kodecy

Intuitive metaphysics

April 29th, 2023

I’ve mentioned before that I may very well be at core a Pantheist. I’ve migrated to this position from once having been a Pantheist/Panentheist, though looking at the below, I seem to be exhibiting Panentheist traits. (This is even though I’ve — philosophically — wanted to shy away from Dualism, or a Matter/Spirit division.) Pantheism, to repeat, is the belief that the “Universe” (disregarding the Universe/Multiverse debate; what I mean is the totality of what is) is the body of the Divine. Panentheism is the belief that the Universe is the body of the Divine, but the Divine is also more. In this case, I’m postulating that, “more,” as Awareness (to be inclusive of lifeforms like plants, which do exhibit direct signs of response to stimuli).

If what exists is the body of the Divine, that means everything in existence is a part of the Divine. Life itself exists in and is nurtured by a field of Spirit (which simply may be nonlocal in nature/external to the 4-dimensional reality we live in: 3-D Space + Time). This means we are all part of and inheritors of the Divine; the idea of “soul” references back to this field as a particular instance of the effect of Spirit interfacing with Life.

If Spirit is one thing which gives a spark of Awareness to many things, it follows that a person also has that spark within themselves, and can experience many parts of themselves. It gives a framework for what may happen to the spirit of a plant when it is divided, and its cuttings regenerate into separate plants. It’s no problem; all Spirit is one Spirit.

This also has implications for what happens after we die (absent a supernatural religious explanation), around which I only hear, “Trust.”

Innumerable and exponential increases in the numbers of lives and deaths, and hence the numbers of immortal souls to populate the afterlife, doesn’t make sense: especially when one sees that life essentially recycles itself. Neither does a Heaven or Hell that is focused around personal desires or personal pains, make sense: the world isn’t about any one of us, personally. If anyone is about us, it’s us. Self-generated worlds explain this.

What is outside of us are near-infinite expressions of the Divine (I’m not going to get into the argument that what is “near-infinite” is also infinitely small compared to the infinite; it’s a turn of phrase), and what is inside of us, also has the potential to be plural. That’s natural, and nothing to be alarmed about, in and of itself.

The connection to the Divine means that anyone or anything that could exist outside of us — depending upon our range of life experience and capacity/permissiveness for imagination — we could also experience in our minds. This is where fictional characters may develop. Reading Fiction is a form of guided intellectual play. I think imagination developed as a way to practice thinking through what we would do in potential, abstracted, life situations.

Ultimately, this is the root of where I’m coming from, with my creativity. I had forgotten about it. Then I began writing about it, and the material began to come back to me — complete; or, reasonably so. This is the current status of my, “God Project,” which started early on, when at the prompting of a Counselor, I attempted to decipher what the Divine was, specifically, to me.

I had also pushed this off to the side, because there are a lot of people who really misunderstand this function of the human mind.

But as there’s a Universe outside, there can be a Universe inside which is no less valid. I’ve seen people misunderstand this to mean that, “all stories happen in some Universe,” which I would not endorse. This is because I know what it is to grow a story. It isn’t real. Thinking it is real, is a path to 1) constrained storytelling (how do you edit something that, “really happened?”), and, 2) delusion.

Delusion is, technically, having fixed, false, idiosyncratic beliefs about reality that are held to even in the face of evidence to the contrary. You see the power of religion, there: if a belief is fixed and false but common, it technically isn’t a delusion. And there, we get into Politics, which — as an extension of other people’s institutional power and control — should have no place in Metaphysics.

In my opinion.

As I wrote before, reality is different than Fiction, because Fiction is a creative product. Creativity doesn’t have to match reality. I could write a story about soul transmigration and it wouldn’t have to be literally true to be well-made. It wouldn’t even have to be what I honestly believed: because it’s Fiction.

The point of Fiction is not to be literally true. Often, it is a vehicle to say something beyond itself — and from experience, I know that those messages often aren’t amenable to being directly spoken.

How this topic came to me, at all? When I was younger and thinking I was a baby Medium (I’m not married to that status anymore, but sometimes my own thoughts and history make me pause), I would at times let my “spirits” flow out through my body.

And then, as now, I tell whether they’re here, by how I feel in my body. Right now I have a familiar feeling which happens when I wax poetic about spirituality, outside of a religious context. It’s a really nice feeling. It makes me feel like I’m going to be alright. Whomever I’ve contacted, feels entirely benevolent; this is not true of everyone.

But…I was thinking about this as I was writing about character design. I used to not really associate my personal bodily appearance with who I was, on the inside. This led to an extended period when I would intentionally look at myself when passing reflective surfaces and think, “oh, is that what I look like?” Then I started trying to conduct these specific energies out through my body, to see what they would look like, if they were me — how they would wear this body.

If I’m looking at how a specific, “spirit,” wears, “this body,” (or any body, for that matter) that could give me a clue as to how to draw or illustrate my characters. They don’t have a choice over the bodies they’re born into, or the families or circumstances they’re born into; but they do have a choice over how they wear their bodies, and, how they deal with those circumstances.

And those bodies and circumstances, are up to me, to supply…
Japan-U.S. interface: readings on race and culture

April 28th, 2023

Okay. I’m hoping I’m not writing too much…but I did some free-writing earlier today, and it was extremely helpful — I buzzed out 1.5 pages, single-spaced, in 15 minutes. I shouldn’t go without writing, for too long. I need to work time for it — beyond that 15 minutes per day for a free-write — into my daily schedules, or else I end up doing what I did this week (was it a couple of times, this week?), and spend an entire day writing stuff online.

It only takes me 3-6 hours to write and edit a post, but that is an extended period of time, in the scheme of things. I just don’t…really mind, so much.

For that matter, I do want to get back into some of my books on Writing (I’m particularly thinking of The Elements of Style, 4th ed., by Strunk & White — I stopped at the second section some months ago, back when I was helping tutor my cousin in English). There is so much I want to read. Like all that stuff on race and racism and culture that I have lined up. And the short story anthology that spun me off on a feminist tangent, but at least gave me something to think about.

That’s not to mention my Japanese lessons and Python lessons that I’ve put on hold to deal with the following:

I have an upcoming job interview — a major interview — for a Term position. I’ve been preparing for said interview, and the questions they ask are not necessarily easy ones to answer. The major reason I’m stressing over this is that it would really be great to get this job and get in the door…but seriously, the preparation is like studying for a test.

Sorry. “Quiz,” is what they call it when they don’t want to scare people.

But I mean, this is a 90-minute quiz. It won’t break me if I don’t get the position: I am already on notice that my applications are being reviewed in other places. And as unlikely as it is that I will get my other top choice (for now)…that post would also be nice, and fit into my future career plans and personal desire for knowledge, where it comes to working with Japanese language materials and East Asian diaspora and culture. It wouldn’t pay as much, but it would give me time to study and immerse myself in the project, time to seek a position for when that post ends, and a little bit of my own money to replace what I outlaid for my courses and professional association memberships.

So maybe I should prepare for the big interview — of course I should prepare — but I shouldn’t sweat it so much? Especially since that position, ends in September. The greatest use of it to me is to train me in editing metadata, and give me a recent record of employment. The money’s nice, but it isn’t everything. It’s not even the major benefit.

There’s also the possibility of going on within that same system, but I’ll need to ask what the process is, for that.

And I’m reminded of my TBR pile.

This whole thing with Japan-U.S. race relations…where do I start? I suppose I can start by saying that while doing research for — I think it was a Diversity class — I read (for what may have been the first time) that there was no concept of “Asian-American” before the Civil Rights movement. As best I can recall, “Asian-American” as a collective identity developed after the model of “African-American”. This was around the same period of time in which Ethnic Studies classes came into being, due to popular demand.

