This weekend Alii, Lauren, Katherine and I went to Summer Camp. 4 days, 3 nights, 3 stages, 120 bands. And more hippies then you care to count. It was amazing: wonderful people, chillin' to the max, full of substances, and just goddamn beautiful. Did I mention the jams?

It was my third, fourth and fifth time to see moe. and I can honestly say, I'm now a fan. I saw their Halloween show my first year. It was pretty amazing, but I decided not to pass musical judgment because they spent most of the time playing metal covers and generally fucking around. Think costumes and 80s hair wigs. Don't get me wrong: it was spectacular, but not an accurate representation of moe. I saw them again with Karl last year when Alii had the plague. The show was jammin'. So jammin' in fact that I passed out. The strong and handsome Karl swept me up and carried me out of the crowd to minister to my needs, but I missed most of the show. Again, I decided to with hold judgment until I witnessed an entire show sans death metal and managed to stay on my feet the entire time.

This weekend, I had my chance, and OMG -- it was soo good. I know that's a trite way to put it, but OMG. I under estimated them not only as performers, but as musicians as well. The xylophone is a spectacular instrument. And the lights. THE LIGHTS. Enough said. After the first night, I left wanting more. After the second night, I wanted more still. They delivered, making each night a wholly difference yet equally enjoyable musical experience.

That being said, I have some qualms about how they run a festival.

1. Inadequate water sources. 2 spigots. 8,0000 people. No shitting you. Ewww.
2. Having to haul all our shit in from the parking lot. My back = destroyed. And the shuttle didn't run the entire time. Boo.
3. Complete chaos in camping sites. Anarchy!
4. having to get A DIFFERENT TICKET FOR LATE SHOWS FOR $10 A SHOW. I'm sorry Summer Camp, I already paid my money for this weekend and I want more music then I can handle. The shows end at midnight and what, you didn't manage to find the place to get late night tickets? Sorry. No more music for you. Not cool. NOT COOL.

I had a bit of a come-to-Jesus moment while I was there. I realized, while sitting at the moe. show Saturday, that this, THIS is what I want to do with the rest of my life. Camp out, get sweaty, jam at shows, meet random people, enjoy nature, bling. Life the life you love, right? How can I do that?

I'm now looking for a way to organize festivals for a living. Volunteer coordination, large event planning. Something. Hopefully I can find a way to break into the industry this summer and after graduation, disappear into the musical horizon for at least two years. I want that to be my life -- I live from show to show.

What am I doing to make this a reality? Volunteering at festivals this summer to get experience. Doing research into opportunites for after graduation. Jammin' my face off every chance I get. I may try to intern for jambase.com for three months. It's an unpaid internship, but the experience would be life altering and provide just the break I need. If I could be a contributing writer for Jambase, doing festival reviews. Again, OMG. I could live with my aunt and uncle, check out Berkeley, see Yitz. I know this is all a long way off, yet I need something to work towards. Live the Life You Love. No really, do it.

And in other news, I realized that I want to love a boy in a skirt. I could save time and say, "I want to love a boy" but the 'In a skirt" qualifier is extra special. Bryan and I discussed the phenomenon of boys in skirts while at Bonnaroo. At festivals, it's not until the second full day and the first Real Night of Jam that the boys in skirts come out. There has to be a certain level of dankness that's reached, a wanton abandoning of the norms of the outside world, a head-long rushing into the brilliant jumble of the jam before the faithful cargo shorts are abandoned for less constricting garb. Then, once the boys in skirts appear, forgoing pants in a nod to greater comfort, jam mobility and well, looking damn cool, all can rest assured that the weekend is going to be surreal.

And that's what I want. Not just a boy. But a boy in a skirt. He can wear one of mine, hell, and we'll jam till dawn, falling asleep in a field as the sun comes up. It's so heartening to go to fests and see all the hippies with their others: long veterans of golden summers, new loves testing the sound waves, and everything in between. And that's what I want, but I know not how to find it. Yet another motivation for me to fully enter that world, to get out there and meet like minded people, look for love. I figure, somewhere there has to be a hippie as lonely as I.

