.
i am awake and alone inside a silent house. the light is beautiful and i had no bad dreams.
i booked a room at The Jane in new york for a few days in mid october before heading up to Montreal and then back down to Vermont for the residency. less than 2 weeks now until i board my plane. last week, i was full of excited anxiety and it was incredibly hard to go to work. this week, i'm calm. i'm trying not to think about it much, only in terms of what needs to be handled before i leave my life here in Oakland for 6 weeks- the packages that need to be shipped, the day i'll need to spend at the DMV replacing my lost driver's license, bill payments that need to be scheduled, etc etc. when i start thinking about anything beyond these types of regular responsibilities, my blood runs too hot too quickly and i return to that semi-afraid state of elation that finds me so easily at the mere mention of travel.
but this is more than travel. this is Time. it's been years since i've had the time to just curl up with a book for three days straight if i want to. it's been years since i've had the time to curl up with a drawing for three days straight if i want to. it's been years since i've been surrounded by other artists on a daily basis. not since art school. and i'll tell ya, hanging out with other artists is what i miss most about that experience. it's one of the things i'm looking forward to most about going to this residency. i'll be one of 50 artists and writers. i'm so excited for the conversations that we're going to have.
i've been reading Keith Haring's journals the last few days and his descriptions of art school, going to painting class and poetry readings, putting together shows, and his own ideas about his practice are so intoxicating. i revel in it. i turn the pages hungrily, grateful for each word and insight. i'm comforted by his texts, so full of casual language. that's how i write in my diary. i am no Anais Nin. my eloquence finds me after a flood of slang and swear words. i've always sort of felt bad that my diary is not a place of eloquence. until now. perhaps the eloquence is simply of a different variety? perhaps my aims are totally different, totally my own. i'm looking forward to traveling with Keith Haring's diary pressed against mine, two of the best travel companions i can think of. i'm looking forward to walking around new york city and seeing the places he describes in these pages. those that are still there. i'm looking forward to going to the Guggenheim for the first time and central park. funny i've yet to do such quintessentially new york things on past visits.
but there i go dreaming. :)
it's important to me to stay put in The Present the next 13 days. i don't want to slide off into reverie just yet. i want the realities that surround me. i want to enjoy the peace and quiet of a slow morning at home before work. i want to enjoy the sounds of the street and the screech of the train. i want to enjoy walking in to a neighborhood bar at midnight after a long day at work and seeing my lover sitting on a bar stool waiting for me. i want to see him turn and smile at me. i want to hold his face in my hands and kiss it. and i want to stay in that moment. i want to laugh with him. i want to laugh with my friends and fellow waiters and roommates. i want to enjoy every single thing about the simple goodness of my life right this second and not slip off in to dreams. the future will find me. i am creating it. there is no need today to loll inside such images. there is a need, instead, to be gratefully happy for the day i'm standing in.
i am a very lucky girl.
.
Showing posts with label dream come true. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream come true. Show all posts
Oct 5, 2014
Jul 31, 2014
shift and circle
.
i was offered a residency at the Vermont Studio Center. i'm kinda shitting my pants about it.
funny how getting what you want can be a totally terrifying thing. the passed few days have been one torrent of emotion and deep introspection after the next: self-questioning, self-doubt, second-guessing followed by fanatical rounds of elation and sheer joy at the mere thought of spending a month doing nothing but making art and hanging out with other artists. i haven't had that type of engaging, daily discourse since i was in art school. it's been 6 years since i graduated and i miss it. i miss it so much! i miss being around others who think deeply and lovingly and critically about art. i miss being around people who have centered their lives around creativity and artistic inquiry. i miss being a big ol' art nerd, waking to scribble and draw and read and nothing else. though that's largely how i spend my days off, it's just not the same as having 4 weeks to do nothing but those things. and there is simply no substitute for artistic community and comradery. there's absolutely nothing like being around other artists. the way we speak to each other is unlike anything else. being understood, finally, is such a poignant thing... an aphrodisiac in the deepest sense.
and so the questions pour in...