On the television show, “Amanpour & Co.”, several months ago (it may have been longer), there was a segment on a book by Michael Omi & Howard Winant, titled Racial Formation in the United States, 3rd ed. (2015). Apparently, from just flipping through the book, it looks like Omi & Winant go over this history, and the history of the concept of race in general in the U.S., but I haven’t read it yet. It disappeared for a number of months before I found it unread on a shelf, while looking for another book.

That book was: From Race to Ethnicity: Interpreting Japanese American Experiences in Hawai’i, by Jonathan Y. Okamura (2014). From Race to Ethnicity details the lives of early immigrants from Japan to Hawai’i, where they generally served as plantation laborers. As in other plantation systems in the U.S., there were abysmal living and working conditions, which — if I’m remembering correctly — pushed labor to mobilize. (That’s a very glossed-over version of it.) The book seems to follow the development of Japanese-American politics in Hawai’i from 1885 into the 21st century, but I’m not sure: I’ve only gotten 35 pages into this book.

Third, here, we have Subverting Exclusion: Transpacific Encounters With Race, Caste, and Borders, 1885-1928, by Andrea Geiger (2011). This book details the development of understanding of the American concept of “race” by Japanese migrants upon arriving in North America. You’ll keep seeing the year 1885 coming up; this is when Japan began to allow Japanese people to emigrate overseas as laborers. (p. 197)

Although it isn’t spoken about much, there apparently was a caste system in Japan called mibun. I’m not sure of the kanji spelling (I don’t see it given in Geiger), but I typed it into Google and retrieved 身分 from Wiktionary in Japanese, meaning, “social position or status.” (This particular caste system seems to have originated in the Tokugawa era. The Tokugawa era ended shortly after Commodore Perry’s arrival in 1853 and the opening of the borders, but its ways of understanding society lingered in the people.) The Tokugawa understanding of mibun influenced Japanese emigrants’ understandings of newfound low status when encountering racism in at least the United States (the book references both Canada and Mexico as well).

I know I’ve at least gotten 36 pages into this (to the beginning of Chapter 2), but for most — if not all — of that time, I was reading it online via an electronic library database. The database (Project MUSE) stores the full text of many Digital Humanities books — though I should let you know that it had a pretty awful font for this one. Also, libraries can pick what is in this database, so it may not be in your version of Project MUSE.

The last book, which under other circumstances I would give less of a chance, is The Japanese Mind: Understanding Contemporary Japanese Culture, by Roger J. Davies and Osamu Ikeno (2002). I’ve read the opening of this book, and apparently most of the content was written by Japanese students at Ehime University in seminars on cross-cultural communication. It’s meant to explain Japanese cultural concepts to foreigners.

Of course, being freakin’ American, I have a bit of caution about overgeneralizing any group of people. (For example, “what is the woman’s view?” [which I’ve seen men in Japan honestly ask women on camera] is bizarrely reducing, to my [American] sensibilities. Half the planet’s population is made of women; there will be disagreements.) This doesn’t seem to be a huge issue, in Japan…or at least, it doesn’t seem to be loudly and publicly challenged. The latter is not congruent with cultural norms.

But that book, I have barely gotten into. I would use what’s given in the book (if I’m right about its content) to shed light on what I know of my local and extended family, with incidents in my history, with the Japanese-American (日系人 = nikkeijin = Japanese of foreign birth) community, and with my own morals and training. There is a definite history of specifically Japanese-American experience scattered through family memory. Piecing it together, but more than that; understanding its context (nothing arises independently), what filtered through the generations to me, and understanding past generations, are my aims.

For instance, I know that my Japanese-American grandmother was raised Catholic. Catholicism had been in Japan for centuries, but it was a persecuted religion, and could have been a reason to emigrate. In addition, so far as I know, our family may have originated in Hiroshima Prefecture. We really don’t know where, and we really don’t know whether they were wiped out at the end of WWII with the atomic bomb (there is a capital called Hiroshima, which is where the bomb went off; and there is a wider area around it called Hiroshima-ken [or Hiroshima Prefecture], which is more likely as a familial origin area).

But really, a lot of Japanese-American families probably originated in Hiroshima; I’m just forgetting my source, right now. It would really help to have the map I saw, of this.

Looking up my ancestry in Japan probably requires literacy in reading Japanese, which I don’t yet have. It also may require traveling to Japan to see the monuments and archives. That isn’t happening anytime soon.

I know I haven’t outlined these books here, before: but I’m leaving this note up for myself so that I can recall my TBR pile (and maybe move it off of my nightstand).

I suppose that in this specific post, I haven’t addressed the purpose of reading about race, racism and Japan. I’ve mentioned that I’m mixed-race. My non-Japanese parent had a very tough time being accepted by their in-laws, and race…I’d say, is still an issue. Even though no one — not even the person being targeted in this case — can do anything about it. Why does anyone still care about this? Why regard a person poorly because of something they did not choose and cannot change?

I’m not sure. But that was the reason I began looking at Subverting Exclusion. There is also the very credible prospect of generational trauma: my grandmother was alive at the time of the WWII Japanese Internment, though she went East to college, instead of to Camp (as was the norm on the West Coast). I’d think that being a young Japanese woman on one’s own in the U.S. during WWII, must have been harrowing.

Japanese culture is highly hierarchical. It’s possible that she didn’t want her child marrying anyone of a “lower” social rank, and that’s what all this was about. Status. Whereas, my parents married for love, not status.

There’s a whole story here that I probably shouldn’t get into, right now.

I specifically put these four books together to see if the image they painted could help me either in my writing (as I realized that with my Writing and Research skills, I could do a decent job at pursuing the writing of my own book), with my self-knowledge, or in my professional life. As a member of multiple diasporas, there are a lot of gaps in my self-knowledge. Some of these I can trace back. Some are much harder to deal with.

Disclaimer: I have not been compensated for any of the texts or services I mention in this post. Also: don’t rely on my overview of a book as gospel; I haven’t read any of them deeply, yet!
Encoding meanings in bodies

April 26th, 2023

Well…there has been a lot going on, and I’ve not been doing a lot of work on my own projects. Or…let’s see. I have been able to work with the beads recently, though that had to do with wanting to do something for M and Mother’s Day. I’ve been trying to put together a schedule, but the two consecutive days out of the last week in which I did it and held to it, seemed to tire me out for the rest of that week. I’m still recovering, that is.

I’ve been advised to try and ease myself into self-scheduling repeating events. There is the knowledge that pretty much everything I’m into, I’m into for a reason. Except the jewelry, that is. And the sewing. And…

I suppose that the jewelry and related crafts are my actual, “hobbies,” in that I don’t have to do them, and there is relatively little reason to do them, other than enjoyment (in the case of beadwork and needlework), image control (in the case of sewing), and practice at staying in the moment (with tatting, and knitting/crochet).

I also notice that these are all highly gendered activities. Things I entered into when I was trying to find anything at all that was good about being a woman, that would be denied me if I appeared to be a man. I’m not trying to be a woman, anymore. (Or a man.)

Recently, I have barely given myself time at all to do these things. There is nothing stopping me ~~except the knowledge that they aren’t going to go anywhere. The latter is the exact reason I’ve stopped playing video games~~. The issue is orienting myself toward earning a decent living, in the absence of a desire to become a stay-at-home wife to a guy I would probably only barely be capable of tolerating — unless he were just a very good friend who never asked for sex. In which case, I’d probably be in a lavender marriage.

So instead, there’s the writing. The language study. The reading. The coding. The job search. The job applications. The counseling. And then, all the everyday maintenance: exercise, hygiene, food, housekeeping. And then there’s trying to make the best of my time with my family.

Then, there’s art. I just haven’t been able to get up the will to work with this in a deep way, recently. Partially, this is because my Art area is full of in-progress beading projects. And partially…it’s because I have not been keeping up with my Art practice (by which I’m referring specifically to painting and drawing).

It’s way easier to work with Visual Arts when you already have a steady practice and recent works to bounce off of. Or when you have a story to work from. It’s easier for me to write here, because I already have a writing practice and a given body of work. At least I know who I am, here; I’m not starting totally from scratch.