I've been waiting for love to find me. That hasn't been working. Time for a new course of action.

In other, other news: I didn't think of Adam all weekend. And I'm pretty sure he stopped thinking of me at all a long time ago. And I'm okay with that. The taste of failure is bitter, but I'm not sure whos failure it is. Both of ours possibly. If he were a little stronger, if I were a little weaker. I refuse to be the only one to believe in the possability of a forever as well as the only one willing to work for it.

To quickly change the subject before I think to much and get all weepy: in another attempt to find what I'm looking for without knowing exactly what that entails, I've accepted a job in Chicago this summer. (Camp Duncan decided to fill the Adventure Director with someone already on staff.)

You're reading the blog of the newest Field Manager for Environment Illinois. Yea, we're one of those groups that stands around asking people for donations on the street -- canvassing. But there's more to it for me. We working to fight global warming! I'll be leading trainings, organizing press conferences, writing press releases and grant proposals, as well as canvassing. You know what else they do? Organize camping trips to festivals in Illinois to run tents telling hippies the campaign. Yea, I know. That's a tune I can jam to.

I was a bit hesitant about accepting this job. I mean, seriously, those people that accost you in front of the Art Institute are pretty damn annoying. But on the application it asked me a telling question.

"What, in your opinion, is the greatest problem facing society today, why, and what are you doing to solve it?"

To me, it seems that the greatest problem facing society, especially young intellects like me is the inability to mobilize. That's all good in practice, but what does the theory say? Recognizing the problems is easy. It's the getting off your lazy ass and doing something about it that proves difficult. This year has been a selfish year for me in terms of Saving the World: I should be doing more. I feel it's time to live what I preach. So, environment Illinois, here I come. I'm going to be a student activist. Woot. Truthfully, it's a dream come true.

Besides ideologically, there are other reasons I think that this job is the best one for me. Over the past couple of years, I've become both more judgmental and introverted. At some other point I'll expound on what I gather the reasons for this to be but to sum: the uncertainty of my head makes me hesitant to reach out to others. And this makes me sad. So, how do I combat these new characteristics? By placing myself in a situation where my paycheck depends on my outgoing, persuasive people skills. Yup. It's going to be a challenge.

Bring it on

I'm Trying, Swear to God

"Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

-Ranier Maria Rilke

Framing the Alice's

Yet another response for my Louis Carroll/Alice in Wonderland Class. Snarky snark snark.

Every author has his style, as does every academic and admittedly, some are more pleasing then others. Styles range from pedantic, tedious, and boring to thrilling, exuberant, and irreverent. Sadly, "Framing the Alices” by William A. Madden is much more the former, trying to approach a body of works that is drastically nearer the latter. It is almost tragic that an author so revered for his gaiety and layers of meaning is being subject to the hermeneutic onslaught of someone so lacking in creative spark or even the gift of elegant metaphor.

In the world of academia, many topics are soporific. It is the task of the intellectual to wade through the uninteresting, irrelevant, and inconsequential to reach the islands of stimulating research and joyful understanding. William A. Madden saw the island, but was too distracted by his own posterings and accidentally slipped into a deep muddy pit. While there is some joy in scholastic knowledge for the sheer joy of it in itself, it is hard to focus a message when it lacks readable turn of phrase and is crusty with it is own pedantic ooze.

Madden's aim is to account for the literary import of the poems that frame the Alice works. In his opinion, these bits have not been fully exploited as of yet and he hopes to gleam some intellectual nuggets from their unexplored depths. Firstly, Madden claims to be looking for a cohesive explanation for said poems that does not shore up theories that point to Dodgeson/Carroll's neurosis. Yet, by his stretching and grabbing for interpretations that seem, well over reaching, he seems to fall prey to the same neurosis that plagued Carroll. To quote some ridiculousness:

Thus the wreath embodies the three dimensions of linear time: a reminder of the meaning and identity that derive from memory's link with the past, a token of love that redeems the present and gives it value, and an emblem of an artwork with the power endlessly to renew a timeless present in which it is always next time.