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the time has come for a re-evaluation.
what am i made of?
what do i want?
what do i need?
how brave am i?
.
i was offered a residency at the Vermont Studio Center. i'm kinda shitting my pants about it.
funny how getting what you want can be a totally terrifying thing. the passed few days have been one torrent of emotion and deep introspection after the next: self-questioning, self-doubt, second-guessing followed by fanatical rounds of elation and sheer joy at the mere thought of spending a month doing nothing but making art and hanging out with other artists. i haven't had that type of engaging, daily discourse since i was in art school. it's been 6 years since i graduated and i miss it. i miss it so much! i miss being around others who think deeply and lovingly and critically about art. i miss being around people who have centered their lives around creativity and artistic inquiry. i miss being a big ol' art nerd, waking to scribble and draw and read and nothing else. though that's largely how i spend my days off, it's just not the same as having 4 weeks to do nothing but those things. and there is simply no substitute for artistic community and comradery. there's absolutely nothing like being around other artists. the way we speak to each other is unlike anything else. being understood, finally, is such a poignant thing... an aphrodisiac in the deepest sense.
and so the questions pour in...
the time has come for a re-evaluation.
what am i made of?
what do i want?
what do i need?
how brave am i?
.
Aug 9, 2013
settling in
i'm sitting in bed under my white quilt with all my clothes on, even my socks. it is a cold night. my bra is digging in to me but i don't care about getting undressed. i don't care about getting comfortable. there is a cocktail on the nightstand to the left of my bed.
when i was in Europe my phone didn't work. no voice and no text. i could connect to the internet and use it as a mini computer if there was wifi available but it was freeing to know that it wouldn't ring or buzz. i no longer spent precious time worrying if so-and-so would text. i was on my own in so many ways and, for the first time in a very long time, free to stop worrying about Time. the only actual responsibilities i had was feeding and cleaning myself. there were no other obligations to satisfy and no duties to respond to. the only Duty i had was to myself: to live as forthrightly and bravely as possible and to open my notebook whenever i could manage.
i haven't looked back at those pages yet. i want to but instead i flip through the photos i took and enjoy the sweet fermentation of memory that has already begun. the images of bridges and building in my mind are more romantic tonight than they have ever been. Berlin is a city of fairy tales. while i was there, i marveled at the great luck that had found me. there was a moment when i found myself half asleep on the small deck of a rowboat and thought to myself is this really fucking happening right now??? to me??? it was all so inexplicable and yet somehow easy. i felt at ease the second i got on my flight to new york. i felt even more at ease when i landed in Berlin a week later. i felt so secure and safe inside the world. i wasn't afraid of anything. not once. it felt honest and good to simply walk along old cobblestone roads and take pictures of the fresh graffiti that cropped up overnight in Kreuzberg. it felt honest and good to share my beer with strangers and follow them to a bonfire on the west bank of the Spree. it felt honest and good to sit at a cafe for hours and just move my pen... all my lofty thoughts and the rhythm of my heart inside this new place, this old world.
it's hard to believe that i'm already back home, already back to work, already learning a new menu and new wines. it's hard to believe that another semester of german awaits and that it is already august. 3 weeks in europe was not long enough. not nearly. not for this soft and eager heart. i fell in to the tempo of the place so quickly and felt at home so instantly that my life took on a feeling of timelessness. then suddenly, i was back at the airport trying not to think of the fact that i was already leaving. i'm glad i had a few days in new york before coming back home to california. it was a buffer of sorts. i could still pretend i was entirely free and that no timelines existed for me. i saw the Ellen Gallagher show at the New Museum my first day back. it was strange to walk through the large rooms and gaze at the work of an art heavy weight and think i'd just been at the Martin Kippenburger retrospective in Berlin 2 days before. and in the rear room of that museum, i saw the large lead airplane Anselm Kieffer constructed flanked by two of his huge paintings. it felt important and special to view his work IN germany. so laden with guilt and history and horror. it felt important and special to see Joseph Beuys' felt suit and violin case. it felt important and special to view this work with a german friend. and this all a few days after having visited the Anne Frank Haus in Amsterdam. such a heavy moment. such a heavy memory. those empty rooms... so small. i felt honored, especially as a diarist, to walk through the rooms where she lived and wrote. i felt honored to see the pages of her diary on display. the pages, so thin and so fragile that the room must be kept very dimly lit in order to slow the rate of their degradation. a man behind me started crying. i wanted to cry too but i didn't because i don't think she allowed herself to cry in those rooms either.
