no more love

My luck will be dramatically falling after today. The fairies have stopped their sweet (and yet annoyingly embarrassing) kisses.

nugget

When I was in high school in my small, country, home-town of farmers, I applied for a scholarship to attend a debate camp or law seminar or something like that. I remember there was going to be a lot of discussions going on about, you know, issues or whatnot. I was really excited. The interview for the scholarship was conducted by three middle-aged, grey haired, local men. When asked for a particular issue I thought pertinent to our society I broke into a passionate speech detailing the importance of equal right for homosexuals. The men just stared at me, I don't know if they even ever politely nodded along. That's about all I remember.

Of course, I didn't get the scholarship.

Oh my

Something just happened to me that would have been mortifying if anyone had witnessed it. But no one will know what it was because it was also quite disgusting.

dull day

I decided to write on here about an hour ago and told myself not to read anyone else's blog but to post on my first, otherwise my resolve would be weakened. And sure enough, it was. I first looked at the comments on previous entries, then got sucked into reading those blogs from whence the comments came and now it's an hour late and I indeed don't feel like posting anymore. But here I am.

I'm sitting by myself today in the box office. I haven't been down here for a while, since the semi-promotion. A woman came today who wanted to buy some extra (4) tickets and asked if she could have the group rate because she would now have 23 tickets. I said that sadly, no, groups tickets had to be purchased at the same time to receive the discount. She looked a bit perturbed and said, "Can I just tell you that whoever handles your group sales is very unreliable. I have called and called and I've left three messages and no one has ever called me back!"

Ummm...guess who she was talking about?

I began asking her her name but she interrupted me by saying, "Mr. J!" Oooh, yep, that's my name. I told her that I was Mr. J and that I recently took over this job and that I had been making sure to stay on top of everything and answer all my messages I didn't know where hers might have gone. And even though we have bullet-proof glass in the box office it didn't stop the ones she was shooting at me from her eyes.

So I was feeling pretty guilty until she started speaking again: "I find the membership program at this theater very confusing." Okaaaaay, what information exactly was confusing? "Everywhere I looked: online, in the brochure. I wanted to buy three shows but I tried to get tickets for the circus but the dates were sold out and there are only two other shows that I'm interested in so I couldn't buy three shows. Other people who planned that far in advance were able to buy tickets." That's not so much an argument as a statement of fact. So her issue with membership wasn't that it was confusing but that the exact dates she wanted weren't available. That made me feel better about the whole group thing. I now have a suspicion that when she said she left three messages what she really meant was one and that that one message was actually just a statement to someone else that she was interested in group tickets.

I'm still trying to figure out how I can get a camera before my next crying session but also, thinking about that too much kind of makes me want to cry thereby defeating my quest before it even begins.

Does anyone else think it's strange that the spell check feature provided by Blogger.com doesn't recognize the word blog? And if you were to see this word:
supsicion
would you think:
capsizing
Because that's the choice I was given.
Please note that I am most certainly not complaining about spell check; I'm just pointing out an oddity. Spell check is awesome and I would probably never send another email out for fear of laughable mistokes.

it's encompassing

Why the fuck am I awake at 7:30 on a Saturday morning? I remember when I was in high school I could sleep in until 3 in the afternoon. Now, I'm not saying that I'd still like to sleep that long, that's excessive, but I also don't want to wake up this early. I don't have many plans today and I certainly don't need to get a jump on them. Being awake this early just gives me more time to stew on how I don't have any plans. At least let me sleep away some of that uncomfortable time.

I had a bit of a crying fit when I got home from work yesterday and in the middle of it my roommate knocked on my door and without waiting for a reply, opened it and poked her head in my room (at that time I was thankfully taking a pause from crying so that's good, but I was also in my underwear, kneeling in front of my mirror, staring at myself, so that's, um, bad?). What an awkward moment. She had just come to tell me that she bought me some more hummus because she had eaten mine. Then she apologized because she thought I had said "come in," which I don't know how she heard that since when she knocked I went totally still but then she asked if she had interrupted me. I looked at her pointedly and said, "Yes."

Most of the time I was having this fit, which included the need to strip down to my skivvies, in the back of my head I was wishing that I had a video camera that I could have set up in the corner and recorded the whole thing. I was repeatedly walking in front of my mirror because I knew my body was doing odd things that were only semi under my control. I would have liked to watch that from the outside. Which might go to show that even while I'm having horrible anxiety and self-esteem issues I'm still a complete narcissist. Is that weird? I know one person who'll think it is. The other day I was telling him about a film I was going to go see and he asked if it was called Chop Your Balls Off and Make A Soup, The Motion Picture. I think that's as accurate a way as any to describe the kind of art that attracts me. Funny too.

