Where have I been? With head firmly tucked away trying to throw self into frenetic activity to avoid reflection. Why? Because it leaves me blue. So I take chicken approach – see object of misery coming your way, promptly change paths and ignore it. Problem is, it’s just as persistent.
So where indeed have I been? I am firmly in the middle of a job hunt. I am awaiting second round interviews with one of the largest hedge funds in the world, a really smart geek persons place that accepts 1 in 500 and is known for its secrecy. But I have to admit, I am very surprised at the quarters help comes from, the most unexpected places including via this blog...reading that last line and reflecting on some of the stuff I've written about, it's a little worrying that I haven't been labelled insane.
I am in the middle of a relationship that has it’s up’s and down and unfortunately today caught me on a down swing. This, like everything else, seems to be in flux.
I went and saw Fuerza Bruta at Union Square. It is the singularly most brilliant piece of art I have seen in the sense that
a. it doesn’t strive to be anything
b. it reminds me that essentially we are playful creatures
c. gives a sensory stimulus never experienced before, a new concept which, unlike say a new piece of music which essentially is still music (a concept) which is delightful.
I am still pondering the superficial viz getting into shape, footling about with the guitar which is simultaneously stimulating, delightful and incredibly frustrating to the point where I have calluses but am fascinated with them and still getting frustrated over the misery one set of humans can inflict on another, be it Iraq or Burma and deciding that economic strata will always lead to a pyramid and that’s one of the characteristics of a capitalist society.
While this may not be a great revelation to anyone, it was interesting to me because it’s a conclusion I reached on my own based on observation. So there
I also took a course in photography which has simultaneously given me new interest in looking at pictures online (thank you StumbleUpon) and think of myself, rather misguidedly, as the next Sam Abell.
But, I have discovered I really like Palani Mohan and also can go beyond Ansel Adams being the extent of my knowledge of photographers.
I also went sky divvying which is the most intense thing I have ever done. It was tandem and it’s the closest I have been strapped to a guy. My guy happened to be Scottish and rather brusque which put a dampner on it. To ‘take the mickey out of me’, just before we jumped, he kissed the back of my neck. I was molested at 14,000 feet and I don’t want to talk about it.
The most terrifying moment is when you see your feet dangling over the edge, it seems a bit surreal when you look down and see you r hands holding on to the edge. But before your brain can send messages to your eyeballs telling them to bulge out cartoon style, the wind is sucked out of you given you are falling at 250km/h. Given the wind is screaming the land seems to be rather static. It’s true, 14,000 feet or 10,000 feet, you are a ways up and the ground looks the same.
There’s a SNAP and everything goes dead quiet. You do float down a lot slower than you thought and after a while look around and can’t help but grin.
I’m so going again, and I can’t wait
On a more terrifying and introspective front, I have realized that I have made a mistake in how I deal with things. Again, this seems an anticlimactic statement but you know what, it still scares me.
The problem can me summarized as such:
An email to the ex: I hope you are okay given the flames in San Diego
Reply: Yeah, but I keep bursting into tears knowing I’m not going home for a while. You know how that feels!
Me: Well, you have your new family to look forward to. Besides, mine was much worse given I ended up with depression, visiting a shrink and on Prozac. Not that I told my folks
(And I never told her until now…)
Reply: Well, I’ll learn from your mistakes
I was hoping for more of a reaction than that.
Now, the thing with the Sasquatch (yeah, I call her that out of affection and go giggle somewhere else…I do mushy things once in a while and I can spin them any which way I want), the problem is she reads me like an open book and even if she says something that dregs up unwanted memories, my voice changes imperceptibly, even to me but she sees that and digs deeper.
I’m so NOT used to this. And of course I squirm because having someone probe into these unpleasant things reminds me of them. Of course, in her own sage way she advises that I dredge them up, face them and put them to rest. Well kiddo, I’ve been hiding them for about eight years now, suppressing them and locking them away. I didn’t think I’d have to revisit them and certainly not have someone walk around, find a chest, sit on it, tap their well manicured nails and ask me what’s in it. It’s the equivalent of me trying to throw a sheet on it and call it a rustic dining table but you see right through it.
And I’m still not used to it. My reflex is to get defensive and turn on the other person for finding it. The truth is it’s been buried for so long now, I didn’t think I’d have to deal with it. Anyway, I shall have to grapple with it as I go along.
Oh and I bought an iTouch which gives me a metaphorical geek boner. I am also obsessed with Audioslave, namely Be Yourself, Yesterday to Tomorrow, Dandelion, One and the Same, Sound of a Gun, Original Fire.
Also, the one song that can really really have me calm down right now is Ganja Babe by Spearhead, associations not withstanding. Go listen. Also, go see pictures