Academia Nuts

I'm a grad student at Quinnipiac University now. Go figure! Well, the professional world of design was kind of winding down. I've felt called to switch careers several times now, but in order to affect that kind of a life change I needed to find some kind of new credentials. Where to get credentials? Academia.

I'm studying Interactive Communications at Quinnipiac University. Beautiful campus, not too far from home, and financial aid covers tuition. Room and the rest are still on my shoulders, but they already were anyway so I didn't add anything to my financial load beyond extra gas to get here and back.

So I'm back in college for the first time in a while. I stayed long enough before, but those were the early 90's so the World Wide Web and the campus environment were very different. Heck, *I* was pretty different. And now I'm in school. Well, it kees me moving forward, and I'm already getting lots of ideas even before I've hit all my classes.

Speaking of which, it's time for my first face-to-face class of the semester. Better head over to the building. It's still kind of surreal to me right now, but I'm doing the homework and getting it all taken care of as best as I can.

Did I mention the home computer seems to have some common libraries going corrupt on us? No? Well, just add it to the list. I'm counting the days until my tuition refund from not taking 5 classes this semester, just 4. I'll be investing in a copy of the school-recommended Dell laptop, just so I can make the transition from a desktop to a mobile platform of a laptop. And trust me, I would totally use it everywhere.

Anyhow, on to my class. This blog will hopefully add in a bit more information about online conventions and insights as I not only add to my technical and professional portfolio of skills but also open up design and interactive projects for my own personal expressions. Can't wait! Creation Required, and this is just an intermediate step to continuing with all that this entails.

Character Sheet

I just need to store this someplace online to be available to others. Using this as the bandwidth.

Cable out again, no Warcrack :(

Well, it's that time of the season when the paychecks don't line up right and the Cable company gets vicious. We've got another 'cable interruptus' happening right now, which means no phone calls out right now and worse, no Warcrack. I mean, life revolves around Warcrack, sorta. Okay, so it doesn't really, but Warcrack is fun and I enjoy blowing off some smoke and just grinding. I'm really starting to 'get it', as far as the endgame thing goes.

Well, that's good because I'm approaching it again. I was capped at 60 until they brought out Burning Crusade and upped things to 70. I started the slow, inevitable climb and now I'm churning things out. Finally reconnected to my mage-ness with Runika. Here, for those who play and want to see her on the new 'Armory' website from Blizzard...
Runika

It's not like I play all the time. Storm started playing Runika on the off hours because, well, it's a fast ticket to the top instead of earning his way there on Vanolen. But I don't mind. He mostly PvP's, and I mostly don't. So it works out. Just makes me feel slightly schizophrenic when chatting with folks because it's the same alt, different gamers.

In any event, Burning Crusade came out in February, and here it is almost July and I'm still grinding out the upper levels. 67 for now. But the pacing picked up.

HEY! It's not like I live this stuff. We're talking maybe an hour or two of play every other day or so. Back in college, I would have speed-levelled and sunk most of my time into the game. I imagine most college kids do this now, themselves. And when I was unemployed and without freelancing prospects, I got so turned off on the game I gave up the whole 24/7 thing because I didn't want to be living in a fantasy world.

All good. Adults need a different pace. But now, I'm finally starting to absorb the way things work in the game, and starting to plan out my strategies for self-improvement as I come close to the level cap again. I'm not rushing into it, but I'm not dallying either. I hope that next week when I'm not freelancing, I'll be able to grind out the last two levels to 70 and finally, finally get myself into the endgame again when it's all about Rep and Item sets.

Ah well. We'll see. But until Wednesday, there's no hope. Cable's out, and payday is Wednesday.

-Adam

Getting back to things?

I've been freelancing again as a graphic designer. My bank account thanks me profusely, but my Landlady has been less than happy with having to wait until mid-month to get the rent. It's on its way, so we're fine, I just hate disappointing people and looking irresponsible.

With freelancing in my life again, my schedule is slowly returning to the M-F 9-5 corporate grind pace. I'm just happy to be productive. Such an odd feeling, really, but there it is. I'm not cut out for not having a job yet. I'm sure I could get there, but I don't have the chops for it quite yet.

With the return to work, even temporarily, I'm prolonging my unemployment benefits, so the weeks that I have no work or don't clear my unemployment benefit amount I can at least count on that to get me by. I'm also able to pick up the pieces of everything that I dropped these last few months, including the return to art.

Personal Patterns

I know myself well enough that I really think I can stop trying to live up to someone else's ideas of how my creative work should go. I know that actively -working- on it will yield the best results, but the creative urges come and go. Focus shifts. When things get to the point that they're ready to move forward, they do. As things get closer to completion, I can buckle down and study or be productive, but until I can see a point I want to get to, I'm generally not able to work on things that don't interest me.

It's not a good habit to have for the purpose of making money off of my art, but it's a lovely luxury for an artist who earns a living in the daily grind.

