Happy As A Lark

My Tiny Cube of Space
Merit
9:31 am
Thrusday, June 30, 2005

Happy As A Lark

I finally did it: rememebered how to be happy in the realm outside of Bonnaroo. I mean truely, deeply, down in your soul happy. And it's fantastic.

I'm beginning to understand what it was that made Bonnaroo such a transcendent expereince. I think I may start being able to put it into words. There was a such a simplisity. Everyone had come, complete with provisions, to just exist in this space, with friends, caring for each other, to have as much fun as humanly possible. There were good times, and some not so super, but over all we all perservered and jammed onward. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, like profound wisdom, or the earth from which shining examples of life have sprung, but here's the good part. Everyone was completely real, and completly unafraid. Let me clarify: unafraid, unpressured by the inconviences, hassles, bills, and stresses of everyday life. Just existing. It was beautiful.

There was a simplisity to everything as well. A pureness, as if all the trappings of the outside world had been stripped away. Instead of being a group of people, secluded from the real world, way out in the middle of nowhere, we were the real world. The outside was the different, odd while we were the true. The example of this is the dankest cup of coffee I'd ever had. Saturday morning, I stumble from my tent, and start doing everything my power to take care of myself, and ready myself for the bling that was to be that everning/afternoon. Yonder Mountain String Band, Umprhree's McGee, Particle, Keller Williams, Trey Anastasio, Wide Spread Panic, Karl Denson's Tiny Universe, and de la Sol. It was easy to be feel overwhelemed by the peole, place, fun, life of it all. I changed clothes, smoked a cigarette, and Bryan, Erica and I hiked off to the water box to attempt a toilette of some sort. Half an hour later, I'm cleanish, fresh, kinda cold, but happy. Then, I see this sign: "DANK COFFEE." I persuaded Erica to buy one for me (Best $2 I ever spent.) and it was liquid magic. French press coffee that had been cooking over a camp stove for lord knows how long, with cream and raw sugar. And then we went back to the campsite, and I sat on the roof of the car with Bryan, smoking, and talking.

And that was it. There were conversations that spanned many topics, there was laughter, and joy. But the simple needs, urges and drives of daily life were stripped away, leaving the simplistic joys of life: talking, eating, sleeping, washing, walking. We quickly learned that one spot of ground is just about as good as any other, and there no need to go over there, since we're already here. We learned to be.

I also learned to approach everyone as an individual, despite their inclusion in this giant mass of dirty hippies. (Or early fucks. Those seemed to be the two over riding catagories of folk.) But each one was different: varied talismans, hair, scarves, drugs, shoes, degrees of dirtiness, friends, jam style, musical taste. But each unique, special, loved. Since then I find myself looking people, just general people, in the eye more, taking them in as individuals and loving them too. I loved every single Bonnaroovian, sprawled out in the grass, and I'm starting to learn to love everyone making the morning commute. I am a sociologist, and I continue to classify, sort and attempt to understand the world in terms of social forms, but I've gained a deeper understanding and appreciation to what it means to be an individual that makes up those complex constructs.

There was also an over abundance of happy. The place wasn't perfect, there were things, aspects, situations and peole who sucked, but everyone smiled through it and went on with the festivus. This characteristic is harder to bring into the real world, a harder lesson to translate into life lesson. We sludged through rain, smelled bad, didn't shower, slept in the damp, almost on the ground . .. And loved it. So what if I have to wait for the bus? It's a beautiful day and I have a lovely cup of coffee to drink, and a good book to read while I wait.

And I saw the same thing, only with less pure happy, on the train this morning. I realized the greatness of my situation, and the joy to be found therein. Yes, I work in artificial light, have a long commute, and am generally too tired to do much when I get home. Yes, there are six kittens, and one momma cat living in my kitchen. Yes, my back hurts, I want a nap and I don't know how I'm going to pay all my assundry bills. But, I'm happy.

I sat next to a woman on the train who was kinda amazing. At training last night (For Summer Links, after the week of initial training we do to get to know each other and more about Chicago and over arching themes of social justice in those specific contexts, we have training every Wednesday and Friday. On Wednesdays we have dinner, and meet in small groups to talk about work, and then someone presents on a social issue and we discuss it. Last nigth was foster care. I recommitted myself to opening my home to foster care, especially for Deaf children, once I have the resources. It was an eye-opening experience, and gave me some ideas of things to do at Merit. So, I'm on the Green Line this morning, and the lady I sit next too is on the phone. I would say she was a 30-ish year old women, nicely dressed, probably for the office, african-american, with a love of colors. I don't know her relation to the person she spoke with, but she was telling them about spending time with someone she loves, and their foster parents. They also discussed visiting times. (Please don't think I was evesdropping. I was reading my book, drinking my coffee, but I couldn't help to overhear snippets. Plus, I watch people, you know that.) Then she pulled out her book, "The Purpose Driven Life" and re-read old answers, especially the ideas about what to do when "God Seems Distant." I was touched. I don't know who this woman is, I don't know her situation, but I wish her luck. She seemed to have thing well in hand; she seemed to be moving forward.

