Been thinking about self lately, what it means to be yourself, that collection of behaviors and traits, of reactions and sensations, of memories and reference points, the avenues carved out and solidified… but how solidified how concrete are they?

Each day I wake up, usually irritated that I can’t sleep in later, but also frustrated with myself that I have lost half the day. I get out of bed slowly, usually I check every single one of my social media accounts and watch a handful of youtube videos. I eat a quick bite and then jump into the shower. After I shower, it’s a rush to get out the door. The faster I get coffee the better, sometimes I eat lunch beforehand, sometimes I combine the two. Then I take a walk (if it’s not raining). Calhoun or Isles, depending on how much time I have left. Then I settle at a coffee shop and start to write or edit. After about 4 hours I need to move again, I get dinner or see a friend, then I go home and watch youtube or Netflix or occasionally read. Every once in a while, I can get myself to draw, lift some weights or do a bit more writing, but usually I just zone into a series of something and maybe check Instagram or tinder once or twice.  Every night when I try to go to sleep my mind is full of ideas-usually something that repeats over and over and keeps me up till the sun comes up, then I tell myself to get up early so that I can do something the next day that is different, capitalize on the time a bit more, but I ignore each alarm and repeat.

         When I am talking to people, I often run out of things to say. I’ve been aware of this for years now, and I am also well-aware that it isn’t that I don’t have opinions or am not caught up on various trends or the news, but I get bored with it, and the things I am really investing my time and energy into –are not things people are on the same page with. How many adults do you know who sleep in, go for a walk, drink coffee and play on their computer all day? Part of it is the privilege –I am aware that I have chosen this, I am aware that I am getting a sort of treat other people don’t have the opportunity for. Part of it is my neuroticism and weird interests and ideas. I want to explore topics that no one cares about, thought experiments, observations on life, other people have concrete stories, things that happened to them –to consider or complain about.  My big complaint in a day would be… I have a headache from waking up too late.

         I still have difficulty relating to people, part of it is these concrete day to day things, and part of it navigating the social swirl, what is appropriate? What do people need/want to hear? Where do my interests align with theirs and am I too set in my ways? 

         My ways… Sometimes when I read profiles on okcupid, I get excited and then start finding all the little things that would be an issue, one thing turns into another turns into another, and suddenly I am not excited, but disappointed –and usually I blame myself.

         I was talking to my Mom yesterday about “playing the game” and she remarked that for her it was easy to see the game and just get by, the sort of –do enough to pass the class thing, but I have never really operated that way with anything I thought was important. I’ve failed classes on the principle that I hadn’t learned the material so I didn’t deserve to pass. Even this last year, on two different occasions I purposely got an answer wrong because I wanted to contest the question –and I didn’t want them to say “Well you got it right, so it doesn’t matter.” It mattered so I sacrificed. My Mother usually gives the example of the advice I refused to take when I first graduated from college –she said I should cut my hair and take out my piercings and go find a nice suburban school so that I would have a steady income, but when I got a job at an alternative school that was a better fit, she realized it was a way better decision. She sees this side of me now as I seem unable or unwilling to settle into a traditional track in social work. Maybe it is privilege, maybe it is who I am. Still, it makes it difficult to operate in the world.

         But there are a lot of things about myself and the world that I don’t feel capable of fighting, and one of the reasons I am picky about friends and partners is that I want to be with someone who adds capacity to do so, I want help to be a better me, to further my interests, to push me to excel in the areas I care about, and have the follow through to change systems or behaviors I don’t like.

         But who is me? Am I just this set of ways or is there something else? In psychology, you read about these horror stories in which a person has a stroke or gets brain damage and wakes up a different person. On the lighter side of the same equation, a person gets their hormone imbalance fixed, gets on a good antidepressant or solves their sleep apnea problem and suddenly they become the best version of themselves, the one no one has seen in years because they were buried under a blanket –and yet they were convinced that was who they had become, and everyone around them thought so too.