Today, anyway, I realized that the method of working Art so that one records their mental reality visually, may…have inherent or implicit problems, specifically where it comes to what of visual “language” is understood both by oneself and the wider culture.

Until recently, for example, “Wakanda,” could not — as a pop-culture rallying point — counter the dehumanization of people of African descent through and within Art. There was no Wakanda. But at this point in time, it has entered the public imagination, and is ready to be used as a point of reference, whereas derogatory stereotypes (which I want to name, but won’t — for multiple reasons), before went unchallenged.

That is, I’m questioning whether the teaching of Art in general carries within it historical ideas which I’d refer to as racism and sexism, in a present-day context. By that, I’m referring to the problem of encoding meanings in bodies.

(Of course, that raises the obvious question of whether the present-day is actually better than any other moment in history, and whether it is apt to apply the terms, “racist,” or, “sexist,” to artists or writers who were alien to the concepts. These are separate philosophical and semantic questions, which I won’t get into, here.)

This becomes more evident when referring to a movement like Orientalism (which was largely based on European fantasies of the “Near-East”), or to works like The Swing by Fragonard. Because so many (remembered) artists — and writers — in the European tradition have been male…the subjects of (European) Art History may suffer from similar biases as the subjects of (English-language) Literature (which I’ve gone off about, recently).

Specifically when working in character design…I have some misgivings. That’s probably because I was exposed to some pretty overtly racist cartoons while I was still too young to question or defend against them (e.g. Looney Tunes’ “Little Hiawatha”). I don’t remember their being challenged, at the time — but I couldn’t have been older than six, then. It would have been an adult conversation.

I’ve gone over this before, but as an adult now, I look back on the types of media I was exposed to — especially as a Young Adult — and see a direct connection between the objectification of women in high school English classes, and the objectification of myself as a female high school student by male students reading the same things in the same classes. Women would seem to be made for men’s pleasure, and to reproduce and raise children (in addition, often, to taking care of the men: though the men don’t talk much about this). That leaves little room for the identities and lives of female-bodied people who don’t prioritize mens’ pleasure, don’t want to care for them (without good cause), and don’t want to reproduce.

That’s not to support book banning (granted, probably most of the canon would be banned if taken to that extent); but it would certainly help to take it critically, and with a mind towards generating a better future, and not towards reproducing the dynamics and errors of the past.

As I was attempting to talk this out earlier today, an interesting idea came up: that it seemed I wanted to, “draw consciously.” I hadn’t thought about it that way, before. There is a problem I’m facing down right now about the difference between drawing intuitively and drawing consciously. As with Writing, working with Art may very well show one where one has learned material that one in no way ever wanted to learn.

This runs the gamut from unintentionally making a lighter-skinned character the main subject of a composition (why didn’t I think of the darker-skinned one first?), to encoding a character with a large nose because of a specific incident where a menacing person was pushing his nose into your face: but then you remember racialized stereotypes about people with large noses, and wonder if you’ve absorbed and are expressing part of that.

So yes, it actually can be a bad thing to be really good at learning! It does give one plenty to un-learn.

The thing is: I know for a fact that literally no one had us facing down these problems in my Creative Writing classes — it was actually an English Professor who told me that I couldn’t call an author who lived before the invention of the word, “racism,” “racist.” (Even if he had Black slaves?) And given what I still see, particularly in Animation (why are characters with very evidently ethnic hair, like Gothel from Tangled, and Olivia Octavius from Into the Spider-Verse, also characterized as obviously crazy? Craziness doesn’t make your hair curl — neither does wildness, in the case of Merida from Brave), I also don’t know to what extent these questions are being addressed in Art classes.

But maybe they should be. Maybe I’d be better prepared to deal with it now, if they were.
Realism vs. fantasy

April 23rd, 2023

I should note that my use of the term, “fantasy,” in this article, is not in the sense of Low Fantasy or High Fantasy, if we’re looking at book genres. Rather, it refers to the contents of imagination from which at least two forms of creative content: Fiction, and Sequential Art, spring. The following should be viewed with the latter two forms of expression, in mind. When I use the term, “reality,” I mean to refer to the real world — the world unfiltered by our imaginations and mental input, if that is ever possible to experience.

Having gotten back into reading Short Stories and Flash Fiction, and drawing on my memory of all the English and Writing classes I’ve taken…along with, well, the manga I used to collect (though I could only read glimpses of its text) and other visual culture from Japan (I’m particularly thinking of games and anime)…plus becoming more attuned to the way people actually talk, which is leaps and bounds away from the well-thought-out language that appears in Writing and on TV (if it did not, there would be a lot of frustrated audiences)…

…it all solidifies the idea that reality is an entirely different thing from fantasy. This is not necessarily the problem I’m dealing with. The problem is that people don’t seem to comprehend that reality is different from fantasy. People sometimes expect reality to mirror fantasy, or fantasy to be a reliable guide to reality.

In some other places — specifically, I’m thinking of Japan — it’s taken as granted that media productions are not the same thing as reality. We don’t have that kind of cultural distinction between products of the imagination, and our lived social world, in the U.S.

I have a powerful imagination. I’ve had to grapple with the distinction between imagination and hard facts, as I believe most of us do (if we do the work). It took, probably, decades for me to be able to separate the inner workings of my mind (where my stories came from) from what was actually physically happening, and I’m still working on it. The brain likes to spin worlds of its own. The brain likes to lie, and tell me it knows the truth, with the inherent problem of measuring itself against itself.

The brain is an unreliable narrator, at least sometimes. And yes, that even applies to people who say they’re reliable and claim authority. We all have brains, and brains have flaws — some of them, built-in.

It didn’t help that when I was growing up, the role models I had to look forward to in my (assigned) reading — people who shared my “supposed” gender (sex does not equal gender) — were not people I wanted to inhabit or be like. They were structurally limited. This led to my drafting stories whose main characters were all male, and identifying with maleness myself, in my early years. I simply couldn’t conceptualize a female character with what Sociology refers to as, “agency,” or a mind of her own and an awareness of society and way of navigating through life.

But stories aren’t the real world.

Most characters who had motivation and power, and could effectually change the world of the story, or drive the story, were male (unless they were utilizing their sexuality to compel a male to change the world: we did not read One Thousand and One Nights [I still haven’t read it, though maybe it’s worth a look], and the entire Agrippina/Nero story as referenced in Hamlet…I don’t remember expounding upon that, though I do know we read Hamlet). And “women” were what the men in the stories wanted them to be, or didn’t want them to be; regardless, they were objects of desire (or specifically of un-desire) or desiring objects. You see the theme: power revolves around (male) desire and female sexuality — mostly, when specifically used with males.

Sappho is a notable digression (though we know her as a poet, not a prose author). As are Toni Morrison and (possibly? my memory is fuzzy) Leslie Marmon Silko: but both Beloved and Ceremony (to the best of my memory, with the latter) were extremely painful books to get through. Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphins probably worked because there were no males in the story to take it over. Same with Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George.

But female subjection to male power and the only way out being through catering to male desire, is fantasy. It’s fantasy from a biased selection of authors which is presented cohesively so as to try to represent a larger English-language- (and male-) dominated cultural reality, and exclude other visions of realities and possible realities. Only certain books are translated, and there are the questions as to, “which,” and, “why?” For that matter, only certain books are published, and the historical makeup and perspectives of the Publishing industry are also most probably worth looking into on this question.

Perhaps English class in secondary school was, in short, being used as socialization, which I’ve heard (from a Teacher) to be one of the major purposes of schooling in the U.S. And maybe the issue wasn’t that the writing was fantastical in nature, more than that the same perspectives generating those fantasies, kept popping up so frequently (and being challenged so rarely) that they might have been seen to have some bearing on reality, in general.

Maybe Fiction (among other untruths) does have some bearing on reality, but I don’t have the energy to question just how, right now. It could be an interesting subject for a future post — probably after a lot of study.