Even out of context, this seems to be stretching it. An item that is mentioned once towards the end of the prefatory poem of Alice in Wonderland? One can take a glancing look at the field of literary criticism that has sprouting from the fertile ground of Carroll’s works and easily see that issues of time abound. Nevertheless, to wrap this nuanced discussion entirely into one brief mentioning? I think not.

I am in no way attempting to slight the findings of Madden, or show disdain for intellectualism at a whole. However, I do decry unwarranted exaggerations of focus. While it seems that Madden has discovered and pointed to some interesting things in Carroll’s framing poems, he pushed it too far. Do they act as frames, as he suggests? Yes. Do they help set the tones of the various interlocking sections? Yes. Do they provide convenient transitions? Yes. Is there unexplored intellectual territory there? Yes, but, “the Wonderland dream tale becomes, in this context, a reminder of the reader of both the need and the possibility of transcending the debilitating decorum of ordinary existence through a renewal of perception that is the central effect of Wonderland itself when the reader fully experiences it.” Again, I think not. Is one really to believe that readers were not able to gain the fully Alice experience before the benevolent Madden came along with his brilliant insight? Still, I think not.

Moreover, it seems to me that this is a problem that plagues the academic world: being able to nurture relevant interpretation and critical commentary and weeding out the crap. As a reader, I may have missed some of the gems that Madden so laboriously worked to free from the mire. Why? Because of his over-falutin’ aim and his lack of readable prose. When you say things like, “[the poems] show the seeds of spiritual death to be latent even in the innocent Alice, ” I have trouble reading the rest of the treatise with a straight face. Madden does prove his most basic claim: that there is unexplored, unappreciated territory in the framing poems, (not that anyone was anywhere close to calling the end to interpretative work on the Alice books) but the style and outlandish quality of the way he does it makes the reader not care. If you are interested in wading into this literary pond, I suggest reading the poems and applying your own intellect, not getting your mental waders covered in unnecessary Madden-colored mud.

25.5 Hours and Counting

UCSC
Should be researching stuff for work
or reading Heidegger
but instead . . .
12:28 pm
Thursday, May 25, 2006

For Alii's graduation, for fun, for to get away from it all, Alii, Lauren, Katherine and I are all going camping. Camping. Summer Camping.

We're leaving tomorrow at 2:00. Here's all the shite I need to get done between now and then.

class
class
discussion (prolly not)
go to costco
buy food
and a cooler
go to michael's
dread beads
pack
not forget anything
load the car
go see Al?
gangsta shit
hang out with Steiner
two weeks worth of Heidegger
study Heidegger so I don't fail everything
study for Ethics exam so I don't fail everything
paint toe nails
shave
wax dreads
sleep?

Now that I've typed all that, it doesn't seem unachievable. But you see, the problem is that I should spend all weekend studying. Yup, all damn weekend. But no, I think instead I'll dance in a field.

Truth be told: I'M MF-IN' EXCITED

the music. the people. the excitement.the glorywonderhappiness of it all. the jams. the sunrise. the hippies. the lights. the smells. the rain. the love. I'm overdue for a Hippie Church Revival.

It's the official start of the summer. It's Punkin's first hippie fest! Spee! I'm so glad that she has grown to like my music and become a fan in her own right. I love jammin' next to her, going on adventures. It makes me overjoyed and full of love to get to share this part of my life with Punkin. She's the greatest. Not to slight Alii and Katherine: they're dank too. For sure. In short: it's going to be a transplendent weekend festivus.

In other news: a week from now I should be going to camp. I still haven't heard, but they have all of my information and should get back to me later today. I realized last night that if I don't get to go to camp -- and I still think I definitely will -- that wouldn't be the end of the world.

Drinking too much with Ayse. Waitressing somewhere. Or bartending. Lots of independent camping. Movies in Grant Park. Time to paint. Most especially: I'd get to go home to Texas soon and stay for a good while. It's not like I'd have a job to rush back to or anything.

Realizing that has made me less anxious about everything. About the possibility that all of my dreams aren't coming true right this instant. Camp will/would be amazing. But I have faith in my ability to have a bitchin' summer no matter what.

