harold_maude's journal

Life and death and a peice of white bread

# 29975

In the 1950's a group of the population of the country, being frustrated with the tone of things, began to gather in coffee houses and began to explore art in what ever was momentary.

Poetry was spoken, and it was in the moment. They wore black generally, as an outward display of their breaking away from the social structure that was america at the time.

Their obesssion was a life style that was considered by the rest of the neatly organized suzie home maker, cookie cutter world as weird.

It's good to be weird.

The generation to follow was the hippy movement. A further step away from the victorian ideas and bounderies that have determined the attitudes tord many things in this country for a long, long time.

Durring the hippy movement the rise of free love, and free life and free everything you can sprouted.

It's good to be weird. The box no longer defines who you are.

Actually all of the events that have taken humans to that place were the only answer to frustration have seemed weird or dangerous.
It's the nature of reveloution. To break out. To be different. To have someone else who feels the same way you do stand beside you and say yes with you.

Once again the season for breaking out and away from that which is now the social norms is on the rise.
People are tired of the mess and apathy that this country finds itself in the middle of.

The corporations that actually rule the state of this nation and many others in the world. I don't believe it's actually the goverments that are truely in control, but the corporations that contribute heavily to the goverments and the banks and other various parties with money that bring about the decisions that shape things.

We are being and have been lulled into a stuper of entertainment so that when things happen that affect us we don't have the strength to say no and be heard.

I see the evidence everywhere I go. In the pages of popular magaizines and blaring from t.v.'s all over.
We are the new slaves. And our chains are invisible.
I keep thinking about the movie "Fight Club" and the various and very potent speachs that hit the ears through out the whole movie, and suddenly it becomes evident that there is a type of revolution that is on the rise.

People plagued by bordom, moving from entertainment to entertainment, in search of.
In search of what? Something to give them some kind of meaning to the daily grind, of working long hours to pay for things they never or rarely get a chance to enjoy.
Children who grow up to be angry strangers to parents who are bewildered by the uprising in defiant stands to the weak if any consistancy that exists in homes everywhere.

After years and years of using the land and water as the dumping ground for toxic waste, in other words corporate toilet bowls and convincing farmers that it's really a good thing to saturate the soil with deadly chemicals and genetic crap that doesn't actually produce any good end result,
We stand there scratching our heads and wonder why is everything so out of control.
Why do so many people drink or look to various things to amuse themselves into a stupor so that they won't have to think about the need for clorine in the water, or the sewage that is back building in the oceans and all the early warning signs of the demise of the planet. The frogs and the micology. Which are indicators of the health of the planet.

Thoes two things among others are watched by scientists to monitor where things are at.
And still we are deaf. And blind.

This process has given rise to people who have begun to fight back. The eco terrorists, the groups of people who leave society and go off and live in groups who's perameters are manned by armed individuals, other wise known as survivalists.

The seeds of revolution are there.

Thoes who choose to stay emersed in society as it is now think of these groups as dangerous groups when what is really going on is that they are the mirror immage of the beatnics of the 1950's.
Only now they are armed and very very angry at what has happened to the land the water and the air.
They don't trust any corporation. And who can blame them. It's easy to lie when money is involoved. Take a look at enron, the company that went down the tubes and took a whole lot of people with it.

The revolution is at hand. Only this time when it comes to the explosion that comes with revolution more than just the clothes and the hair styles and the way people live will be affected.
It will be all of us, one way or another, we will all feel the flood that comes as the result.

For every action there is an equal and oposite reaction...and the question will then be, when it comes, not if, but when, will society remain standing.

Random thoughts

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# 29897

From some dark shadowed hallway, they come.

Thoughts.

Bits and peices of things, words, immages. Some pasturized by the envoirment in which we find ourselves. Some rogue thoughs that take us, however briefly, to somewhere. Even for a split second.

Then as quickly as they have come, they disapate.

In one of my journals I keep a record of these thoughts as I catch them. They never seem connected. Or seem very long. But I've been wondering as of late if they are memories stored inside the cells and what is happening is they are just surfacing and then submerge again into the soup that swirls around inside.

