I've always liked how it sounds to stay you live in a "studio." Picturing someone poring over books or taking up the violin or draping wild swaths of paint across canvasses - or walls! The unfortunate reality of many studios is that they are tucked away at the end of dark hallways through small doorways and involve going to sleep in your kitchen and finding excuses to go to the bathroom just to have a change of scenery.
In spite of all that, it still sounds more alluring than plain old "apartment," which sounds a lot like "department," which makes me think of work. And apartment-hunting _is_ work, as we all know. I haven't felt as wheeler-dealery in a long time as I did today, roaming all around town with my cell phone at the ready. "6th and Delancy? Let me call you back when I have a better idea of my schedule for tomorrow." "West Mt. Airy Ave.? I can be there at 10:00. 10:20? All right then, Steve. I'll call you when I leave my 9:30 appointment." (Appointment. There's another unappealing word.)
My first full day back in Philly, and I saw five apartments. Tomorrow, it will likely be eight or nine. People seem eager to unload them this late in the month. And I'm finding I may be able to make some deals. The deal I'd like to make would include a bed, a comfy couch, a rug, and a frying pan. But my baseline criteria is just a place with a lot of sunlight.
Sunlight is one of the things I wanted most this past year. I did a good job of finding it, too - along with plenty of outside time. Dancing, farming, roaming. Seems like ages ago when I was eating avocados every day or putting on the same grubby work pants for a week, hauling in pounds upon pounds of summer squash. How adventurous can I be back in a place I've already known? Surprisingly, it requires a lot more courage.
P.S. - Grandpa _did_ win, I baked some chocolate toffee bars, and Austin police have provided me with more than enough storytelling material to compensate for their shady interpretations of the 4th amendment.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
holiday cheer
It's been a long absence again, but not for lack of thinking about you all. I remained in Philly most of the past month - doing some long overdue catching up with friends and, shall we say, associates? I loved getting to swing by the co-op and buy food on Mike and Susanna's account (thanks, kids); loved wandering all over the city and seeing it in some of its best moods - including pretty holiday lights coming out; loved going out dancing and staying in watching birth movies, old MacGyver episodes, or swooning over Mr. Darcy ("or so he calls himself!"); loved the social gatherings and, of course, joining in the creation of the 3rd 'Swarm Productions puppet show premiere: "Rocky MMVIII: Wherein the Italian Stallion Reflects upon the Ups and Downs of a Decidedly Tumultuous Year."
It was a treat to cheer Mike on in the Philly marathon and to join him and Susanna and his family for Thanksgiving in my good ol' home state of New Jersey. It was quite a treat to have the option of leaving the table to wash dishes as the family engaged in an impassioned discussion of how to handle Christmas gift-giving this year. But even more of a treat to share a great meal with them and to witness to such antics as Mike's dad utilizing a stapler to tighten up his little granddaughter's oversized pyjama pants. This solution, while ingenious, unfortunately did not outlast a 'one more time before bed' trip to the bathroom.
I did spend a little additional time in NY State and City - on a trip with Susanna to a retreat her mom's church had pulled together that greatly honored her mom. I followed up the trip to Albany with a visit to NYC to see a couple dear friends there and to check out a program at NYU and one at CUNY that focus on using theatre in education and community development. A short but educational visit. I also had two visitors come down to Philly from NYC - Eric during election time, and then Bernadette, who has just returned from 3 years of travels. We did a little future planning session in the living room and drank a lot of tea.
Otherwise, my main roles lately have been 1) move and look, 2) move and think, 3) sit and think 4) rest, rest, rest. Sometimes I get to talk to people, and that's a very pleasant diversion. Other times, I talk to myself, or write, or read (which gets more into the 'rest' category). At the moment, I have moved myself once again - down to Texas this time. I spent a few days with my parents in Houston and am now in Austin checking out the scene. Having already seen a fantastic interactive performance in which I received a free margarita and got to talk to a stuffed bobcat, eating delicious Indian food and surveying some 6th Street debauchery, and getting asked out by a British divorcé selling humorous paintings at the Armadillo Holiday Bazaar - I have to say that Austin certainly has not left me wondering if there's any life in this two-bit Texas trading post. Oh, and did I mention the four cops who pulled a little "securing of the premises" in my cousin's apartment the night of my arrival here? Yeehaw! (Mom and Dad, we'll discuss it later.)