And as I looked around, I realized that, hopefully, I could say that about most of the people on the El if I had happened to sit down next to them. It was a lovely realization, coupled with the surge of joy I feel in Chicago, in the morning. And the more I looked, the more people I was able to see for who they seem to be individually, not as a collective catagory. And it was beautiful.

And now I'm at work, ready to do my part. I got to be the Symphony fairy yesterday, calling young pianists and their families, giving away free tickets to see the Chicago Symphony Orchestra at Ravinia this Friday. I love my job.

So, I finally figured it out -- at least a part of it. I'm not a Bonnaroo, but I'm still Happy As A Lark.

Worky McWorkingson

My New Cubical!
Merit
Lunch breaks are sweetass!
12:52 pm
Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Worky McWorkingson

Day Two. I really like this job. The environment is as far from a scary office environment as I can imagine, with all of us shouting over the cubicals and generally being friendly. I love it. And the musical theater hasn't even started yet. I could work here forever. There's enough change that I don't think I'd get bored. As it is, the days fly by. I love it. Jaynie says that I've finally got one of my childhood dreams: working in an office with a cubical all my own. It's true. I remember going to the office with Jay, loving to get dressed up, the office supplies, the order, the people, the whole thing. And I still do. I know. I'm silly. But I don't work for The Man, that's for sure. I mean, the executive director's name is Duffy and she's super nice. Oh fantasticness.

More later.

And Now I . . .

Evan's Room
The Kids' Apartment
11:39 pm
Wednesday, June 22, 2005


And Now I . . .

Ultimately, I'm not sure. There is so much to say about Bonnaroo and the whole Texas Experience but I'm not sure I have the emotional fortitude to delve into that at the moment. Let it suffice to recap this last week. I plan on expanding my mind this weekend, this time in a land plentiful with power outlets and cell phones, so hopefully I'll be able to write and do the Roo some justice.

I left Waco Friday with a happy heart, and no tears and actually went to Tyler to stay for a bit. I ended up there for only 13 hours, 15 total for the whole trip. Not bad, not bad. I closed my Austin Bank account - thank Christ, that bank sucks many balls - and packed. Chicken Fried Steak at the Laughing Dog, splitting beers with my dad like always. More packing, and eventually sleeping on the couch with Spartacus because my room was experiencing a profound absence of me.

Then I began The Drive. I made it out of Tyler at 11:20. I had to stop and get my oil changed first, and the man at the Jiffy Lube knew me, and wished me well, giving me directional advice. There are some things that I will miss of Tyler.

I drove. I drove drove drove. Through all sorts of land. It was quite fantastic. I induged in a guilty pleasure and listend and sang with the Phantom of the Opera. As I marveled at the sunset, and the majestic expanse that is the Mississippi, "Music of the Night" came on. Quite fitting.

I reached Ayse, and Evansville at half past midnight, and was force fed much amazing Turkish food. Oh it was exquisit. It was much needed catch up time with Ayse. I'm glad that we're reached the point in our friendship where we can let it go when we have to, and pick it right back up when the opportunity allows. The next day I was given a tour of Evansville (pretty historic district, nice riverview, but I wouldnd't want to live there) and then I was off again.

I made it to Chicago at 9:30 -- six hours. And then there were my people here. And then I started training the next morning. The people that I have the priviledge to work with astonish me everyday. They're all so fantastic, devoted, driven, inspired. They inspire me.

Yet, I'm unsettled. We've gone for Sushi, we're made apartment dinner, gone to movies, but still. I feel so joyful, so full of life. I must be careful how I phrase this, but it seems as if people here trudge. Lament, exclaim, brow-beat and hassle. As Bryan put it, sometime I look up, and go, "Oh, this isn't Bonnaroo. Right. . . "

I feel as if I've been fundamentally changed as a person, but only because I was offered an exteneded commune with who I truely am. And I've come out much stronger, sure-headed, joy-seeking, committed to what I feel is a purpose I can fufill. (I won't say my purpose, as I'd like to think I have more then one.)

