess.

Also, we visited the aquarium, which was interesting and cute. There were two high points for me: one were the birds (including the aviary [where I saw someone unsuccessfully try to entice a Snowy Plover into his hand: the plover just looked at him, about eight inches out of reach] and the Pigeon Guillemots in a separate exhibit); the other was the diving beetle exhibit!

Okay, so the two Pigeon Guillemots whom we saw in an exhibit were playing with the people looking at them by acting cute (trying to swim up to us, even though the glass obviously blocked them). I’m thinking they had learned that if they interacted with people (even people behind glass), they could get us to do things. :) They went away when I looked up to try and figure out what they were. I think they thought I was signaling disinterest (they couldn’t see the sign I was looking at), though I was really just a little embarrassed by how cute they were (and that I couldn’t give them any fish).

The diving beetles, though…that was just amazing. It was crazy seeing all the little beetles swimming around underwater! They have two paddle-like legs, and a bubble of air under their shells, and they just…swim. It’s amazing. I’ve never seen diving beetles before! (They were at the end of the Viva Baja exhibit.)

So…the places we stayed were also really nice, although I think there was some covert racial bias we encountered outside of the hotels. It’s hard to tell if it was that, or just a couple of instances of poor service.

So I don’t forget myself, I should mention that I visited a gallery/boutique on Cannery Row where I was able to purchase a black ceramic ring with a metallic polish. It reminds me very much of a hematite ring I had (and loved) in high school, and kept until it finally got a stress fracture. I found out later that hematite isn’t the greatest material for rings, as rings have to be hard-wearing, and hematite is vulnerable to stress fractures from rapid temperature changes, and also to fractures from shock (say, by putting one’s hand down on a table).

It doesn’t take a lot to crack hematite. It reminds me of another stone, fluorite, though fluorite is orders of magnitude more fragile than hematite (I’ve chipped it just by trying to bend a wire I’ve strung it onto). Opal is another one of those stones that is extremely easy to damage…it has acquired a reputation for bad luck because it’s so difficult to set.

Anyhow, the ring itself is really nice. The ceramic itself is a very hard, strong, and durable ceramic called a, “gem ceramic,” made from zircon. The last time I wore it to work, I found a shiny black chip trapped under the ring, and realized upon examining the ring for damage that the chip had to have come off of the paint from the shelving cart I had been handling.

I was just really amazed at the fact that my purchase decision was so easy — in lieu of getting a graduation ring, I got this. It has, however, also made me want to expand my earlobe piercings again. I stopped and let my piercings shrink down because I wasn’t sure I would want to go to large-gauge jewelry. However, at this point…this ring really matches the aesthetic I was going for. I’ve also worn plenty of my own jewelry, and I think it’s really okay that I wear jewelry which is different from the jewelry that I make. It’s a style decision.

Right now, I’m thinking that I’m okay with going up to 10 gauge, and with purchasing earrings at that size (as versus making them). Of course, at the moment, I’m closer to 20 gauge — standard earwire girth. It will take months to safely expand my piercings again, but I’m up to it. When I originally got pierced, it was at 14 gauge, I was young, and I told myself that I wouldn’t go up in gauge until I was very sure I wanted to.

Hey, it’s been about 15 years, and I’m pretty sure I’m good with it, now! Also, if I’m going to be a Librarian or Information Professional, I pretty much don’t have to worry about bias instigated by my jewelry. A lot of younger people wear this style, though it started (here, at least) with Generation X. I’m from the generation that followed.

So recently…I’ve been able to get more of a handle on dealing with my own style. For instance…I’ve decided to keep my hair long, and to wear it with its natural curl. I’ve found that if I clip my hair back, it puts less strain on my scalp than it does when I wear my hair pulled back. We have also been visiting some beauty supply stores, and I’ve found a type of shampoo and conditioner (by “Shea Moisture”) that is gentle enough to use frequently. It does seem to be a very good thing for me to use sulfate-free shampoo.