Well, I'm returning to Guru Dave next month to resume lessons. I've got Craft projects running now (that's Craft of the Wise projects, not 'Arts and'), a novel at a midpoint break, and my fine arts pursuits. My recent return to the freelancing world of graphic design has actually increased my Photoshop skills significantly. Not in the manner of picking up whole new avenues, but more in the way of "the penny dropped" and I 'got' how to use the Channel Mixer and Selective Color palettes for better control over photo retouching.

Took me a bit, but I'm glad I picked it up.
Still, I'm happy to be returning to working with Guru Dave. I've missed the studio and the intense possibilities that he represents. As well as the "tidying up the past art education I neglected" bits.

Well, we'll see. Really.
Back to work for now.

Update

It's been a bit of a ride this past couple of months. I was fired from my job doing recruiting, went on unemployment, had a hearing, and the hearing was found in my favor. My old boss still didn't get me my stuff back, and I found the original hearing decision suddenly challenged by my old boss who tried to claim I was guilty of 'Wilful Misconduct'. We went before a much more formal appeals adjudicator, got sworn in, gave testimony, questioned each other, etc. A week or so later, the adjudicator communicated her findings to us both in writing... intial decision upheld. I'm not guilty of wilful misconduct, I'm still entitled to my unemployment benefits. And on we go.

Now, it's 3:45 on a Friday afternoon. I'm waiting for more work to come in because I cleared the hopper ahead of time. I'm back freelancing again for one of the industry giants. I'm not going to say where, because my psycho ex-boss seems to not be able to get beyond our differences and has actually threatened to attack my reputation and livelihood in the last email she sent to me. So I'm keeping a low profile when it comes to -her-. She fired me, fine... it was a bad fit for a job anyway. But she tried to make it into some kind of weird extended breakup. She still hasn't returned any of my stuff. I'm writing it off as a loss, and good riddance, frankly.

So anyway, I'm here at this agency, got done with the work, got invited back for next week with possibilities of renewal beyond. Great news! Awesome!

The unique work world of advertising

It's hard to understand what you have until it's lost. I formed my first profession in the world of Connecticut Advertising, and I was blind to some of the better perks that come with working in the industry. For example, I've just been treated to a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and some cheese, served to the whole agency as a regular Friday treat.

In another example, my resume impressed the department head, and my performance yesterday assured them that my experiences were bona fide. I'm left pretty much to my own work ethic and devices to plan and execute my day. I get told the deadlines and what the agency needs, and then they leave me to provide it. We don't dally because the work tends to pile up if you do, but we aren't tied to punching a clock. I'm treated like an adult whose professional experience is sufficient to make my own decisions regarding my workday flow. So long as I deliver on time and on target, I'm left to manage myself.

Not so in the rest of the world, where appearances matter more than reality, and everyone is treated like interchangeable cogs in a machine. I guess that's because of the Art aspect to advertising. Artists don't respond well to timetables and schedules and micromanagement as a rule, and two equally competent artists are NOT equivalent, because each has their own style. Management quickly learns just how fast commercial artists will jump ship if they aren't treated respectfully, and the non-artists tend to enjoy the same level of pampering (at least in the corporate sense of things) that the rest do, too.

Casual dress every day. Emphasis on the deadline, not the kickoff meeting. Some flexibility for arrival times due to traffic and the fact that mornings are not normally 'productive' time for agencies. Yet everyone stays until their jobs get out the door or done for the night. No exceptions. If a rush job drops in your lap at 4:55pm, and it's going to take you 3 hours to do it and it HAS to get done, then you will be at work that night until 8pm or you get the job done.

It's a dedication to the job team, not to the job. There's a difference, and it's subtle, but it's an important one for me. I guess I should have gone out for team sports more in high school.

So... no more recruiting. Back to the bullpen for now as a graphic design freelancer. For as long as it lasts. There's more plans in the works, but I'm not divulging yet.

Wandering

It's been a while, mentally and emotionally, since my last post. My boss found out I was looking for another job because I was not happy working for her. One of the places I applied at contacted her and let her know illegally that I was looking, and she used this as the reason for my dismissal.

In the time since, she has refused to give me my personal belongings, she has threatened to use her contacts to 'destroy me' professionally speaking, and after declining to participate in the hearing where the CT Labor Board awarded me unemployment, now she is using her legal right to appeal that decision. I finally got my last paycheck, but I'm still waiting for my personal items.

I've been on an emotional rollercoaster in the process. Being unemployed has taught me a lot about myself. I've been writing, but not often. I'm too scattered to produce much. I've had to wrestle with feelings of uselessness, and I've even started looking into just doing per diem work as a stagehand for the local Performing Arts centers in order to have something to -do-. I need to be busy. I need to be employed. I need my day job.

South Beach has had to go on hold. Eating well costs much more money than eating to survive. Weird, but true. All the same, I'm maintaining my lost weight in the interim.

