Feb 2011 Goals

Life has resumed enough to create goals again. *Ah* feels good. There is a lot of finishing that I need to do before I move on in some ways. Finish moving in. Finish vaulted video projects. Finish throwing out wedding stuff and writing thank you cards. This winter will be about making good on creative promises and closing the book before I begin to open more. Finishing is a really important part of the artist (and life) process that I have never been very good at. The next three months (until my birthday) I'm going to try really hard to strengthen that muscle. And maybe some others.

Oooooh, this makes so much sense NOW.

It is fascinating being on this side of the wedding planning line. My sister got engaged last week, and tonight I saw her for the first time post engagement. I went in with a list of self imposed rules: No asking about wedding plans unless she brought it up (asking about the proposal and all of that, totally fine.) No sentences that start with charged sentiment like, "You know what's a great idea..." or "It'd be great if..."

Lessons from Too Much Stuff (and A&E)

There are five levels of hoarding. You can tell a person's level not so much by the amount of stuff they have (although that may give you a clue) but from the type of help they need to fix the problem. Maybe they just need a friend to come in and point out that no, they actually never wear those 18 pairs of four inch heels. Or maybe they need a professional organizer, a trained psychologist, and pest control. 

Rarely does a television show change my life but I can now point to two. Back in 95/96 I watched the movie Babe. Yes the one with the talking pig. I've been a vegetarian ever since. Three weeks ago I had exhausted my Hulu queue and Netflix instant popped up the show Hoarders. I'd always avoided it due to its "reality show" genre and I just assumed it took advantage of people in compromising situations. What I saw however was a story that reflected my own habits of consumption and keeping in a way I had never had before.

Tsk Tsk

Coming back from a wedding is hard. I use to tsk tsk when I heard brides say this. Like "oh poor you not getting to pick out dresses anymore." But that is a way too simple assessment of something that is much more emotionally complex.

The truth is, it's hard not b/c of the what, but b/c of the how long and the how focused. As an event, a wedding takes a lot of life energy and mental focus to plan. I've done enough video projects to know that I have project let down after each and every one of them. (After a really good play is the worst.) But for 6 months most of my days were spent siphoning my wants (our wants), wishes and family mental health through this one event. Eye of a pin or something. Now that the event is over (whether it had been a wedding or directing a feature length film) I have spent more time than I suspected untethered.

But I can feel it coming back. I can see ground below my feet quietly rising from the distance. And I know that soon again I will feel my toes touch the earth and I will be off running again among the living.

And it's september. Who can't love that.

Size of a Dime

 

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The History Teller

We have all run into that old woman in the grocery store. "When I was young," launches a thousand words, strung together about days of yore. But not your days of yore. Nor the person next to you. And after the story ceases there is kind of no place to go. Yeah, you can ask them more about that history but because it's a personal history the dynamic is question (you) answer (them.) It is not an actual conversation. And you realize that pretty quickly and are eaten by awkwardness. That awkwardness illuminates the trouble with this trait: it isolates the teller. They feel they are *sharing* something with you but really they are removing themselves from you even if just a little.

Half of my family is story tellers. The other half is 100% not. If you're not careful, paternal family reunions can be one Homer-esque telling of the same stories you heard the last time you got together. As kids I remember LOVING these stories. As an adult I cringe. They leave nothing to actually converse about. It's like attending a lecture of one. On one side Dad at the podium. At the other side you in a soft folding chair watching the wall clock.

Parent Protocal

Interaction with Mom:
Mom tells me a story about this lavish wedding where the family did all this work, it ended up raining...like monsoon type of rain, the bride reacted so horribly that the father (owner of the yard) ended up not even attending the wedding. (And she is in noooo way hinting I will be like this with this story. It's told neutrally.)

Me: That's horrible. If it rains for us, we will put on our REI jackets, hand out umbrellas and take pictures of us laughing through it all.

Mom: You can't find umbrellas this time of year.