Also, I called and talked to my dad about the possibility of my not doing so hot in Heidegger since I basically failed the mid-term. He reminded me of how important it is to stay balanced while at the same time reassuring me that it's okay for me to be focused on my life as a whole with school as a part instead of obsessing about grades. I love my dad.

I'm no too worried about the repercussions of doing poorly in school. This summer will be awesome regardless. Most of the things that previously seemed beyond management, are in fact, quiet handleable.

Ladies and Gentlemen: the mean reds have moved on.

my life is in shambles
yes, that's how i roll
being a slacker isn't all it's cracked up to be
eventually you have to do the work
and then you realize that if only if only
little bits of work are easier to deal with then massive
hulking chunks

i've realized that yes
i do work better with too much on my plate
it leaves less room for uncontrolled chaos
i had a paper due today at 3 pm
i started it at 8:30 pm
because i fail life

i want to run away to the woods
and i may just get the chance
ADVENTURE DIRECTOR
no shitting you
that will hopefully be my title this summer at Camp Duncan
B-man: so you're going to camp?
and emerge every day and lead adventure?
then go back into the woods?
wow, you'll be the coolest person ever

but why is that i want to run away?
if only i knew
or do i?

i've been having horrifically beautiful memories of sean lately
like going to bed
and cherished facial expressions
the smooth expanse of his back
and i hate that
and i fear i'm to bitter to find
the pure blissful love i so desperately want
or worse, not brave enough to try

i'm real real REAL unstable right now
and sad sad sad
for no good reason really
except that i don't like me right now very much
that's why they give me a clinical title
duh

how about another definition?
insanity: doing the same thing and expecting different results
sounds like every relationship i've ever had

the mean reds are not because of the objective quality of life
the work load is not unmanagable
the friends good
the weather bearable
the baby cute
the summer imminent
the summer is eminent

why? why? why?
the best way to come apart is at the seems
but wait
wouldn't it be better to just not be broken?

other news: scav hunt was amazing
check out punkin for some mid-Hunt blogging
(woah. just typed 'punkin' in the navigator bar and woah)
(do it! do it!)
yes, i'll write more about it at some point
yes, i may be lying

i wish i'd just settle
i wish i could be more stable
more fulfilled
more involved
i don't do near enough
for anyone, myself included
i'm disappointed in myself for that
deeply, profoundly disappointed

people tell me all the time
you're one of those people:
committed to helping others
making a difference
and i fight the urge to tell them they're wrong

but at the same time, i'm not sure that i can
do more
be more
and that's deeply psychically frustrating
and scary

will i be able to fully function in the real world?
how can i have kids if
sometimes i can't even deal with myself?
to quote my mother
maybe i should worry about keeping a man around
before planning the children
i'm probably not physically capable of bearing

my hopes of being home before midnight were futile
my hopes are futile as well?
i've thought it possible before
and i think so now
it seems the reoccurence of such thoughts
proves its possibility for truth
there is a reason for everything
even this

UCSC almost time for Heidegger
beautiful day! beautiful day!
with a modicum of dayness
12:50 pm
Tuesday, May 9, 2006

madd skittish

Sunday night, Punkin was over and we were doing work, hanging out, like ya do and I began to tell her about how I'd been having involuntary hallucinations all day. Weird auras around the edges of my vision. Floating, sparkley gold curlicues romping around in my field of sight. (Katherine says she gets these when she holds her breath for two long and is doing physical activity, say weight lifting.) All this as I curl up in the fetal position on the sofa, huddled in a quilt, rocking slowly to myself, pulling at my hair.

The craziness is coming. coooOOOOOMMMmiiinnnggg. The crazy is neigh.

I asked Lauren, "Is it going to be okay when I totally go crazy the fuck during Road Trip?"
"Of course it is hunny. That's why everyone does Scav: to go crazy."

Well, at least I won't be alone.

Why this sudden onslaught of the madd? The tyranny of the obsessive? The heavy hand of doubt and confusion? The increase in THE NOISE in my head? I have some ideas.

