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  • Distance

    March 15th, 2023

    Recently, I was able to see some of my relatives in person, for the first time in…has it been three years? I recall that lockdown started in our area three years to the day ago, though I don’t have as crisp a recollection about when it ended — due to the fact that we were easing ourselves back in. The previous time we saw these members of our family was right as the pandemic was beginning, at the end of 2019.

    In fact, I got sick on that trip (someone always gets sick on every trip, even if it’s just from different food or water), but we were quicker to suspect a mild case of Legionnaire’s Disease from the dripping air conditioning and poor ventilation, than COVID. Awareness of the latter was just emerging at the time.

    I did note the high rates of illness — a crowded Longs Drugs — on that trip, which leads me to think that COVID had been circulating there before it was officially recognized. There’s also the bizarre fact that I tried to get treatment at the beginning of 2020 (I had symptoms which lingered longer than they should have, from something which left before it was identified), and my stand-in doctor ghosted me on the video call.

    Though it wouldn’t be prudent to get into other people’s mental health, the toll that lockdown has taken on all of our psyches is apparent. The very good thing about this is that the last visitation has everyone in agreement about next steps. I’m not going to get into them, here — but there is an actual workable plan for reuniting our family, this time.


    I’ve reached the point, whether by age or maturity (they’re different things), where I don’t feel the need to live to write, like I did up until…apparently, several years ago. To me, writing is enjoyable and useful, but no longer compulsory. It’s no longer my reason to stay alive, precisely because there are better reasons to live, than to subsist in a world of one’s own making.

    The butterfly analogy actually somewhat fits, here: some day, one has to come out of that cocoon. (Do pupae dream of flowers?) And yeah — maybe like a butterfly, maybe I should just live. For life may always be too brief and beautiful.

    Granted that I think a lot of us write in order to escape the confines of this world (not to mention, this body in this world).

    I’ve reached a point with the “identity” theme, where it has become so well-worn as to be tiresome. Just because I fall into particular categories, doesn’t mean I need to aim to make stories about people in those categories, those stories ultimately being about myself. Personal experiential input is inevitable; but I don’t have to expressly aim to write about me.

    I’m finding that I do better when I’m in nature than when I’m with people, particularly because many people see me and think they know (or can find out) who I am, from what I look like. Or what I was named, or my ancestral origins…

    I’m not sure…how much media consumption (and production) goes into the idea that anyone should be able to look at a person and think they “know” who that person is, on the inside, from how they look on the outside. I only know this from having practiced character design, and having been on the originating end of multiple creative pursuits…plus having gotten an inkling of the influence of Marketing and committees, on what people eventually see.

    Art != reality. Especially: Commercial Art != reality.

    The fact is, there is a lot about that outside that a real person can’t change (try race, or height, or build); so thinking one knows a person based on their physicality — something they only partially have control over — doesn’t make sense.

    But then, there’s also the fact that, at least in the U.S., never-ending sitcoms also seem to condition viewers to the idea that change should never happen, ever, when in fact change — or the problems that come with existing as physical beings, like responding with resilience to aging and death; in addition to having to regularly eat, sleep, take care of hygiene, take care of health — are together, the greatest challenges I have faced in my life.

    Embodiment, dude.

    Once I’ve said that, I’m sure it is no great revelation to know that I at one time did not expect to live as long as I have…meaning that for a good portion of my life, I was not preparing to survive to old age. And I now, surprisingly, find myself in middle age. And needing to get a, “real job,” when most of my meaningful employment has in fact been, being a student.

    This is the way I’ve approached study, since high school. Maybe it would be a good thing to try and ease myself into the job market?

    I also, however, am coming to a clearer realization that I am participating (or hoping to participate) in a society which was not made with me in mind as a fully independent and self-sufficient agent. Most women get married; I’m trying to build a career.

    I’ve mentioned before (though I can’t remember where; I mention it quite frequently) that one of the greatest draws to writing, for me, historically, has been the ability to express myself without others being able to see what I look like, or hear the sound of my voice. It keeps people from drawing conclusions about me based on my physical embodiment.

    The problem isn’t entirely based in race, or gender, or what the Autism community calls, “neurodivergence.” It’s all of those, plus the select difficulties that come from the overlap and interaction of those factors, especially in a society where others may seek to attempt domination of me because of any one of those factors alone.

    Nature doesn’t care what my gender identity is, or what gender of person I want in my life in what role, or what shade my skin takes, or how much money I make. What I do and who I am at core, is who I am supposed to be; or at least, in a world which seems in various ways to tell me who I should be, I am seeking to realize the person I am.

    That’s as worthy a goal as any, for this lifetime.


    There are at least two approaches to mental health, in my scenario.

    The first is to try and correct the false image conjured by my appearance which leads people to do things like compliment my, “femininity” — as though that is an idea with which I sought to connect. The sole existence of trans* men indicates that the “female” sex contains multiple genders, not just “women” who all seek to be “feminine”. The gender encoding of the clothes I’m wearing shouldn’t matter. This relates to changing society, one person at a time…or changing my wardrobe, which may require sewing, so I actually have a say in the gender cues of my clothes, as versus having to navigate ready-to-wear.

    The second is to disconnect from society and find solace in nature; as when touring a supposed resort, the most meaningful part of it is being away from all the people and the performance and the sickness and the shops, and being with the ocean. Not the protected artificial cove (of course it’s artificial), but the huge wild waves crashing onto the breakwater. That water will eventually break through.

    This is reminding me of the fact that weeds were one of my favorite subjects in the Art program…maybe explore this further as subject matter?

    I might want to try both avenues. Though how to break it to someone that what they just said did not have its intended bonding (or is it testing?) effect, is its own problem…and there is the question of whether it is even necessary when one sees them for a total of 40 minutes in one’s lifetime.

    There are a lot of people seen rarely enough that a conversation on this may seem inconsequential. But when you see someone for 3-4 minutes a day, multiple times a week, for multiple weeks…it adds up. Especially when there are 20 of these people saying the same thing, every day, none of whom know you; all of whom, think they do. Because they don’t know that a blind spot even can exist where it comes to gender, and I’ve learned to associate being visibly gender-variant, with being a target of hostility.

    But then, if “most people” think routine business exchanges are deep and meaningful human connection, I suppose that it may be normal for “most people” to go through their lives without really knowing or understanding anyone…possibly, including themselves.


    I still haven’t found a way to avoid being disturbed by being assumed to be a woman, and thus assumed to fit the many different ideas many different people have, about women. Some of which are insulting; and some of which, come from unexpected sources.

    I broached feeling alienated within Women’s Studies class (I believe I only tried Women’s Studies once), among two of my more potent female relatives, both of whom are apparently solidly woman-identified. They both had similar feelings when they took Women’s Studies classes. In my case, there was a specific — exclusive — version of “femininity” constructed by the Professor and the readings she assigned (I remember pink, babies, and lace; not that these are bad things necessarily, but it wasn’t where I was at), which did not reflect my life or internal sense of self.

    As a 19-year-old heavily questioning my gender, I took the lack of applicability of this class to my psyche and life, to mean that I must not have been a woman. That really wasn’t the point of calling it “Women’s Studies,” M explained recently; the Department was simply named for its subject — not for its audience.

    I still feel it was not speaking about or to me, which for me called its personal relevance into question. It didn’t help that the Prof seemed to assume that I was raised as a boy and on estrogen and that this was why I couldn’t identify with the readings. (I was also too inexperienced to realize that you get bad Professors everywhere.) But then, for at least 10 years — since I took Intro to Marketing — I’ve been able to shrug off messages directed at women, as though they were not directed at me. It’s saved me a lot of frustration, and dare I say, anger.

    As I have gotten older, I’ve realized that — to myself — I’ve grown beyond having problems with my body’s secondary sexual characteristics. It operates. It gives me life. That’s what it’s good for, and that’s good enough. What I do have a problem with is others’ interpretations of what my body infers about me as a person.

    I don’t have issues anymore with gravitating to menswear, when it will not fit this body at this age, and I have liked my curves since I have gotten them. I have issues with other people thinking I mean to say something about myself by my choice of clothing, when maybe I made the choice of clothing in reference to comfort and fit, not symbolism — and not as a bid to take up a social role.

    I am clearly enby (a.k.a. gender nonbinary [NB]) in today’s cultural landscape; but not necessarily with a visibly different gender expression; and that’s on top of a lack of body dysphoria — the last of which, makes me an outlier in trans* community. The question that has been in the back of my mind is what simply having an unusual gender identity really ends up looking like, or exactly how to move forward from here.

    I guess I should be thankful that I don’t have to deal with the body dysphoria…

    What’s also interesting is that without the minutiae of a present-day gender community…others could mistake me for a lesbian person. The thing is: I’ve been in lesbian community. So have many of my past friends who wound up as trans* men. It doesn’t mean that I, or we, fit there long-term.

    The thing about lesbian community is that it’s more permissive than mainstream heteronormative culture where it comes to gender identity and expression, but it’s not as expansive as transgender or genderqueer or nonbinary community. The division between myself and the lesbian community would be more striking if I were gender-variant and interested in men, thus appearing heterosexual (though what does “heterosexual” mean in a context where at least one of two people is not heteronormative)…which is a variation and nuance nowhere near as well-supported.