         I see a lot of my friends and ex-lovers and recognize that they have become people I didn’t assume they would become, for better or worse, they found a way of being that wasn’t who they were (or who I thought they were) at the time. Others have turned into exactly the person they seemed to be, and you could argue they are stuck in their deep solidified grooves –and even if that is for the better, is that right? 

         And, isn’t it also the case, that a person can reinforce the same pattern for better and worse? For instance, the high achiever becomes more competitive, and productive but also more jealous, defensive and envious –-the two walls of the trench getting carved deeper.

         But of course, the self is also an illusion, just as a behavior can have two sides, so too can an experience, so can a personality… My Dad’s dog jumps on me and I recoil in anxiety because I’m already nervous, because I am already agitated. I knee the dog or pay it no mind, because “I don’t like dogs.” OR I am in a good mood, or I am absent minded and the dog comes up and a I pet it without thinking because it is there, and the dog likes me, and I go wash my hands and realize it wasn’t that bad even though I don’t NORMALLY like dogs.

         I don’t care about sports, but my friends are playing a pick-up game, so I join in. They want to go to the Twins game while they are in town and I go and enjoy myself. They want to go to a bar, and I love them so I don’t mind the noise or the awkwardness, and they don’t either. These contextual things suddenly change the whole dynamic and I become a different person based on them.

         Sometimes I wonder, if I could just BE a different person. If I could enjoy the things that I don’t regularly enjoy now, or have completely different interests, or be able to follow through on the things that are difficult for me to follow through on now. Could I wake up tomorrow and decide I am a musician. Not a person who had instruments and learns a song every other year only to forget it, but someone who plays, who loves to play, regardless of whether it means anything. Could I be an athlete? Or a yoga teacher? Could I be someone who likes salads? Who drives out of town every weekend to go hiking, because I enjoy it. And if not the overnight change, how long would I have to do it, in order to make it me? Mike the guy who goes cross country skiing? Mike the guy who does taxidermy. Mike the guy who meets new people, and doesn’t seek out the differences, and play a helping role, but enjoys their company regardless.

         In most Western faiths, there is this belief that with God’s help a person can change, they can become someone different than who they used to be –a coming to god moment, true submission etc. In most Eastern faiths, there is this idea that you are not necessarily you, just playing the role, and the true you is hidden somewhere else. This illusion is a good one, you tell yourself you don’t like dogs, and beer and salad, you think it so much that it becomes true, but tomorrow you could, and yesterday you could.

         Linear thinking makes me believe that these choices I am making now, to deepen the same pathways, the repetition of my behaviors and thoughts, that will be me. Who I am now, is who I will become, a more rich version of that in the most positive light, more stubborn in the negative. I know logically that this is a half-truth.

         Sometimes I deviate from my track, try a new slightly different version of the same, test the boundaries. Sometimes I think the adjustment will lead me down a new path… usually it doesn’t.  But maybe tomorrow?

I am sitting at Spyhouse and though I have the desire to write, I don't really want to write anything in my book. The story is still intriguing and I am sure I could do some editing, but the mental precision it requires doesn't sound fun right now.
Maybe I should go home and do nothing.
I walked Calhoun with my Dad this morning, and it is possible I will see Jared for a game tonight, or hang with some other folks. In general I have a half desire to do so. I want to see people, but I have been a little too social this week.
Last night I had this dream I was traveling. Been having a few of those recently, but specifically in this dream I was packing up my stuff and throwing things out to lighten the load. It seemed like I had begun a trip too hastily (as did everyone else), and at the first break I knew I needed to get rid of half of my shit. What does that mean?  Excess baggage...  I was also late in the dream, people were waiting for me, but when I got there I was more prepared than they were. I had cleaned up and packed well, whereas they had left trouble in their wake -an extra burden for the next person.

