All Women's College and Transgender Women

Moore in in the beginning / middle of a discussion about gender identity as it relates to Admissions. I attended a forum last night for Moore alumnae/i and shared this:

I came to Moore as a transfer from a state school. Artists were this small weird group of students who were not very bright (obviously if they chose art!) and easily identifiable by the amount of supplies they were carrying around campus - huge rolls of paper, portfolios, T-squares. The art floor was a 4th floor WALK-UP with no ventilation. I remember feeling under-valued, easily dismissed, and judged by my often charcoal-covered appearance immediately and unfairly.

Fast forward to my first semester at Moore:  I lived at Sartain and the previous year's RA also lived on the floor. As a senior, Shelly had decided to not be an RA to focus on her work. The first time I met her, I was taken aback. Shelly, with her 18" pink and green mohawk was an RA last year?! Turns out she was not only an amazing artist (I still remember the impact of her senior show), but also one of the sweetest and most darling people I met.

Some of you are probably like Shelly: able to break stereotypes with the sweetness of her personality alone. 

But I imagine many of you are also like me: it is good for us to be reminded to be open-minded. It's good to be given the opportunity to actively choose acceptance. When I think back on the things I most regret, they are always the regret that I could have been nicer, that I could have chosen to be kinder and shown more humanity than I did.

For me, the Moore community has always been one of kindness and acceptance. It is my sincere hope that Moore will continue to stand for kindness and acceptance.

The way I see it: Before us lies the opportunity to practice acceptance and kindness and to welcome all who identify as a woman into our community.

I realize this is a tricky conversation for many. I'm interested to see where it goes. I also am aware that this conversation is happening in a number of ways across our culture / country. I am hoping for kindness and acceptance in all of those conversations.

River Mural in our Garden - Time Lapse Video

Finished!  Here's the time lapse of the mural painting process:



Here's a still photo of the finished mural:

Side-Angle / Tree-View:

And here's the beginning sketch & inspiration from a photo taken at my parents' house:

Special thanks to my family for their help (you will see my mom and sister pop up in the vid) and my husband (also makes a momentary appearance) for his acceptance of my crazy ideas.

Biking in Philly or Commuting by Bike or Yay Philadelphia ... kinda

There are so many things I LOVE about biking to work and biking in general.

What are they, you ask?  Well, funny you should, I happen to have some illustrated answers for you:

LIKES:

1. I feel strong!

 2. I am doing something good for my body!

(I do karate in a white body suit after I've celebrated Holi, apparently).

3. It's SO super fun!  Seriously, it's kinda magical...

4. It's speedy!  I make as good time as driving and better than a bus.

 Woooosh!  Zoooom!

5. It's a great way to see the city.  I ride past all these great murals everyday and you get a peek at people going about their daily lives the best on a bike.

...plus you can cover more ground than on foot.

5. It's like free money!  I WIN a bus token every time I ride somewhere.

 Da-da-da-DA-da-DA-dum.


BUT, let's face it, there are certain...challenges...when biking in Philly:

1. Fair weather bike-lane friends.  Anyone who's biked on Washington Ave. knows what I'm talking about.

You know, it's like middle school where you have a great friend (we shall call her "Bike Lane") and you and BL are hanging out and having fun.
Then a popular kid starts to be nice to BL (we'll call this popular kid, "Car Lane") and suddenly BL trades you in for CL.  Then they start acting like Car Lane, and next thing you know, there's no more you and Bike Lane.

 *This is kinda a crappy drawing, but I just didn't have it in me to do a better one, sorry kids.

2. Drivers who don't signal and / or driver who are on their phone and are distracted (not pictured: people who open their doors into the street without looking to see if there's a biker coming):

HANG UP.  STOP TEXTING.  USE YOUR SIGNALS.

 3. People who yell at bikers to bike on the sidewalk.  It's a sideWALK people, not a side-ride.  You are supposed to bike on the street.  That's why the bikelanes are painted on the STREET.