I've been wrestling with perception, mostly, and that's the key. Lots of stuff has happened in between, including the death of my grandmother, Marie Schillinger, the last of the eldest generation for my extended family. The generation machine kicked forward another notch, and now I'm in the generation my parents formerly occupied, and they're now in the generation formerly belonging to my grandparents. Death and mortality have been very evident for me, as well as the feeling of uselessness and the omnipresent knowledge that no matter how hard I try I'm still utterly weird.

But hopefully everything will work out well for me. I've had another interview, back at the company I worked for before my 'career experiment' with Recruiting. I had left on good terms, and the folks I would be working with all approved me for returning. Now we just need to see who else applied for the job, and what direction the department is going to be shaped into. I remain hopeful.

Fine art... well, one of the things that this time has done for me is demonstrate that fine art as a passion does not yet run so deep that being without ability to make it causes my soul discomfort. Writing, on the other hand, and stories... I can't stop. Even when I refuse to type, my writing finds other outlets. Long, epic emails. Long blogger posts. :) Analyzing the story structure and underlying mythic motifs present in a Star Trek Voyager episode (Unimatrix Zero, for those who are curious). Renewed interest in D&D campaign plots. It all leaks out the edges.

Creation Required.

Good title.

Weigh in, 2 weeks

Two weeks into the South Beach diet. I'm cooking more at home so we're saving money. I'm not starving at all, in fact I'm always rather full. I don't feel as tired anymore. I'm -not- exercising or changing anything other than the foods that I'm eating. Last night I used Tish's scale to weigh myself. Now, the numbers aren't important in and of themselves, and Tish's scale is not digital, nor is it in any way guaranteed to be calibrated to Dave's scale.

With that said, I started out 2 weeks ago at 299. I weighed in last night at 282. It took us a little while in the party to actually do the math, but four drunk adults at a party finally figured out that this means I lost 17 pounds in 2 weeks.

The first 10 pounds is all water, and the diet slows down from here. Which is fine by me, really. No, seriously. I was a little surprised at how much I'd lost, and got worried for a moment that I was dropping too much at once. I know. I know... everyone wishes the changes to their eating habits had such a thing to worry about. But my goal is overall health. And 17 pounds in two weeks seems to be too fast.

But I assure you, I feel great. I'm looking forward to the spring so I can get back into the gym again in the mornings. See how things go from there.

I'd love to start hiking. Seriously. Maybe do the camping thing, too. Overnight hike into the woods. Not just for the idea of hiking, but also to fuel my art. Get out into nature and see. And get a nice digital camera so that I can collect photo studies for later art pieces.

Maybe a hiking trip would be some kind of reward for this. I was just gonna say "Maybe the digital camera would be a good reward for this." Maybe a year anniversary gift. But I think that if I can do this for one year, then I should go on a hiking trip ... with the camera. One year. Doesn't have to be a tour or anyplace fancy. And I give myself permission to wait until the summer for it, too. ;)

So there we have it. South Beach diet 1 continuous year from now, no matter what phase. I'm planning on cheating for the Christmas holidays. Last 2 weeks of the year. But I'll cheat responsibly... if I get all the way there I won't want to wreck what I've accomplished. But if this is a diet then it has to survive falling off the wagon. If I do it intentionally, then I know that I can maintain it. So that's a good test...being able to get back on the diet January 2, 2008, after 2 weeks of "Phase 4". :-) Then back into Phase 1, which isn't bad. At all.

I really like this food plan. I think this might actually be a complete lifestyle change for me. Funny that it comes right on the edge of deciding to actually be different, to be an artist, to take chances and make statements. Could it be that I've been resisting this for so long that I was indeed a blocked creative? HAH! Wow... this is pretty .... intense.

But in a good way.
-Adam

Unwritten

A big 'thank you' to Natasha Beddingford for the inspiration of her pop song "Unwritten". It's very helpful sometimes. I think I'm finally going to put together some mix CDs of creatively-inspiring music. Trouble is that there's a lot of different styles for it and it depends on mood.

But I still think that it's just wonderful to be driving down the road and have a track like "Unwritten" come on the radio. It's one of those songs that carries the reminder and communicates the call to create. Beautiful stuff, really, both for its own aesthetic merit, but also because it catches you at odd times when you aren't paying attention. It's like the siren's call from the imam, beckoning the Createful to attend to the Making.

Kind of inspiring, to do work like that. I think I feel a poem coming on. ;) I'll let you know how it turns out.

Or I'll just space out for a couple of minutes while I'm supposed to be writing job descriptions and flesh out a rough draft.

The Call of the Making
---------------------------------------------
Attend to the call of the Making
Attend to the call of the dream
Our lives are the canvas before us
Our hearts dancing gold in the stream.

We live by the flow and the measure,
The seas at high tide and low ebb.
We speak with the voices of angels
And conquer our fear and our dread.

We dance with the passion of demons,
We know both the Grace and the Fall,
For we are the humans between them;
As artists we drink with them all.