Here’s another question: For the sake of generating creative storytelling at all, is it necessary and OK that fantasy differs from reality?

Or maybe the question could be phrased:

“What aspects of reality do we want to acknowledge or cleave to when writing creatively?”

The answer might be, “those that are important.” But then we have to define what we mean by, “important,” and, “important to whom? How? In what function?” After all, the potential audiences for our works, are heterogenous. Maybe at one time, a reading audience was considered relatively monolithic; not, now.

That’s a good thing, by the way.

In our lived world, the responses in viewers based on how a person appears, or sounds, or smells, or Deity forbid, their skin texture — has nothing whatsoever to do with the viewed person’s essence. What they look like does not equate to who they are. Their physicalities, and stories others make about those who look like them, are not their spirit.

When we see a person for the first time and form opinions about that person based on first impressions…which can quickly run into the realm of, “only impressions,” should that person lock us out…that can run into the realm of unconscious bias and prejudice. Yet, in Illustration, at least; I’ve read the opinion that a character’s visual design should be an expression of who s/he is on the inside.

I find the latter view to be problematic. For me, as an author, and as an artist. Not to mention, as a mixed-race, gender-nonbinary person. As I’ve noted about the latter before, my identity as anything other than “cisgender” does not change the facts; it changes the reference. And I think that changing the reference, for me, is the entire point.

As a person of mixed race, I have had people trying to racially, “figure me out,” for pretty much all of my life — at least, when it wasn’t obvious: when I wasn’t with both parents at once, which mostly just gained ogling. (One starts to dismiss ogling, after a while; otherwise, you just start not going out of the house. It just takes some accepting that there are people who aren’t used to seeing human variation.) For most of my early life, I was pressured by forms to “choose one” racial category, which for me meant choosing which of my parents and families to identify with.

This means I have been pushed to reveal a reference point against which I can be measured, or give the person I’m encountering some reference as to “what I am.” People are surprisingly poor at guessing. At one conference I was confronted by a pair — granted, a non-White pair, which was minorly consoling (at least they knew what it was like to be racialized and targeted, themselves) — asking me about my background. I said, “Guess.” They must have guessed 40 combinations put together, before I got tired and told them.

The key question is why people want to know this, in the first place. What story does my racial background supply? (Perhaps a lot, if we’re looking at the history of racial mixing after the Japanese Internment of WWII — but I didn’t come across that tidbit of information, until recently.) And is being pushed to reveal my race before its time, invasive? Does the information even supply anything of value to the conversation, when the person is for all intents and purposes, a stranger — and may remain, a stranger? Should my family history be a topic of casual conversation?

There is also the question of whether I would rather have people asking me this, than people assuming wrongly that they know my background and its contents. The problem is, I could tell them my background, and then they would also assume wrongly, because they have no accurate information about either side of my family where it comes to race or culture.

Possibly as an outcome of this pressure, which I’ve had to deal with for as long as I can remember, I have developed a stronger identification with one side of my family than the other — even though it’s mostly only other Asian people who can tell on sight that I’m part-Asian. Or sometimes, as recently, I stun people by speaking Japanese language, when I don’t appear stereotypically Japanese. I still grew up being socialized with the Japanese side of my family, and mostly not so, with the other one (which I tend to elide online, for privacy purposes). As an effect, I’m culturally largely Japanese-American, even though I don’t, “look it.”

And yeah — I do then have to deal with stereotypes about female Japanese people. But seriously: it’s fairly easy to spot people who retain these. They get too excited. Way. Too. Excited. But spotting this, takes experience.

Actually…that’s another, “work,” as we would say in Cataloging. It’s another story. I don’t know how long the writing would continue, but there is definitely material to be mined, there.

As a youth, I lived with ongoing race tensions within my extended family, and ongoing race tensions at school. I was largely unaware of the scope of the latter when I was in it; but, for children who aren’t introduced to the concept of racism until years after they’ve encountered and had to cope or deal with it, it may be that way.

On a recent occasion, I had the opportunity to get some more alcohol markers. Getting the markers reminded me of the work I’ve done in Illustration…and a couple of nights ago, I re-attempted drawing. Successfully.

I also made a number of notes in my binder about how to draw the various threads of my current project, together. It’s possible. It’s very — possible. The outcome, however, is going to be an outright fantastical story; something that departs from the conventions of realism or literal possibility. It may put me into Genre fiction, as versus Literary fiction.

And no, I haven’t yet decided whether it’s even worth it to consider making this story into a Graphic Novel, when — let’s face it, I have Art skills, but I don’t draw often anymore, on my own. I have generated some ideas for a couple of shorts, which I may very well use for practice. Then there is the entire question of why I associate certain character designs with certain characters. Why do they match? I’m not entirely sure.

I have no idea what my brain is doing when it’s developing visual character designs. I also don’t know everything that goes into making one character appear unmistakably severe and another, not (though I have some ideas, and they do not give me much comfort). This is visual language, which I feel okay in admitting, I don’t totally understand. After all, it isn’t like I have an advanced degree in Art.

I know part of this language is cultural; I just don’t like to be complicit with culture where it stereotypes and misleads (though that brings up a very interesting caveat in intentional misdirection). There is a rather full history of — especially — racial bigotry and stereotyping in cartooning in this country, and one may not always know where the references they learned, are coming from. It’s fairly easy to identify some of the most flagrantly harmful stereotypes. The question for me is whether that’s just scratching the surface.

What does it mean in Art to represent a character’s traits in their physical appearance; when we know that in reality, physical appearance does not relate to internal character? How does it reflect on all the real people who actually, through no fault of their own, have those appearances?

There’s more to unpack here, but I haven’t connected all the dots yet.

This is a reason I migrated back to text as a medium. Using text means that I can tell a story giving the reader specifically limited (and delimited or qualified) information to elicit an effect, whereas in an illustrated story or comic…well, I’ve been attuned to pay attention to details, and I know that details are what make things come alive. This is true for me both in prose and in drawing — though it is worth noting that I’m still working my way out of realism, in Drawing, where it’s much harder for me to edit a detail out.

The point is that Fiction is essentially creative — what I’ve been calling, “fantastical,” — in nature. Although it may bear a semblance to reality, or comment on reality, it is not reality. As I’ve mentioned before, however; even at the beginning of this post: not everyone realizes that. And that’s a problem. As to the scale of the problem, I’m no longer sure.

After a point, the question arises as to what the author themselves is attempting to communicate (or work out) on the whole, and everything else falls in line, after that. Realism isn’t necessarily a goal, and attempting to cleave to realism in all ways may actually inhibit a story, rather than encourage it.

The question — and I’ve been dealing with this on a number of fronts — may be how to mitigate the potential harm of the story, both to myself (as the author who has to live out the story in their mind) and others (who may be affected by the author’s unintentionally repeated stereotypes). I think I’ve brought this up, before. I have a much better clue of how to mitigate the harm, in prose…probably because I’ve studied it more and have more experience with it. There’s a lot of room for explanation and internal experience in prose, which I haven’t yet learned to translate to a visual format.

But then, what to do with Art?
Periodic record #4: Restrictions

April 18th, 2023

I’ve been trying to think out where I want to go in the long term, with my skills…particularly in thinking about what job I take next, which infers carefully thinking about what jobs I apply for, now. I’m really not sure if a person with a germ phobia should be working in a Preservation capacity…for reasons I can already see. Mold. Dust. Grossness. Being the focus of all of it. Not being able to hand it off.

That parallels looking back on my last couple of jobs and seeing just…how much they were not in line with who I was, and how they did not prepare me to move on in my best capacity. There was a lot of paranoia in the organization about people in my position taking over work from people in higher-paid positions, meaning that my work was…well, if not restricted (which it was), not in line with what I wanted to do then, or in the future.