    An interest in particular male-presenting people has happened maybe five or six times over my life, but mostly with bi, gay or trans* men. This has been apparent enough from a young age, which is the major reason why I had misgivings around identifying as lesbian, in the first place. I was slotted by bigots as the latter, but that really shouldn’t hold any weight. Bigots who don’t know me, are neither experts on my identity, nor do they know anything about my sexuality: except for the fact that they are making themselves likely not to be a target of it.

    Being gender-variant with a male person who respects it, is an interesting possibility. There are cisgender (i.e. non-transgender) men who are more respectful of gender difference in their partners than some trans* people are. There were boys who were my playmates at one time and accepted me as one of them — until I got a crush on Evan. Which kind of spoiled it.

    I have a tendency to be more direct than most guys easily handle: after all, I’m not seeking to play the role of a straight girl…because I’m not a straight girl. I think I had one straight (?) male friend who saw me as more than a friend, but he had already hooked up with a woman whom he insisted I should not meet…which was my clue that I was more to him than I realized.

    I’m more used to non-straight dudes looking at me with interest and then seeing my chest and seeming disappointed, though. Or, that’s a memory that stands out in my mind. I don’t know what dream flashed open there and then closed. What I do know is that there can be multiple reasons for inhabiting any identity status: for me, it was avoiding pregnancy.

    Then there is the question of why one prioritizes gender at all in seeking a partner, particularly if one does not plan on bearing children, and the relevant fertility factors are a separate variable from gender.

    The only way I would ever consider pregnancy would be if I met someone I had a lifetime of potential with, loved, could emotionally tolerate, whom I didn’t have to mother, and who was willing to respect me, including respecting my self-definition (even if they didn’t see me the same way). They would also have to be willing to hang in there during the inevitable psychiatric quirks. But for multiple reasons — the most apparent, being that I have not kept up with old friends — that hasn’t happened yet, and menopause is not far.

    Though why worry about menopause when you don’t want to get pregnant? It would seriously be a gift in that case, right?

  • Periodic record #3: Adulting

    February 23rd, 2023

    I’ve been taking care of myself better over the last couple of weeks. There have been rumples in how my family and I are getting along with each other, but: seriously, I’m an adult living with (older) family. It’s going to happen.

    The upshot of the rumples is that it’s encouraging me to seek gainful employment, and work on gaining greater independence, so that I can survive on my own. I’ve been looking at open jobs, and not just ones in the local area. I have some idea of places I would be open to moving to, and places I’d be wary of living within, even if I got a job offer. That, at least, is a start.

    Researching institutions for which I may want to work…is also a good start. I’ve been around long enough that I do have some little highlights that pop up in my mind when I read about a job opening at an institution with which I’m familiar; from their publications, the e-lists or listservs or documents they host, or other phenomena (like their faculty teaching at my alma mater…).

    I also find red flags when I read some of these job ads. I…for a long time, have had pretty good reading comprehension. I also took a Business Writing class. If an ad says that one has to be good at teaching oneself, that says to me that support in the position will be lacking. But I suppose, maybe it’s good for people who are not, “collaborative,” (skill in collaboration is often asked of Librarians) and may be related to organizational culture.

    So…it’s really good that there are a lot of open positions, if one looks beyond their local enclave. What’s a bit weird to me is the prevalence of contract jobs — it’s probably due to the fact that there are so many people in the job market, right now.

    If it’s local, a contract job isn’t a bad thing. Especially if one is trying just to 1) survive, and 2) gain experience to eventually land a tenure-track position. A lot of jobs will ask for at least two years’ experience…which can be gained through contract work, depending on stipulations.

    I also notice that with the current climate…there are a lot of openings in places which may be hostile to freedom of expression. Meaning, people are leaving, and perhaps for good reason. It’s kind of like finding a listing where you can buy a condo for ~$68,000, and have to ask, “what’s wrong with it?”

    Anyhow. Regardless of how or why I got into Librarianship, I do at least have a skillset that I can use in the present or near future — which should keep me away from the public.

    Right now, I’m just glad that I did not specialize in Public Librarianship. There are a lot of jobs in Public Librarianship, but I don’t think I would be happy, there. That’s unless I had a Cataloging or Metadata position, of course.

    Along with taking care of myself better, and being more outwardly-focused, my writing production has decreased. I’m even wondering why I’m writing this right now, instead of working with my beads…or experimenting with paint…or, writing privately. Or reading.

    Or drawing.

    I guess there is some sort of a social drive, in my case; some kind of desire to communicate with others. It’s just not imposing. At all.

    I guess I am also learning that I can write, but that I do not have to write. Given that one of these posts takes me a number of hours in effort, it’s…well, good to know that no one’s on my back about not writing. From all the years of college, though, I’m not used to it!

    The rest of what I have to say is going on SpectralBeads…and it may not come out for a while. Just to let you know…

  • Periodic record #2: Reintegration

    February 4th, 2023

    It’s been a week since my last post — I suppose I should get on an update.

    Honestly, although things are moving forward in Real Life, I’m feeling the stress of the situation. This particularly has to do with starting to deal with other people again — online and off. It also has to do with the employment situation. And the technology situation, and the fact that I’ve rarely been writing since the beginning of the year. As I’ve written before, sometimes I just don’t want to see what’s in my brain.

    Writing less may be more influential than I suspect, where it comes to feelings of wellness (or a diminished level of them). I seem to have slipped into a place where I’m taking better physical care of myself, and at the same time, I’m feeling tension and unrest.

    There are other, legitimate, reasons for me to feel unrest. They mostly have to do with the specter of re-integrating into society after three years of isolation. I suppose that includes all the negative aspects of same: dealing with other people, when people don’t know how to act in public.

    That, then, comes with the risk of illness. And illness — particularly serious illness — is destabilizing, at the least.

    I am not unaware that I am at this point still completely dependent; even more so as my outside contacts (work and social) have been cut down by COVID. So I’ve been trying to talk to people outside my immediate circle. If something happens and I have to step up, I’m going to need support — and I can’t depend on the people who support me now, to support me for the rest of my life.

    I don’t know if that qualifies as “fearing” something negative will happen, or just being aware that something negative, could happen, and if it does, it will help to be more prepared than I am. The glaring place where this is true, has to do with driving; but no one’s pushing me to get a license or renew my permit. I’m not sure why, except for the fact that the world is basically crazy right now, and I don’t need some rando pitching a fit because I’m driving cautiously.

    Dealing with other people was initially forced with home repairs…which screwed up my sleep for a week. It’s not fun to have strangers going in and out. For a week.

    Not to mention a surprise family visit, during which we were invited to another family gathering.

    So, earlier this week, I had to catch up on all of my laundry (four loads, not including the sheets). We had to shift furniture around, which was shifted back yesterday — and provoked an effort on my part to reorganize the art and craft space (which I hadn’t used for a week, even though I had wanted to).

    Yesterday, I also went through the contents of the banker’s box I had first prepared during the fires two years ago, in case we had to evacuate. It had begun to smell like mold; I needed to take out what I wanted to keep.

    I hadn’t taken the opportunity at the outset to go through all of my folders to see what I really needed, and what I didn’t. There were also things I needed to find (to apply for jobs) which were buried in there — at least, if I wanted to mention all the Community College courses I’ve taken. I can probably be discriminating when mentioning the Continuing Education, though.

    While I was at it, I went through the file drawer attached to my desk. Now I have a ream of paper to shred.

    There are at least two paper shredders in this house, so I’m not too worried: but still, this is a little less than two decades’ worth of papers. The major concern is that I’m going to overheat or break the (loud, old, dusty) paper shredder in the study; because I’m not using the nice one.

    I was so concerned with cleaning this up, that the first instance in which I looked up to see the time — technically, this morning (writing from 11:05 PM on Friday, February 3) — it was around 12:30 AM. I didn’t end up going to bed, until 1:30 AM. Then I ended up waking again around 5 AM. It gets worse from there, really.

    I still have to dust and vacuum the bedroom; clean the vanity (again) because the drilling from the other room made ceiling particles fall on the counters; and I want to dust and vacuum the study simply because I’ve resumed using it, and there must be years of dust on some of the books (and behind some of the books). I know for a fact that this is the case on the bedroom shelves — which get dustier, faster.

    And seriously, I haven’t had a really great time sleeping, since Sunday night/Monday morning. I shouldn’t be on the computer at all, right now: but I took a nap this afternoon for a little under three hours, just out of exhaustion. I haven’t written much that is substantive, recently, save for a few journal entries. I began this entry hoping that typing would be more stimulating than writing to myself in a book that could be lost or destroyed.

    With the whole job-search thing, as well…I’m realizing that I’m probably going to have to be open to moving, to take a professional job in my field anytime soon. But that’s the norm, apparently. If I set my sights a little lower — at a Support Staff position — I might be able to stay in the same area. The difficulty comes with the fact that I have no experience working in a job like the one I’m aiming for…

    …and then there is the possibility of becoming a Professional Editor, which is seeming, just…well, like a new path; not one for which, I’m already wholly prepared. The problem seems to be that I can only concentrate on one profession at a time, and my age makes it imperative to become gainfully employed, as soon as possible.