I'm still not back in bed.

Why won't that fucking link work?!

nutzso

I haven't been blogging much lately for a variety of reasons. And here they are:

1. I don't like my writing style. I want to tell a funny story but I don't seem to be very good at condensing material and still getting the point across. So either my stories are too short and the humor is lacking or too long and by the time you get to the end you don't care.

2. Since my audition is over I no longer have a concrete reason to create art. A friend of mine smoked some cigarettes before her audition to help calm down, I bought a pack afterward to help cheer me up.

3. Number 2 bummed me out.

4. I actually talk to most of the people who read this anyway, so by the time I'm ready to write everyone's already heard it.

Which brings me to the reason I'm writing this at all. It's a nod to NSP. I just read her entry on reading other blogs and thought, "Hey, she prolly checks my every once in a moon, so I'll give her an extra minute to ignore work." That's what I read blogs for. And also: I don't have a kid! I mean, yes, I totally freaked out today because I have student loan that's defaulted and was sent to a collection agency and yes, it's much more than it was when I first got it and yes, I haven't even talked to the agency yet about paying them back (my mom's advice was to offer them 20 bucks a month or nothing at all, "What're they gonna do? Send you to jail? Then they'll never get their money! Take all your possessions? You don't own anything!" Good point mom. [I accidentally just typed "you don't know anything," which I think might work as well}) but even though I have my own problems, I also don't have anyone else dependent on me and if NSP can live her life and take care of a kid then fuck, I should at least be able to get through the day, right? So thanks, NSP, for inadvertently giving me a reason to blog.

And on to other things:

In the attempt to get to work on time this morning I rushed down the subway stairs all the while chastising myself for forgetting about the meeting I was supposed to be attending in 10 minutes and while these thoughts were going through my head I slammed right into the subway entrance turnstile. I was practically running. Did you know those things don't turn until you pay? Apparently I didn't. I turned around slightly and noticed three women standing near the subway booth (I don't know why) smiling/laughing at me. While pulling out my metrocard I looked right at them, said "Yes, I am stupid," swiped it and walked in.

attack of the crazies

When you get that pang that makes your body curl up and all you want to do is smoke in the rain...why not try not eating for 10 hours and then drinking two beers. It's working for me so far.

But is it art?

I don't know, but I'm working on it.

They say no

Who do you talk to at 2AM? I don't know either. Who wants to be woken up pestered with my issues concerning self-worth, self-esteem, clothing and art? I can just imagine it:

ring ring ring
Friend (groggily): Umm, hello?
Me (sobbingly): Why is it that when a cute guy smiles at me I start crying? Sure I'm attractive now but I won't always be so why don't I do something? How come I can't seem to go outside when it's completely sunny and loads of people are out having fun? What's wrong with me? WHY DOESN'T ANYONE LOVE ME?!

I mean, what do you say to that at 2AM?

It really isn't helping that I'm auditioning a piece next Monday (not this Monday, the one after that) and I still haven't even started memorizing the text that I'm not even finished writing. Plus there's the whole meat cleaver idea and I haven't tried to cut anything with it. And then some choreography, I'm auditioning at a dance space after all. Doesn't that mean I have to move around a little? And what if they don't want it? What do I do then? I keep saying that then I'll have this whole completed piece but I'm really bad at research and I don't know where else I would take it.

I've been really bummed about New York in general lately. I was thinking about slowly getting rid of all (or most) of my possessions over the next while and just going somewhere else. I don't know where (remember, I'm bad at research; I'm also not spontaneous). Somewhere where I did something with my hands maybe. Then I thought about maybe just asking my brother if I could live with him for a while. I think he has a house now or something. I don't know what kind of art I want to do anymore and I don't know where to do it anyway. And it's not like I'm making any new friends and I'm certainly not going to be falling in love any time soon so why not be off somewhere else that doesn't make a difference either?

Uchh, god, this isn't really helping. Fuck writing about it. Why didn't I say something?

a deadly breakfast combo

'Nuff said.

no inner monologue

A condition worsened by my association with MNS (she's not a disease).

Here's how things went:

I'm sitting in the box office, finalizing a middle-aged woman's order
Woman: I love your tatoo. My daughter is trying to become a tatoo artist. She draws a lot.
IPJ: Really? I would love to be a tatoo artist. It's an interesting experience that would be fun to share with people but, unfortunately I can't draw at all. I'm also very interseted in piercings and body modification. Piercing (her tickets begin to print) would be my alternate choice to tatooing but most of the piercers I've talked to starting piercing things when they were kids, using sewing needles and things like that but I'm not quite that gung-ho on it.
Woman (slightly uncomfortable): Uh huh.
IPJ: I just think it's fun. Both things release endorphines in your body, which make it a pleasureable experience. Here are your tickets. Remember we don't offer refunds or exchanges.
Woman (still uncomfortable): Have a nice life!