Essentially, what I was being groomed into was Customer Service. Which is something I now know I want to avoid. I wrote something the other day which very much clarified it for me, but I didn’t publish it. Working with people can at times be very much like feeding information into a black box and getting back a weird, mutated, childish response — except for the fact that these children may be physically larger and stronger than you and easily turn to aggression or implied threats if they don’t get what they want. When what they want may be something you’re enjoined not to give them, or something they have no claim to.

In other words, in the course of my past employment, I’ve experienced a good number of people trying to play dominance games. This was not helped by them thinking they should be superior to me because of multiple societal factors, first among them being gender, apparent age, and race. Second among them as a contributing factor, which this entry is bringing into my awareness: I may be more affected by my autistic tendencies than I thought.

I am not sure if my years of self-defense training have essentially trained into me threat awareness and hypervigilance, but I don’t feel safe with the general public. Well: essentially, I have good reason to have developed those qualities, from my formative years. It wasn’t just self-defense classes that did it (though my sensei was, seriously, hypervigilant — and tried to train us into being so, as well).

Thinking back on it, I can actually remember being initially afraid of being targeted for maltreatment and abuse when I first started working directly with the public. Most of the time, it didn’t happen, which was — shocking. But it made me realize that most people don’t intend to be jerks. At least when you pass for straight and cis.

Which then, you know…will make a person worried about how much esteem and status and safety will be lost if one cuts one’s hair. It’s not fun. But neither is dealing with unwanted sexual overtures.

To some people (particularly the ones I had to deal with re: sexual harassment), sex seems to be all I’m good for: either as a desired object, or as someone they will annoy for not meeting their sex-governed standards. As though they’re insulted that you will never care enough about them to conform to their vision, and be who they want you to be.

This is not contraindicated by my recent Literature readings; that people who are assumed to be women have one reason for existing, and that is “love” and reproduction, and going along with that, beauty: for the purpose of attaining desirability and approval. (Assuming “she” even wants you [this applies across all genders] or ever will, and that’s a gigantic assumption that doesn’t take “her” personhood into account.)

Yes, there are definite reasons I identify as nonbinary. That doesn’t change the material facts. That changes my point of reference.

Right now I have four books on race, racism, emigration, and culture to look at, largely focusing on the interface and overlap between Japanese culture and American culture. I’m interested in the parallel development between sex and gender, and between race and ethnicity.

I’m thinking there was a time when sex and gender were seen as equivalent; as well as a time when race and ethnicity weren’t distinct concepts (though I’m not sure about the latter; the development seems as though it would be fundamentally political, and thus far more convoluted than I would expect).

Last night, I realized that my training in Writing, plus my training in Research, together, mean that I have a very good shot at being able to research and write about my own interests. If I have access to the right information resources.

Actually: last night, I was looking at an internship with a Japanese-American nonprofit, and comparing the future after that internship, with the future after the Preservation slot. It made me realize that I can do a lot more than just repair things. I like to work with my hands, but I don’t want my primary function in life to be manual labor. This is why I drew away from the idea of making jewelry and selling it on Etsy. (One of the reasons, anyway.)

For a brief moment, I was even thinking of pursuing training in Ethnic Studies…for the purpose of gaining the option of teaching Asian American Studies at the University level. The major problem with that, is that teaching at a 4-year University seems to most often require the PhD, and as I’ve heard M state, “the PhD takes as long as it takes.”

But then: I’m learning not to trust everything M says as fact. She has some weird ideas, sometimes: like thinking that I don’t appreciate my education (I overheard this, tonight). I really don’t know where that even came from. My issue was not wanting to commit myself to a year of struggling with my OCD, when I could do much more which was more in line with my strengths. The issue is that the clearest path to doing, “more,” is learning Japanese (and hoping to secure a Cataloging position), and refreshing my Math and learning Computer Programming (to make myself viable for a Metadata position).

This may also open up Translation jobs and Analyst jobs, though to be honest, I know very little about Analyst positions. The fact is that I have, pretty much, a high-school education in Math (if we discount Statistics). Currently, that’s one of my weakest points, if I’m looking at jobs which aren’t social and aren’t dirty. I can remediate this, however. Social anxiety and OCD, on the other hand…I may not be able to make right: not on my own. I seriously can’t do anything about it, if the root is autism.

I had to take medication to tolerate my job, the last time around…but, I mean, I’m still on medication, no lie. I just don’t want to be forced to take a drug to be able to put my distress aside long enough to function. I’m afraid that’s exactly what will happen if I take the Preservation opening.

It’s not that I don’t like Math or have a hard time with it; it’s that I had a slew of negative emotional experiences around it (prominently including dissociation — I’m talking about time loss/blackouts), mostly from the ninth grade, hence something of an emotional resistance to it. I was never really taught it in such a way that I knew what I was doing, and why. And I’m sure I have long forgotten how to use a graphing calculator. Not that I understood what the graphs essentially meant or the knowledge they would lead to…but I’m not sure anyone did, because I don’t think it was at all divulged.

Focusing on Technical jobs will keep me away from that psychological, “black box,” or the hypervigilance to attack that I’ve had to deal with in Public Service (which may be related to autism-spectrum stuff combined with trauma), and it will keep me away from grossness (which is contraindicated by my OCD). The pay is good. The stress…particularly where it comes to zero-days…may not be. But I’m not aiming to become a Cybersecurity specialist; not unless no one else steps up.

I did just realize that I totally forgot about Writing jobs. Of course, I have some skill at that. I should work on creating a section on this blog for a Portfolio…even though right now, the way things are going…

Well, I can explore it.
Work…

April 16th, 2023

I’ve actually gotten a lot done within the last few days…though I need to keep up with it. I’ve had some ongoing issues with allergies (the abundant rain has led to abundant pollen), and so yesterday was full of dusting and vacuuming. I still haven’t done everything possible: I could still change the bedsheets, wash the covers, possibly wash a pillow, and vacuum the wedge pillows and plushies. I may need to dust the cords going around the room, I realized after I saw a couple of swathes of dust on my forearm from a phone cord. I have a stack of papers leftover from the last time I cleaned this place, which I should really go through and either file, or shred.

I also vacuumed the tops of all of my books, cleaned out the areas behind the books, and rearranged the shelves. Writing Reference (for English language) is on the top left; below that is part of my Japanese language study collection; to the right of that is currently-viable Information Science. Upper right, second stack: Arts and Crafts, Magazines, Non-Fiction; below that, Creative Writing.

I’m not sure I’m going to stick with this layout, but it’s good enough for now. It’s also something of a relief to get the books I’d need to go through if I wanted to be Reference staff, out of here. So stuff on Library Programming, and Reference Interviewing, and Reader’s Advisory, I now know I don’t have to deal with. And I don’t have to store them in my bedroom.

There are two separate query letters and resumes I need to work on…one is an Archives position, the other is a Preservation position. I was eyeing the latter because 1) I do like to work with my hands, and 2) it would give me a more rounded experience: my MLIS was almost totally online (with the exception of working with a local Historical Society), so there are things that I just didn’t learn, which I would have had the ability to learn if I had been on-campus.

I have a feeling that the Preservation position is going to at times, be disgusting and maddening (as I would have felt if someone used a taco for a bookmark: look it up on Google Images [the original tweet seems to have been taken down]). Or like the time one of my former co-workers found a book returned with pancake syrup all over the cover…as though no one would know who last checked it out.

There are a lot of people who just really don’t treat Library materials (technically community property) with any respect…but then, there are also people who don’t treat Library Staff with any respect. I’m reminded of the time one of our workers found a carton half-full of totally melted ice cream one morning, in the stacks. We had a no-food rule. She, having been a long-term library patron, was disgusted that people would be so disrespectful. And I can say that I understand. Entirely.

This is the reason I haven’t yet applied. I’m fine with repairing torn pages; I’m fine with replacing a worn-out or broken binding. I could repair a book that has had its insides razored out. I have re-taped covers on hardbacks. I might even be able to tolerate freezing or gassing a book for pests, given that it was contained and effective and wasn’t going to kill me (or travel home on me), too. It’s the really nasty stuff — biohazardous material, dangerous material (like when I found a partially-unsheathed razor blade being used as a bookmark), and food — that I’m concerned about.