Tomorrow I'm a-gonna do me a little job interviewing and some further reconnaissance at the Universidad de Tejas (better known as UT - love those rust colored longhorns), and then I'll be heading north to the suburbs of Austin to visit my grandparents, which I hope will involve a game of Grandpa Wins and maybe some holiday baking.
Wishing all of you devoted readers a lovely holiday time. Big hugs all around, and best wishes for all good things in the days ahead. May you be happy and may you see Slumdog Millionaire, which is a movie that will make you feel not only good, but also hip.
It was a treat to cheer Mike on in the Philly marathon and to join him and Susanna and his family for Thanksgiving in my good ol' home state of New Jersey. It was quite a treat to have the option of leaving the table to wash dishes as the family engaged in an impassioned discussion of how to handle Christmas gift-giving this year. But even more of a treat to share a great meal with them and to witness to such antics as Mike's dad utilizing a stapler to tighten up his little granddaughter's oversized pyjama pants. This solution, while ingenious, unfortunately did not outlast a 'one more time before bed' trip to the bathroom.
I did spend a little additional time in NY State and City - on a trip with Susanna to a retreat her mom's church had pulled together that greatly honored her mom. I followed up the trip to Albany with a visit to NYC to see a couple dear friends there and to check out a program at NYU and one at CUNY that focus on using theatre in education and community development. A short but educational visit. I also had two visitors come down to Philly from NYC - Eric during election time, and then Bernadette, who has just returned from 3 years of travels. We did a little future planning session in the living room and drank a lot of tea.
Otherwise, my main roles lately have been 1) move and look, 2) move and think, 3) sit and think 4) rest, rest, rest. Sometimes I get to talk to people, and that's a very pleasant diversion. Other times, I talk to myself, or write, or read (which gets more into the 'rest' category). At the moment, I have moved myself once again - down to Texas this time. I spent a few days with my parents in Houston and am now in Austin checking out the scene. Having already seen a fantastic interactive performance in which I received a free margarita and got to talk to a stuffed bobcat, eating delicious Indian food and surveying some 6th Street debauchery, and getting asked out by a British divorcé selling humorous paintings at the Armadillo Holiday Bazaar - I have to say that Austin certainly has not left me wondering if there's any life in this two-bit Texas trading post. Oh, and did I mention the four cops who pulled a little "securing of the premises" in my cousin's apartment the night of my arrival here? Yeehaw! (Mom and Dad, we'll discuss it later.)
Tomorrow I'm a-gonna do me a little job interviewing and some further reconnaissance at the Universidad de Tejas (better known as UT - love those rust colored longhorns), and then I'll be heading north to the suburbs of Austin to visit my grandparents, which I hope will involve a game of Grandpa Wins and maybe some holiday baking.
Wishing all of you devoted readers a lovely holiday time. Big hugs all around, and best wishes for all good things in the days ahead. May you be happy and may you see Slumdog Millionaire, which is a movie that will make you feel not only good, but also hip.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
winners
I arrived in Philly on Wednesday, the night the Phillies won the World Series. Fans filled Broad Street, celebrating this win, which has been a long time coming (so they tell me. I can't claim true fan-dom.) On Halloween, there was a parade for the team which also filled Broad Street with people in Phillies shirts and hats. This city was already pumped before Election Day, so what do you think it was like last night when I walked out of the Doubletree Hotel after NBC called the election for Obama?
When I set foot on the sidewalk, I noticed the unseasonably mild air, and then the noise. Horns honking, people yelling. I kept moving further into it - crowds of people on the sidewalk, moving in on the passing cars heading up Broad Street, giving high-fives to people hanging out the windows with Obama signs. Someone was setting off firecrackers. Everybody was a body. The energy of the night was moving people out of their usual tightness into spontaneous smiles at strangers, dancing, crying, shouting, jumping and waving.