The stuff that never gets noticed as we exhale it.

I learned reciently that scientists have discovered that we have about 60 thousand thoughts a day. That's a lot of thoughts.
By any standard.

I also learned that we are mostly energy, and every time we breathe in we are taking into ourselves parts of everyone on the planet, both thoes that are here now and thoes who have been here.

I'm still contemplating the implications of this.
The doctor who was speaking was talking about physics and other things that I normally have a very difficult time grasping.

But listening to what he had to say made me think about all thoes thoughts that go through my head. The bits and peices of sometimes brilliant flashes, and they come and go so quickly that I forget.

Sometimes I just listen as strings of words float by.
Other times I write down what I'm hearing.
Things like, silvered bits of sunlight tumble from pregnant seeds surrounded by velvet dreams...
or, in the deepest place, where life stops just short of screaming into daylight, there is a moment of hesitation that lasts longer than time itself...

I have no idea where these kinds of thoughts come from, or what their connected to. But I hear lots and lots of them.
Sometimes they make no sense.
But after listening to this man speaking about what we are made of and how each time we breathe in we breathe in the universal body and every time we breathe out we breathe out the universal body and at the same time we are exhaling parts of us go out there.

Every 5 weeks we make a new liver, every year we make a new skeleton, every so many days we make a new stomach lining...and on and on.
It makes me wonder if that's going on, then maybe all thoes glimpses people have of things they could not possibly have any idea about, maybe thoes are things that Lenardo Da vinci thought about and pondered on.
Or maybe when ephany's hit us, maybe that's when someone way back many years ago, or a brilliant mind like Steven Hawlking was wandering around in some staggering possiblities thoes cells just floated out and ended up in us, and we were awake just long enough to catch them.

If we are just energy, and we create ourselves every day, who's to say that we can't stop the aging process, or grow younger with each passing year?
He said that every cell in our body thinks. There is scientific evidence of it.
And the only difference between our brain and the rest of us is that the rest of us hasn't evolved enough to become filled with doubt.

The possiblities are staggering...this is what I've been thinking.
That any thing really is possible. Just having a notion of it will make things happen, once it gets past the doubt our mind swims in most of the time.

Just think about what it all means. All thoes things that we do and make happen by "wishing for it" when actually we are giving all the energy in the cells that are in our bodies now a certian message which then goes out into the universal body and creates a chain reaction, and then things happen.

Anything...is...possible.
Just believe and get past the doubt, and be changed...because we are always in a constant state of changing...
you can't be who you were yesterday, because the parts that were there yesterday arn't all there now, there are new parts, and tomorrow there will still new parts being made...every time I breathe out, part of myself leaves, and everytime I breathe in parts of everyone else comes in...

maybe the thoughts arn't so random after all.

The writing of one's life...or how to put your friends to sleep

# 29888

I admit it. I've thought about it. Collecting all the bits and peices of writing and art and other things I've put my hand to over the years and writing a collective thing.

The title would go something like: Here it is. Everything you ever wondered about this strange wandering woman and never wanted to ask.

Or How to write about your life in ten easy steps and finally find a way to put your friends to sleep.

I wonder how people can come up with a few words for a title and it cover pages and pages of thought.
How do you stuff that much into a tiny space.

A journal title is easy. You pick something and then jump.
A subject that takes you somewhere and then your off...like a herd of turtles spittin in the wind, slower than a gnat stuck in a mollasses barrel.

I'm in rare form today. Feeling a bit on over load from the morning spent at Barns and Noble looking at all kinds of invations hidden behind delicious covers.
I like the smell of books.

Delicious journeys for the mind. Time looses it's hold and you get to go somewhere else.

I love the books that take you on journy's....help me onto my horse will you? I have to get used to wearing this much armor.
It's been months since I was in battle last, and I just got rid of the last of the callouses on my ass from where this part kept rubbing (pointing to an inner lip on the metal plating)

I hate wearing this stuff. I end up with cramps that mess with my life. I guess if I was in battle more I wouldn't have to go through this.
But no one attacks that often, and when they do, the guys have been on drunken jags for weeks and who knows how good they are when things get wild.