The last is probably the most minor. Biohazard is the major issue, but I’m thinking (hoping?) that it isn’t a continual or major problem. (The benefit to biohazard is that it leaves behind DNA that can be sampled and tracked.)

Egregious abuse of Library materials, would tick me off. And I would likely see all of it. On the bright side, a University (this is a University position) would likely be conscientious and professional enough to charge anyone they could point the finger at — which might discourage the behavior, instead of allowing it to go on and making everyone in the organization have to deal with it.

And…yeah, I’m not sure anyone really wants to know what some patrons get up to, with Library books. It is enough to make a person want to work in Publishing, instead. At least there is some kind of respect, in that position — it’s essentially an honor to have a manuscript accepted for Publication. I’m also thinking that a lot of what is thrown at Public Librarians wouldn’t happen, if the vocation wasn’t gendered as feminine.

Now that I think about it, maybe I want to pass on the Preservation position, specifically because of my dust and mold allergies and germ phobia. I hadn’t thought about it until just now when I got up to shift a bookend to a more needed spot (the Writing Reference section is trailing off, and in more need of that bookend than Nonfiction).

I got pretty dirty last night, just by cleaning my books and thumbing through the Creative Writing on my bedroom shelves (some of which, I hadn’t touched since Undergrad, other than to move them or decide whether or not to keep them). Of course: these are bedroom shelves, meaning they collect dust, quickly.

Becoming a Proofreader would be a better short-term outlet for me, especially seeing that the Preservationist position is, initially, not that great (12-month temporary, part-time, no benefits)…and I’m not looking forward to a career in book preservation. The biggest upshots to taking a job in book preservation would be: 1) the opportunity to work with my hands, 2) the jobs it could open up in Museums, 3) the jobs it could open up in Archives, or 4) the hands-on Digital Preservation work it might enable.

Actually, that’s a fair bit. And I can look at it as valuable paid training.

To the best of my knowledge, Museum jobs don’t pay much, though I hope to be wrong on that. I suppose the upshot is that you’re working with a lot of bright colleagues who are into history and art, and other aspects of material culture.

I don’t know why I keep brainstorming positions (like Copyediting, or Digital Humanities, or Translation), when I already know that I’m aiming to eventually work within Technical Services, and I know I need not to have a primarily social job.

I suppose Book Preservation is not a social job.

Copyediting has a (very) strong social component. Then there is written Translation, which will be viable — after I gain the skills to do it!

The term, “Digital Humanities,” would seem to cover what I’m looking for, but it doesn’t seem to be about what the name would infer. I see, “data modeling,” mentioned offhand, which sounds like (analytics plus visualization plus…) it’s mostly beyond the scope of my skills, right now. Working with computers, however, might keep me away from dust, mold, and germs…and may not require interfacing directly with the Public.

(Why, when I have issues with grossness and people, did I think Librarianship was a good outlet? Ah, right: interest in books, gaining research skills, social permission, and altruism. I also didn’t know at the outset, that I was going to have trouble socially; particularly over being stereotyped as a woman, and on top of that, being stereotyped as a woman Librarian [whose, “no,” must always mean, “push harder,” or, “she,” wouldn’t be in this job].

Bitter, any?)

I have started to work on my technical skills, again (Python 3, currently). The major issue I’m facing is the nervousness of anticipation; the question of, am I going to be able to solve this problem, this time? Which really doesn’t need to be there, as I generally can do the work. The courses are set up so that they give you the information you need to have, to solve the problem: and if they don’t, you’re already online.

This is the same fear I’ve had when considering re-entry into Math…mostly because my high-school Math experience was neither enjoyable nor transparent. This doesn’t mean I was bad at it; I just had a lot of negative experiences around it, which made me not want to see it again if I didn’t have to.

Looking up curricula online, I can see that I’m less familiar with the content I had to deal with in the year I was in Honors, probably because there was so much material crammed into that year. Which kind of makes me wonder if Honors Math actually benefitted me, over the long term.

But compared to dealing with people…at least Math is predictable. Errors can be located and corrected. It’s not like trying to deal with Psychology, with no Psychology training. Which can make a routine day intolerable, as you don’t know who is about to blindside you, if anyone. I deal with hypervigilance enough already, without the need for it being reinforced.

Just imagine if I had majored in Psychology (or a Social Science, for that matter), and was looking for a job away from people…yeesh.

But don’t you major in something because you both have an interest in it, and know you don’t understand it? Not all the time, because you already know what it is, and you’re already good at it?

And actually, now that I’ve written this out: maybe I will try for the Preservation position. There are interesting avenues it could open up…and the money would cover the other training I’m working through.

I began this entry at 2:25 PM. It’s now nearly 8:25 PM, same day. I had this open during dinner, which looks like it took about an hour, but didn’t add much of note, at the time. This means I spent 5 hours on this entry!

Maybe I should keep noting when I start and stop, in order to see exactly, how much time I spend, writing…
What brings you joy

April 13th, 2023
I had another interview for a post I am not at all compatible with. I am actually glad that I’m not in the running for the job. I have, in the meantime, applied for a couple of other positions, and found yet another one to apply to. They’re Support Staff positions, but that may be the level I’m at, realistically. At least so, if we look at my work experience and not at my degree: I seem to have overshot the goal.

It’s just extremely obvious…in retrospect, that my advisor in the State-run employment agency I was working with, knew nothing about Libraries or Librarianship when they OK’d my vocational plan and set me up with a job in Public Libraries. The field can be Writing-adjacent, but I’m coming to see that at least with this one specific Library institution…Writing as a craft, has little to nothing to do with the job. It’s all about bringing community together. Dealing with people and social situations is not my strength, and as I’ve heard, the vast majority of the work in the job I was looking at, had to deal with people.

On top of this, most hires in that system into the specialization I’m seeking, are from their Public Services pool. When…you know, people who are assigning Catalog terms, aren’t necessarily social butterflies. And social butterflies may not be able to stand being alone long enough, to assign the Catalog terms.

In essence…I was much closer to my true form in Undergrad work, when I majored in Creative Writing. My Professors said then, that Writing was a fairly solitary occupation…and it kind of is, looking at how much time must be spent reading and writing. During which, you can’t really be talking with other people (unless you’re multitasking…or, blogging).

I’ve restarted my Writing practice — this entry is part of it, for today — and I’ve restarted reading books, which has been refreshing. Especially when reading books on how to write, and in reading anthologies, I find myself directed towards a lot of other writers: this is a way to gain hints as to what to read, next. I just found a Poets & Writers magazine issue from Sept/Oct 2021 which has reminded me that I need to be looking at my craft magazines, as well.

You may be wondering why it is that I’m writing, here. Let’s say that I got the urge to share what was going through my head. That, and the fact that my hands aren’t as limber as they used to be. Last night I was working on my 15-minute per day writing practice, and realized that it actually stresses my writing hand.

Since Fall 2021, when I took several Business and Finance classes, and filled out a full binder with my notes, I’ve been having issues with repetitive stress injuries (RSI). Back then, it affected my middle finger from choking up on my pen with a tripod grip (which I’m now aware is idiosyncratic to myself). This happened to call in pain when I shifted my middle finger slightly to the side.

From last night, the stress from writing has affected my pinky, which I use to stabilize my writing hand — especially when writing with a Fine nib. (I should re-try the little Broad nib pens I have, and see if the same issue arises.) My hand got stiff enough after printing half of an A5 page yesterday, that I needed to take a break.

Essentially, what I’m dealing with today is just a distant ache, though I can’t really tell until I try pulling my pinky away from the rest of my fingers: I must have some issue with pushing my fingers to the side.

This repetitive stress is not an issue for me, when typing. I’ve had to create ergonomic setups because I was attending online classes.

And then, if I’m going to write on a computer anyway, do I want to write for myself, or to other people? You know, once every couple weeks?