Back inside the hotel, the MoveOn.org election night partygoers were watching McCain give his concession speech. I couldn't listen. I was too excited about the street scene. Hearing me describe it, Jennine said, "Take me outside!" Jennine - my hero for the day - had been up until 3 a.m. the previous night finalizing plans for an election day get-out-the-vote effort involving over 100 volunteers who spread throughout the city to drive people in shelters, halfway houses, health care facilities, recovery houses, and low-income communities to the polls. She had spent hours and hours on end in a windowless room in north Philadelphia - doing things like figuring out how to get people in wheelchairs to their polling places. She needed to get outside.
Then my friend Susanna came outside, where we found a bunch of other familiar faces from the party and unfamiliar faces from anywhere. And people were banging pots and pans and chanting "O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!" and taking pictures and moving towards each other.
After a few minutes, we went back inside to watch the acceptance speech. Many of the younger folks in the crowd, including a bunch of the MoveOn staff, were gathered together on the carpet in front of the TV projection, cross-legged and gazing up at the scene at Obama headquarters in Chicago. It was like were were an extension of that crowd - clapping and cheering when they clapped and cheered. As if Obama could hear us. But really, it was important that we could hear each other, share a moment of relief and optimism.
So it turns out to be a good time to be in Philly. It turns out that people care about voting, about politics, about their political leaders. It turns out that we can find some common ground if we talk about not just what is, but what might be. Wow. I can still be a starry-eyed dreamer. How refreshing.
Props to all the folks who I know were busting their asses working on this election since the early days, including 2004 and 2000. Props to all the volunteers at Project H.O.M.E. who spent their day taking people to the polls. And big props to all the people who made the effort, stood in line for an hour or more at times, and VOTED! The hardest work is ahead, but I'm having some feeling - is it inspiration? Let's roll with that.
When I set foot on the sidewalk, I noticed the unseasonably mild air, and then the noise. Horns honking, people yelling. I kept moving further into it - crowds of people on the sidewalk, moving in on the passing cars heading up Broad Street, giving high-fives to people hanging out the windows with Obama signs. Someone was setting off firecrackers. Everybody was a body. The energy of the night was moving people out of their usual tightness into spontaneous smiles at strangers, dancing, crying, shouting, jumping and waving.
Back inside the hotel, the MoveOn.org election night partygoers were watching McCain give his concession speech. I couldn't listen. I was too excited about the street scene. Hearing me describe it, Jennine said, "Take me outside!" Jennine - my hero for the day - had been up until 3 a.m. the previous night finalizing plans for an election day get-out-the-vote effort involving over 100 volunteers who spread throughout the city to drive people in shelters, halfway houses, health care facilities, recovery houses, and low-income communities to the polls. She had spent hours and hours on end in a windowless room in north Philadelphia - doing things like figuring out how to get people in wheelchairs to their polling places. She needed to get outside.
Then my friend Susanna came outside, where we found a bunch of other familiar faces from the party and unfamiliar faces from anywhere. And people were banging pots and pans and chanting "O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!" and taking pictures and moving towards each other.
After a few minutes, we went back inside to watch the acceptance speech. Many of the younger folks in the crowd, including a bunch of the MoveOn staff, were gathered together on the carpet in front of the TV projection, cross-legged and gazing up at the scene at Obama headquarters in Chicago. It was like were were an extension of that crowd - clapping and cheering when they clapped and cheered. As if Obama could hear us. But really, it was important that we could hear each other, share a moment of relief and optimism.
So it turns out to be a good time to be in Philly. It turns out that people care about voting, about politics, about their political leaders. It turns out that we can find some common ground if we talk about not just what is, but what might be. Wow. I can still be a starry-eyed dreamer. How refreshing.
Props to all the folks who I know were busting their asses working on this election since the early days, including 2004 and 2000. Props to all the volunteers at Project H.O.M.E. who spent their day taking people to the polls. And big props to all the people who made the effort, stood in line for an hour or more at times, and VOTED! The hardest work is ahead, but I'm having some feeling - is it inspiration? Let's roll with that.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
moonlighting
Oh, what to choose, what to choose?! There are so many things I could relate - about the last week of CSA shares, the last day of farmer's market and the fantastic harvest relay involving an udder pull on a fake cow, about how I'm about to retreat for a week to do yoga and clear woods, about the upcoming return to Philly which feels like a test of how well I can hold together all the tender connections and heavy ambivalence of my year - in other words, how well I can hold together my self, or stop trying to. Then there's also the election and debate tonight, the intern dinner we had last night, finishing the book The Short Bus which has made me want to learn more about experiences of disability.