4.  I also really dislike the commute home during rush hour because some chemical reaction takes place in the brains of people getting off work making them into aggressive, impatient, unreasonable, unsafe drivers.

 *This is a true likeness.  I've seen the transformation.

OH, and let's talk about BIKE LANES for a moment, shall we?

5. People parked in the bike lane - cars, delivery trucks, moving trucks, construction workers who don't want to get their car dusty by parking on site, buses, big rigs, etc. etc.

a. It's really freakin' dangerous for bikers, people.
b. I do not understand why the city does not ticket them.  It would make money for the city and discourage them parking there.  Don't our schools have a 60 million deficit.  Ticket these mo-fos at $100 a pop.

c. Sometimes I fantasize that I could make a sticker belt (they'd pop up like tissues do with a small area not sticky for you to grab onto) that you could slap on cars that are parked in the bike lane as you drove past.

6. Bike lanes that are Car-Part Graveyards.  Anyone who's ridden on Columbus Blvd. knows I speak (write) the truth.  Aside from the broken glass you normally find throughout the city in bike lanes, Columbus Blvd. makes you wonder how the cars kept driving after losing some of these parts.

7. Grates that have an abyss surrounding them.  How are they still held up? I dunno.  There are some places that these crevices take up the entire bike lane (Columbus Blvd., I'm looking at you... again), making you have to swing into traffic which may or may not be going 60 miles an hour.

*In the city's defense, most of these have been actually filled! Yay!

8. And, you know, sometimes I wish I wasn't sweaty afterwards (can't wait until that gym with shower is finished in the building I work in)...

BUT, even so, the positives of riding a bike outweigh the negatives.

Plus, this week when I passed a hobo who was walking...er...stumbling around without his pants all the way up and I did indeed see his hobo junk, I was glad I was biking and not walking. 

Father's Day, a Reflection on a Small Meaningful Life

What does it mean to live a good life?
Can you live a meaningful and yet small life?

How does the way you choose to live your life affect others?
What is the ripple effect of your actions? What is that effect over the course of your life?

What kind of person are you if you make choices that are so giving and never be recognized for it and continue to do so?

Mother Theresa may have been canonized but what about the others who followed her?  Are they less saintly?  Perhaps they are more saintly as they don't get the same pat on the back and continue to do their work.

Is character developed or innate?  How can one person be so giving and yet no one notices?

I'mma tell you a little about a guy who lives a quiet life on the banks of the Delaware, quietly contributing to the community with a steadfast and subtle hand.

You guessed it, he's my dad - my small town, high school teaching, unassuming dad.

The amazing thing about my dad is just that.  He's one of those people who works really hard but doesn't tout his own hard work or draw attention to what he gives.  He isn't flashy or published or sought after for national committees (although, the latter he would help greatly).  He leads, what in our global times, is a small life.

He's one of those teachers that does hours of work every night after work, who has continued to develop new ways to engage students throughout the years, and who would (of course) prefer if his students liked him, but his main goal is to teach, to be a role model in profession and personal action, and to be fair on top of it, so if they don't like him, well, that's just the way it goes.

How do I know this?  Well, I went to the same high school that papa-bear taught at.  Four years commuting with my dad. Four years of my friends having my dad in class.  Years afterwards of my friends and high school acquaintances telling me about my dad.

But does your profession make your life what it is?
I'd have to ask dad what he thinks, but I think that it is only a small piece.  Outwardly, it is something those who first meet him or those who are acquaintances grasp onto.  The, "Oh, he's a teacher" box that teachers get put into with lots of assumptions and people nod as if they know him now.

Truth is, I think teaching was a means to fulfilling the check boxes on his worthy professions list.  Dad is good at teaching.  Also, he believes in community and selflessness.  If you are a teacher and in for the long haul, those are key.*

*There are many many other professions that also fit these standards, so I'm not dissing them.  Just leaving them out to chat about my pops for now.*

Listen, I know people out there think that teachers are overpaid or that teaching is a lesser profession or that they don't work all summer so it's not a real job or some other BS.