Come to the place of the Making
Come to the place of rebirth.
From nothing to something it moves us,
The Muse manifesting on Earth.

Attend to the Call, ye Createful,
The imam is making is call,
Submit to Art's will and be grateful
The Muse will move through you at all.

Attend to the Call of the Making,
Attend to the Call of the Dream,
Ye artists and poets and dancers,
This vision of yours needs to be.

Monday, March 5, 2007

South Beach phase 1, day 7. I made it through the first week of the strictest phase of the diet. Correction, -we- made it. Storm has been doing this with me, too. And he's succeeded in staying on it, too. He used to be on Atkins full time, lost a lot of weight on it too... but once he came off of it... well, Atkins only works so long as you never, ever leave it. South Beach starts strict and gets more realistic as you go. So...

I'm noticing that I feel different. I can't put my finger on it, because it's not like I have a ton of abundant energy (wait till the end of March when I get back into the gym and then we'll see all the energy), but I don't have quite as much inertia working against me. If I sit down on the couch, I don't feel like I'm stuck to it anymore. I still complain mentally about having to get up and do chores, but it's nowhere near what it used to be.

I guess that's it. My life has long had an underlying tiredness to it. A weariness which was exacerbated by the depressive bouts. I used to think that the tiredness was just part and parcel of the whole Depression schtick, but now I'm beginning to think that there really is something to the notion of eating well will put you in a better head space.

I do miss pizza, but I found that the ghetto Stop & Shop next door actually sells nut flours (as well as nothing-added nut butters like Peanut Butter and Almond Butter, etc). So I think that when I go grocery shopping tonight, I'll buy a bag of the pure almond flour (nothing but ground almonds) and try making a pizza margherite from sliced tomatoes and goat cheese. Last night I made a tomato-basil-mozz mix for salad, and it was so sweet and nice, I'm going to be reprising that for tonight's salad.

That's another thing. I totally never "got" the whole concept that certain non-carb foods were actually sweet. But lemme tell ya, after just one week I can totally taste how a tomato really *is* a fruit. The sweetness is there. I never would have named tomatoes as being a 'sweet' food, but then I also wouldn't have named peppers or cheese as being 'sweet' either. But this is what life was like for the most part before refined sugars came along. I can only bet what bread is going to taste like next week.

Anyhoo, I was going to chat about art and my project ideas, but for right now I think I'll wrap this up and head out to lunch for my Mediterranean Salad with goat cheese and roast chicken.

See? I can't tell what's happening with my metabolism right now. I'm eating only healthy foods, and they're really becoming delicious. Some meals, like this morning, I eat more food than I ever did. But other meals, like last night, I stop halfway through because I'm full. A snack is literally a handful of nuts, and then the hunger is gone. One handful. Granted, I've got big hands, but also granted, they're feeding a big body, and not just from the fat. Large stature.

The thing I notice now, though, is that the low blood sugar moments are gone, but so is anything resembling a buffer between myself and my hunger. There is no gradual onset of hunger. One minute I'm full, the next minute... FEED ME! FEED ME ~NOW~!!! *lol* Well, that's what it feels like. Luckily, the timing is pretty consistent. About four hours after a meal, it's time to eat again. So I usually put one snack between lunch and dinner, and I push dinner back slightly so that by the time I start to approach hunger time I'm sleeping.

And Aquafina's FlavorSplash and the Polar flavored seltzers are godsends for me. Godsends. Don't get me wrong, I actually love ice water and drink it regularly. (My family must now be wondering who the hell I am and what I've done with their soda-only son). But I do like flavor. Too many flavors to sample and enjoy to allow myself to only drink water. The Polar Pomegranata Seltzer is a big favorite of mine. The Pomegranate covers the slight bite of the seltzer and fruits it up a bit, until I almost feel like I'm drinking pure juice. Almost.

Egads, Phase 2 must be like a food playground! Just imagine this diet if I could put maybe a glug or two of actual pomegranate juice into the seltzer. Just enough to color the water slightly. But, oh my.

Gonna try the low fat Ricotta, Splenda & unsweetened cocoa powder "dessert" tonight.
With the almond-flour 'pizza'. Ohhh... time for lunch. ;) More on art later.

Dali's 50 Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship

It's here! Oh frabjous day! Calloo! Callay! He chortled in his joy.

Yes, Dali's 50 Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship were just handed to me by the kind US Postman delivering Amazon's box o'goodies for me, including ART & FEAR: Observations On the Perils (and Rewards) Of Artmaking, by David Bayles & Ted Orland.



Also arriving today was THE VIEW FROM THE STUDIO DOOR: How Artists Find Their Way In An Uncertain World, by Ted Orland, one of the two authors of ART & FEAR. I have never read it, but I liked Orland's efforts on ART & FEAR, so I figured I'd give him a shot with his followup work.