Okay, okay, here's the focus. It's coming... I woke up this morning maybe around 5:00 to see the full moon framed in a tiny window above my bed that is supposed to ventilate the upper bunk when, god forbid, it gets used for sleeping purposes. The moon was shining across my pillow on one of the coldest nights we've had so far. I was under my usual 4 layers of covers, but also had on my winter hat and a heavy wool sweater and socks. The dip in my mattress where it bends to turn into a couch has started to feel more and more pronounced over the past few weeks. I was cozy, but not fully comfortable. Warm, but sort of trapped in my cocoon, anticipating the cold all around me. And the moon was like daylight, reminding me I haven't really been sleeping much at all.
So when I awoke from the wavering state of semi-consciousness that is passing as sleep these days, I was thinking about acting. Yeah. It may be a surprise to some of you, but I think a lot about acting and things related to it. It's always this thing hanging out there that I think I want to do and that also scares me. Acting and I have been doing this dance for the last five or six years. Maybe longer. It's not that I really want to act professionally, but I like so many things about performance that I just keep getting drawn back into my fascination and desire for some part of it. And then, *bam*, i had this realization. (It wasn't really a *bam* at 6:00 in the morning. To be accurate, it was more of an "huh. how about that.") I am really a versatile actor. I mean I wouldn't go so far as to say triple threat (if only, Gene Kelley), but I've switched around roles so many times and really, I think made a convincing go of it - as an activist, a professional, an academic, a teacher, and, now, a farmer. And we're all doing this to some extent or another, right?
It's just that I'm getting tired. What do you do when you get tired? I've been struggling this past year with the tension between settling down and my fear of settling into something that may not make me happy. Walking into town this morning, I was wondering, if I stop struggling, which part do I stop struggling against? The settling down impulse, or the fear of settling? It's kept appearing to me that I'd have to let one or the other of these impulses go in order to find some peace. That would end the struggle. But I don't think that that's what "stop struggling" means. Maybe it doesn't mean cutting out one thing or the other. I think it means recognizing that there is a tension, but not giving into it. Just letting it be there as something that may not ever be fully resolved, because resolution is one of those ideals we seek but don't have any promise of.
To put it more succinctly, as long as I'm afraid that I'm missing (out on) something, I will be. That's what struggling does - takes you away from what else is going on. Like when a couple starts fighting and forgets that there are other people in the room. Or when you start a war and forget to look after the people back home.
Moonlighting means you hold a second job in addition to your regular one. My regular job is looking for a regular job, a regular place to be, a regular community. There's a lot of security in this line of work. I wonder what would happen if I tried something else.
Okay, okay, here's the focus. It's coming... I woke up this morning maybe around 5:00 to see the full moon framed in a tiny window above my bed that is supposed to ventilate the upper bunk when, god forbid, it gets used for sleeping purposes. The moon was shining across my pillow on one of the coldest nights we've had so far. I was under my usual 4 layers of covers, but also had on my winter hat and a heavy wool sweater and socks. The dip in my mattress where it bends to turn into a couch has started to feel more and more pronounced over the past few weeks. I was cozy, but not fully comfortable. Warm, but sort of trapped in my cocoon, anticipating the cold all around me. And the moon was like daylight, reminding me I haven't really been sleeping much at all.
So when I awoke from the wavering state of semi-consciousness that is passing as sleep these days, I was thinking about acting. Yeah. It may be a surprise to some of you, but I think a lot about acting and things related to it. It's always this thing hanging out there that I think I want to do and that also scares me. Acting and I have been doing this dance for the last five or six years. Maybe longer. It's not that I really want to act professionally, but I like so many things about performance that I just keep getting drawn back into my fascination and desire for some part of it. And then, *bam*, i had this realization. (It wasn't really a *bam* at 6:00 in the morning. To be accurate, it was more of an "huh. how about that.") I am really a versatile actor. I mean I wouldn't go so far as to say triple threat (if only, Gene Kelley), but I've switched around roles so many times and really, I think made a convincing go of it - as an activist, a professional, an academic, a teacher, and, now, a farmer. And we're all doing this to some extent or another, right?