When did I become the crazy person? Later on in the day I explained my artistic aesthetic to another patron, complete with recent examples, and how it differs from Rennie Harris' (who has an upcoming show at the theater). This was a long conversation and she wasn't even buying tickets. She just had some general questions. What's wrong with me?

Maybe I'm just lonely.

calming

This is the beginning of the aftermath of the bathroom fiasco:



And a slightly closer view:




Just to the right of the tub is a two foot open pipe sticking straight up out of the floor that lets air into the system and through which a large amount of sludgy brownish-black liquid came spurting out yesterday.

I was in my room reading (playing video games) when I heard an odd bubbling noise outside. It quickly stopped so I didn't think anything of it. A few moments later it started again and I decided that my roommate must be filling a jug of some sort in the bathroom sink, though I was pretty sure he had left an hour ago, I must just not have heard him come back. But this time the noise didn't stop. So I cautiously opened my bedroom door (my bedroom is next to the bathroom and my roommate has the annoying habit of sometimes leaving the bathroom door open when he does his business [if you know what I mean]) and immediately noticed the bathroom waste basket floating in a sea of black with much more on its way.

I was the only one home and had no idea what apartment the super was in so I tried calling my roommate but apparently the only number I have of his in my phone is the landline in our apartment and that didn't do me any good. By this time I was starting to freak out a bit because the sludge just kept coming so I jammed the stopper in the air pipe which did slow things down a little but also made the remaining sludge shoot out at a more pressurized velocity, thus hitting me. I was seriously starting to consider putting on some clothes (did I mention I was still in my underwear and it was around 2 o'clock?), leaving and just pretending that I wasn't home when this happened. Then came a furious knock on the door. I threw on some pants and a shirt and ran to the door and heard a man call "Super" from outside. Thank god.

The sludge finally stopped coming but to achieve that end the workers had to break through my other roommate's closet wall to put a snake into one of the water pipes. Luckily our bathroom is slightly sloped away from the door so none of the liquid went into the rest of the apartment and the rest on the floor of the bathroom was mopped up with our bathmat, which was already getting soggy so why not use it to finish the job.

So that black liquid? Water and rust and lots of it. Then other things happened, including being told the problem was fixed only to have the tub start to fill up on its own again not half an hour later. The upshot is I finally showered at 7PM and this morning our bathroom still smells like rust because a lot of water got behind the sink counter, which we can't move, so we'll probably just have to deal with it.

My roommate did most of the cleaning, which was a nice gesture (I totally volunteered to help) but I'll probably end up cleaning the bathroom again myself anyway because that's what his cleaning was: a gesture.

loss of face

I sometimes long to be a robot. Usually quite literally. But not today. Today I'd like to be a figurative robot. In a society with strict, clear social standards and customs. A society where an insult or slight is unambiguous and has definitive reparations required. Where your emotions and societal customs are so completely entwined you can't tell them apart. Where an accidental snub becomes a slap to your ancestor's face.

I feel like I'm aimlessly floating around in freedom. Uprooted. Can something be uprooted when it was never, well, rooted in the first place?

Lately I've been thinking about some of my past friendships that have ended. And they didn't end well. They usually weren't so much a "we don't have anything in common anymore" but a "you cause me pain" type of ending. At the time I placed most of the blame on the other person (though reserved a bit for myself). Now I'm questioning the past. It's time to fess up; I'm quick to end a relationship. I'm always prepared to call it quits. Snub me again and it's over. A friend once told me that no matter what I did he would always be there for me.
A standard response might be: "Thank you."
Mine? "What if I killed your mother?"

The point? (A little rambly, but I'm getting there.) If we existed in the society I described my indignation and subsequent termination of a friendship would be sanctioned by custom. But until that happens I'll just continue to be considered a jerk.



In other news my vocabulary is seriously lacking.

I'm mostly posting this so I can use it elsewhere. And because I think it's great.

karma?

Do you believe that if you could have done something for a person but you didn't and that person couldn't hold anything against you because they didn't even know that you could have done this thing for them in the first place that your own semi-selfishness will make the world a worse place? Do you believe other people are better than you? Or are they just as bad but won't admit it (not that I'm admitting it either)? Do you believe in karma?

I'm undecided.

driving me...

I still have six more hours of work to go and I'm starting to freak out because shouldn't I be doing something productive with my time and I've already read my daily stuff from the internet and how am I going to fill six hours?