What's missing? Is it me? Is it the people I'm around? My friends here? I love them all so dearly, completely, for who they, yet I wonder if I fit. Deciding what french fries to buy become a committee decision, belaboring the point witout really making a point, round after round.

I feel adrift. Summer Links is a fantastic place where I justified in my existence and goals, while being pushed to think further, deeper, different as I help other do the same. Then I come home and go, "What's wrong?"

This is supposed to be home. Officially. Legally. All my stuff's here. But I'd rather live out of my truck, and drive around Texas. If it a fundamental characteristic of me: I feel most at home on the road? It's the settling that can psoe difficulties.

More later. Some of us have to be at work at 8:30 in the morning.

Soon, Soon, Soon

Fink's Living Room Floor
Smelly, Dirty, Happy
Nine Hours! Nine Hours!
Last Naked Meeting
So Much to Do Before I Leave
9:07 pm
Tuesday, June 7, 2005

Soon, Soon, Soon

We all just went and saw "You're a Good Man Charlie Brown" at the Jewish Day School, since Jeremy choreographed it. It was amazing, truely fantastic. I want to steal a small Jewish child, and keep him in my pocket. Those kids were brillant. It reminded me of all the times my parents came to see me in shows at various educational institutes. But, it also made me excited to one day have my own children, small, singing.

It still hasn't hit me that I'm really going to Texas in nine hours. Nine hours. It's fucking ridiculous. Six months of planning, coming to fruition. I have so much to do before my flight leaves, at 6:00 fucking am in the morning. Jesus H. Christ on a Cross.

It still hasn't struck me that I'm done with my second year of college. Where'd it go? What did Iearn? I'm not the same person I was, but who am I? (Oh this meeting is horrible. Shoes. I will throw shoes.)

I really think I'm going to go home soon, and pack, and get my life in order. I need to finish my hippie-kit, clean my room, pack.

Ben Fink, why do you have to be in charge of everything?

"Oregon Trail" the musical is going to be amazing. I'm kinda sad that I'm not going to be here in the fall for it. Oh, boo hoo for me, I'll be in Paris.

Damn, this meeting is ridiculous. I really may have to leave. Part of me has checked out, since I'm not going to be here anyway. And Ben Fink is being a worry-wart. Oh, stop running everything. People can do things their own way, For the Love of God.

Eureka!

1st Floor
Still at the Reg
About to go Home
5:27 pm
Saturday, June 4, 2005

Eureka!

I found my paper! I'm going to look into the role that gesture plays in the accquistion of sign language, and the implications of this for spoken language accquistion as well. Hooray! And I found many, many tasty books on sign language in the stacks, which I plan to read read read.

I feel better now. Still left with a shakey metaphysics at the moment, but at least this paper may take solid form yet. Hooray!

Of All the Things I Don't Have Time For

Second Floor
Good Ole' Reggie Joe
Oh Paper! Where are you? Why won't you come out?
I know you're there!
Getting Twitchy
12:32 pm
Saturday, June 4, 2005

Of All the Things I Don't Have Time For

it's an existential crisis. My psyche has decided that since I'm about to make a symbolic pilgramage to the land of milk and honey, by God the time is ripe for me question my personal metaphysics of life. Lord knows it needs tweeking, parts complete overhauls, but NOW?!? NOW is NOT THE TIME..

I understand it though. Since I only visit Texas now, it stands as a place to test my new ideas, my new lives. Who I have become falls into sharp relief against who I was, in the context of my friends as they are. It's something that takes mental preparation for, there's no doubt. But couldn't it wait until Monday, after I turn this paper in, and take a French exam?

So, instead of getting up and going to the library early, as I should have were I a good little academic, I sit in the kitchen, drinking coffee, and musing. It's because I made the fatal mistake of starting to re-read "Bridge Across Forever" which defined how I feel about love and personal consciouness so many years ago. But truthfully, there are no accidents. Why this had to happen now, I don't know, but I accept that it does.

And I'm faced with the changes, and the lessons I've learned since I first saw objectively in that book. Do I still believe in soulmates? Yes. Do I still think I have the capacity to be one, to have one, the emotional fortitude to invest in someone? Not right now. But I still believe. I believe that there's amazing power in thought, and we are each given the capacity to be whatever we want. But only what we really want, with our entire beings. As long as we're living our highest truth to the best ability, making our best full-faith effort.