It's just that I'm getting tired. What do you do when you get tired? I've been struggling this past year with the tension between settling down and my fear of settling into something that may not make me happy. Walking into town this morning, I was wondering, if I stop struggling, which part do I stop struggling against? The settling down impulse, or the fear of settling? It's kept appearing to me that I'd have to let one or the other of these impulses go in order to find some peace. That would end the struggle. But I don't think that that's what "stop struggling" means. Maybe it doesn't mean cutting out one thing or the other. I think it means recognizing that there is a tension, but not giving into it. Just letting it be there as something that may not ever be fully resolved, because resolution is one of those ideals we seek but don't have any promise of.
To put it more succinctly, as long as I'm afraid that I'm missing (out on) something, I will be. That's what struggling does - takes you away from what else is going on. Like when a couple starts fighting and forgets that there are other people in the room. Or when you start a war and forget to look after the people back home.
Moonlighting means you hold a second job in addition to your regular one. My regular job is looking for a regular job, a regular place to be, a regular community. There's a lot of security in this line of work. I wonder what would happen if I tried something else.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
home
A long absence, my friends. Thank you to all of you who are keeping up now and then on my movements.
Today I'm sitting at Miriam's coffee shop, where I often come to use free WiFi. Theresa's here, too, and I think we are in the mode of farm interns plotting our next steps. I've also seen three other familiar Coupeville faces. I'm going to miss that about small town living. You get to understand why gossip is such a big deal. The details of note become very small: I saw so-and-so at the coffee shop; Mr. D was at the library today looking at magazines, and he smelled like beer; there weren't too many people at the ice cream store, and the waffle cone machine was broken.
My favorite thing gossip-wise is the crime watch printed every other week in the local paper. Of course, the dispatch takes pains to conceal identities, but includes the funniest details. For example, an entry earlier this month reported police were dispatched to a local business that had a bird - "possibly a finch" - trapped in the store. Linda likes to tell of one report in which someone had reportedly broken into an elderly woman's home and stolen her eyeglasses and a "Girl Scout packet." Of course, there are plenty of swerving drivers and people in distress at the local hospital; but i enjoy the detailed ambiguity of the reports. Each one is a snippet of a story, a mini cliffhanger.
Which is comforting when I often feel myself in the midst of a big cliffhanger that is all about me. Besides the crime report, I've also found myself recently cultivating an addiction to Hugh Grant movies and Cream of Wheat (a childhood comfort food). Since just before my birthday, I started cutting back on sugary dessert foods; and in return I've found I have a huge appetite for dairy, bread, and cereal. To provide the counterbalance, recent aversions include people who whistle in coffee shops and looking for paid work.
So over the past four months, I've been getting tan, buff, and better able to wield a pitchfork. I've shared a lot of photos of beautiful places, had a lot of visits from loving and dedicated friends and family. I've gone kayaking, harvested some of the most beautiful food I've ever seen, and experienced a life of somewhat quiet trailer living.
To be completely honest, through all this I've been experiencing a lot of anxiety about life. A lot of it centers around the idea of needing to choose a path, find a passion, be focused on something that will prove to be meaningful. It also has had to do with feeling myself split in my allegiances - to friends, to family, to myself, to a sense of place. And added to that - as a gigantic backdrop - there is financial crisis, energy crisis, and security concerns of all types bubbling to the surface.
What I've started to realize is that every choice is both the path of truth and an escape from that path. The moment I start something new and fresh, I begin to see the ways that I'm still continuing an old and on-going story. The farm time has been about an attempt to sit still and take things in - be aware and present. But, you know, it's been very hard to do that. So if there will always be a tension between movement and stillness, between reality and the ideals we have about the world, then I hope I can find a way to reside somewhere peacefully within that tension - rather than continually trying to resolve it.
I wanted to share this with you all because I think many people, maybe all of us, experience this kind of tension. I've always, perhaps selfishly, enjoyed uncovering the dents in people's perfect-seeming lives - because that's where I see our shared humanity. And that's also where I discover how much we are all projecting our ideals onto each other and failing to see what is actually there. A lot of messiness, and a lot of beautiful struggle, loneliness, and courage.
