night-time reflections

Posted by & filed under The Unconventional Life. — 1 comment

The dark outside turns my window into a mirror, a line of trees obscuring any idea of life or light outside. The appartement is quiet, the only sounds are rain and frogs and clicking keys when I type. The world seems to shrink down to this pinprick of a room; it’s daylight lightbulbs warding off the night, a vanilla plugin air freshener making me think about cookies.

I pause to think and find myself staring back at myself. The window reflection me looks uncertain about what she sees as if I’ve missed a step or forgotten something rather important. I look away, anywhere else, but the eyes that are peeling me apart, layer by layer. I skim through notes and scribbles and resumes on my desk… my dissertation is sitting there as well, collecting dust. Then it’s back to my computer, an open word document and a few webpages – job postings. Jobs that aren’t what I really want, but something I’m being to desperately need.

The new year is nearly here and it just feels like another day, not that I’d know the difference. The days all seem to mush together, I’m lucky if I know when it is anymore. I look up again and realize I don’t really want to face any of it. This is my nightly routine, and this one’s gone on too long. There’s a certain feeling of self-pity, and certain disdain for the situation. I’ve realized slowly that I’d rather be doing something productive and useful, anything, that sitting with little to do but work on my own projects.

I find my procrastination becomes worse the less I have to do, not because I have more time, but because I have so little to occupy it – I’m unwilling to let go of the last thing that gives me some sort of purpose.

It’s the truth, but it’s also an excuse because I’ve let it get in my way. Attitude plays a big part in anything we do with our lives. So, I’m turning up the music to drown out the frogs and I’m making faces in my night-mirror. I’ve got things to do yet and they might as well get done.

the performance gift

Posted by & filed under Dance. — comment?

I danced in The Nutcracker tonight.
but shhh. don’t tell anyone.
I played a little boy, which if you’ve seen me, that would make you laugh.
Little? yes. Boy shaped? not so much.

Before I got to the theater this morning I had misgivings. But then it hit me again, the vibrating energy of back stage. Everyone working to create the ephemeral art that is dance, is theatre. Putting on costumes, makeup, characters. The air is electrified; nervousness & calm crawl across everyone’s skin, excitement & worry thrown in for good measure. And the wait. You’re ready, but there’s more to be done, it’s just not for you to do.

The curtain is up, the house is dark, you’re walking through your steps in your head, but you are someone else moving a few steps behind the image reel in your mind. Backstage you hear the company dancers and stage hands exchange a few jokes. The kind of repertoire that only comes from spending all your time working on art and magic. It’s a familiar breath in the game of hurry up and wait.

I miss creating. I miss being a part of a team and working towards something, taking material and turning it over in our hands, in our minds, our bodies. Performance is messy and hard, but it’s one of the most beautiful things. It is the ultimate compromise, everyone works together or it doesn’t work.

Looking at the news every day, it’s hard to find something to latch onto, someone I can fit myself to work towards something better. With wars, a poor economy, people making irrational laws, it’s hard to see the point of it all. I don’t know how to make it work out in the end, but I understand people, the good in them, the bad. Art, performance. I understand inspiration and faith in someone. Each of us has a role to play; we never find it the way we think we will. For me, I know that every day I spend with this feeling of elation in my heart is one day I spend skipping gaily down the path before me. A path which feels the beginnings of purpose again.

The Meaning of No

Posted by & filed under The Unconventional Life. — 4 comments

Over the weekend I received a letter from a place where I’d applied for a job which I thought I had a good chance at getting at least an interview for. The envelope contained a rejection letter. Having been working as hard as I can to get a job, another rejection was not what I was hoping for. I skimmed the letter and balled it up before shoving it in my purse. I brooded for a while, and at dinner I found myself frowning into my Yumm! Bowl and feeling very Eugeneian hipster about it all. I realised though that the rejection letter wasn’t the worst thing, and it definitely wasn’t a form letter – the person who wrote it had taken time to look over my work and comment on it. My brooding led me to a few conclusions.

  • No isn’t the end, because it means the beginning of something else. I can take other opportunities, that might end up being better opportunities, because I wasn’t picked for this particular position.
  • No doesn’t mean a denial of talent or ability. My latest rejection letter complimented my design skills, a previous rejection phone call invited me to apply for other positions opening in their office.
  • No is evidence of effort. If you aren’t putting yourself out there, you’ll never hear the word no. If you aren’t striving for something you aren’t taking any risks. And the only things worth chasing in this life come from taking risks.

So instead of letting a rejection get to me and become an excuse to give up, it’s fueling fire for me to work harder. The harder I work, the better chance I have of someone saying yes, the more times people see my work, the better known I’ll become, the more times I inquire about positions the more I might hear about new opportunities. I know it sounds a bit like I live in a delusion, where everything works out just because that’s how it goes, but that isn’t it. Things only work out, I mean really work out, when people work. Don’t count me out just because life keeps telling me no. Maybe it’s not telling me no so much as it’s telling me I’m looking in the wrong places.