    And really? I’m looking at Cataloging, now, specifically, as something I could do; although I realize that Metadata positions are likely what’s coming next. I actually haven’t been back to Python, so far. The question is whether I’ll actually need Computer Programming skills (as versus skill in batch-editing tools), if I am specifically a Cataloging Librarian…

  • Information Technology

    January 26th, 2023

    There are numerous reasons why it’s a good idea (for me, at least) to work towards gaining technical skills, where it comes to computing and networks. I’ve actually found a really nice job opportunity…which is more on the side of Information Technology, than Information Science. I’ve also been considering joining a group which covers both of those fields.

    I’m not sure if I want to explain the differences between the two terms right now; or the opening I found…but it gives me hope. Essentially, I’m looking at a job in which I could be trained — and paid to be trained — instead of having to seek out Professional Development or relevant education on my own, outside of an employment situation. I wouldn’t even have thought to look at it, but began poring through some open Civil Service jobs, and got curious about this one.

    As I heard recently, it would be good to question the idea I’m having trouble with: that it isn’t possible to be creative without large moral sacrifice. It is actually very nice to expand my view where it comes to what I’m willing to try.

    What I’m looking at now — instead of having a mystical creative mission be my actual job and working to feed myself with something I don’t care about, or dislike, or which will eat up all of my time — is putting the job search and the job training (including on-the-job training) first, and dealing with my creative bent on my own time and on my own terms.

    I’ve been trying to figure out how important it is to me to center my life around my creativity, as versus getting a good job and being creative on my off-hours. It just means that there is a shift in priorities and self-image from those I’ve been dealing with since I was 17. And my undergraduate degree doesn’t need to define me; it was just the best choice I could make, at the time.

    I don’t think I really need to have big projects, in order to satisfy my creative impulses. For a long time, even just writing on WordPress has been an outlet that…well, has worked. (Those who have been following me for a long time, know that this is neither my first nor second blog on this platform; I’ve just taken the others down.)

    If it meant that I had to take a low-end job that I hated and which wasted my talents, in order to lead, “a creative life,” on my off-hours, I’d drop the focus on creativity and work towards a better situation. That doesn’t mean I would stop being creative; it means that I’d channel it in a different way. Very possibly, a noncommercial way.

    Using that type of angle, it becomes apparent that what I do in my off hours does not have to be something I can turn around into cash. In other words, I could work with beads, or write, or sew, and have a stable financial footing so that I would not have to sell my jewelry, or my writing (or become a seamstress). These would then literally be, “hobbies.”

    It just seems like it would be much more of a stable, and less anxiety-inducing, life. Of course, work would likely not be free of anxiety, and would take up a lot of my free energy and concentration, at times — in addition to the occasional zero-day crisis. But I’m very interested in the fact that this is an entry-level job where I’d be trained, and it would likely be away from the public. I’m also aware, from having family in the Tech industry, how much of this work may be done, “winging it” — dealing with issues as they pop up, and not necessarily knowing what to do about them, beforehand.

    I don’t know how far my thinking that computers and what can be done with them are, “cool,” will get me, when it comes to actually having to grapple with Information Technology. Nor do I know why I’m attracted to doing things which are hard, just because they’re hard. Maybe D’s attraction to puzzles has rubbed off on me.

    But I’m looking now at actually getting back to Python training, and playing around with my Math skills to build confidence and refresh my memory. I do remember having griped about that last class, for a while. But if I worked with someone in-person who could train me (and understand where I’m having trouble), as versus essentially trying to learn this on my own through readings, videos, and the Internet, things might be different.

    It might be good to look for other entry-level Information Technology jobs, as well; training in this would likely complement my Information Science knowledge, nicely. I might even be able to write training material which makes sense to a person who starts out in the Humanities (as versus a lot of what I’ve read).

    I now have two jobs lined up, that I need to apply for…let’s set the timer for three weeks, and see what happens.

  • Periodic record #1: Stress

    January 23rd, 2023

    Just to clarify: this entry is casual in nature. I realize it has three different topics, and make no claims as to whether it is a good example of my editing or writing skill. 😜 I basically just don’t want to hold onto it any longer; it was meant to serve as a time and experience marker, and I’m into my second day on writing and editing it (more, if you consider the image work).

    Lethargy

    For some reason, even though both my time spent in action and my self-care has improved, I’ve had a difficult time motivating myself over the last several days. By, “time spent in action,” I mean time spent doing something other than being still. My sleep hygiene is improving — I’m having fewer long-term awakenings during the night, having more control over those I do have, and losing weight as a consequence (of both sleeping better, and not eating late at night).

    I suppose a lot of work has gone into trying to recover my computer. The battery just failed of old age (it was puffy when we took it out). It’s a work-in-progress; I may have fixed it, but I’m not sure. I’ll have to power it down and back up (again), to know.

    But that, and some tension around the household, have probably drained some of my energy via out-and-out stress.

    Then there is the entire prospect of becoming part of the workforce again. I was able to recover a lot of information (job search sites) from the drive I had been using, but not before one of my browsers decided to scramble the order of my Bookmarks when I set them up to Sync. I don’t think there’s an “Undo” button to restore them, but I did (thankfully) have a backup. I’ve had to spend time, then, restoring and unscrambling the randomized Bookmarks (though at least their folders held), which also means that I’ve spent time editing them, which kept me up past midnight, within the last week.

    Tech problems. I think it had to do with confusion over which machine’s copy of the Bookmarks file took precedence when setting up Sync. Instead of asking me, it just assumed it knew what I wanted, and destroyed my order (for a different order in which, I can’t see the logic). Because, of course, I don’t care which of my hundreds (I’m guessing, here) of files or folders come first in my Toolbar, right?

    Ugh. Not to mention that I literally would not know if I lost content…

    Graphic Arts: incremental learning

    Anyhow…my last post was actually based on an image I had made, and had been playing around with on a couple of different image editors. At the endpoint of that draft, however, I saw that the image itself was extraneous to the content, so I didn’t post it. (I nearly didn’t post what I have, here.)

    Detail of selection “halo”
    Illustration example colored with selections in Photoshop
    Illustration example colored with selections in Photoshop

    What I had been trying to do was take a .PNG file, isolate all of the linework (without greyscale halo), and copy it to a transparent layer — then export that transparent layer to a different program, for coloring. (Ideally, this would be the top layer in the file, so everything else would only show up behind it.) I have since learned that I can just change Blending Modes and color on top of the original image, fine — without dealing with minimizing the halo, or importing things from a separate program. This eliminates the issue with pixelization.

    By, “halo,” I mean that it’s possible to sample all points of one color (in this case, black) from the image no matter where they are — but specify too wide a tolerance for this, and you’ll keep the smoothness of your lines, along with a (in my experience, opaque: maybe I can tweak this) greyscale artifact surrounding all of them. With too small a tolerance, your lines will show up pixelated once transferred. That may require re-drawing the image…and I’m not sure anyone actually wants to re-draw something they already drew out once, to their satisfaction.

    Smudging over a hidden line, is different. I’m not sure if I’m able to restrict the layers sampled by the smudge tool…in which case, it would be good to outline areas of shadow or highlight with something lighter and less-visible, like mechanical pencil, or at least hard pencil, rather than using black fineliner.

    Illustration example colored with Procreate
    Illustration example colored with Procreate

    I have some choice words for the “Export” function where it comes to the mobile version of Photoshop. I didn’t realize my machine is technically a mobile device with limited capability, in comparison to a desktop or laptop computer. Apparently, to “Export” (say, to the Web) means to reduce the file size as much as possible, meaning a ton of detail is lost on file conversion. That’s not great, if you want to continue to work on your graphics without things getting pixelated. (There may be a way to work around this, which I’m simply too new to know of.)

    On the other hand, now that I see what that “colored” (greyed-in) sketch looks like in a Web browser, I’m more willing to forgive the lapse in resolution. Sure, in 20 years we’ll look back on it and regret the stage of our technology in which .PNGs looked like .BMPs, but until then it should be fine, right? 😉

    If you’re working for Web distribution (and only current-generation Web distribution), using “Export” is fine, as you’re already at the maximum most browsers can handle. If you’re making something for print — like, on paper — that’s another thing, entirely. Print files need a minimum of 300 dpi (dots per inch), for optimum reproduction; and they should be saved (and edited) with a resolution of at least 600 dpi, space allowing.

    When it comes to the Web, one may be able to skate by on 72 ppi (points per inch; dpi and ppi are essentially the same thing, but one is on paper and the other, a screen), though I sometimes crank it up to 180, just in case I want to expand the image a bit in the browser.

    There’s also the fact that Apple’s displays have a bit more sharpness than most PCs, which I had been adjusting for, without recalling why I was doing it.