ART & FEAR was a book I owned before, loaned out during the Great Sleep when my artistic side was encouraged to give up and let me be 'normal' with a 'real career'. Alas, like many great books, the loan never returned. But I'm not sad... it means that the word is getting out, and I've got a new copy of my own.

Back to Dali

My old Spanish Professor, Vilma Manzotti, PhD, at the State University of New York at Potsdam College, once chided her class of American students gently about the fact that we knew nothing about how to read a book. All books need to be read starting from the front cover, because there is vital information being missed. The Table of Contents sets out the outline of the work and helps put the reader in the right frame of mind. Dedications can be important, too, sometimes. And Forewords and Prologues all matter, because if they didn't they wouldn't be in the book.

So, with a nod to the wisdom of Vilma, I began at the front cover. Artwork by Dali himself. Pen & ink, thick and bold and fine and scratchy. An angelic figure behind a canvas where an artist is working, other "figures" or vaguely anthropomorphic ink swathes, stand about in various poses. Interesting to me is that the Angel figure, what I interpret as the Muse, is not looking at the painter or the painting, but is instead turning aside and reading a book.

Ahhh, Dali, your sin was that you knew your own greatness.

Inside the front cover we find a color plate of "Portrait of the Back of My Wife Contemplating Architectural Form". Fitting that Gala should make a very early appearance. Another page in we find another pen & ink drawing, "Port Lligat Madonna Help Me", then the Title page where I find that this is a translation.

Ah hah. You know how I said that art seemed now to be gathering to itself all of the component bits of my somewhat disjointed life? I was in Vilma Manzotti's classes for a reason, that being my undergraduate degree is in Spanish Literature. I'll read this through first in English, for the purposes of making an approach to Dali's writings, but I will have to secure a copy for myself in its original Spanish. Luckily, I am fluent in Spanish, and luckily still, I've had great philosophical discussions and dialogues with other academics and my professors about how translations must make a choice... either they have to be true to the literal words and translate as exactly as possible (a very scholarly approach), or else they have to translate the meaning of the text itself and sacrifice the exact language used (a very artistic approach). The best translators can use a little of both, but in every case, whenever you translate something you are completely dependent upon the lens of the translator to make the right choices, to be able to identify and see what is truly important to the text, to the author, and to the potential readers.

Best to always read it in the original language. Which is something the prophet Mohammed knew, and knew well, for he lay down the edict that the Q'ran must only be read or studied in the original language it was written in. Today, we call that Ancient Arabic, and student of the Q'ran must learn how to read it fluently. I'm willking to bet that Dali toyed with the idea, or would have agreed with it philosophically. I never met the man; more's the pity, but if I had to choose between meeting Pablo Picasso or Salvador Dali, I would choose Dali (although I know I might well have been disappointed by the interview, if he would have said more than 2 words to me at all).

Reading On

I do see that there are notes in the edition which tell us that the Dover edition has been slightly altered from the original... Gala's painting was not originally on the inside cover. My print production background tells me that it was cheaper to print the color pieces on the covers instead of putting a signature of color in the middle of the book, so this makes sense.

The other thing they mention is that in the original, Dali's name appeared without any accents, just as I've been writing it for fear of losing the accent in translation across ASCII and Unicode browsers. They put all of the accents in when they reprinted it from the original. Dalí. Interesting that in Dali's own time they didn't put the accents in... I'm not sure if this was an oversight or a preference of Dali's. More research would be needed, but I'm working on other things.

Dedication

Dedication follows, where Dali describes what he wanted at each of the decades of his life, and how things have grown. He also describes his mission "Now at forty-five" as being to paint a masterpiece so that he can save Modern Art from chaos and laziness. He swears he will succeed.

It's an interesting thing, really. Dali is known and talked about as a man of tremendous arrogance and ego. I'm not so certain it's completely undeserved, and that must be difficult to live with when you just want to wipe the smirk off of the man's moustachioed face.

Then follows a list of all of the 50 secrets with their titles, numbers, and page references. It begins with "1. The secret of the five different movements of the five types of brushes." and it ends with "50. The secret of the angel." Now, oddly enough, my mind is immediately drawn back to the front cover. I want to get to 50 because I suspect that he's alluding to the angel on the cover.

In skimming through the secrets, I see lots of references to weird and obscure things. Some of them jump out at me, though. Like this one. "19. The secret of learning to paint before knowing how to draw." Well, if the title alone is indicative (I highly doubt it's the whole shebang) then this one speaks directly to me. I don't yet consider that I know how to draw. Yet it's heartening to see that this might actually be a good thing, at least according to Dali.

Prologue and Quintessence

Stray comments about Dali having been at least passingly familiar with the occult from Guru Dave begin to draw attention to certain passages. Basically, Dali is setting down his parameters for what makes the artist great, and he says that it's the point of the book, which is revealed at the end in two lines. "...he will find it exactly in the last two lines of this book." Lines? Or lines? Word or sketch, I'm keeping my mind very open.