I have no idea what I want right now. I say I do. Some people and their goddamn persnickering think they know too. I think we're all wrong. Somewhere along the line, I something in me changed. Come too close and I run! Flee! screaming to myself Why God WHY did I even stick around this long?!?

I woke up yesterday with a strong STRONG desire to fuck my nose up. THAT is never, NEVER EVER anything close to being a good sign about ANYTHING.

Why? I don't want to deal. My solitude, my set-in-my-wayness, my life, my personal Dasein is heavily guarded where once it was abhorred. I learned to be alone. Real well. The idea of having to change my life to let someone in -- Oh the horror! The idea of being "required" or "default obligated" to spend massive amounts of time with someone, automatic kisses, not being alone for my morning ritual. Ghastly. An abomination.

When is it exactly that I became so closed, guarded, distrusting and afraid of my fellow individuals? When did I lose the courage? When did I lose the heart? I'm saddened by this; deeply saddened. I remember I used to jump into these things with what has proved to be a rather reckless, thoughtless abandon. I would almost trade it for this obsessive confusion and over thinking.

And let's not even approach the idea of sex. I don't feel comfortable enough with myself, nor with anyone else. The thought alone makes me so uncomfortable that typing this, my stomach is clenched and it's taking a sheer monstrous will to continue typing. And now that I'm done, I may need to chain smoke.

I did a interpretive reading of the above and Lauren asked, exclaimed really, "WHAT? But you used to like sex, A LOT?" And I guess I still do. But thinking about sex, either theoretically or being faced with the actual prospect fills me mostly with dread. Sheer terror, to be quiet honest. And I don't possess the mental/emotional make-up for one-night stands. Trust me: I've tried. I end up feeling pretty hateful towards ALL OF HUMANITY AND EVERYTHING THEREIN for about three days afterwards. Then I want to crawl in a hole. Except for that one time in France. . . oh tasty French men.

Yet, I do crave love. I do want affection, support, the whole shebang. Hebang. I do want intimacy, someone to be comfortable with, kisses in the morning and dancing in the kitchen.

But I fear, that with The Love the Broke My Heart, the Love That Never Was as It Should Be, and The Love that Beckons from Afar, I may be incapable. At least now. Who's to blame me for being scared and pretty damn unwilling?

What it comes down to is that I'm not sure I have the capacity to go through the requisite bullshit to get to anything else besides said initial bullshit. And that's just it: I don't want to deal with bullshit. At all. A long time ago I decided to keep all bullshit to a minimum, mostly meaning not creating or bringing any into my life if it can be helped. But, dating? I might as well fuck that plan.

Yet that being said, I'm in no way saying I'm done with this whole crazy looking for love-happiness-fufillment-commitment thing. In no way is that true. I'm just whelmed. Whelmed and skittish. Mad skittish. Let it be known.

So, that's where the crazy started. To your bowl of AnxietyPanicDreadHORRORconfusionhope, add a heaping teaspoon of Scav Hunt, a smattering of assignments, a sprinkle of Mother's day, two sick children, and pour into a hallucination-greased pan. Bake at 420 degrees with no sleep, for three days, and you'll get a tort ripe for sharing at the Madd Hatter's Tea Party.

EEEEeeeaaaAAAHHHHHCcccckkkkKKKKKK. the fuck.

Chillin' with Mable (the couch)
And Punkin!
All the Cool Kids Write Papers
Moby: Play
Heidegger is soooo not my bitch.
In fact, I was pretty much owned.
5:22 am
Thursday, May 4, 2006

I need to come up with a better way for dealing with people. Namely, for specifically dealing with people I don't want to deal with. "Deal with" implies that said persons are already a part of my life, and by doing said action, they will become less so. Currently, whens someone needs to be dealt with, I just cease communicating with them. Entirely. It works suprisingly well, yet I feel it lacks compassionate kindness. Maintaining physical distance while being less then warm and amiable? Not very nice, but what do you do? Really, I ask you, what do you do?