    I’ve noticed that if I want to add color to a transparent .PNG (which would help differentiate objects without the addition of texture), I have to either scan it in, in color (not greyscale) — even if the image only contains black-and-white data — or (I haven’t tried this yet) change the color space on the PC version of the editor while having that file open, before accessing it from any other device.

    This, of course, means that if I’m working from a tablet and the color space is by default greyscale — I’m not sure I can do anything to alter that, from the tablet.

    Further thinking on jobs (this is an ongoing theme)

    I guess the final part of this, if I’m looking at what I originally intended to write here, has to do with the entire work/life balance, issue. That is, there is the question of exactly how much money I’d need in order to maintain the quality of life I have, now (where, for example, I even have the option of getting a machine specifically focused on writing and art, or of repairing a failing machine).

    There are several different career paths I have in front of me — most of which, are interrelated. The others (visual arts and beadwork), can be hobbies. Of course, that only leaves Editing and Librarianship as practical, pure work options: things I wouldn’t do, if I weren’t getting paid to do them.

    Well, actually; there is the entire thing about Illustration, as well. What I’m missing there, can be resolved, essentially just through practice and study — but much more so, practice. Building skill in Graphic Arts, is the major reason I got a tablet. The benefits of having a tablet for digital art are many; there is so much to get into on that topic, that it would best be addressed in another post.

    Writing is something I’m going to do, regardless of whether or not I get paid for it; the benefits are too strong, and my comfort with the medium too high, not to work with it. Creative Writing, at least, dredges up a lot of psychological issues and makes them visible. I don’t necessarily want to deal with those issues full-time (it’s essentially my therapy right now), and neither can I necessarily process my trauma and heal, on a conveniently predetermined timetable. It also may be implicit, but I doubt writing Fiction will pay the bills.

    Having seen a lot of job ads asking for help in Writing…makes the idea of living off of Writing (say, for a company), seem relatively depleted in terms of, “soul.” But yeah…I trained in Literature. And I don’t know if I want to explain that allusion.

    Illustration also at least has the potential of being peaceful, by being engrossing. How that works out in an employment situation, I’m not sure; I would think deadlines would take away the relaxing quality of the work. This is why I’ve been looking at using my skills in a self-published Graphic-Novel-type form…probably hosted online. But I have no projects in the pipeline for that, right now…save the one I developed at the end of my Art AA (which I have no idea how to end on a positive note).

    What I tend to write about and what I tend to draw about, aren’t necessarily the same. That might be a good thing. I won’t really be able to develop a story in Sequential Art without a lot of drawing…that much is clear.

    One final note:

    I seem to keep thinking that I can do what I want to do and not earn a lot of money, or I can integrate into society and get paid. I’m not going to comment on it now, but it’s something to notice for the future.

  • Scene and narration

    January 17th, 2023

    I’m thinking that close attention to scene and detail may be one of the things that pulled me out of rumination, in my last Creative Writing class. Ironically enough, I’m very good at it, when I allow myself to focus on it — I’ve been concerned about becoming too florid. Getting a good sense of place, sometimes requires immersion in that place…which can be hard to really grasp, unless you’ve had the assignment of sitting in a public place and observing everything going on around you.

    I had the opportunity to do this over 20 years ago in the Bay Area Young Writer’s Project, hosted at UC Berkeley (known locally as “Cal”). Cal has a beautiful campus, and for those who grow up around here — at least, those who have a chance of getting in, surviving the curricula, and being able to pay off any student loans — being there can also be associated with the rewards of academic achievement and a bright future.

    I have memories of sunlight shining though the California Live Oaks onto the courtyard; the dappled light falling on the squirrels as they begged for food, the bubbling of Strawberry Creek (which is probably roaring, or flooding, right about now), and some of the quirky buildings (such as Dwinelle Hall, which — if I’m remembering correctly — has one more floor on one side of the building, than the other. Apparently, there were two different architects who couldn’t work together).

    Being somewhere around 17 years old at the time, I (and two of my old friends from eighth grade, one of whom was the first girl I ever crushed on [at the time, it was tragic]) were high schoolers that summer. Our teacher, for at least part of the time, was an older guy who taught at Lowell High School. If you don’t know, Lowell is a top-of-the-line high school in San Francisco (which I have just looked up and seen is actually public!), and this person’s teaching was what one would expect, from that.

    As an exercise in observation, he said he was going to go outside the room, and when he came back in, something about him would have changed: we would have to guess, what. I was the only person who mentioned that he had cuffed his sleeves; his metallic watch, with highlights of gold, was showing.

    I really did like that program, even though it did require observing on the UC Berkeley campus. To elaborate, Berkeley in general is not the safest area. I’ve been on foot out there (twice, both times with a blissfully unaware friend) with nowhere to escape to, while policemen with assault rifles searched the streets for someone on the run. There were other areas that I knew not to enter at night, due to poor lighting and high rates of assault and rape.

    Berkeley’s high crime rate — and the availability of a specific Creative Writing program at San Francisco State University (from which Anne Rice graduated) — is why I chose SFSU over Cal. Of course, that was when one could take the BART and a connecting shuttle in to SFSU, and not have to worry about much of anything more than catching the flu or getting robbed, on the trains.

    That also meant that SFSU was a commuter school, which — along with my not being able to drive — made it particularly difficult for me to get into the literary night life at places like City Lights bookstore, or build connections with other writers outside of classes.

    I didn’t realize the difference in quality between the California State University and University of California systems, prior to having participated in each one. I spent a little under two years living on-campus at a different UC, before I decided to attend SFSU. I didn’t understand in what ways the UC system was priming us for the future after graduation (or attempting to), and how the CSU systems had some…less practical degrees. Degrees one may want to major in anyway. Creative Writing was one of these.

    My fifth grade teacher held a goodbye session at the end of the year, during which she named one thing about each of us that she would remember. For me, she recalled that my descriptions in writing were relatively ornate — though, of course, she didn’t mention the word, “ornate.” I just had a tendency to zero in on details. In high school, I was able to get through AP English relatively easily (despite the fact that I still have dreams about not having read my requisite 7 novels over the Summer).

    It was in reading The Vampire Lestat that I realized becoming a published author was possible. Anne Rice isn’t really high literature; many of her works blend supernatural horror and erotica; she noticeably repeats a lot of the same adverbs (“softly”), and the premises of her stories can seem a bit far-fetched (why does no one investigate all the corpses drained of blood?)…but Rice’s works are accessible. She can show a 16-year-old reader that fiction writing is possible, even if the content might be a bit mature for a 16-year-old!

    For some reason, it’s precisely the details in a piece of writing, or in a drawing, that I end up…sometimes, not wanting to deal with. There are a lot of minutiae to keep track of — part of the “real world” of the story — and these minutiae may shift continually during the process of writing.

    These details often enough constitute a great deal of what needs to be communicated. They aren’t the conclusions; they’re the evidence. Without these, you end up with a philosophical treatise, or an essay, or a work composed entirely of narration. With them, you’re dealing with scene and location; things that can be shown in, “images.” I put, “images,” in quotes because I’m not just talking about vision, but also things like atmosphere, scent, temperature, texture, taste, sound (excluding voiceover narration, for the sake of argument). The stuff of life, that is: not, commentary on it.

    Giving the details leaves judgment up to the reader, at the same time as the evidence presented is chosen by the narrator (or author, depending on the reliability and influence of the narrator…which in turn might be related to the degree of the narrator’s characterization away from God’s Eye [what I call Third-Person Omniscient narrative perspective]).

    It takes some effort on my part to pull myself out of recording my discursive mind’s deliberations, on paper (or screen); into describing what is around me (literally or imaginatively) at any one time. It’s interior versus exterior; enabling rumination, versus enabling grounding. There seems to be a necessary tension between the two poles, but somehow it seems this is not the total story. One can have story entirely told in image…but story told entirely in interior thought, seems more difficult to pull off.

    I’ll want to hold onto this insight. I didn’t expect to get here, today.

  • Thinking aloud

    January 13th, 2023

    Every entry has to start somewhere. Considering everything I’m thinking of, not to write about, I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s difficult to begin. Not to mention the fact that I have a lot to do, that I’m just…right now, not doing.

    Yesterday was a much-needed self-care day…but I couldn’t bring myself to clean out the vanity today, even though I know it needs it. This is especially now that I know how many papers have to be filed, which begs the question of whether I need all the old files: the ones I haven’t touched or reviewed, in years. This is what happens when information is important to you, but you neglect to file it: you clean out your room and end up with five piles of papers.

    I did work on some beading today, though I can see that…well, my stress is showing. I’m making very tight work which isn’t easy to continue. Or at least, it wasn’t, until I realized I didn’t have to open up a gap between the beads in order to push a needle in, as versus push a bead horizontally over, in order to expose its piercing. I’m working on a Double Spiral bracelet…which is simple in almost every way, except its color scheme.

    The color scheme, is something else: yellow ochres and spruce greens.

    I’m temporarily burnt out on writing (or so I would think: looking at the progress of this post, indicates otherwise), but I haven’t been great about writing daily, in general, since about Christmas. Before then…well, let’s say that I’ve written about 20 pages of content, which are not blog posts; and more which are references or sketches lying behind those 20 pages, which are not even ready to be rough drafts.