everything felt important and special. everything.
i have so much to say but it's all out of order. it's all mixed up and crisscrossed. maybe chronology doesn't really matter.
i thought when i got back i'd instantly start saving money in order to move to new york by the end of the year but now i can't think of anything more important than getting back out in the world and doing it all again. and next time for much, much longer than 3 weeks.
when i was in Europe my phone didn't work. no voice and no text. i could connect to the internet and use it as a mini computer if there was wifi available but it was freeing to know that it wouldn't ring or buzz. i no longer spent precious time worrying if so-and-so would text. i was on my own in so many ways and, for the first time in a very long time, free to stop worrying about Time. the only actual responsibilities i had was feeding and cleaning myself. there were no other obligations to satisfy and no duties to respond to. the only Duty i had was to myself: to live as forthrightly and bravely as possible and to open my notebook whenever i could manage.
i haven't looked back at those pages yet. i want to but instead i flip through the photos i took and enjoy the sweet fermentation of memory that has already begun. the images of bridges and building in my mind are more romantic tonight than they have ever been. Berlin is a city of fairy tales. while i was there, i marveled at the great luck that had found me. there was a moment when i found myself half asleep on the small deck of a rowboat and thought to myself is this really fucking happening right now??? to me??? it was all so inexplicable and yet somehow easy. i felt at ease the second i got on my flight to new york. i felt even more at ease when i landed in Berlin a week later. i felt so secure and safe inside the world. i wasn't afraid of anything. not once. it felt honest and good to simply walk along old cobblestone roads and take pictures of the fresh graffiti that cropped up overnight in Kreuzberg. it felt honest and good to share my beer with strangers and follow them to a bonfire on the west bank of the Spree. it felt honest and good to sit at a cafe for hours and just move my pen... all my lofty thoughts and the rhythm of my heart inside this new place, this old world.
it's hard to believe that i'm already back home, already back to work, already learning a new menu and new wines. it's hard to believe that another semester of german awaits and that it is already august. 3 weeks in europe was not long enough. not nearly. not for this soft and eager heart. i fell in to the tempo of the place so quickly and felt at home so instantly that my life took on a feeling of timelessness. then suddenly, i was back at the airport trying not to think of the fact that i was already leaving. i'm glad i had a few days in new york before coming back home to california. it was a buffer of sorts. i could still pretend i was entirely free and that no timelines existed for me. i saw the Ellen Gallagher show at the New Museum my first day back. it was strange to walk through the large rooms and gaze at the work of an art heavy weight and think i'd just been at the Martin Kippenburger retrospective in Berlin 2 days before. and in the rear room of that museum, i saw the large lead airplane Anselm Kieffer constructed flanked by two of his huge paintings. it felt important and special to view his work IN germany. so laden with guilt and history and horror. it felt important and special to see Joseph Beuys' felt suit and violin case. it felt important and special to view this work with a german friend. and this all a few days after having visited the Anne Frank Haus in Amsterdam. such a heavy moment. such a heavy memory. those empty rooms... so small. i felt honored, especially as a diarist, to walk through the rooms where she lived and wrote. i felt honored to see the pages of her diary on display. the pages, so thin and so fragile that the room must be kept very dimly lit in order to slow the rate of their degradation. a man behind me started crying. i wanted to cry too but i didn't because i don't think she allowed herself to cry in those rooms either.
everything felt important and special. everything.
i have so much to say but it's all out of order. it's all mixed up and crisscrossed. maybe chronology doesn't really matter.
i thought when i got back i'd instantly start saving money in order to move to new york by the end of the year but now i can't think of anything more important than getting back out in the world and doing it all again. and next time for much, much longer than 3 weeks.