I was just reading the Sufi book, and they were describing the development of the soul, -the stages of it. The material stage of the senses, and what they called the feminine stage in which the inner sense of imagination and meaning come about, the recognition of meaning in things. So if my dream is describing my conscious understanding right now... I am preparing or taking the time to unburden myself so that I am better prepared.   Is that summer? Is that not having a job? is that reading and writing and trying to exercise? Is that reflecting on my past mistakes and trying to come to a better awareness of change? Reflecting on change, and trying to not assign weight to it?

On Monday I couldn't get myself out of bed. Sunday I hung out with K and T, feeling like there were expectations, though overall it was a good time. That night I found the barista online and found out she was married (somewhat ruining a crush), I think that was a big part of not being able to get out of bed, for what?  On Tuesday I spent the day recovering from Monday, but then had dinner with my Mom and Grant. Wednesday I volunteered and saw Alicia. Thursday I went and saw Jared's band.

So I guess there is a lot of in and out, processing and existing in a social context. But other than that and walking I haven't been very productive. I had a week or two where I was making some progress with the book, but now I have like 6 chapters I need to write or finish, and it seems difficult. Editing even more so because of the type of precision thinking it requires.
I've been watching a lot of netflix, and random shit... also drawing a lot more which is nice.
Haven't practiced Spanish at all - I think because it doesn't seem to have any purpose or context.
I really need to figure out some sort of path forward, what am I doing next summer? What am I doing for a job? What am I doing for a social life?


I think I am gonna go... maybe this air-conditioning is giving me a headache.

Listening to pop music at Spyhouse,
it is Friday and my car was hit and run again last night. Another $500 down the drain.
It is the beginning of summer, I have a few months off. I am going to practice Spanish and get in better shape. I will do some writing and editing, and probably not make a real dent, but progress none the less. I will probably see people, and also probably isolate a bit. I will do a lot more reading, and a lot more netflixing.
Jesse said something about meeting again next summer. It made me wonder about second chances, and if I've been wasting my time all this time. One never knows what direction life will go... should go...

I thought I saw that women today, the one who occasionally struck the breath from chest. I dreamed of her. But soon enough she was gone. She was definitely pregnant. While walking around the lake, I kept hoping she'd be around the corner. I couldn't think of anything else. It is amazing what a smile can do. I don't even know her a little bit. We were never even able to talk, and I always found her voice didn't match her face, a subtle disappointment every time. But those eyes, I dreamed of her. In an alternate universe we fell in love. In a past life we shared a home. In the future she saved my life. It is amazing how a crush can make your day worth it, or not worth it at all. Sometimes when I am super attracted to a person I make the conscious choice not to ruin it by getting to know them. Sometimes I need to dream people.

1:40 I should be asleep

I haven't had anything to do all week, but I've had a lot of homework to keep me busy. In fact, I don't think I will get it all done but I've been prioritizing the things that seemed the most important to get done first... so it might be some readings that fall by the wayside, but the papers and assignments and presentation will be ok. Ok?

I've been trying to exercise more and eat less. I spent a few minutes feeling really good about myself while walking around Lake of the Isles, and in the moment I told myself "Hey, this is you, don't let all that other bullshit take you away from this." about 15 minutes later my stomach hurt, and I spent the rest of the day very aware that I am not happy with my body, nor is it happy with me.

I've been listening to the Punch Brothers a lot. I've been thinking about how I'd rather be painting but I haven't even gotten out a watercolor set. I feel like after this weekend (my last week of classes for the first year of grad school), I will have plenty of time for pleasurable pursuits. I can write more, read more, draw and paint, learn some Spanish, exercise, plan a trip, meet people. But I am also worried that I will spent all my time watching Netflix or playing computer games. Avoiding people because I am not sure who I like, and how much... It's difficult to figure out.

Some of my new friends from grad school seem great, I enjoy their company, but I don't want to feel like they depend on me. I am afraid of commitment I guess. Same with everything else.
I don't even know how to say hi to people I have loved in the past, don't know how to say happy birthday, or thinking about you... without overly thinking and then doing nothing.