    These…have brought up a number of issues with me, predominantly psychological. Where the issues aren’t psychological is where they impact how I treat myself in my own physical reality.

    Getting back to focusing on my own health seems to have begun after I (again) realized how long I was sitting in one place, in one position. This is compounded by the fact that I’ve gotten as heavy as I think I’ll ever want to get, and have begun intentionally raising my heart rate during the day: whether that’s through exercise or something like housework.

    It’s not great to focus on reading and writing to the exclusion of everything else — worse still, to focus on writing to the exclusion of reading, for too long. When you’re trying to work on Fiction and all you read is Nonfiction (I’ve had a particular bent towards psychology, recently), that’s also an issue.

    Of course, having time to read and write wouldn’t even be a possibility for me, except for the fact that other people are picking up the slack where it comes to — well, food, mostly. And just the basic costs of survival. It would make a great deal of sense, given the rest of this post, to use my literal “free time” (i.e. not spent searching for jobs, applying for jobs, searching for classes, taking classes, writing, or editing) in reading.

    Right now I’m just trying not to let my creative momentum break down completely. If I stop writing entirely, it’s going to be very hard to get back into it; particularly because I’ve stopped, out of not wanting to circle the drain. Most of the times I’ve stopped writing, have been because of that.

    A lot happened around the holidays that ended up being destabilizing. Things are still destabilized, really. I need to get on finding a new job, people are hiring…and my computer decided this time was as good as any, to die. I have the choices right now to develop my writing for submission and hopeful payment (or with the eventual goal of payment); to brush up on my Cataloging and Metadata skills; to work on my art skills; or to work on my Craft Jewelry. These all have varying real-world impacts, I’m sure you can imagine.

    The clearest paths forward, where it comes to return-on-investment, are becoming a Cataloging or Metadata Librarian, or to become a Writer (the latter of which, would likely have to be combined with at least a part-time job). If I had more preparation, I’d feel more confident in seeking an outlet and job, in Editing — though I suppose, there’s no reason I can’t try for it, now. If I do what I thought of below, and do take courses in Editing at the same time as I am employed in Editing — that would be totally sweet.

    Both writing and editing require real-time work, well — you know — reading, and writing.

    Cataloging and Metadata require work…mostly, reading. But there are a couple of competencies (particularly in Programming and SQL) which I don’t…you know, don’t really, enjoy. Like I’ve probably said before…I’m not sure whether this is due to the content itself, or just having teachers who weren’t all that great at teaching, and authors who weren’t great at writing.

    On top of that, it looks like the majority of the work involving Programming, has to be figured out, on-the-fly. I can’t see that not being stressful, especially lacking a background in Computer Science. In turn, that heavily implicates logic…and I don’t know to what degree my mind is led, by logic. Maybe ideally; perhaps, not realistically.

    I also can’t really see us going back to a date prior to the utilization of computers for Information Organization.

    The card catalog is probably not coming back, that is; and the changes implemented by technology in search and retrieval, may mean that the nature of the work is changing, and will continue to change. That means that the people who can most efficiently do the job will likely change, because the skill sets they would need proficiency at, would change.

    In contrast, reading and writing isn’t anywhere near as difficult: for me, I should say. I do still have a chance at Metadata, possibly more of one at Cataloging. The question is simply whether I’d like it more than Editing.

    I have much better feelings about my local Editing program, after having viewed it online (as versus as a printout). It is technical, which is in — would one call it “opposition” or “contrast”? — to my initial training in Creative Writing, which was very much, writing-as-craft…and very vibrant.

    Before I looked back at the program site, I wrote that I was concerned it combined, “the mind-numbingly technical, with the unwanted process of having to socially interface with authors who may be protective of their work.” (Man, I can be scathing when I don’t have the information.)

    Of course, very many people would be protective of their work — myself included, were I to submit that work to be published! And especially so, should the key argument of the work turn out to be false. That could be an eventuation of fact-checking, which could turn out to be my job. That doesn’t mean it would necessarily be a “bad” book; I think there’s a chance of saving something in that situation, still, so long as the author were honest. The major issue for me would be, how to communicate to the author that their thesis statement may be false.

    That’s dealing with nonfiction — where false thesis statements are likely routine. Fiction is an entirely different beast. Expression is the major bent of the latter; and essentially, people can express what they want to, regardless of whether it is true or stands up to reality.

    If I am willing to go through the two years of work to gain a professional certificate (and one additional for a professional internship), what do I do for employment, in the meantime? I still have to go through the job search; I still have to submit applications. I just won’t be able to work, full-time. That’s fine.

    There’s also the possibility of working in Editing, prior to working through the Certificate. Or, instead of working through the Certificate.

    Of course, this also presents the question of what I would do if I did get a full-time job as a Metadata or Cataloging Librarian, in an area which I was willing to move to. That might be sweet enough to give it a shot.

    Even if a chance at a professional certificate is a temporary way out of this discomfort, I am in a bit of limbo, here. It means that I’m primarily looking for a short-term, part-time job (which at least is hard knowledge). This also assumes that I will be capable of working my way through the program with proficiency enough to come out of the other end, wholly capable of working as an Editor (and still even want to be an Editor).

    The chance that I might not want to be an Editor at the end of the program, is something that I likely should take into consideration. It’s something that I didn’t wholly understand when I went through the Library Science curriculum. I didn’t know enough about my own identity to be able to see that maybe I did not want to do just any type of work. That maybe some types of work would not make me happy.

    I already knew that some types of work would never be for me, but that was because of ingrained phobias. Which, again, is ironic, when I have an aversion to uncleanliness, and went to work in a Public Library. (Hey, some of our patrons complained. It isn’t just me.)

    The above does infer, however, that it is a possibility that some types of work could be satisfying, for me.

    I’m sure that the statement I just made would be antithetical to some people (some of whom, I’m related to). But there is a chance that I could find a job which would enhance my life, not simply enable me to survive. It doesn’t, that is, have to be, “a drudge.”

    It seems I’ve come to some conclusions in this post:

    1. Keep writing
    2. Edit my own stuff (I know it needs to happen; don’t be surprised if my content changes, here)
    3. Apply for Editing jobs
    4. Consider trying for a Certificate in Editing
    5. Apply for Cataloging jobs
    6. Apply for Metadata jobs
    7. Read (outside of Library and Information Science)!
    8. Complete additional Cataloging/Metadata reading
  • Structure

    January 7th, 2023

    I’ve been having a bit of a problem with stability and self-care, for about the last three weeks — since I stopped the majority of my substantive offline writing. (I backed up everything, preparing for a massive overhaul, three weeks ago.) Of course, it has also been about a month since my last class ended — meaning the major thing I had to organize my life around, hasn’t been there as a support.

    Then, there’s the decision I have to make: do I really want to go into Cataloging or Metadata Librarianship, still? I’ve sunk, what, thirteen years into this, now. As we were looking back on it, M said that I seemed to do fine in my last class, even though I didn’t think I did all that well. I ended up getting an A, even with the one late, flawed assignment. I just don’t feel that I learned…let’s say, “optimally.” But I still know a lot more than I would expect.

    It’s been noticed that I have a tendency to jump from activity to activity, when things get difficult in one field — which prevents me from moving forward in any of my fields. I had noted that what Buddhists know as “monkey mind” (or the ability to leap from topic to topic, as the undisciplined mind often does), can break me out of perseveration on negative thoughts. In that way, it can help. But there is a pattern of shifting activities — frequently — which I hadn’t consciously noticed (as I had been writing through all of it).

    I know that last time I swung out of a craft — stopping my beadwork to focus on my Art (sometime around November 10th)?…the pause was deliberate.

    I had started seeing the beadwork as a financial dead end, and as a literal “hobby” that was drawing time, attention and energy away from building job skills. Particularly so, as I realized how dependent I was on bead manufacturers, who didn’t seem to be making any particular efforts to remain consistent in sizing between brands. That makes it difficult to write patterns that will consistently work with different batches of beads.

    Standardization is something one learns about in Cataloging and Metadata…it’s important if you want other people to be able to reuse your data. The reuse of data cuts down on the global workload, significantly.

    As well: when I stopped working on my own Fiction writing to focus on fortifying/rebuilding my physical and psychological health (during the final days of December), it was deliberate. That was more to prevent circling the drain/spiralling into depression, though. Now that I look at it, it has only been a week since I’ve last written Fiction. I did go back into the main project, but I wasn’t working on my old drafts.

    I’m actually thinking of working out some Short Stories now, as versus a novel-length project. I’m not sure whether I’m going to seek traditional publishing or post them to the Web…though the Web is probably better for instant gratification and potentially wide distribution, if nothing else.

    As regards how I feel about my fictive writing, at this point: M doesn’t understand how an activity can be “fun” and “stressful” at the same time. I don’t know her definition of, “fun,” but it probably involves more “lightheartedness” than I ever experience.