Jun 29, 2013
the adventure is here
anne is taking me to the airport in a half hour.
holy shit.
HOLY SHIT.
see you on the other side of this wild dream.
i love you.
angela
holy shit.
HOLY SHIT.
see you on the other side of this wild dream.
i love you.
angela
Jun 21, 2013
the countdown begins...
.
a mere 8 days stand between me and my adventure. or maybe the adventure is (and has always been) well under way. it is, in fact, the life that came before that has made me capable of living bravely now. i am ecstatic and discombobulated and so entirely grateful. my bag is packed and waiting. i'm thankful that i have a few more days at work to keep me occupied and make a bit more money to throw around in new york and berlin. otherwise, i'd just be a total basket-case right now pacing in the kitchen and waiting for the morning when i get to board my plane. it's almost all i can think about at this point. :)
i'll leave an hour early for work today to stop off and buy a red Kelly Bundy dress to wear during my travels. i feel a red dress is absolutely necessary. especially a tight one. :) red lipstick is, of course, an undisputed travel requirement as well. and this morning, Becca and i texted excitedly back and forth to each other about how inexplicable and wonderful and TOTALLY UNBELIEVABLE this whole thing is. regardless of what happens, this will definitely be an eye-opening, life-changing event in both our lives and i feel so excited to be on the cusp of it. excited and lucky.
i can't believe this is my REAL life. but it IS!
the feeling
of being Capable is one of the best feelings in the world. it is my
hope that, regardless of a woman's life or dreams, she feel Capable. it
is the very root of genuine happiness, courage, and self-respect.
Jun 6, 2013
satisfaction is a wonderful feeling
.
romance.
and last night while walking in the cold, cold wind in san francisco, i realized no one has ever provided for me as well as i provide for myself. i must somehow allow myself at least a short moment to feel proud of myself and the life i am creating. these dreams once seemed so far out of reach... impossible to believe ever coming true. here i am with a passport and plane tickets with my name on them. BIG MIDDLE FINGER TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO SAID MY GOALS WERE STUPID AND UNREALISTIC.
smiling so big right now. :D
hahahahaaa! and i cannot help but giggle to myself. i know i still have 3 1/2 weeks to wait until i board my plane to New York but it's going to fly by and my excitement is building building building. Becca and i will rendezvous at her favorite restaurant in the village 2 days before we get on another plane to Heathrow Airport. i'm trying not to get misty eyed just thinking of it now. i'm trying not to get too far ahead of myself. i have absolutely no idea what to expect but i can't wait to grab my bag and let this adventure begin. yesterday, i played tourist in SF and bought the bag i will live out of for a month. bright yellow in honor of my long lost Bumble Bug. i loved that little car so much but the life that awaits is one in which owning a car is totally unnecessary. it's unnecessary now. i love that i live in such a way that allows me to enjoy the romance of riding trains daily. and aside from which, me and my converse get around just fine. ;)
artist life.
HOLY SHIT!
romance.
and last night while walking in the cold, cold wind in san francisco, i realized no one has ever provided for me as well as i provide for myself. i must somehow allow myself at least a short moment to feel proud of myself and the life i am creating. these dreams once seemed so far out of reach... impossible to believe ever coming true. here i am with a passport and plane tickets with my name on them. BIG MIDDLE FINGER TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO SAID MY GOALS WERE STUPID AND UNREALISTIC.
smiling so big right now. :D
hahahahaaa! and i cannot help but giggle to myself. i know i still have 3 1/2 weeks to wait until i board my plane to New York but it's going to fly by and my excitement is building building building. Becca and i will rendezvous at her favorite restaurant in the village 2 days before we get on another plane to Heathrow Airport. i'm trying not to get misty eyed just thinking of it now. i'm trying not to get too far ahead of myself. i have absolutely no idea what to expect but i can't wait to grab my bag and let this adventure begin. yesterday, i played tourist in SF and bought the bag i will live out of for a month. bright yellow in honor of my long lost Bumble Bug. i loved that little car so much but the life that awaits is one in which owning a car is totally unnecessary. it's unnecessary now. i love that i live in such a way that allows me to enjoy the romance of riding trains daily. and aside from which, me and my converse get around just fine. ;)
artist life.