Take a breath, say hi, leave it at that. Don't overanalyze.

I have this paper due. I decided to write about food support (mostly SNAP) but a little on the conglomeration of programs that are mostly good, but not enough. They don't do anything to change the situation, but they keep people from sinking further (when they are used properly). Its weird to pick a random topic and then suddenly feel like you are really learning something new. -that is not how I have felt about most of the stuff this year.  A couple of the projects this summer session though-have got me researching. But thats weird too right? the Hmong thing, and a couple things this semester -all were things I researched on my own because of an assignment, but not necessarily topics that were assigned...  I dunno its weird. Also I need an editor.

But the point of this writing was to say, life is ok. It's not amazing, but it has the potential for moments of positivity. It also contains the seeds for moments of negativity. I have to a better job of choosing to eat healthily.

mah

What is the difference between fantasy desires and real ones when neither is acted upon?
How do you tell? And when something is part of you, does it necessarily need to be reinforced and supported, or just recognized and understood to be part of you. When connecting, at what point do you explore the discomfort, and if that exploration is self-negated for want of  stable support, is that living a lie or merely a half truth? and to who do you owe the explanation. And if the exploration is denied by the other person, is that grounds for moving on? Is it grounds for not starting in the first place.

the beginning of a june

Because it is summer and the sun is so welcoming, and the people are unraveled, and my eyes are pried wide, delightfully reveling, unbridled by morality, for a second I thought gladly, the world had become heavenly, spied I, so readily, humanity unsaddled, and bear of transgressions or sins of the form, but the thought became maddening, the presence unsatisfying, denied embrace or connection, and even the promise of an ongoing norm, o transitory flesh, a blemish  not imperfection, but the simple projection, of lasting satisfaction, a fleeting sensation, longed for once tasted, and scalded now, still waiting, for the intimate enveloping, implicitly understood to be summer's boast.

Hostel Dream

I have this dream repeatedly about arriving in a city, staying at this one hostel (recognizing that I won't be able to stay more than a night or two) and then getting stuck seeking out a hostel in the city.
I just had it.  But it had changed too.

Normally I am alone when I arrive. Normally I am alone in my struggle to find a place. It always works out and I enjoy the city (which I have come to enjoy more and more with each dream)...

This time I arrived with a group, but recognized that they were already staying somewhere else... I went to my normal place. (It didn't look the same as it does in other dreams), but I still felt the familiarity of knowing it. Knowing the guy who owns it. Knowing he is a bit miserly, very opinionated, but also just loving the atmosphere. I stayed there soaking it in. Conversation were struck up about travel and the state of the world.
It came time to leave and I knew I still needed to find something. The guy wanted to help me. He didn't know me from the next traveler, but as I talked things out with him, he came to understand that this was like the 4th of 5th time I'd come to his place and to this city (which isn't a real place or a real city as far as I know). It was a series of interactions with him giving me advice on where to stay, then walking away to attend something, then me tracking him down to get more information or a phone number. One time I used the number he gave me and got Chipotle rather than his friend who works a different hostel. He had all these opinions of hostels and how they were run, and what they looked like, but he kept suggesting the next one.
Eventually it came down to the same old thing, there is no space, go out and find something.
For some reason my Dad was briefly there and handed me 10 Euros (which I somehow knew wasn't enough).
I was getting up to leave and the guy said something about backpackers being unprepared, and I just jumped into his conversation and said without the people I'd met, I'd never have come back repeatedly. I wouldn't have continued to travel alone, and sometimes the adventure and trusting people is what makes it.
As I was leaving (all my bags on me) headed for the door, he gave me a 100 american bill. My eyes widened and he said something like "yeah" and nodded his head, but slapped me on my back and let me continue on in my journey.