I've been sick sick sick but today! Today! I woke up full of dayness. (By wake - up I mean get off the couch where I'd been dosing while watching Diego with the Cute and Small) You know how sometimes you wake up, realizing that you have 643.8 things to do, all before lunch? And sometimes, that rare, beautiful sometimes (usually positively correlated with the weather and impending springness) you're not whelmed over or under. You stand ready and willing to greet the day, meet the task, give full measure, earn you beer on the porch when all's said and done. You are full of dayness. And today I was.


I got a wonderful note.

Dear Mia --

You just don't know how much a joy it is to get those short phone calls from you. They lighten my day -- and give me a reason to persist. I have to be honest. I have a direction in my life now, however some days those goals seem far away and unattainable. I see how hard you are working to reach yours and it gives me a kick in the ass. Always remember that i love you -- and maintain Balance in all you do.

Love always,

dad

So, with that, without even knowing, my Dad has yet again inspired me to suck less at life -- academia to be specific. These last two weeks have been a waste of the governments money as far as my education goes. What gives? Dad's note made me realize that the Balance has come askew. And, thanks to our fantastic, loving circle of understanding and support, I can see that and work towards correcting it.

Incompetence Rears His Ugly Head

I accidentally cashed myself Friday night. I just blinged -- blung? -- a little too hard, and woke up Saturday (for work of all things) sad sad sad with the state of affairs. We're talking hacking cough, chills, aches, dizziness, inability to form cohesive thoughts. The not eating for days may have contributed, but hey, whatev. Luckily, I caught a nap on the couch in the lobby like a hobo, and was ready to give my presentation at 1:00. It was odd. I think most of the people just assumed I was some overworked, under rested Med Student, collapsed under the weight of O-Chem and unreal expectations. Freshly enlivened by my nap, I was able to regale the masses with everything they need to know about the Community Service Fund and the Community Service Finance Committe. All with the kind of hangover that just makes you feel stooped.

The night before, when we were all hanging out with Sydney, everyone remembered that I'm secretely a Giant Bureaucrate. Oh the horror! The travesty!! This giant hippie secretly climbs the ladder of bureaucratic bullshit on a regular basis? It was so shocking that Katherine had to go ride her bike. I forget sometimes too. Keep in mind: I'm a bureaucrate for social justice.

Insert three days of sleeping here.

I had this Heidegger midterm that was due Tuesday, right? And I realized very early on that I wasn't going to get in done in time. I'm better now, but only recently. It's a good thing I bought 4,304 doses of NyQuil at Costco because I've been downright loopy on the stuff for days now. So, like the good student I am (Oh shut up, you. Quit your snickering.) I decided to seek an extension as opposed to writing a bunch of drug ridden dribble that would make Heidegger cry. An extension of glory, if you will.

What do you do when you want an extension? You email the T.A., he says yea or nay, and everyone goes about their business. Right? In perfect form, I email home dude on Saturday afternoon, once my condition became startling clear -- that would be right after I feel over trying to get off the couch. His name is Clark Remington. I couldn't make that up, folks.

I don't hear from him.
I don't hear from him.

I get an email MONDAY AFTERNOON saying that my TA is an incompetent idiot and I'm going to have to ask the Prof. This paper is due TUESDAY at 1:30. I ask you, as a T.A., what do you do? What is the point? You hold office hours, lead discussion secition, AND GIVE EXTENSIONS. You don't know if I can have an extension? What is it exactly you do? WHAT GOOD ARE YOU TO ME? Don't get me started on the need for timeliness.

I emerge from my NyQuil fog Tuesday morning long enough to check my email and crawl in bed with Alii.
Still no email. No email. No email.

Then, under the influence, I emailed the Prof, telling him what's been happening. And telling him that he'll have his paper on Thursday. So, yea, I, uh, kinda, uh, gave myself an extension. I hope it worked.

Still no word from either.
Still no paper either.

BUT I'M NOT DOPED UP ON NYQUIL!! I CAN WALK ACROSS THE ROOM WITHOUT FALLING OVER!! HACKING COUGH IS GONE! That's got to count for something. Heidegger paper domination: here I come.

I'm only going to make it to 50% of my classes this week.
Hey, it's up from 33% last week.