But it's a good point. I remarked to Dave that I pass by a fine art gallery in South Norwalk every day, and they regularly change out the paintings that they have in the front display to try and entice folks to come in. I've already seen that some of the works seem to have captured something of the spirit in them, while others seem to be merely color studies of various subjects in pretty frames. Some seem to be art, others seem to be paint on a canvas. Perhaps Dali will give me a better vocabulary to make my explanations from.

We shall see.

And now, on to the rest of the book.

More analysis of depression as an affliction

Sounds like the title for a bad psychology 101 paper. Heh. I guess that's one benchmark for sucess in this culture - if you can't inspire brilliance, at least get a disorder named after you on your way out, right?

I've been trying to think of how come I can detach sometimes from the depression and look at it analytically, and then other times it's just too much and I can't sit back and separate it out. You know what the one consistent factor is? Sunlight.

Yep, sunlight. When it's sunny out or I'm sitting by a window and getting lots of direct and indirect sunlight, I feel perfectly fine. Normal, even. Sure, the depression can be raging around inside my mind, but it gets much thinner and quieter in the sunlight. I don't think that happy lights do the same thing. I think that I need to be in a well-lit area during the wintertime.

Well, at least it's a simple solution, but the problem is that I don't get enough of it in the wintertime and there's nothing to be done about that when the sun has set each night. But at least in my current job I get to sit right by a window and look out at the sunlight each day.

Hey, I'm counting my positives and blessings. It's not that I'm stuck in despair, but I just need to figure out how to get myself motivated and in motion again. Funny thing, that... with motion comes stability. Momentum will overcome slight bumps in the road. If I can build up enough momentum it makes the path seem straighter. Like attaining aerodynamics through rifling a bullet (so it spins as it flies).

Those are my thoughts on the matter. We'll see if they bear out.

Road to Recovery

It's been a hell of a week, but I'm finally beginning to get back up into the healthy ranges of emotional variance again, instead of stuck down in the depths of despair. It's snowing lightly outside of work, and I've got a late appointment happening tonight at 6pm. Just interviewed someone who had very unreasonable expectations for salaries and parroted back all of my own recent questions to me. Should she stick this out or jump to another career path? Is it just a phase or is this a greater trend?

Had a call with an old manager and a competitor yesterday... in chatting about the industry he told me that my old supervisor has just posted excellent results and returns for January. *shrug* It's not a competition. I'm still recruiting and doing well, so I'm not worried. It's just a further commentary on how different a mindset I've got.

I noticed that one of my favorite shirts is now threadbare and with broken buttons today. Unfortunately the shirt is black so the threadbare part wasn't noticed until I was already here in the office. To cover it over I've put on my indoor fleece which keeps me warm. Even with the office heat on and toasty elsewhere, my desk sits me by a window and I'm constantly chilled here, so it's not unusual for me to wear the fleece.

I want to get HM's materials over to PM for presentation today. I think she'd be a good fit there, and they have an opening, so let's put da lime in da coconut.

Wrestling with the demons

Well, the shittiness of the weekend hasn't ended. I've been wrestling over and over with demons and not doing so well with it just yet. All of the other readings said that I'm where I need to be, just put up with it and let it pass.

"It'll all be over soon," said the priest, quoting God's response to the suffering of this lifetime. Too bad eternal anything is just as much of hell as brimstone and damnation.

I did have a wonderful dream of being special in a weird way and having no one left to share it with. What a strong message, eh?

Oh, and I read up on Time Magazine's articles about mapping consciousness and the human brain. Apparently scientists think they're getting closer to the point at which they can conclusively prove that the brain is the source of consciousness instead of merely its seat within the human body. How odd that quantum mechanics is rapidly approaching the point of convergence with the spiritual theories of planes of existence, energy, magic, and acausality while the neuroscientists think they've got a lead on eliminating the concept of soul.

That will never happen, mainly because science cannot -ever- conclusively establish causality, merely disprove something. And besides, the arguments which were put forth on why the soul needs to be removed as a concept were pretty pathetic and weak, philosophically speaking. "Because the last folks to die in celebrated means in order to attain a reward hereafter were the 9/11 Terrorists." Fuck off, Time writers. That's got to be the single weakest argument I've EVER heard. Just because there's a spiritual system which doesn't play well with modern sensibilities doesn't mean that the spiritual truths are to be so conveniently discarded. I don't care whether anyone actually believes like me or not, yet I'm quite the spiritual being.

So sad. Science is a tool for understanding, a system for learning, but it is not and never will be a voice of authority prescribing reality. Every single scientific achievement and advancement and all of its wonders must be conditionally accepted with the phrase "...as well as we can determine given the state of technology and our comprehension right now." Nothing so fluid as the establishment of fact by consensus can ever truly understand anything at its essential levels. And a fundamental principle of the universe is that those who understand a thing simply cannot describe that understanding, because mystery veils itself.