This is all to say that I'm going to Philly again, and I'm freaked out about it in many ways, but longing to find a home one of these days. Knowing it won't be just in a physical place, but somewhere in myself.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
fall
Fall arrived this week. It came blowing in with a lot of rain and mist, and Valerie raided the cast-off clothes piles to find some gloves and sweaters for me. One is a wooly hot pink and purple number that is very effective at keeping me warm and brightening up the gray. So are the cosmos and the sunflowers, which are still blooming - determined to keep some shred of summer. As am I. I can't quite believe my year of spring and summer is winding down and I'm really heading into the winter. I miss the east coast fall with the leaves changing colors and the temptation of apple picking. The nostalgia here is different with the evergreens and the gray sky reflected in the gray water.
But next weekend, I'm going to head out into it. Take a kayaking trip for 3 days in the San Juan Islands. Time to set myself afloat and look for some sea life to counterbalance the land life I've been helping to grow the past couple months. I got an exciting encounter last weekend when I went out for an hour and kayaked around the mussel farm in Penn Cove. There's a family of seals that apparently lives around the big floating mussel docks. Sitting very still in my kayak, I got to see them pop their heads up out of the water from time to time and check me out. A few were also laying on top of the docks. Their eyes are so big and dark, they have a sort of blank look to them. And yet you could tell they were taking it all in.
I'm not as relaxed here as I'd like to be. Especially with the cold weather moving in. As the trailer gets colder, it reminds me that I need to be moving on soon. And moving on to what? Sometimes I'm completely ready to embrace the unknown next step. And other times, I feel like getting into that big unflattering sweater and curl up watching the swashbuckling Captain Horatio Hornblowerand just think about how not even Gregory Peck can really pull off the 18th century knickers look. I wonder how they were ever fashionable. But I admit he does manage well in the 3-cornered hat. Which should be brought back. I can think of a few people who I'd enjoy seeing in one, can't you?
But next weekend, I'm going to head out into it. Take a kayaking trip for 3 days in the San Juan Islands. Time to set myself afloat and look for some sea life to counterbalance the land life I've been helping to grow the past couple months. I got an exciting encounter last weekend when I went out for an hour and kayaked around the mussel farm in Penn Cove. There's a family of seals that apparently lives around the big floating mussel docks. Sitting very still in my kayak, I got to see them pop their heads up out of the water from time to time and check me out. A few were also laying on top of the docks. Their eyes are so big and dark, they have a sort of blank look to them. And yet you could tell they were taking it all in.
I'm not as relaxed here as I'd like to be. Especially with the cold weather moving in. As the trailer gets colder, it reminds me that I need to be moving on soon. And moving on to what? Sometimes I'm completely ready to embrace the unknown next step. And other times, I feel like getting into that big unflattering sweater and curl up watching the swashbuckling Captain Horatio Hornblowerand just think about how not even Gregory Peck can really pull off the 18th century knickers look. I wonder how they were ever fashionable. But I admit he does manage well in the 3-cornered hat. Which should be brought back. I can think of a few people who I'd enjoy seeing in one, can't you?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
roots and blooms
More photos!
Today we hauled in over 70 pounds of squash - one weekend's worth of growth. Here's the thing about plants - sometimes they move faster than we do.
Yesterday I learned that when a plant is blooming, it's putting effort into its bloom and not into its roots as much. So with flowers like dahlias (many of which are blooming at the farm), it can be hard to transplant them when they're blooming since they're not putting as much energy into their roots.
Just a little food for thought - about where I / we put our energy. Roots or blooms? When is a good time to transplant, and when is a good time to stay put?
Lovely week to all.
Today we hauled in over 70 pounds of squash - one weekend's worth of growth. Here's the thing about plants - sometimes they move faster than we do.
Yesterday I learned that when a plant is blooming, it's putting effort into its bloom and not into its roots as much. So with flowers like dahlias (many of which are blooming at the farm), it can be hard to transplant them when they're blooming since they're not putting as much energy into their roots.
Just a little food for thought - about where I / we put our energy. Roots or blooms? When is a good time to transplant, and when is a good time to stay put?
Lovely week to all.
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