It's there when I walk to class. It's there when I read. It's there when I write.
Toothpick.
2012/01/30
Ode to toothpick
I've taken to toothpicks. I like the look and feel of a toothpick. I usually keep one between my lips. I have one there right now. This toothpick is my friend.
2012/01/24
What stories are for
It'll be another late night at #METASWAG.
I now have a full staff under my wing at the IDS, which, with the invaluable help of Fran, I'm doing my best to manage. I never could've anticipated the toll working a full-time job and studying as a full-time student would take on my free time. It's something of a happy (privileged) dilemma, though. And here I am.
This morning I woke up emotionally numbed, despite being rocked to sleep by that extraordinary thunderstorm last night. The wind and rain threw me into an enriching sort of journey through past summer storms. It was a lovely high that felt earned. Nevertheless, I was hazy this morning...
... Until I picked up Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried. It's already burrowed its sparse imagery and lyrical self-reflection into my consciousness. It's the rare sort of storytelling that makes me want to sit down and write something its equal. After I spent an hour with that masterwork I hopped in the shower feeling completely renewed. I played Julianna Barwick's The Magic Place as loud as I could and curled up under the hot water, breathing deeply and feeling out my headroom.
If I hadn't snuck that holy moment into my morning, I doubt I could've confronted the rest of my day. It was a typically demanding run through my white, male, bourgeois commitments to journalism and academia.
Tragically, because I chose to party so rapturously over the weekend, I've suffocated my weeknights with readings - which are thankfully engaging and diverse - and thrown away any hope of relief till Thursday.
Speaking of the weekend: How about that ice? It robbed me a retreat to Andrew's home, but later provided us a deliciously difficult obstacle course to overcome. Turns out Falafels tastes best after trekking through the frozen tundra with your friends. Turns out Drive looks best from the back of an unsophisticated auditorium. Turns out the air smells best when your sinuses aren't clogged.
And it turns out reading feels better once you've taken the time to slow down and appreciate the day.
I now have a full staff under my wing at the IDS, which, with the invaluable help of Fran, I'm doing my best to manage. I never could've anticipated the toll working a full-time job and studying as a full-time student would take on my free time. It's something of a happy (privileged) dilemma, though. And here I am.
This morning I woke up emotionally numbed, despite being rocked to sleep by that extraordinary thunderstorm last night. The wind and rain threw me into an enriching sort of journey through past summer storms. It was a lovely high that felt earned. Nevertheless, I was hazy this morning...
... Until I picked up Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried. It's already burrowed its sparse imagery and lyrical self-reflection into my consciousness. It's the rare sort of storytelling that makes me want to sit down and write something its equal. After I spent an hour with that masterwork I hopped in the shower feeling completely renewed. I played Julianna Barwick's The Magic Place as loud as I could and curled up under the hot water, breathing deeply and feeling out my headroom.
If I hadn't snuck that holy moment into my morning, I doubt I could've confronted the rest of my day. It was a typically demanding run through my white, male, bourgeois commitments to journalism and academia.
Tragically, because I chose to party so rapturously over the weekend, I've suffocated my weeknights with readings - which are thankfully engaging and diverse - and thrown away any hope of relief till Thursday.
Speaking of the weekend: How about that ice? It robbed me a retreat to Andrew's home, but later provided us a deliciously difficult obstacle course to overcome. Turns out Falafels tastes best after trekking through the frozen tundra with your friends. Turns out Drive looks best from the back of an unsophisticated auditorium. Turns out the air smells best when your sinuses aren't clogged.
And it turns out reading feels better once you've taken the time to slow down and appreciate the day.
2012/01/12
Freak
I'm feeling especially enlightened lately.
What could've been a whirlwind of commitment-juggling has instead felt like heaven. While the work has felt overwhelming at times, it's never soured my day. Rather, I have found human moments in between my hours and hours at the IDS and everything else in my life. My editorship takes the lead, but can't slow me down. I've maintained all my resolutions, figured out new things about myself and those I care about, and finally feel like I'm accomplishing something real.
The challenge of maintaining a full-time job and completing schoolwork and keeping up relationships is taking me to brand new parts of my headroom. It's amazing, really. All I feel is proud of myself.
Change has never felt so constructive.
What could've been a whirlwind of commitment-juggling has instead felt like heaven. While the work has felt overwhelming at times, it's never soured my day. Rather, I have found human moments in between my hours and hours at the IDS and everything else in my life. My editorship takes the lead, but can't slow me down. I've maintained all my resolutions, figured out new things about myself and those I care about, and finally feel like I'm accomplishing something real.
The challenge of maintaining a full-time job and completing schoolwork and keeping up relationships is taking me to brand new parts of my headroom. It's amazing, really. All I feel is proud of myself.
Change has never felt so constructive.
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