Well, I'm not trashing science. I believe it has its place, and I heartily approve of all of its advances, but when it starts trying to reach for the place of authority in declaring the nature of hidden things... well, let's just say that no one ever expects a scientist to be able to give comfort in the face of the overwhelming human condition. They can alleviate many conditions, but comfort is a spiritual matter. Even doctors learn that when the medicines and technologies fail, they must return to something described as 'bedside manner'.

"And all thy learning and seeking shall avail thee not, unless thou knowest the Mystery: that if that which thou seekest thou findest not within thee, thou shalt never find it without thee."

Kinda applies to my own situation as well. I don't rail too much at externals anymore when the angels and demons do battle in my head. If I can't find the peace and comfort and love and support within me, then it's no wonder that I get ridicule instead of support from those around me. Yet I'm human in that I expect some kind of support, need that support, and get so hurt when it doesn't appear.

I guess I haven't yet learned how to communicate my needs in an appropriate manner. And I also guess that I'm goddamned tired of being the one to initiate patience and understanding. Last night was remarkable for me in that I refused to apologize just to make the peace. It was a strained, strained night, but I'm so very tired of being let down.

Morning, 1/18/07 Th

Watched Babylon 5 Season 3 a bit last night. Getting into the Shadow Wars, the episodes are beginning to have the intensity which made Bab5 famous, along with the plot arc which pulled upon seemingly minor setups from Season 1 and 2 which at the time appeared innocuous enough.

Interestingly enough what my brain is doing in the background while watching Bab 5 is working up a casting list for a movie version of Robert Jordan's WHEEL OF TIME series. It's something I do from time to time as a creative exercise. Assuming I were in a Peter Jackson kind of situation, famous enough and with enough money to begin to make Jordan's monumental work into a series of films, who would I want to play each role? I had a somewhat bizarre thought that perhaps Claudia Christian who played Susan Ivanova might make a good Nynaeve, who was always a problematic role to be filled because she needed to be a study in contrasting elements and yet not feel forced. Tough as nails, emotionally fragile, yet overwhelmingly in control even as the chaos mounts around her.

I'm thinking Judi Dench for Amys, as well. And the actress who played Isolde and in the Dr. Who "Girl in the Fireplace" episode as Elayne. Ahh, it's a fun exercise because it shows how I interpret each character in terms of appearance as well as attitude. The guy who played Wormtongue in LotR could do a very decent Masema. I should come up with a casting list.

Dear Theo notes

Continuing to read Dear Theo I quickly hit upon the first warning sign in Van Gogh. He falls in love with his cousin "K" who rejects him, and all of his family also tells him "It's not gonna happen, Vinny," but his psyche can't process the fact that love is denied. In fact, he takes on the typical throes of delusion that younger wills often fall victim to and sees the denial as an encouragement, something that is challenging not only himself and his ego but also challenging LOVE as a kind of universal concept.

Van Gogh lives in terms of ideals, and the ecstasy of the spirit means that simple emotions which most folks can experience and not get totally swept away by happen on a larger magnitude. I'm a bit familiar with this both from my own overdramatic youth and from the growing pains of those who are actually developmentally 'off' that I've associated with in my past. One fraternity brother obsessed so completely over one of our mutual friends who made the mistake of being beautiful, unattainable to him, and completely -nice-, that when she would enter a room at a party we would all actually count the seconds before our other friend would find his way into the room and begin pestering through proximity.

We never got above 10 seconds, and even then most of the time it was 5. Once the ego declared that no, this girl really did love him and there still was the smallest chance, it became an exercise in futility. Any evidence to the contrary was handled by emotional logic, or e-logic, which filters reality through the emotional filter and removes any ability to acknowledge evidence to the contrary of the obsession. Since reality doesn't support the behaviors based on the obsession, it becomes a dangerous ticking time bomb. I'd imagine that serial killers or most crimes of passion occur because of the crossed wires of obsession at this intense emotional level. Since I'm only vaguely acquainted with the generalities of Van Gogh's history, I know that his rage at being thwarted by reality turns inwards and begins to destroy him from the inside, but had his temperament been less gentle history might have remembered Vincent for being a very different kind of creature who evoked horror and not sympathy.

Regardless, this is a very good read. He thinks big thoughts and the lens of his artistic talent amplifies everything around him. I don't question that he isolates himself from others, really, except from a long distance relationship with his brother Theo. When a Sensitive is in development, she needs to get away from the flood of emotional backwash and ambient static which normal interpersonal relationships entails.

Reading on.

Sensitives

In the pagan community usually the term 'Sensitive' is assumed to mean someone who is moderately psychic, or has latent abilities not yet developed. I use it in something of a broader term which isn't meant to specify just what someone is Sensitive toward. It could be color, perception, spirits, the future, food, emotions, what have you. I use it more in the terms of Joseph Campbell describing the likely candidates for shamanic training among primitives.