I wish my horse were just a bit shorter. This is such a pain.
all that charging around and staging and all the other stuff that goes with this job.
I think I need to go to the pub. A good long drunk. Yeah that's what I need....

I hate wearing the same socks for days.
Oh yea. Here it comes.
The other guy, in his armor, announcing this and that and now he's pissed, and he's going to defend is honor or something like that.
I tend to start falling asleep by the time these guys get through their list of things.
It would all be so much easier if we were more worried about the water supply.
Maybe we could get a hold on and fix the general state of dysentary that keeps poping up ever few months.

I wish someone would come up with something besides leaves to wipe your ass with...
oh well, maybe this will be short. I'm ready for a long visit to the pub.
Hot food, well sort of, and warm beer. Yeah. maybe this guy will listen to reason. Hope so, I could always use another drinking buddy.

Well here goes....
Let you know how this turns out when we're done.
The black smith is gonna be busy today.

Monday morning

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# 29829

It's too early to be up this early. There I was sleeping. Minding my own buiness when I was inturpted by pain.

I've learned to ignore pain until it's so bad that it's screaming at me.
It was bad enough to wake me up and I still should be sleeping.
I realized that certian things may be going on. Or it may be the food I had before bed last night about 4 in the morning.

At any rate it's starting to try to calm down now and I don't hurt quite as much as I did a little bit ago.
That's a good thing.
But it makes me wonder how much of what I go through is related to my bodies reaction this morning.

Two years ago I had surgery to fix a huge hole in my stomach.
A hole that two years earlier a doctor in a different town was suppose to fix so that I could have a normal life.
Then there were two holes, smaller to be sure, but still large enough for part of my bowl to fit through.

He only sewed me up and didn't put any mesh in to help this mess from happening again.
16 months later and it's Christmas and I'm in the emergancy room in searing pain.

The doctor tells me there is no evidence of any mesh being put in the area. So this time he does it right. I told him I don't want to do this again. I don't like slow painful death.
It sucks big time.
That's what happened the first time. When the holes got big enough and the bowl slipped through one of the holes, it started to strangle. It was a week of going to see the person I thought was a doctor and having her tell me it might be alot of things.
I discovered she was a nurse practioner. How I could have missed this was possibly due to the fact that she was listed as a main caregiver in the small clinic that I was going to for several months.
Normally they don't list anyone but doctors among the caregivers in clinics. So upon the recomendation of a friend I started going to see this person.
It didn't help that she was able to write perscriptions and do everything a doctor can do.

So when this searing pain grabbed me one quite sunday night and threw me into a bent non functional individual I went to see my "doctor"
After messing about for a week, perscribing different things, and me trying them and nothing helping, I was schedualed for an ultra sound the following monday.
It was a good thing I decited to go the hospital on saturday.

Durring the week when this was going on the following things began to happen. My body temp began to fall. I was puking every three hours. After two days the stuff I was puking up turned black while my body started turning blue.
I was dying a very slow and painful death.
Nothing like it for making a person wish that death would hurry it's sweet ass so that all this would stop.

Anyway, as it turned out I had this problem and I thought it got fixed.
For six months I was very careful. And then I got a job.
With in days of starting work, the stitches began to rip out and then the hole began to tear more, until at last, 16 months later I'm in the emergancy room and they are carting me off for tests.
I knew what had happened by the type of pain I was in. You don't forget something that feels like that.

This time after the surgery I discovered that the problem was fixed as the months passed by and I did all kinds of lifting and moving heavy stuff and had no problem.

There is one side effect I haven't been able to do away with though, every time my stomach hurts to the point where it draws my attention and makes me sweat, I find my self fearing the mess has happened again. And I don't want to do this again.
I'm learning to ignor the pain, that is until it's so bad that I have to notice it.
The the thoughts come and I practice relaxing.
I do that at the dentist and have fallen asleep while he drills holes.

I used to be terrified of the dentist. Then one day I decited to visualize something wonderful while waiting for the drilling to begin. By the time they started working, I was deep in a state of being somewhere pleasant and didn't notice much except a faint noise far away in the background.
I was alseep.