I do need to trim my ends, but I also found a styling aid that makes it much easier to comb. I’m considering — once I get my sleep stuff under control — taking a shower in the morning and washing my hair every day or two, so that I can wear it long and curly, without having slept on it first. I also finally have a decent hair dryer which I can use to target my roots, so I don’t get too cold, and so that I can avoid mildew growth. Hair care is the major reason for me to cut my hair short: I have a type of hair that is very high-maintenance (thick, wavy, and curly), and in the past, I didn’t want to be burdened with it. However, now I know that having it long is a choice, not a requirement.

I also now have enough makeup to practice, as well; though I need to wash my powder brush. There’s that, and the fact that I have to keep my body hair trimmed, if I want to wear sleeveless shirts and dresses. Then there’s the exercise which I want to get back to so that I can tighten my body up again and regain some leanness and hypertrophy (and energy). I really don’t have anything against being larger; it’s just the belly and the health drawbacks (and the specter of the weight gain from my medications not ceasing) that are causing me to work on myself.

I almost can’t believe how much identifying (and finding a community) as gender-nonbinary has freed up so much of my energy, and ceased so much of my angst about conforming or not conforming to standards as either a man or a woman. It’s enabled me to just release it, instead of being trapped in a two-gender dialogue between compulsory femininity and rebellion against compulsory femininity.

I used to hear trans* men say similar things (a great sense of freed-up energy and sense of well-being) about their lives after transition to male, though (which made me want to transition, before I realized I wasn’t them; thus, their solution wouldn’t work for me), so I want to emphasize that the happiness, liberation, and sense of calm comes with finding your authentic self, whoever you are, and finding your own way to engage with the world, over all the noise that tells you that you shouldn’t be you. It has nothing to do with the specific identity of the point you find to be happy at.

For me, getting to this point has had to do with finding what makes me happy, and negotiating out a way to do that, with the world — regardless of others’ opinions of whether or not what I’m doing is, “correct,” (against what standard?) or whether I’m being, “trans enough” — because, cis and trans are relative and culturally contextual terms. In my case, I know I’m going to stand out (firstly, because of my race), no matter what I do, and regardless of whether I want to. My thought is that I might as well aim to become a person I am proud to be: my authentic self; and then let things play out as they will. No regrets.

career, cooking, creativity, work, writing

Fear of repercussions for creativity

Alright. I’m sitting here typing because the two alternatives that have occurred to me, are to sleep, or to rearrange things. I’ve put all my craft books back on their original shelf, where they barely fit. There’s other stuff happening related to school and work that has been taking up mental space (applying for higher-status and higher-paying jobs I’m still overqualified for because the jobs I am qualified for are taking their time in getting back to me [or not]; plus graduation gear arriving; plus the Convocation video I opted-out of because online is forever), but it’s over for now.

I also was able to get back to beadwork, finally, but I now have that nagging, “I could be doing something better with my time,” thought, that I think grad school has driven into me. I’m thinking that this means it may be time to try and get some thoughts out. Writing is rarely a waste of time, for me, except when I run on longer than I need to…

Today I got to help make ohagi, which for the uninitiated is smashy sweet rice balls (I got to play the smasher) with sweet bean paste on the outside. They’re drying in the refrigerator right now…the bean paste (anko) was more like bean jam, so it didn’t stick very well. The rice balls are really nice, though. When I chew them I can make snapping noises — they’re that sticky. :)

Heheh, TMI. But it was worth it to help make the ohagi, because I got to do it with family. Hopefully, the anko will keep the rice fresher than would have happened if we had made daifuku mochi, which is a ball of anko covered in smooth rice dough (there are a couple of ways to make it, the easiest of which is by using mochiko, or rice flour, and sugar). Fresh daifuku are rarely good for more than two days, and after the first day in the refrigerator, they’re basically a loss because they dry out and lose their nice chewy texture. Ohagi are inside-out, though, so the beans will dry before the rice (and maybe make a protective shell, heh).