I find this dream really fascinating because -A) once again it is in this city and this space that is unknown -but becoming more known. B) a space I return to despite the anxiety and survival struggle that occurs every time. C) In this particular version, I was already surrounded by fellow passengers on the journey and I made the choice to leave them to pursue my own reality. D) I was rewarded for it with money and recognition, but not with relief.  They were saying "keep going, heres something to help, but only because I know you'll keep going."

A classmate told me her dream today and it seemed visionary and left me thinking a lot about purpose and our role in the larger whole. We had been talking about feelings of social differentness- not necessarily isolation, but recognition of differences and our responses, and our theories on how we became that way.

I think this dream I just had is a rather perfect description of the way I feel in the world.  That I am recognized for my efforts, but my journey is lonely. It is self chosen. I return again and again to the same spots -determined to learn or thrive... It has moments of connection but not ongoing.

Makes me wonder where this city is and this hostel that is so familiar yet changes shape.




(((((((((((

Her dream had to do with sex -intimacy with a particular orange politician -but the feeling of both desire and subduing his terrible urges by distraction.   She talked about the sacred feminine acting upon the worst of the masculine traits... it is really a powerful association.

I was singing this song in the shower this morning. 

I should have said something, but couldn't find something to say, so I just said nothing...

thats twice today that I couldn't find the words to make a connection. 

A man approached, we were too alarmed to be sensitive, he shared a story that was too intense, and when he asked for advice we couldn't find something to say. Three social workers, too caught up in our human fear,  to connect to human frailty. 

He said it didn't hit him until he saw the urn, it was smaller than his hand. 

My critical mind is active, but my creative mind is a little too silent. 

I started my new summer classes, both with a professor that I’ve only had online before. The class I took online with her sucked, but I looked forward to the subject matter this summer as both classes are related to macro practice in policy and organizing. I am not sure what I expected, but so far (one class in) they are very introductory and I haven’t felt challenged. Some of the assignments are cool, (researching leaders in the field, doing a community tour, meeting with a community leader), but once again… didn’t I ask my students in sociology to do a community tour? Go observe and analyze! 

My professor is really exciting in that she is outspoken in her political beliefs, but I also found her ability to structure a discussion underwhelming (like previous profs). There is no challenge or follow up… no building on an idea, no momentum. Instead, a list of ideas thrown on the board, for what purpose? Where is the application?

Our buy-in became apparent right away, and she seemed thrown off by this as if she were prepared for an argument that never occurred. Instead of rolling with that and building off it… “So what in your experience has lead you to that conclusion? What did you miss, what did you need?” she went on with her planned activities anyway with us losing steam all the while. 

We watched a video about how structural-environmental changes impact health… as if that were revelatory. These profs are not ready for our generation of experienced, smart people. And instead of pushing them to up their game, most of us sit back and cruise through because we are too exhausted or busy to demand a challenge. It’s disappointing for me, but I understand most of my peers –really are too busy because they have full time jobs. 

She also basically said that she saw her biggest impact in the field as her research, and felt held back by having to teach 9 classes a year.  9 classes a year… I’d love that. 

I find her personal experience *which she shares openly, helpful but I wish she would make it a discussion instead of a lecture that shallowly dives from topic to topic. I am hoping it was just the first day… but we only have 3 more in class sessions and will spend half listening to our peers’ presentations. So… what is this class really worth?  She said it wasn’t a class about “community organizing,” but why not? Why shouldn’t it be a class about organizing and policy, and if they save that for the second year of the macro program –then clinical folks are missing out, and macro folks aren’t getting the experience in the field of doing the work. It’s all a missed opportunity. The whole programs design is flawed… they aren’t organizing us, or teaching us to be leaders, instead they’ve become accustomed to people seeking a degree and cruising through the program. 

There is a table full of young christians in front of me, and I want to ask. 

I want to argue and persuade.

I want to listen and learn. 

I want to do both without jeopardizing the ability to do either. 

Instead I don't. 