They had to wake me up to tell me it was all done. I felt rested and relaxed.
So now when I go to the dentist, it's a chance for me to get some great rest.

I was thinking about how many nights after I come home from work in such pain that the only thing I can do is take something. My body won't shut up and when the cramping starts in my legs, and my feet start going into massive cramping I have to take something to stop the pain.

I think I've been taking over the counter pain meds for too long. I don't think it's a good thing. I'm thinking I need to employ the same thing I do when I visit the dentist.
I'm tired of responding to pain with pills.
It sucks and it's been long enough so now all the ibuprophen and neproxin do is just take the edge off.

Time for a different approach. I have a feeling that I'm going to live with pain the rest of my life. I just have to find a way to use my mind to stop it.
That's all.
Nothing major. Nothing huge and nothing I can't do. I just have to figure out how is all.
I'm going to keep track of how things go. So I can see if it works or not. I don't have much to loose, except maybe some nights of no sleep because of pain I haven't learned how to stop.

Sunday night, a little after 9

# 29809

I just finished a 3 day run at work and have come to the conclusion that working 8 plus hours a day several in a roe, is a very exausting thing to do.

Last night I was so wiped out that I started getting sick to my stomache.
I get there and go hard and no stop until I clock out.
I don't get paid enough for as much as I end up paying physically and metnally every time I clock in.

enough bitching about work...

It looks like winter has finally started thinking about settling in on this part of the world.
I would love the snow better if it didn't go in the streets and make dangerous weapons of other wise somewhat safe vehiels.
Not that would keep the people who drive like they are some deserted road from being out there, but at least it wouldn't have the option of becomming a skating rink out there.
I love to drive, except for in the winter.

That truely sucks.

Anyway, it's that time of the year and people are getting cranky and short tempered now, and so I would love to spend the rest of the winter being a bear and sleep in some cozy cave until spring.

But now is the time when we put on our heavy coats and seveal layers of clothes and wonder when the next dumping of the white stuff will take place.
It's not like when your a little kid, and the white stuff rocks and all you wanna do is play in it. Make snowmen and snow angels and go sleding.
Even the big kids like it, you can snow board and ski, and sled and make snowmen and snow angels too, although they are bigger due to the fact that you can reach higher and have longer legs.

Finished another painting this morning, but I think I'm going to
do a kind of frame to put it on. I'm thinking do a second painting that's a bit larger underneath and then put the first one on the second.
It will be the first I've ever done like that and it may look really awesome and open up some interesting places to explore.

The more I think about it, the more I don't want to teach the three classes I'm commited to.
I don't think that anyone who doesn't have the drive to commit to persuing watercolor should take an off hand one time class.
That doesn't do the media justice and most people who take a class in something you can spend a life time exploring and still not learn all there is, walk away with what ever from.

I know that's just my opinion, but shit, I see it all the time.
These people who get a wile hair because they are bored and need a new pastime so they decide their gonna take a class.
So they go buy all this stuff, and then never use it after the class is done.
It kind of pisses me off, but I guess it's not my problem.

I've spent the majority of my life studing art and emersing myself in the wonders of it, and I'm over the top when it comes to being passionate about it. I know what doing it ever day produces.
Inspiration comes so rarely. And when it's not there and your working your ass off anyway to keep your skills honed and tight, when it does come, it's amazing.
Your so ready for it and it's like an orgasm.
But it doesn't get like that if a person only does it when their in the mood.
Fuck that shit. You can't only do it when your in the mood.
I've never met a musician who only played when they were in the mood.
Waiting around for in the mood is like only writing when you have maybe a workable thing.
You have to discipline yourself to do it every day. There is no other way to approach art or music or writing.
Anything else makes all that a hobby.
And if it's only a hobby then it doesn't matter, you might as well be out fishing or going to the movies, or playing parchesy.