    That doesn’t explain my falling off of the practice of daily free-writing: but sometimes I just don’t want to know what’s in my head. I also have issues with adhering to routine, and internal structure. Somewhat paradoxically, I have trouble doing things other than writing and reading, these days…which may be more of an obsession, than a routine. I wanted to go and beadweave today, but I wasn’t able to bring myself to “waste that time,” so I wasted it on repetitively checking various electronic devices, instead.

    Well — maybe time spent in self-guided research, isn’t really wasted.

    My pattern of switching output methods has been fairly constant. It goes back to my stopping Fiction writing upon graduating with my Creative Writing degree. I was too psychologically fragile to keep up my output (I suffered substantively while I was in the program, and am lucky I made it through without incident), and without the pressure of projects, grades, and deadlines, there was no reason for me to continue to try and deal with the issues it brought up.

    At this point, I know that the writing is always going to be with me: it’s my primary method of mentally processing what happens in my life. But is it necessary to write a book — and then publish it? Would I not be satisfied with publishing to the Web, as versus hoping to be traditionally published (so I can gain an MFA, so I can teach Creative Writing at the University level)? Do people other than Literature and Creative Writing majors even read paper Literary Magazines?

    What do I really want to do with the Writing? Do I want to become famous? Do I want to impact society in a way which helps? Do I want to help soothe people who are isolated because of who they are? Do I want to talk because I spent so many years in silence? (These questions have different answers.)

    As well as being my primary method of understanding and coming to terms with my own emotional and psychic life, writing is my primary method of communicating with the outside world. It serves me both in communicating to myself and to others.

    The biggest trip in this is realizing that Writing doesn’t seem to be as much of a subject, more than a method to enable expression. But what are we expressing? What am I expressing, and why am I expressing it? (Maybe this would make more sense if I were more socially engaged…)

    Do we want to write about, or somehow simply illustrate by example, the “craft” of Writing itself? Or do we want to express content through the medium of writing, which content is separate from its method of delivery?

    We can write a book about the disappearance of Panamanian golden frogs. We can also film a documentary about the disappearance of Panamanian golden frogs and publish it on Blu-Ray. Both of these can be in a Library at once. The golden frogs are the subject. The book or documentary, is the medium. The book about the disappearance of Panamanian golden frogs, is probably not going to focus too much on the language in which it is written. The effects of ecological change are the content: not English, not español.

    Now-defunct, obvious question on focus: Am I about books (wherein I might go into Publishing?) Am I about Information dissemination regardless of format (Cataloging)? Am I about Information access (Reference)? Is the next step of Information Access going to be largely online (Digital Curation)?

    Writing, in a way, appears like Librarianship: they both exist on a level above content. The topics are “meta” — and I’m not talking about Social Media. You can write about anything. You can produce materials about anything, and then put them in a library.

    Library and Information Science is about locating and providing access to Information. But within many libraries (and likely nearly all Public ones), this service is independent of the actual information contained in the Library. There are materials on a panoply of topics, which is why the part of Library Science I’m into, exists at all. It is not topic-specific. It involves meta data: data describing data, which enables the identification, maintenance, and retrieval of that data (which in turn connects to information resources, unless I’m mistaken; “information,” exists one level higher than raw, “data,” and one level lower than, “knowledge,” which in turn is one level lower than “wisdom”).

    Working in a Library equates (or should equate, in my view) to the organization, location, and provision of access to information. That’s the ideal, at least.

    It might come off as masochistic, but I think I’m actually migrating back to Information Organization as something I can do. Something that I’ve been trained to do, and understand how to do, in a way that most people don’t — even if the material is hard enough to grasp that I don’t think I captured all of what was covered, last semester. I grasped enough of it that I can find my way around now, at least. And my education doesn’t have to stop.

    Maybe it isn’t necessary to be perfect. I should know that I don’t have to be perfect at a job I don’t yet have, in order to seek that job.

    I’ve been told recently that I have a tendency to teach; I hadn’t realized it, but I can see the evidence in favor of it. I guess that’s the benefit of having other people mirror back to you what they see in you? (When you know they have good intentions, at least…)

    Yeah…maybe I’ll read in Metadata for Digital Collections (2nd ed.), and get back to some of these unread Library Science texts. I can also get back to my other training.

    M wants me to focus on what I want to do for the rest of my life. Maybe the first exposure to the material is what is most difficult…

  • Vocations and avocations

    December 31st, 2022

    At times, I need to remind myself that there actually are things — worthwhile things — to do, other than write. I need to really understand, that focusing entirely on writing isn’t the healthiest way to live, even if it is the place to which I return again and again, by force of habit and ease of flow. There are things that can’t be communicated through language, despite the fact that so many different messages, can.

    There is also a difference between writing for communication, and writing as an art form. Writing for communication, is something I can do as a paid vocation. But writing as an art, is one of those things which I’m wary of allowing others to impinge upon. It’s actually easy to differentiate between the two, for me — at least, at this point in time.

    Over my experience of blogging; writing for classes; and doing my own creative work, outside of classes…the feeling is different. I’m going to try as best I can to keep business interests outside of my Creative Writing (by this I mean specifically, Fiction: I have not missed the fact that I have tagged this, “Creative Nonfiction”)…though I have seen myself trying to tackle the potentially all-pervasive concern about, “how to earn a living,” popping up within it.

    Of course, honesty in that realm develops a counter-argument to the dominant narrative, which would likely be looked askance upon, by those who substantially and personally gain from capitalism. That doesn’t necessarily make it easy for said person to live in a capitalist society, where money equates to power and influence, and following one’s own creative vision, for the masses, is nowhere near as well-rewarded. Unfortunately, creative thinking about how to improve financial systems is not particularly encouraged in my part of the world…which does not look well upon what happens if or when free-market capitalism, fails.

    And we should be aware of the fact that the potential solutions to faults in economic systems are neither necessarily socialism, nor communism. But those, plus free-market capitalism, are the only three systems it seems anyone considers where it comes to “viable” economic solutions. We have an entire globe’s worth of people, and Marx & Engels did not live all that long ago. We should be able to get through what’s going on economically — though I wonder to what extent government will cooperate, and to what extent personal freedoms will be preserved.

    Right now…I’ve moved to the small “library” (essentially a quiet room with little else than books, a desk and chair, a small altar, light, and heat), where I used to do my homework. The original computer has since retired, and I am faced with a shelf-full of books on crafting: which symbolize the reason I began this post, at all. A bookcase to my right is filled with very many books that I have been in various stages of reading.

    Last night, I realized just how many digital books I have access to. This is even without Public Library access, which has expired for two of my cards, and likely will soon, for the third. Do I want to go back to San Francisco to get a new card? All signs point to, “no.” Not, at least, before a multivariant COVID vaccine.

    I’m lucky: my parents have been gainfully employed, which meant I did not want for much, as I grew up. I was able to go to University, even if I majored in something that doesn’t pay well. (No one told me this until after I had declared the major.) And even if my (technically, fourth) degree, is in something I’m not sure I want to do.

    I really should work this out with my counselor: I have been reading a book on anxiety, and realize now that I have “globalized” the behavior of a certain small, irritating segment of the population, to equate to the entirety of the population. These are the people who will emotionally attack you if they don’t like the expression on your face, or the people who want special treatment because they’ve given something to you (or at least, tried to force it on you), or who think that they should be able to do anything they want to any Public Servant they choose, because they’re taxpayers. (Like I’m not?)

    The hardest part of this, for me, is being seen as a heterosexual woman (and dealing with stereotypes about heterosexual women). I don’t consider myself heterosexual, or a woman. What I do consider myself, is something people who assume I’m a heterosexual woman, would in no way understand. But over the Pandemic, I’ve learned to be a bit looser with my gender presentation: to the point that it should, by now, be fairly obvious that I’m not after male approval.

    I’ve considered hormones, but for someone with my genetic profile, I increase certain risks (particularly cardiovascular ones) if I start testosterone. Not to mention the fact that in no way, do I want to go through puberty again. That doesn’t even factor in my knowledge that taking testosterone will not, in and of itself, make me a man. I am not a trans* man — trans* men are, in practicality, men who originated as female — and I’m aware of this. I’ve been around long enough.

    It’s not my body that’s the problem. It’s idiots who can’t imagine that I’m in no way interested in them (and in this life, never will be), that are the problem. The easy way out is to say that I’m lesbian, as that’s a word they know; but I’m not: I’m not even a woman, so it’s hard to call myself a woman-loving-woman. And it feels gross to even consider it. That’s nothing against lesbians. I’m just not a lesbian. It’s intellectually dishonest.

    Outside of unwanted attention (which I suspect, but do not know, is sexually-based: the vast majority of it originates from men and boys. It could well be based in their own power issues instead), my issues with my apparent gender are few. Though now that I think of it, I can add being a potential target of misogyny, to the list.

    But, you know, it’s kind of hard to know why the rando staring at you, is staring at you. What you know is that he has a problem; and that’s about it. If you’re brave, you can ask him if it’s a problem you can help him with. But it may not be one of those kinds of problems.