Anyhow…yeah, the creativity part. I’ve recently been dealing with not feeling very creative. By that I mean that I make things and I don’t appreciate them, because I expect more out of myself. I’m slower and less productive than I want to be, but I’m also really precise, and have trouble valuing what I make.

I’m not sure if this is a creativity issue or an expectation issue. I don’t know what I expect of myself. Except, maybe, that I’d have a better-paying job and know more than I do and not be so restrained, artistically. Or that I be actively reading and writing, or something.

I could be having an identity crisis right now, due to the fact that I’ve realized that being a prolific writer in my youth stemmed from a couple of sources which were not entirely healthy. Even now, I realize that I could talk about them online…it’s just that posting something online means in practicality that records of it are going to be around basically forever (or until someone outlaws third-party caching of, and making available, other peoples’ intellectual property on the Internet, which is likely not going to happen in a global system).

So…it’s less risky to talk to people about this in real-time and real-life. The thing is, I actually am being migrated out of the services that helped me deal with this, in the past, and I don’t have a large network of IRL people who would understand. What I’m talking about deals with hypergraphia, the compulsive drive to write; and the fact that in my youth I used the written word to live a life (or lives) I didn’t see the possibility of outwardly realizing.

While things are different now…after all, I’m not a child or teen anymore…I’ve learned through decades of exposure online that my inner thoughts aren’t exactly quotidian. When I was younger and writing for myself, it was a relatively safe space to explore my identity. But it’s different when other people can see that writing, and trace it back to an original author.

It’s fairly likely that my writing was symptomatic of deeper issues. The choice I can see before me is to 1) write like no one’s watching and possibly reap rewards (and punishments) for it, or 2) hold some topics and thoughts back, cause no change, and lose the reason to write. That essentially means I stop trying to make change and go along with everyone else, out of not wanting to be bothered with the responsibility or effects of my content.

What’s going on here, I believe, is that the area of my brain responsible for good judgment, is more active now than it used to be. I question what I put out into the universe more, now, than I did before — and stop myself from doing so, more often than I used to. I realize that some people actually aren’t creative enough to come up with some of the more horrific situations I can fathom. So if I don’t voice them, I just hope they never stumble onto those possibilities.

That’s one variable. The other, tied in with it, is the fact that writing what I actually want to write, will effectively stigmatize me. Of course, then I would likely get support from other people going through the same issues…but there is personal benefit to not letting people in on what they won’t (or don’t, or can’t) understand.

Being who I am, I know that there are a great number of reasons people can come up with as an excuse to direct violence at me. The thing is, keeping quiet about those reasons doesn’t stop the violence; in the absence of proof, violent people will make up reasons and excuses for their own hate and project them onto their victims, whether those reasons and excuses are true or not (they usually have less to do with the other person, and more to do with their proponent). What I’m learning, though, is that other peoples’ emotions aren’t under my control; thus other peoples’ emotions aren’t my responsibility, and nor are their actions (I can’t control those, either).

I’m also learning that I should pretty much live this life like it’s the only one I’ll get, because none of the other ones are guaranteed. I mean, I’ve gotten to the point where I question if it’s possible for a spirit to be consumed by another, and hence the afterlife even is not free of death, and we have layers of hells and heavens…but that’s something I’d be more likely to have talked about, around a decade ago, among people I knew who could actually understand it.

So while I know it’s pretty much useless to hide stigmatizing aspects of myself (those which I can, anyway)…it’s still tough, because I know that voicing them can negatively impact my ability to survive in this life. This is a major reason why I went into Librarianship in the first place: this arena is more tolerant than I believe most are, of differences and diversity. Which…you know, seems like a light thing, after all I’ve been talking about.

I’ve also been told that I deserve to have a voice. And if I can get my bravery up, perhaps I will have a voice, moreso than now.