I know I'm a fanatic when it comes to art. I'm not ashamed of that.
I love it even when I'm so dry I have to force myself to sit there and put the hours in.
I've had so many dry times. And it wasn't until I got into watercolor that I finally understood the value of daily painting.
I used to ride waves of inspiration. They would last for about six months and then I'd move on to something else.
And the new thing would always produce this thing,
an excitment and that would be the inspiration that would be the driving force.
Then I hit that ten year block where I did no drawing, but alot of quilting and beading.

After I stared in watercolor, there was such a huge flow of creative force behind the work. I was producing lots and lots of work. Then I hit my first dry spell. It's scared the shit out of me.
I couldn't deal with another 10 years of no drawing or painting.
So I painting everyday. Did alot of geometric work.
Just to keep painting.
I didn't care if it looked like shit, I didn't care if I had to do it that way for the rest of my life. I wasn't going to loose something this good.
And it payed off.
The next time of ispiration hit and it was amazing. I was right there.
What a rush. What a ride.
And the finished work was amazing.
It kind of looks like something related to tolkens world.

It convinced me why it's so important to do every day. No matter how much you don't want to, or don't feel like it.
And the really amazing thing about it is that anyone, I mean anyone can take any thread of the arts and do that.

All it takes is learning how to use the tools and then find out where your creative leadings are and go for it.
In the beginning when your first working with it, your going to do alot of things that will look not so ok.
but that's ok. Your learning a new thing.
Save that stuff.
Use it to see how far you've grown in six months, a year.

There is this quote from a guy named balzac:
"Waiting for inspiration is an act of vanity, one must
pick up the materials and get one's hands dirty"

That's where it is. Just doing it. No excuses. After a while it will become a passion.
I get tired of hearing from people that they arn't creative.
I'd like to shove that shit down some dark hole,
because it isn't true.
We are all creative in one way or another.

I've heard this too in defining creativity, I can't draw a straight line, well that's what rules are for.

People are so scared of making mistakes, and they want it all perfect.
It doesn't happen that way. You make lots of mistakes. They have a lot to teach you.
There is so much that you can learn from those things.
But people don't see that.
They want their errasers and trash can handy so they can get rid of some of the most important work they will ever do.
They want to look polished and perfect and I want to scream when I hear all that comming out of people's mouths.

I say, learn to love your artistic mistakes. They are like the road map to learn about your creativity.
With out them you won't get to be polished.
With out them you don't grow, you just sit there, still in that same stupid scared state, and wish they could paint like that.

I guess this is the night for airing pet peeves....

Just once I would love it if someone who said they had no creative ablity would decided to persuse some art venu, and do it every day. And even if their stuff looked like junk to the rest of the world, they would do it anyway.
Just once I would love to see some ordinary person do that.
It would make me think there are people out there who are breaking out of boxes their teachers as small children put them into.

I figure if more people did art of some kind there would be less people fighting about things that have nothing of value.
There would be less aimless people out there.
And you could take anyone with stress in their lives and teach them how to relax by doing art.

Another thing that really frustrates me is people who try to reproduce them selves artisticly in the people they teach.
That's just wrong.

A teacher, a good one is simply a guide.
that's all.
You can't teach someone their creativity. You can only show them how the tools work.
that's all.
and it doesn't matter if the student ends up being better than the teacher. In fact, I think the theacher would do right by hoping and expecting the student to supass them.
Look ,
we're here for just a little while.

You get to do only for a little while. It's part of the deal to pass your stuff on.
You can't take it with you, so why not aim to make the next person or people comming up behind you better than you were able to achieve.
Why be greedy?
What does that get you except the personality of scrooge and who wants to die a scrooge?

I want to find a student that I can teach all I have learned to, show them everything and then tell them find your own voice, take the tools and go for it.
Makes a lot more sense than it dying with me.

I know far too many suspicious artists out there who refuse to share their knowlege except if they get paid alot of money.
And then they want to reproduce themselves in someone else.
As if they really owned it anyway.
I don't own my gifts or talents. I'm just a caretaker of them.
I love it when someone I've shared things I've learned with takes it and goes where I hadn't even considered the possiblity of going.
I've never charged money to teach anyone. And I think that's part of the reason I don't want to teach thoes 3 classes I've commited to, there is money involved.
It almost feels like I'm prostuting my gifts by getting paid for teaching how the tools work.