    Most of the actual difficult labor in a Library setting, has to do with dealing with that small — one might say tiny — subset of difficult people (who everyone knows), who just keep popping up over and over again. I have some trauma over this, and maybe I shouldn’t have been working for the group I was working for (which didn’t take care of it). I don’t imagine that anyone in that system, saw it as an ideal environment (save maybe two or three exceptionally emotionally stable people I met over the course of a decade; none of them gave signs of being anything but “men who were comfortable with being men”) — but then, maybe no workplaces, are fully ideal.

    The problem I see most apparently — besides the lack of respect accorded Library workers by some of the Public (most of the Public are kind, caring, open, and pretty much, great) — is that people tolerate these work environments with unresolved long-term toxicity issues, and then feel trapped. Then their unhappiness pervades their work. They just don’t want to be there, and it’s obvious.

    I think people feel trapped, largely because Librarianship at least used to be one of the only acceptable professions with a living wage, pension, and benefits, for a single female-appearing person to have. That means you’re not necessarily there because you want to be there; that means you’re there because it’s socially acceptable for you to be there, and it’s according you a level of financial stability (without the drawback of constantly being questioned as to why you don’t have a man, and how you can possibly be capable in your line of work).

    Some people tolerate the “sexy Librarian” stereotype, better than others — I don’t know how. (I broke up with the last person to call me that.) There are a lot of women who tolerate it better than me, which I have a hard time understanding, when they actually belong to the category that these people are targeting.

    In my case, I can see how off-base it is, and how little about me these people know when they decide to try this game. I can see that even someone who was a heterosexual woman (just assuming for the sake of the argument that the person actually identifies as such) could understand that misogynistic tripe casually tossed in their direction is thrown at an image of “women” which they don’t match, and that dude (usually, it’s “dude”) doesn’t know them, but — really. There’s no reason for misogynistic tripe to pop up, at all.

    I think it has come to at least M’s mind, that she was raised to become part of a heterosexual pairing and raise a family — and maybe never had reason to question it, before she had me (and actually got to know me; a benefit of the Pandemic).

    We’ve had the conversation about Home Economics and gender-specific classes my parents had to take when they were young. In my case, the only gender-specific activity that I couldn’t take (aside from baseball), was wrestling: for obvious reasons. There was one female person I knew who did do it, but my parents wouldn’t let me. It’s just as well; I might have really hurt somebody.

    I entered Weight Training when I got the chance, in Undergrad: this wasn’t gender-specific in High School, per se, but I didn’t want to be around the guys who claimed it as their territory. The Library was safer.

    M has been heavily involved in crafts over the last few years, the latest of which has been sewing. I’m not bashing sewing: I would love to have the time (and freedom of mind) to sew. I’ve bought patterns and fabric; I’ve even devised my own quilt-block scheme.

    But M’s life trajectory is not my life trajectory. At least for the foreseeable future, the only — positive — change I can see is becoming able to support myself in a way that makes me continue to want to live. Some way which maybe could even infuse joy into my life. Undoubtedly, this means going into a field which will take up most of my time and energy: and I don’t necessarily have the years left to make a misstep.

    As I was reminded recently, my disability (and trauma) together, make me fairly…unmotivated, where it comes to having friends and networking. I had to learn to depend on myself, and entertain myself, as a child. I remember many more negatives than positives, from socializing. In turn, that makes the idea of marriage difficult — especially when I don’t want to bear or raise children, and when I don’t want to be in a straight relationship (with myself as the woman — I don’t know how I’d be as a husband or father, especially if I didn’t have to carry the child), at baseline.

    When I was younger, it wasn’t even an option for me to marry someone who was legally female. Some of the States have protected the right to marry any single adult human one wishes, but I haven’t bet on it staying that way. Regardless, my lack of identifying as a woman, kind of locks me out of, “women’s space”: I’m not a woman (even though I may have been considered one in the 1970’s). So far as I can tell, I don’t think the community crossover is there. It’s not that easy to meet people who understand gender-nonbinary people, unless they themselves are nonbinary. (And then, sometimes even nonbinary people, don’t understand other nonbinary people.)

    I just basically don’t want to use my uterus for anything other than maintaining bone strength; and I haven’t wanted anyone else to use my uterus without my permission. That’s to the point that I’ve considered a hysterectomy. (I haven’t done it, because of the possible unintended consequences.) But then, that gets into eugenics, which it seems is never far from the treatment of transgender people. There are options that get around the outcome of permanent sterilization (like egg-freezing): but what am I going to do with a kid? I can’t even care for myself, yet.

    I do wonder just what percentage of people in the Crafts, are financially supported by someone else, as I currently am. I know the communities are largely majority-female. It has been a question with me, for years, as to how people who devote themselves to crafting, survive. What I have realized is that many of the things crafters make, really can’t be sold for their full value, because their full value is out of the financial reach of most people.

    A quilt may only be made out of fabric, thread, and batting, but the hours that go into it — designing it, stitching it — even if the sewist were paid minimum wage, would be extravagant. And yet, I don’t think it would be out of the realm of possibility that most of these sewists go unpaid. It means that “women’s work” is near priceless, but unless the person who makes it is supported by someone else, having large amounts of time to do it may not be a realistic expectation.

    Of course, that’s under the economic system we’re currently dealing with.

    I’ve been looking at:

    1. What I’m willing to do as a primary source of income, and
    2. What I will do to keep my sanity as I accomplish the above

    I have spent a relatively long period of my life, learning to work with beads, accumulating books on beadwork, working with metals, considering the possibility of becoming a small-scale Craft Jeweler (which led me to take not a trivial number of Business classes, which in the end discouraged me from the path), etc. Part of this had to do with trying to find any reason I could, to remain female; beadwork in particular had been presented to me as a women’s craft (at least, traditionally).

    Early on — as a teen — I realized that if I wanted to do anything substantial with beads, it would help to know how to do more things than simply string them. So I learned how to off-loom beadweave; I learned wirework; I started to learn beaded micromacramé (I’m still on that one); I have books on bead embroidery, but have not attempted it, so far; I have books on kumihimo and beaded kumihimo; I also found a couple of books on knitting and crochet while incorporating beads…though I do wonder if I have the patience for that last one, or ever will have the time to devote to first learning how to accurately knit, and then add beads…

    Most recently, I’ve realized the sheer amount of time beadwork requires, and the relatively inexpensive nature of its components (outside of gold [particularly: anything above gold-plate, gold-fill, or vermeil, is out of reach] and silver). Essentially, it does remind me of a craft like knitting or crochet: relatively inexpensive materials, a huge amount of time sunk, and a modicum of skill (and high amount of attention) used. (And yes, I do acknowledge that if you’re really into it, those materials do not have to be inexpensive. I’m talking about fundamentals.)

    What I’m looking at these days, is using my reading comprehension to help edit written works. Things look promising, though I might get tripped up where it comes to the social component of trying to relay places where changes need to be made, to the author. I do realize that a lot of that may be handled by the Copy Editor assigned…the question is, whether I’ll ever actually be required to be that Copy Editor.

    I didn’t take an internship when I was in Creative Writing, the first time around in University, so I don’t have a foot in the door. I also know that it isn’t easy to break into Publishing. But for someone who likes to read (and definitely responds) to written works — which I would say is likely my primary method of interacting with the human world — it could be ideal.

    Yeah, I said it. Animals don’t have to deal with this.

    I’ve begun to visualize my future as full of reading and writing. Reading would be for Editing, to enrich my own writing, to understand what makes good finished work, and to secure my own psychological stability. Writing would be — well — writing. Either writing for income, and/or writing for personal fulfillment, then hoping to traditionally publish the latter and make some modest passive income. I do realize that at a later time I could become a freelance editor, but right now I’m just hoping for experience. Though it is kind of scary to put that out into the universe.

    I’ve been getting back into the craft (of Fiction) recently, and I’m glad I currently have a counselor to help me deal with what’s coming up. In the past, I would have stopped writing, just to stop the flow of disturbing thoughts. This time, I took a break of about two weeks to disengage and reset. I’m actually feeling much better about the project I’m working on, now.

    Do you know how much it helps to realize that you don’t have to stay with your poorly-planned, messed-up first draft? That first draft that you edited so much, you didn’t think it was a first draft anymore? That first draft that opened up a psychic hellmouth that someone looked like they were about to rappel into?

    And I’ve realized that I can work with the beads, and with my own Art practice, as a way to take a break from being immersed in language: but I don’t have to make money from it. In other words, my nonverbal artistic pursuits can be avocations to keep myself balanced while I write and edit. And I don’t have to commit to any one of them, now. That, itself, is quite a release!

    Because I’ve come to this realization, I’m thinking of doing something different with my other site, SpectralBeads. I haven’t worked out what exactly I want to host on it, yet (though there should be some form of a portfolio). There is an awful lot of material up there which is just me trying to figure out how to get paid/be financially compensated for doing beadwork — when getting paid, shouldn’t be the point.

    Once I realized that the venture wasn’t financially viable (for me) unless I exploited other people’s labor, or charged far beyond the material value of the jewelry components — neither of which I wanted to do — it was kind of an awakening.