On another note my roommate left our front door open last night when she came home around 10:30. Not just unlocked, but actually open about a foot. Luckily I was having trouble sleeping and went to the kitchen to get some water, whereupon I closed and locked the door. My roommate was fast asleep in her room. Isn't that great? She's so trusting. Damn my cynical, fearful attitude. Why can't I be like her and just invite people into our home while we're asleep?

She apparently has a problem with doors. I already had to have a talk with her about leaving the refrigerator door open.

symbols and metaphor, I don't get them

Right now I'm reading The Courage to Create by Rollo May. Though I think some of his examples encompass a narrow view of art, he does make some interesting points. On Marianna's suggestion I'm going to explore my thoughts in relationship to his writings. It's this whole critical thinking kick I'm trying to get into, though it may be a bit circuitous. Let's see what happens.

Each person experiences reality differently. Understanding another person's experiences is difficult and often dull (I'll come back to address the dullness aspect later). This is not a discussion of a person's political or moral beliefs but of how each person actually experiences reality. How does a person makes sense of and bring order to their world? If we could experience another's order would we perceive it as illogical, pessimistic, irrational, beautiful? How can we experience another person's reality? Art is the medium, the language through which a person may reveal their world. The artist is able to translate his experiences, his personal world, into an idea outside of himself. This idea reflects the artist's subconscious, unconscious and conscious view of the world. Through art the spectator is offered an encounter with the artist's world. May talks a lot about having an encounter with art. The more intense the encounter the better we are able to perceive the artist's world.

I am enormously intrigued by the idea of perception and thought. This is the basis of my own art. I love art that pulls me into an unfamiliar world, art that offers an alternate reality. I strongly believe (I came up with this idea in college and it still sticks with me, who knew?) that if an artist is completely committed to their performance and understands the reality of the world they've created then the audience, no matter how perplexed they may be, will be engaged. If the artist is honest in their world view and strives to accurately portray that view the spectator will be engaged. Or at least, I would be engaged. And that's the point of my art, to give my perceptions life in a way I find fascinating. Of course, the hope is that other people will also find the result interesting but that can't be the goal. It is when we dismiss our world view that art falls flat.

Okay, that's what I have for now.

You know those times when you feel like your depression is really just brought on with your own thinking and really it's pretty pathetic but you just don't know how to interact with people and it just doesn't seem worth it to even try even though that's totally selfish and then you just kind of sink a little deeper because you are being so selfish and why did you even go out in the first place when you could have just stayed at home and furthered the development of your fantasy world where things are okay and it doesn't matter that you're never good enough or, to be more accurate, the best, and aren't you really just depressed because you don't have anything else to hold onto, though when you think about it you really do kind of hate your life and you think about calling people but everyone you know has their own problems so you try to call the most "stable" person you can think of but they don't answer so you call the next most "stable" person but they don't answer either and then you realize that depression can just feed other depression so you don't know who to talk to and your talking to anyone else would just be so self-centered and why can't you just be happy for other people for once and forget about yourself and your own damn problems and you notice that you're starting to do things similar to things that someone you used to be friends with did and when he did them you found them really frustrating and you wanted to tell him to just fix his frickin' life already but now you're doing the same thing and then you go home and write some ridiculous passive thing in a public blog that's probably also annoying and stupid?

Yeah, I never feel like that either.

Sincerity

You are a person who deserves to live happily, as all people do.

Something is wrong with the grammar in that sentence. What I mean to say is that you, being a person, deserve to live happily because all people deserve to live happily. I'm not saying that all people actually do live happily but the sentence can certainly read that way. What'a a better but still succinct way to say that? More to come as I figure out what sincerity means.

Dying Brain Cells

in my apartment
"Damn, this underwear keeps riding my asscrack. I'll just pluck it out...oh wait, I'm wearing a thong."

at work
"I've only been here for 2 1/2 hours. Why am I so hungry already? Oh right, Emer'gen-C for breakfast."

on the crosstown bus, heading west
"I'm glad I bought this."
waiting for the train
"Is this what I meant to buy? I think I bought the wrong thing."
on the crosstown bus, heading east
"I totally bought the wrong thing. I even thought about how I might be buying the wrong thing but I was sure I wasn't."
at the store
"I bought the right thing after all."
waiting for the bus
"God it's hot."
on the crosstown bus, heading west
"Why am I so hungry? Oh right, Gatorade for breakfast."
waiting for the train
"I should've been home by now."
at home after opening the purchase thereby cancelling any sort of refund
"I didn't even need to buy this. I had one in my closet."

walking downtown
"What was I just thinking about?"