Anyhow.

I feel relatively good from being released from the specter of having to become a Public Librarian. I have some clue as to where to go next…and, yes, there are positions in the Library world which I think I could stand. I just have to find positions which do not depend on my obviously exceptional social skill, in order to get through the day; and I’m thinking that I’ll need to work my way up into them from a Support Staff post. It also looks like I really did not need to get an MLIS (as I was told I did) to get into these positions.

Looking back on it: Undergrad — if I take it as a whole — had a much greater impact on me, than the Master’s program. I’m sure this is due in no small part, to the fact that I was dealing with distance learning in my Master’s. It also probably is related to actually being in my element, where it came to reading comprehension, and the ability to write outside an established form.

And, to be certain: when I graduated with a BA, I had spent around five years of my life in various Colleges and Universities. I couldn’t have been very old, at the time. It looks like I was around 23 or 24…so five years was close to one-fifth of my lifetime, up until that moment. In contrast, I spent two and a half years in the Master’s program…and I was 36, when I graduated. So two and a half years was close to one-fourteenth of my life at that time, if my math is right.

Putting it that way, makes things make a whole lot more sense. And at least I can assure myself that I still understand basic fractions.

Although I’ve been looking at the possibility of obtaining an MFA, there is really no sense whatsoever in doing so unless I really want to teach. I am aware that I am not really…easily goaded into teaching, except on topics that I know well and am excited about, in which case I’m told I’m a, “fountain of knowledge.” I have been looking, recently, at ads for jobs in Higher Education. I would need an MFA, or at least a track record of Publishing, to eventually become a Creative Writing Professor.

Do I want to be that, though, knowing at this point the psychological difficulties which Creative Writing can surface? And knowing the extent to which Writing can be an outlet for serious emotional disturbances?

The largest need I can see in the postsecondary, English-oriented job market, appears to be teaching English as a Foreign Language. Closely following that, is teaching what is essentially remedial English for those who have graduated high school but are not yet writing at a Freshman level.

I’m pretty sure that neither of these paths are ideal for me…though if I wanted to try teaching without going the MFA route, there’s always the possibility of running a Writer’s Group. The major issue with that is confidentiality (and safety, should the group be public, as it would be if I ran it through a Library Programming venue).

My own ability to learn “foreign languages” will help me if I want to become a Cataloger for non-English materials; or a Cataloger, generally. A good number of job ads for these positions ask for reading ability in one or more non-English languages (not limited to “Western European Languages,” as some of my earlier searches brought up).

But Cataloging in Japanese would seem to require high-level literacy in Japanese, of the type I might not be able to cultivate in the role of a Teaching of English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) instructor. Unless, that is, I were teaching English in Japan (for example), and as such had solid knowledge of English and immersion in Japanese. In that case, both I and my students, would be learning — a lot.

So I’m in my little office space right now. I’ve been here since this afternoon, when I sat down to write. I have a fairly good amount of materials on Japanese language…and I think I’m going to try and give this 日本語を勉強するの事 a shot (apologies if I just butchered that; I meant to say that I want to give this thing regarding Japanese language study, a shot).

I’ve been wanting to get back to it ever since Undergrad, when I left my original University (for multiple reasons). This is along with going back to learning Computer Programming — at least Python, maybe more (depending on how much I can really understand). And reading out of books — in English — again, at the least.

And yes, I do note that all of that has to do with language learning, even though one of them relates to machines. Languages are kind of my thing, though. I did have one Professor who said that I could learn both Japanese and Spanish at the same time if I wanted to (I have experience in both).

My major reason not to study Spanish language, is…well, actually, there are a lot of them, and most of them orbit the themes of politics, power, and social control. (In other words, I specifically mean the subject matter of Sociology.) Reading in Spanish just kind of hurts, with the entire thing about everyday people just struggling to survive in postcolonial societies, and knowing how the US has historically interfered in Central and South America, in its own self-interest. I don’t think I could have gotten out of 11th-grade Spanish class, without knowing that.

If I had gotten the chance to study Japanese language in Middle School rather than Spanish or French initially, I would have taken it in a heartbeat. Maybe it’s time I indulge the drive and learn what I’ve wanted to learn for over 25 years. I could eventually put this to use as a translator: I’m sure there is great use for this in the Business world (for instance, with imported goods that need new instructions and packaging and description and explanation), though I’d rather be on the text side of things.

I should note that Creative Writing in English isn’t my primary drive, at this point…not tonight, anyway. I can’t depend on my emotional health being constant enough (constantly good enough, maybe I should specify) to guarantee stable work on my project.

I forgot that I didn’t even update you all on that…I’ve gotten back into writing offline, and within the last week, have realized exactly why I’ve had trouble with this story: an irrational belief on the part of one of my main characters that everything good already happened, and there would be no more joy to look forward to: which, if I think about it, is the general feeling I’ve been getting from society for more than the last three years.

So I’ve restarted with my characters in a different configuration, with similar themes but with a more durable character as the opener. I’ve only gotten around four pages into this draft, which I started at the end of last week. I don’t know what’s coming up, but I know that I’m an “intuitive” writer, and maybe should just try to grow things, draft by draft.

My next stop, employment-wise, is finding a Technical Support Staff job, or an entry-level Professional level job in the same department, within the area. I may want to join a couple of Associations, just in case they’re blasting local job ads there, and I don’t know about them.

In the short term, I’ll be studying Python and Japanese language, reading, and writing. Long-term…I can’t guarantee that my skill set even will still apply, by the time I get to the point of being able to become a Cataloging Technician (a nearer goal) or Metadata Librarian (a farther goal). But I can work towards it. It looks like I’ll have at least five more years before what I learned at University will become current practice…if it ever becomes reality.

It seems as though it is a much better strategy to trust myself for my career guidance, than to trust — let’s put it this way — the State. I may have an Undergraduate degree that doesn’t directly flow into a job, but it flung me out on a course which was more “right” for my constitution than I think I could have identified, up until now.

So I have a number of things to juggle:
1. Job Search and Applications
2. Learning Programming
3. Learning Japanese language
4. Reading (not just the Web)
5. Writing (and Editing)
That seems to be about, it. I am thinking you may notice that I have drawn back from Editing as a vocation. This may be temporary, but I had to do it for the sake of generativity. When I was focused on Editing over Writing, it became much more difficult for me to write (and have anybody read it).

That was my cue to edge up off of the practice for the moment.

If I’m following my joy, it’s leading me to learn new things, invest in my strengths, and restore old hopes — as versus trying to be good at inhabiting someone else’s life…
Diversification

April 6th, 2023

Those of you who have been following this blog for a while have probably noticed my drop in frequency where it comes to posting. A number of reasons help explain this, but most evident on my end is the sheer amount of time I’ve been spending writing and revising, to the detriment of other areas of my life.

Particularly, those, “other areas,” include making efforts to move on with my life into a new — and I should specify, desirable — job (not just the jobs that pop up on my doorstep), developing my writing practice outside of the blog format, and seriously, focusing on cultivating myself.

Reading books is one of those outlets I just haven’t been engaging, which — when done — helps tremendously with inspiring Writing…though I’m getting back on studying both English-Language-as-Craft, and Information Science. “Information Science” is coming second, as I realize just how much poor writing on the topic is out there; and you can see that I didn’t call it, “Library Science.” Maybe I don’t want to air the reasons why, right here and now…it’s an issue.

I’m a little bitter. Ten years of labor and nothing to show for it in Retirement will do that to you (granted I’m not sure when I realized that my post was not intended to be a long-term position, and that the type of work I was doing might not prepare me for the type of work I realistically wanted to do or could tolerate).

In my experience on WordPress, I’ve found plenty of other blogs posting high-quality material with only occasional updates. I am also not fond of playing to the algorithm and posting 2-3 times a week, in order to get more Views (with, then, a higher chance of more Likes and Follows). That’s especially the case when I don’t feel like being social.