I don't mind selling finished works. Not that I charge alot for them. People keep telling me I don't charge enough.
what they don't understand is that I don't feel right about charging all kinds of money for something I love.

I've given away work. I used to do give it away because I felt like that was all it was worth.
I didn't think it was worth money.
I still struggle with that issue. It's hard to put a price on my art.
Not that I'm attached to finished work. I'd have no trouble burning it.
I've distroyed several works just because I felt like it.
I've had people get mad at me for doing it.
They seem to think I'm very talented. And they also seem to think it's worth alot of money.

It still blows me away when people buy my art, or prints.
There was this woman who gave me $80 a print instead of what I was asking, one was ten and the other 3 were 15.
She then appoligized for not paying me more for the prints but that was all she could afford.
I thought she was nuts. And told her so.
I even tried to give her back the extra money. But she refused.
She insisted.

I still can't understand why she would think they were worth that much.

geeze...I'm rambling again...
talkin to myself.
got motor mouth of the brain...it's a good thing this is just a journal and not a speach I'm giving at a convention or something...I'd put everyone to sleep by now.

But that's why journals are so awesome...you can write as long as you need to and when your done, you can walk away and it's ok.

Well, I guess I'll close for now...enough babbling for the night.
See ya tomorrow.

Lack there of

# 29788

It seems that I have a preferance for keeping certian things in my life out of public eye when I am present.

Today at work I spent two hours being very vunrable in an area of my life that up until a month ago, I had no intention of publicly displaying.
I did what I did so that the corporation would have the idea that I'm working to fill empty spaces that they require filled.
I wish I haddn't.
I felt like a performer on a stage with no hiding place.

It felt like this part of me which is very personal was laid out there and the people passing by were some how disgusted by it. Or found it to be somthing they didn't want.

I realized that it had no value to anyone but me. I felt exposed in a way that no person wants to be exposed in.

It almost felt like I was laying part of me out there to be trampled on.

I was so glad when the day was done, and now my hope is that no one will want to take the classes I've signed up for over the next month. I don't want to put this part of me out there again.
It dosen't mean anything to anyone but me.

It's a huge part of my private world. The one I retreat into when everything around me feels like it's in the toilet, and there is no one to help me out.
In a huge way I feel like I dishonored myself.

That was how the day ended.
How it started was an encounter with one of my managers disgussing different things related to the corporation and a very distinct feeling that I've just been handed more pressure, and that sucks because I already feel like no matter how hard I try it isn't doing any good.
No matter what I do, it's all too little.
Too much lack for too long.

How do you change things when what your facing is a long time of a failed experiment?
I keep thinking I need to find someone who can do this job better than me.
Someone who has the fire and the in depth know how to turn things around and make it go in the right direction.
I can't shake the feeling that they picked the wrong person for the job.
At the same time I know that no one wants the job I have.
That in this area where there is an undertone of apathy the reason no one wants this job is because it's hard to convince people that don't care that what you have to offer them is worth while.

I keep thinking that I'll stay until after the first of the year and then hope they find someone to fill this possition who really can do everything that the corporation expects of them and do it with a smile.

I'm an artist, not a business monger. I don't love money, and I have a hard time with thinking about money, money money all the time.
Everything of value to this company has to do with money. Nothing more.

I know that. It's simply business. But it sucks.
I was told by someone who had the job I do a while ago that there was lots of freedom with this job.
But I can't see it. All I see is that I'm a monkey doing the monkey song and dance.
And for what?
So the corporation will get richer off my labor.

I wish I could win the lottery, then it would matter if I did a great job or not. Not that it matters now, but the difference would be that if they got rid of me I wouldn't have to deal with the stupid routine of doing the monkey dance for some new employer who doesn't care about anything but my performance and how much money it will make them.

So here's to the lack there of, may it never distroy thoes of us who live two paychecks away from homelessness.
May it never crush our spirit and cause us to give up and lay down and die.
No job, no business, no corporation is worth laying down who you are and giving your life away to make some corporate mucky muck richer.

...I am so glad that this day is over.
So glad.


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