One of the grossest things that has ever happened to me...
So lately I've been coughing a lot. It started when I was really sick a month ago, but now I feel like I am perpetually getting something stuck in my throat -which is annoying. Maybe it is more swollen than it used to be... who knows.
So I am about to fall  asleep, and I feel like I need to cough. Then I need to cough a bunch.  It gets irritating so I drink a bunch of water. I am about to fall asleep again, but the cough comes back. This time I don't move and just try to clear my throat, 5 mins, 10 mins... still irritating coughing.
I roll onto my back and sit up a bit, cough, it seems to help so I lean forward and suddenly I start throwing up all over myself (must have been a bad angle).
Then the smell of vomit garlic bread hits me. This is the most disgusting instant vomit inducing vomit smell I have ever smelled, and immediately I throw up again, and again, and again. every time I smell it!  my shirt and blanket and the garbage next to my bed are all disgusting...
I run to the bathroom, throw up in the toilet and try to keep myself from smelling everything again.
I furiously scrub myself down. Throw my shirt in a plastic bag -I want to keep it, but I thought about throwing it away. Scrub my blanket and remove it from my bed. blah blah blah and then I shower.
It's still freaking me out. And I still have the damn tickle in my throat that caused it all.

moral of the story, garlic makes for the worst vomit.

mayday

It’s Monday the 1^st of May, 2017. I have a headache, seated awkwardly on a wooden bench at Blue Moon coffee shop, listening to hippie music from the 60s and 70s. It is snowing, then raining, then something in-between, then just cold with wetness gathering up from the cars that drive by. I have to go to my internship tonight to do intakes. My phone will die. I am not looking forward to it, mostly because of the shriek in my skull when light hits my eyes just right, or when a chair is scraped along the floor. I’ve taken medicine. I’ve taken coffee.

The internet isn’t working too well. I am missing the good parts of the book I am reading, because my jaw is clenched too tight, causing a fog that swamps my eyes.

It feels like late fall, but the evening is still bright and tempting, so you crawl into the warmth beneath the covers and console yourself with an extra couple hours of Netflix.

I have determined the future. It looks like another year of the same. Afterwards, I have contemplated and come to no great conclusions. I’d like to travel. I’d like to spend some time in Portugal and the areas of Spain, I was too hasty with.

I’d like to see Southeast Asia before it drowns or burns. I’d like to have someone I feel attached enough to invite. But these are the dreams, for now it’s just head down, assignment, head down, reading, head down, internship, head down side work…

I’m considering giving up the side work. It doesn’t feel worth my time. I’d rather spend it writing. I wonder if I can write while I am in school? I’d like to spend the summer writing, really putting some substance to the frame. I want to get further along in the project, but I also want it rich. I want it buttery, hardy enough that people feel nourished by the writing and not just the story. I want the story to be intriguing, I want it to be so delicately woven that people end up rereading for the pieces they missed. I want the characters to cause aches in all the right places. I will save the desirous pleasures for later characters. I am too ahead of myself with certain areas. The more I slow down, the better the writing can be, but I need time and energy to give lovingly to the project and that is hard to balance.

I am intrigued by this world. It’s mayday after all. I should be protesting, but I’m grinding my teeth instead.

I watched Thirteen Reasons Why, and though the story was completely different, it did a lot of the things I want my writing to do. It made me want to re-watch it when I finished, to see what I had missed.

Before the retreat into my bed covers this weekend, I had actually been quite social. I had last week off from coffee shop job, so I was able to hang with some folks –some new peoples from Augsburg, some old people from high school. I haven’t seen any of my morris friends in a bit.

But it was weird how it was simultaneously comforting to be social, and also worrisome. I felt more human, more involved, part of something other than the world in my head I have created… but I also felt like I knew it couldn’t last…like my period of socialness… was doomed to let someone down. Maybe my retreat was an attempt to make sure it wasn’t me. This weekend I invited the isolation. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone. The headaches made it easy.