    It’s like trying to be financially compensated for knitting. It’s not that knitting isn’t a valuable skill; it’s that it takes so long to hand-knit anything, that one is by nature going to have to undercharge when selling a hand-knit garment, unless it’s made of silk or vicuña wool or something. Especially when competing with goods from overseas, where the cost of production is lower because the cost of living is lower. And especially when competing with machine-knit, or otherwise mass-produced, clothing.

    There’s the possibility of selling PDFs of patterns, to offset the overhead required to make and distribute the pattern in the first place. The issue there, is legal. I’d have to go and look this up (again): whether selling access to a digital file requires a business license and DBA, and reporting one’s income for State and/or Federal taxes. But that’s doable.

    I mean, it’s a hard, accomplishable goal. Hard goals are useful. At least I would know what I was working with.

    The other issue is finding a stable, reliable, secure e-commerce site for distribution. That, right now, is kind of a no-brainer: do not host it, here. It’s temporarily convenient on my end; but WordPress is attacked all the time — and that’s not to mention the hosting fees! I’ve got to take seriously the security of other people’s personal information; which is another reason I decided to angle away from selling finished jewelry — at least, online. If I ever seriously got back into Painting — as in, producing copious amounts of finished work — I could probably seasonally sell both my artwork and my beadwork. That’s, if. It’s not happening, now.

    Above all, I should not expect to make any significant money off of pattern PDFs — especially when SpectralBeads isn’t even a popular site, to begin with (and I have had long-running issues with the lack of ethics inherent in most social media, where I would otherwise participate). But it does look like what I have of a plan, at this stage, cobbles together various income streams from multiple jobs. I’ve read this is normal, for creative types…logistically, not ideal; but, normal.

  • Self-care

    December 27th, 2022

    I may shift back to writing a little more frequently on this blog. If nothing else, it keeps me in practice, and is at least a rudimentary attempt at a social life. Although M hasn’t read the book I’m working through on establishing a sustainable creative life, she understands the concept of the Daily Practice. This is where one essentially makes a routine of a short creative action done at the same time every day.

    I consulted with her earlier about whether or not I should switch to a different Daily Practice, and got a negative response. Because it would be a large shift to move to something else — like reading or painting or drawing in the morning, instead of just writing for 15 minutes (and honestly, the thought of painting first thing after I wake up is exhausting — which I found out today), I’ve decided to try and just free-write for 15 minutes around 10 AM every day. (This is instead of writing for 15 or more minutes anytime during the day.) As I mentioned in my last post…there’s a difference between writing and free-writing. Free-writing isn’t the same thing as journaling, or blogging, or Creative Writing (at least, it doesn’t have to be).

    I don’t have a good waking routine (other than getting up, weighing myself, and eating), although I have a partially established winding-down routine. I don’t always follow it, and sometimes I do a bit more. The point is, there at least is an ideal night routine. The night routine isn’t necessarily implemented well enough to eliminate all my sleep problems, however.

    It’s actually difficult sometimes to get up at 10 AM (though I was up before then today, after waking first at 2 AM and feeling more like it was 6 AM, only to wake again, about an hour and a half before my alarm would have gone off). The disrupted sleep also relates to the weight factors I discuss below, as basically anything eaten after 10:30 PM is going to accumulate on the scale, the next day. And I know that if I stay up past 10:30 PM, I’m probably going to get hungry.

    For that matter, if I’m on the computer like I am tonight, after 9 PM, I’m probably not going to get good deep sleep. But hey — I slept way too long, today. I know that’s not a good excuse, but I’m not ready to turn in, yet.

    To be honest, a lot of the difficulty in waking at 10 AM could be related to morale. It’s hard to get up when it’s dark and cold and all you want to do is stay warm in bed.

    What is not related to morale, is related to disruptions in my Circadian rhythm. In addition to Seasonal Affective issues (i.e. lack of sunlight in the daytime), I’ve been working on the computer at night, and I have been lacking physical exertion. For more or less the last three years, I haven’t been much of anywhere. Then when I suddenly had to intensively walk, I ended up getting bruised nail beds and paronychia — in straight language, an ingrown toenail — that I had to baby and treat, for weeks.

    To give you an idea of how much not doing anything physical is messing with me, when I was putting on my shoes to get on the bike, my heart rate spiked. I hadn’t bent over in so long, that my body had to work to do it. It also felt like my blood pressure spiked, though I wasn’t about to get out the cuff to measure it. In any case, it wasn’t great.

    So I put myself on the stationary bike for 20 minutes. I could have stayed for 30, but I was feeling some fatigue in one of my arches (even with the shoes), and decided not to overly tax myself. If I work for 20 minutes a day, seven days a week, that means I’ll be at 140 minutes of cardio per week. The goal is 150. I’m sure that some of those days, I’ll want to stay on, longer (like listening to music today actually got me to go faster, to see if I could keep up with the beat — and I realized I was going above 11 miles per hour, for the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long, on a moderate difficulty level).

    That’s not to mention, working on the rest of my body — or, stretching, for that matter, which will also spike my heart rate. I’ve been wanting to do some core exercises, at the least; and we have some kind of hemispherical thing to balance on (called a “Bosu Ball”…which really seems as though it could be hazardous), as well as a Pilates ring. I’m pretty sure I can work something out — if, I care enough.

    What I’ve realized just recently is that I can’t leave my health up to chance. When I was younger, I didn’t have to do anything to maintain my weight. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun steadily and slowly putting on weight, and I’m not sure whether it’s related to genetics plus age, medication, inactivity, or M’s baking (maybe all four). I’m just beginning to actually care about noticing the extra fat, with my jaw rounding out and my belly getting larger than I would like.

    I do get resentful when I don’t eat enough, which can easily turn into anger eating and hostility towards the person who told me to starve myself. (In this case, it would be a teacher in a “healthy weight” class I took, who suggested 1200 calories as a good target for intake. When I do absolutely nothing except sleep and stay in one place, I burn at least 1600 calories. Cutting that by 1/4, at baseline, is excessive in my opinion.) The unnecessary rage is something nobody wants.

    I just need to get in some aerobic and strengthening work to burn off the extra energy and strengthen my cardiovascular system and core, principally. From the core I can work outwards toward my arms and the smaller muscles which I know set me up for trouble if they’re neglected (specifically, the rotator cuffs, which get out of balance and start crying if you over-strengthen your arms and shoulders without paying attention to them).

    Actually, now that I look at it, there’s no reason not to do arm circles, now. I can get a head start on this.

    It’s then possible that I might not even need to wean myself entirely off of sugar. Though it’s apparent that when I don’t eat a lot of sugar in the first place (except for fruits and vegetables), I tend not to crave sugar. Especially when I exercise, for some reason — when, if I recall correctly, the craving shifts to proteins and fats (like sardines…grilled chicken breast is also pretty great, if it’s done right [grill pans are awesome; so are thermometers to temp the meat]) and clean, mineral-rich plants (e.g. escarole, radicchio, dandelion greens, kale, cabbage, chard).

    The latter also have helped me avoid pica, which I used to deal with: specifically, ice-chewing and eating salt without anything else. Pica is the compulsion to eat non-food items; neither ice nor salt qualify as food. It can be troublesome, if you like your teeth to work without pain (and in any case, stay whole)…

    It is weird how satisfying a little bit of ice cream or peanut butter, can be. For me, it helps put the brakes on late-night hunger. If I allowed myself to drink milk, I’m sure it would have the same effect as the ice cream; it has, before. The thing is, milk causes bloating for about a week after I drink it. Ice cream, at least, has been cooked — which makes it easier for my body to process (though really, the brand matters).

    Then there’s the entire thing with lead and cadmium contaminants in chocolate…which has gotten me at least off of daily dark chocolate, for the past few days. I can watch and see how much this is going to help in the long run; but really, our favorite chocolates weren’t even tested in the Consumer Reports article that got signal-boosted a few days ago. What I find telling is that lead and/or cadmium were found in all of the dark chocolates tested. The largest difference was the degree of contamination.

    And…there’s some information about this in my back files, here, most likely under the “occupational hazards” tag…you really do not want cadmium poisoning. In severe cases, it causes osteomalacia (softening of the bones) and osteoporosis (thinning and weakening of the bones). The only reason I know this is because there were some people in Japan (a long time ago) who were thoroughly poisoned by industrial waste that was being dumped into their water supply. The book in which I read this is not in front of me at the moment, but I can supply a citation in the future, if anyone’s interested.

    This is a reason I have been hesitant to get back into using cadmium-based pigments in painting, and why I’m so happy that alternative paint formulations have been made, which completely replace the cadmium while mimicking its functionality.

    I’m going to try and just post this without getting into a geek fest over pigments (and safer pigments, and newer pigments — I can’t personally vouch for them, in any case; I’m not a toxicologist or a chemist). I’ve been here long enough, tonight. 😁

    But yes…one more thing to note for myself, at least: decaf green teas are an excellent substitute where it comes to satisfying that dark chocolate craving. I had some hot genmaicha the other day (roasted green tea with puffed rice), which reminded me just why I bought a gaiwan, and had been collecting ceramic teacups. The secret is not to overbrew it…

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