If I look at that frequency of posting and I measure how long it takes for me to conceptualize, write, edit, and post any one quality entry (I mean, “quality,” as in, “could be in the running for traditional Publishing”)…I could easily work all week on this blog. I am paying WordPress; they are not paying me. The question then arises of why I dump so much time into it, especially when I’m then literally using my own First Publishing Rights and have nothing unique to offer a Publisher, who could pay me or earn me prestige.

The quick disappearance of Views after the first three days of posting is also…I guess I should say, a disappointment. For all of this, I could be taking longer in development and working outside the blog format, then seeing my name in print, in someone else’s publication. (With my permission only, let’s specify.)

That, in turn, would be to my credit if I decided I actually wanted to become Creative Writing faculty at a four-year institution, or an Academic Librarian liaising with the Creative Writing and English Departments, both of which require Master’s level training. To get into Master’s level training, I’d likely need a history of publication.

(I don’t think blogs count.)

I can also then take my time and write out my own personal journal entries…in which I can fully elucidate what I’m saying, for my own future benefit. There is only so much that I feel comfortable posting on the Web, and as I get older, that percentage shrinks. Twenty or so years ago, I felt much more unfettered, but then — at that time, my prefrontal cortex wasn’t fully developed.

Whether blogging itself can be considered, “Social Media,” I’m not sure at this point; and maybe there is no consensus; but I do know that it has served as a poultice for my lack of social engagement over the last three years. The grip of that isolation has started to loosen, however…and it’s readily apparent to me as a person who has participated in fully online as well as in-person classes, that the experiences are entirely different.

Sitting and watching a screen and listening through headphones, is not the same thing as actually being together with someone. It’s a lot safer — and when separation for safety purposes is required, it can be a more-informative option than a telephone, and can ease risk of contagion. But it isn’t a great long-term solution, when what you actually want to be doing is just sitting next to your friend and talking to them. We develop ways to digitize our interactions, but nothing will fully replace what we’re trying to replicate. There are ways to ease collaboration, but seriously…some of these classes really need in-person instruction, and in-the-moment feedback and correction.

I should say, be as safe as you can, if you’re meeting with other people: it has been three years, and I know many people are at their wit’s end with isolation. But there are ways to realistically reduce unnecessary risk, that can help protect you, the ones you care about, and your broader community.

As regards Writing… this overlaps with my current psychological struggles, which indicates why I’m drawing away from it. Essentially, I’ve observed a theme of stagnation and looking back towards the past, in my work. This is what I wrestled with in my last draft of the last major project I worked on (late 2022), and it’s an issue not only there, but also across the broader range of my psyche, outside of writing. Multiple members of my family have noticed the same pattern going on in other relatives, as well.

At this point, there are a few ways to manage the issue. One, I could abandon work on this project entirely and begin a new one. Two, I could work on this project and actively work in the theme of replay/rumination/stagnation, though it would get repetitive after a while (it’s already repetitive, for me: this is why I have had trouble starting on a specific writing prompt that I have not yet begun to unravel, on paper. I just don’t want to see it [again] right now, after I’ve dealt with it for years). Three, I could attempt to be present to the current moment at the same time as I relate this story which I began about 25 years ago — the last of which appears to be mental gymnastics, and not particularly safe for deep-diving without SCUBA.

I believe that I really do need to get back to reading and writing, if I do have a goal of being a Literary or Speculative Fiction author. My motivation essentially petered out on the Carol Lloyd book, Creating A Life Worth Living, as I realized that I was not willing to sacrifice my health (including mental health) and wellness and income for some mystical notion of a creative mission. Delusions aren’t worth it. They evaporate way too easily; and holding to them keeps one stuck.

I mention that, because I’ve fallen off of the 15-minutes-of-writing-per-day that I assigned myself. I need to get back on it, even if I don’t “believe in” the book, anymore (which I had to, provisionally, in order to even have a chance of getting anything out of it). Plenty of people say to get 15 minutes of writing in per day, every day, if one wants to become a writer. I’d say I don’t want to become a Writer; I am a Writer; the question is whether I’ll ever publish.

The idea of surviving to fulfill a mystical creative mission helps, when you’re suicidal and unwell and need some reason to keep staying alive. When you realize that you are so much more than simply your creativity, it becomes less important. I think this may relate to my own gender, “stuff,” more than I had acknowledged, prior. But there is a difference between, “being creative,” and, “repeating negative thoughts.” These are not the same thing; the latter can obliterate the former. And I need to be less stagnant.

Gender…and spirituality: this is a complicated topic for me. I…really do wonder whether some form of — maybe out-and-out — Pantheism is where I’m at. Pantheism is the recognition of reality as the body of the Divine, in my lexicon; though you’ll likely see it referred to as the Universe being the body of the Divine. (I’ve stepped back from the latter idea because of the entire Universe/Multiverse conflict, which in my opinion are different words describing the same ultimate reality, which exists whether we name it or not. But I’m not a Theoretical Physicist, and I would believe most of us aren’t; so I’m not in any sense qualified to judge the issue.)

I haven’t found a lot written on Pantheism, but apparently there are some Christian ideas around it (though it is not exclusively Christian). It has been around long enough to have a Dewey Decimal code of “147”, under “Specific philosophical schools”, though I’ve only ever found two books on it (neither of which, I’ve read: they were in University libraries to which I did not have direct access). I’d associate it with Transcendentalism as a social movement, or Muir (and the Sierra Club)…but that’s reaching way back into the history of my education, and into my original inclination of becoming a Geologist (which I abandoned once I discovered that Social Sciences existed, and that there were gigantic unaddressed social problems I had lived through).

The idea of a Goddess of Life, or Goddess of Earth, appeals to me, especially upon realizing that all life on this planet is dependent upon the functioning of the Earth. The dynamism of the inner Earth is what generates the magnetic field which preserves the atmosphere and ultimately, the oceans (which might otherwise be obliterated by the Solar Wind)…and the oceans are likely the cradle of life.

I know that my draw — abstractly, at least — to the Goddess imagery, likely has something to do with various males trying to appropriate my fertility and its power. I’m not meaning to refer to people from within the transgender community: I’m talking about people who have tried to take my fertility and make it my own enemy, by doing things like equating my ultimate worth as a person to my sexual desirability and availability (to them).

That’s not a good way of flirting. And I have had some issues over this, where it comes to self-beautification: specifically, jewelry (as much makeup is extraneous and unnecessary). The point is that I should not have to refrain from being beautiful so that I don’t have to deal with men and boys who can’t handle their testosterone and have few social skills.

I’m still not planning on having children, but having the core ability to have a child, period: that’s a responsibility that has weighed on me since puberty. It’s not a concern that someone without a uterus, has.

I don’t strongly identify with the cultural construction of, “womanhood,” especially in 21st-century U.S. culture, but I am definitely female and would likely feel divested from some part of myself, or that some part of myself were hidden, if I transitioned to male. Bringing that back in as a male-appearing person, would make me unavoidably openly nonbinary. That, in turn, would be a difficult life, and I’ve had enough of that without encouraging it more.

For a large part of what I’d say was my connection to my own sense of femaleness: I felt that if I would not bring children into the world, I could still create and bring other things into the world, like my writing. But there are some things that should definitely be spoken, and some things in my mind which would only harm other people — possibly in the way they’ve harmed me. It’s nearly impossible to imagine what one has never seen or dreamed could be, and though that looks like a tautology…it’s noticeable that the story I thought up as a youth, is in its essence much more clotted than the stories I see, now. That’s basically due to the nature of the zeitgeist I grew up within.

So maybe it’s time to move on past 14-year-old me, and see what 41-year-old me, can do.

And like I wrote above: my creativity is not my only aspect. It may not even be my dominant aspect, at this point: to preserve my own creative freedom, I’ll have to rely on something other than the marketability of my stories. The positive thing is that I have other skills, and I can build on those other skills.

I may want to set up a plan for that…
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…