HOLY SHIT!
Jun 1, 2013
anti-solace
let me crawl back under my rock now. let me crawl back to where i came from. my coils of black wool and ink, graphite dust stuck to my feet, smudged across my face, empty bleeding heart dragging its ugly shape and shame across the page. the inches are horrible. each scratch of the pen, an agony. each inch of wool twisted into knots, a horror. but it is the only repair that has ever worked. it is the only repair i trust, the only truth i know. i bring my two hands back to myself. at least for a time. at least until i can see straight. no longer interested in reaching toward the world, toward unknown doors. at least not until it is time to pack a bag. i see now that what i've been accused of is true. i talk too good a game. i take pictures of myself wearing a cap that says SLUT across the front and everyone automatically believes it. they see my red lips and how seldom i become upset. they see how independent i am and somehow, inexplicably to me, confuse me with being cold. i am not cold. nowhere close. my brashness is a moral responsibility to my own life... to live as fully and as wholly as i can manage. but i am not callous and i am not flagrant and i am not without compass or standard.
but fuck it. what do i know? i don't know a damn thing. it's why i want to live. in order to find out. something. anything. and it could quite easily be that it's my mirror that shines askew.
baby's first passport arrived in today's mail. i kissed it and kissed it and wanted to cry. it is sitting next to me on my bed right this minute. it is a gem. it is my most sacred, most valued, most loved possession. today, it trumps every piece of art i own. everything pales in comparison to this little book: a testament to faith and struggle and belief.
in 4 weeks i'll be back in my beloved NYC for a few days before hoping on a plane and heading to europe for the very first time. my very first trip over seas. i am beside myself. i can't find the words. i'll find them in europe, i suppose! ha! Becca and i stop in London for a night and then the next evening, on the 4th of July, our Independence day (and the 1 year anniversary of when i had my passport photo taken), we fly into Berlin. a few days later, we will take a train from Berlin to Paris to see our beloved Rammstein play in Nancy, France. after that? hahahaaa! there is absolutely no way to know! but when (if?) i return, i fly back to new york for a few days before heading back to Oakland. i'm sure i'll spend the first few days back crying, forlorn and lonely and in total anguish, in my bed before having to tie the apron around my waist once more, put on my bright lipstick, and tell jokes table-side.
i am lucky in that i will have a job to return to. i am lucky in that i like my job. i enjoy being around people and i am very good at creating an atmosphere of warmth and ease. i'm good at being a waiter and, come July, it is a profession that will take me around the world. well, at least half way. :) but i'm telling you, these next 4 weeks cannot go by fast enough. the passed two days i have been crawling out of my skin. i have never wanted to hop on a plane so badly in my entire life.
i am not afraid of knowing the world. i am afraid of NOT knowing it. i am not afraid of people, not even if i know i will suffer as a result. i am more afraid of dying without ever having known what real love is. i can tell you, right now, that i do not believe i have ever experienced it. not on the receiving end anyway. not a healthy love. it seems definitions for love run the gamut and i am a dunce trying to figure out what the fuck i'm supposed to be doing and saying in the midst of it.
i'm supposed to be making art in the midst of it.
i'm supposed to be writing.
at very least, i know what my life is for.
but fuck it. what do i know? i don't know a damn thing. it's why i want to live. in order to find out. something. anything. and it could quite easily be that it's my mirror that shines askew.
what is it about me that makes people seem to believe that i have no feelings?
i've cried three times this week. everyday, for 3 days running, a small horror found me. and even in the moment i told myself to feel blessed and lucky because i haven't had a bad run of luck or days of pain in so long it seems. everything has been going pretty well. no major complaints. but i could feel it all along brewing in the background, simmering below my naive feet. i've expected it for quite some time now that my brashness, my good game would lead directly to the wind being knocked out of me. i've been going against my better judgement in certain ways because i just became so damn tired of loneliness. i became so tired, painfully tired, of not allowing myself to know the world and to know other humans. but i knew it was coming. i knew i would wake up, humiliated and stupefied, and feel the urge to run away from the life i have here in Oakland. and maybe it's necessary? maybe it's the kick i need? i have wondered while crying if i should try to feel thankful for this pain... it untethers me, afterall. there is no longer any reason to drag my feet. there are no anvils around my neck. there are no gentle hands to lay me down and smooth my hair back across my forehead.