But on the other hand, I have a resevoir of cynism, objectivitiy, my rational ivory-tower self to contend with as well. Doesn't all that seem a little bit unrealistic? And if it is true, then hasn't your chance already been shot to hell? Do you get second chances? Do I honestly believe this stuff that smacks of new age spirituality, full of fluff? I mean, by God! Where's the empirical analysis? With such unreachablee standards, of course you're going to end up alone, living in tiny houses with Alii, with baby llamas and Deaf Mongolian street kids.

So, while I should be writing a paper over something that impassions me, I'm sitting here trying to find the framework in which to best situated that passion.

These Things I Know Are True
1. We create our own reality. What you see is what is there.
2. There is a reason for everything.
3. You are never given a wish without the capcity to fulfill it.
4. There are an infinite number of space times, all existing simulatenously as every different path I could have taken.
5. This is but one lifetime, with it's own specific lessons to be learned.
6. We are closest God/love/light/life when we create.
7. You have to love yourself first. The rest will follow.
8. Every thought you think changes you, therefore changing your life in a profound way.
9. God is all around us.
10. The most important thing to strive for is positive change through love.

But finding someone to share these beliefs, there complete being, lovelifelaughtergrowth? I feel as if I'm supposed to figure out a new big chunk of understanding, a new mental fortification for my beliefs. And I would if I could stop my life for about two days, and deal with my head. But always, this tendrils of gesture theory playing with the edges of my mental constructs. Soon. Soon.

The quicker I finish this paper, the sooner I can understand myself again.

Adrift in the Sea of Research

A-Level
About to go pay $123 to print off all this shit
Reading, Research, Reading
I still don't have a topic. . .
AHHH!
5:08 pm
Friday, June 3, 2005

Adrift in a Sea of Research

I like research. I like looking up topics, reading, taking notes, amassing extensive knowledge of one specific topic of interest. Producing papers of a high academic quality. Having a question and finding answers.

Only problem: I haven't identified that topic yet, per say.

I know I want to write on gesture and how it relates to sign language, with special attention being paid to the relationship between space and communcation.

Okay, but you can't write a paper over that. Not a 10-12 page review research paper. Damn.

I refuse to believe I'm the only person who wants to think about this. In fact, I know I'm not. There's an over abundence of research to be had. My problem is one of scope. I'm not sure what exact aspect of this problem I want to tackle, and hence can't seem to pin point a thesis, a drive, a focus.

So, I'm afloat in a sea of reseach. This is frustrating. I'm meeting with my teacher tomorrow, and I think that if I gather interesting articles today, read them, take notes and such, by 2:00 tomorrow, I should be able to have something to work with when we meet. Damn.

At least I don't feel incompetent, just adrift. I need thesis moorings for this paper to have any sort of form. I keep reminding myself that I wrote that fantastic paper for Educational Organizations and Social Inequalities last quarter in two days, and had to read several books at a time to get that one out. It's not that I can't do this, it's that I'm not sure what I'm doing.

It'll come. It'll come.

Oh, Joseph Regenstein. How you haunt my life, A Level of love and hate. Wireless network of joy, stacks of glory, basement of academia. I revel in your knowledge, in your vast expanses of literature on topics galore. I nestle in my cubical and learn.

Okay, so maybe I've been here a little two long. . . .

Nest

The Mac Lab
Waiting to go the The Assembly Meeing
Aren't those the guys that killed Socrates?
Tired of this. . whatever that is
No handling people so well
Boo for the research I have to do
7:15 pm
Wednesday, June 1, 2005

Nest

Today was a fantastic day outside. Sun shining, birds chirping. It smelled of lilac, and there were many small children playing in the many parks I walk through each day. I was perfectly dressed -- not to cold, not to hot. It was the last day of classes, with the most amazing summer laid out before me. Glorious.

And all I wanted to do was stay in my nest. My bed. My den. My refuge. For some reason, lately that's the only refuge. As if somehow, staying in bed will cause time to stop, lt me freeze this time before things continue. I can hunker down in the pillows, cover my head with the blankets and breathe. The only quiet from the chatter in my head, the only peace.

What the fuck's wrong with me? Goddamnit! As I went home today, to invariably crawl in bed, I knew that what I was doing was innane, but yet. Why is it that I feel so off-kilter, out of touch, strung out, over wrought, under loved? More importantly, why do I think that crawling into bed and rocking back and forth will make that feeling go away?

I'm sinking, inevitably into my head. This school has put me on a 10-week cycle, and down I go. It's immensley frustrating to see ths stupidity, uselessness of it all, to rail mentally against my own lack of emotional fortitude, berate myself mentally, yet, into bed I climb.

Too many unanswered questions. Too many unthinkable thoughts. So much good to be had, all around me. But as always, I wait for the bottom to drop.