Sensitives are those humans who enter this life and have a more finely honed or refined ability to perceive, process, or respond to external or internal stimuli than other humans. It's not a value statement, it's more a statement of the precision of their ability to measure or interact with various things. For example, a seismograph is very sensitive to certain geological vibrations and motions which most humans can't feel or notice until they become full blown earth tremors or earthquakes. As a tool, it's sensitive to those vibrations which most other tools are not. As a result, the needle on a seismograph flutters when a pen on a page would be still.

Different humans perceive, process, or respond differently to the same stimuli. A sniper has a highly developed hand/eye coordination and ability to target. They're Sensitives in a different sort of way, and receive the training needed to make the most of their ability.

A Sensitive is likely to come at odds with the rest of us eventually as they begin to realize that, for some reason or another, folks around them are not responding to the same things they are. Or everyone else is ignoring what is setting them off and apparently refusing to see. Until the Sensitive realizes that their factory default is set differently than everyone else, or most everyone else, it can be extremely frustrating. If you've got access to someone else who understands what's going on, they can mentor you. If not... you're on your own to figure out how to deal with it.

First reaction of a Sensitive tends to be a dramatic confrontation with others. For those who have their gifts since childhood, this is a turbulent period in their early development. For those who come into their gifts later, this can be obsession, depression, megalomania, mania, argumentation, and sheer stubborn willfulness. Then when it becomes clear that it's an uphill battle, there's typically a self-imposed period of isolation or distacing from the rest of the world or community. This gives the space required to begin to come to grips with the Sensitivity.

Psychology will often diagnose Sensitives as being part of a problem, or from the symptoms they manifest instead of seeing the cure. And sometimes modern psychology has good tools to allow for a more peaceful integration of the Sensitive into community. Certain meds can allow for the continued development of social maturity without necessarily deadening or dulling the sensitivity. Some sensitivities are so finely precise and prone to being set off that a temporary dulling is actually desirable, to give the person a period of peace. Luckily, the kinds of meds which remove or damage the sensitivity completely don't seem to be used much anymore since they also severely impaired normal functioning as well... like Thorazine, for example.

I remain confident that contemporary psychological thought will eventually arrive at a sort of 'experiential therapy course' which will borrow heavily from shamanic training and old solutions, coupled with light uses of meds and a practice of pairing highly functioning sensitives with newly emerging sensitives to allow for transmission of wisdom and coping strategies to help shorten the period of adjustment.

Being Sensitive implies a destiny, a fate, a gift, or a dharma as 'Guru' Dave would put it. The process of adjustment consumes decades sometimes, but once it's done the Sensitive is finally empowered, individualized, and armed with coping techniques which allow the actual 'gift' or 'work' to begin. Sensitives take great pains from the rest of humanity to acculturate and socialize, but once functional levels of acculturation and socialization, and sheer outright coping, are attained then the gifts that pour forth from the Sensitive according to her own areas of sensitivity are often seen as Gifted, Genius, or Talented at the very least. To find Van Gogh the painter at the bottom of Van Gogh the tortured soul, is very much not surprising.

***

Food Poisoning

Slight change of subject. I had thought that my general feelings of malaise and gastrointestinal gymnastics of the last few days were the results of overindulgences in a party on Monday night. However, I found out to my horror that the turkey cold cuts from Stop & Shop had turned in our fridge just two days after purchase and I was actually undergoing a mild case of food poisoning. Lovely.

I'm a bit upset at Stop & Shop, a subsidiary of Giant Foods, if I recall correctly. They put in a store recently in the middle of the Urban Blight Sprawl of Bridgeport, and they seem to have made decisions of what to stock it with based upon racial and economic profiling. Ground beef cannot be found there any leaner than 85% in any quantities more than a pound, and the price point is significantly higher for the leaner beef than it is at a nearby Stop & Shop in an affluent neighborhood. And I've noticed several times that the Boars Head cold cuts were slightly drier and older in the new ghetto Stop & Shop, but for the same price.

Sad, really. This isn't a glorified garbage can with packaging, it's a grocery store. Shame on Stop & Shop for attempting to pawn off substandard products just because the local neighborhoods have a higher concentration of poverty than elsewhere. Did they think we wouldn't notice? Maybe so. And that's an even sadder statement than simply passing less-than-optimal quality along to customers in the first place.

Life is an eye-opening experience as a white man in a predominantly ethnic minority neighborhood. I'm sure the food is safe, but I question the geographic distribution of the "sub-optimal" foodstuffs... why put all of it here, instead of distributing it evenly among the rest of the chain's many stores nearby?

Hmm... Well, I had originally intended these last few paragraphs to be a Satire, but I suppose my clunky lack of comedy or style means I have to try harder to master that witty comedic form. Oh well. Here's my initial attempt. ;) Good thing for me satire cannot be considered slander or libellous. Good thing for me as well that my satirical attempt above doesn't need to be good to be considered an attempt at satire.