i wake up this morning and a Great Goodness finds me...
baby's first passport arrived in today's mail. i kissed it and kissed it and wanted to cry. it is sitting next to me on my bed right this minute. it is a gem. it is my most sacred, most valued, most loved possession. today, it trumps every piece of art i own. everything pales in comparison to this little book: a testament to faith and struggle and belief.
in 4 weeks i'll be back in my beloved NYC for a few days before hoping on a plane and heading to europe for the very first time. my very first trip over seas. i am beside myself. i can't find the words. i'll find them in europe, i suppose! ha! Becca and i stop in London for a night and then the next evening, on the 4th of July, our Independence day (and the 1 year anniversary of when i had my passport photo taken), we fly into Berlin. a few days later, we will take a train from Berlin to Paris to see our beloved Rammstein play in Nancy, France. after that? hahahaaa! there is absolutely no way to know! but when (if?) i return, i fly back to new york for a few days before heading back to Oakland. i'm sure i'll spend the first few days back crying, forlorn and lonely and in total anguish, in my bed before having to tie the apron around my waist once more, put on my bright lipstick, and tell jokes table-side.
i am lucky in that i will have a job to return to. i am lucky in that i like my job. i enjoy being around people and i am very good at creating an atmosphere of warmth and ease. i'm good at being a waiter and, come July, it is a profession that will take me around the world. well, at least half way. :) but i'm telling you, these next 4 weeks cannot go by fast enough. the passed two days i have been crawling out of my skin. i have never wanted to hop on a plane so badly in my entire life.
i am not afraid of knowing the world. i am afraid of NOT knowing it. i am not afraid of people, not even if i know i will suffer as a result. i am more afraid of dying without ever having known what real love is. i can tell you, right now, that i do not believe i have ever experienced it. not on the receiving end anyway. not a healthy love. it seems definitions for love run the gamut and i am a dunce trying to figure out what the fuck i'm supposed to be doing and saying in the midst of it.
i'm supposed to be making art in the midst of it.
i'm supposed to be writing.
at very least, i know what my life is for.
May 14, 2013
whatever you do, don't pinch me
at a quarter to 2 in the morning, we pulled the trigger. we bought our tickets to Europe. Becca and i are going to Berlin. 7 weeks to wait.
my mind bends in half at the thought of this. i can't believe i have a ticket with my name on it that will take me all the way to Germany. i am stunned when i think of it. it can't possibly be real but IT IS REAL.
holy shit! hahahahaaaaa!
today i was all in a frenzy: studying and cleaning and filling a box with clothes and objects i no longer want which will be left on the street in front of the house. something has changed in my life and within my being already and i haven't even gone anywhere yet. simply buying the ticket and accepting the massive and beautiful reality that i am finally going to travel to Europe changes so much. my being is a strange mix of such a deep calm and tremendous excitement. i have no clue what to even say! i have no clue what to think! i'm just going to work on a yarn bomb and have a cocktail and watch "Wings of Desire". ha!
my mind bends in half at the thought of this. i can't believe i have a ticket with my name on it that will take me all the way to Germany. i am stunned when i think of it. it can't possibly be real but IT IS REAL.
holy shit! hahahahaaaaa!
today i was all in a frenzy: studying and cleaning and filling a box with clothes and objects i no longer want which will be left on the street in front of the house. something has changed in my life and within my being already and i haven't even gone anywhere yet. simply buying the ticket and accepting the massive and beautiful reality that i am finally going to travel to Europe changes so much. my being is a strange mix of such a deep calm and tremendous excitement. i have no clue what to even say! i have no clue what to think! i'm just going to work on a yarn bomb and have a cocktail and watch "Wings of Desire". ha!
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