I've got a family of teachers and I never wanted to be a teacher.  It's really F-ing hard.  Man, if you want to be a good teacher, it's a lot of work.  I always want to be good at what I do, and I always knew that teaching would take over my entire life if I went into it.

A small tangent about how teachers get overpaid because they get the summers off...

There are plenty of jobs that get lots of vacation that do not come with this type of fight.  Sure, in the US there are less of these, but they still exist.  My last position was a total of about 8 weeks off per year.  I was not a teacher.

Rather than begrudging what is a highly needed rejuvenation and growth time for those who hold our future in their hands, perhaps we should look at correcting a system that gives one or two weeks vacation a year (or none in some instances).  Stop being snarky and jealous and work toward changing a bad system.

Google it.  The first few articles say enough: Forbes, Huff Post, USA Today, etc.

There is even research to support that productivity increases - and don't we want our teachers to be productive and on the ball and our kids to get the most out of our teachers?
The Atlantic and NY Times and CBS News, etc.

Perhaps, you've had a bad teacher or two, so this had jaded your view of ALL teachers.  Shame on you!  There are bad apples in any bunch from religious leaders to customer service to policeman and so forth.  Do not through papa-baby out with the bath water.

But I digress (as I'm wont to do)...

Let's forgo my teachers-support tirade and circle back to profession making the person.

I believe that my father's life foremost has been about setting a quiet example of what it means to be a good person for his children.  I can say this because it is without a doubt what he has done.

My parents worked really hard at having us form our own opinions which they both supported and encouraged.  There has always been an open discourse in our house from politics to friends to employment to environment.  My dad is famous for playing devil's advocate even if he agrees with you.  It just helps you see the other side of things.

I remember when my sister was little (she's 12 years my junior) and my parents let her pick out her own outfits from when she could point to make her choice known.

Now, when it came to bigger, important decisions, you best believe they were weighing in, but in the end, it was always our choice.

I'm not a parent, so I can't know how hard it must be to let your kid make choices that are good choices, but you feel there might be a better one or to let them pursue areas of study / interest that are strange and new to you.  I imagine it's pretty hard and scary.

My parents always worked really hard to give us as many opportunities as they were able.  We went on vacations with friends, were in a million activities, had lessons, did exciting things. I know they gave up things for themselves in order for us to have these opportunities.

My dad is the least materialistic person I have ever run across (and that's saying something).  Anyone who has driven by our house in the summer and seen the scarecrow at work in the garden or around the house knows what I'm talking about.  He has always foregone his own for the good of his kids and family.

And through all of this, they were present.  They were there.  We spent entire summers running around the house and yard with my dad always home.  My parents did homework with us every night.  We ate as a family every night.  There were tons of friends in and out of our house all the time.  It was a rare summer night that there wasn't another friend at the table with us.  My friends know the drill - before you eat, we all go around and say what we're thankful for.

And as my friends know, my parents are not quite what you'd call main stream.  They are brilliant and kind and generous, but def not main stream.  I'd say that my complete lack of pop culture growing up - from fashion to music to movies - was...challenging at times.  While other families and friends were discussing movies, we were discussing homework topics.  Thank god for my off-beat friends.

I'll never forget going home with my then boyfriend an sitting around the living room discussing art history for hours while pulling books off of shelves to back up our statements or referencing some connection.

I am thankful for all of this.  We didn't have fancy clothing or fancy cars or a fancy house, but we had a hellava family.  I am thankful to be from oddity.  I am thankful for my parents teaching us to be thankful, teaching us the importance of family, and setting the highest bar for personal integrity.

I guess in the end, I think a small life can be a good life.  A small life can have a wider reaching ripples.  I hope my own small life is half as worthy as the life my parents have lead.

Undergrad College Graduation Time! Golden Nuggets of my Brain Thoughts.

My sister graduates with her bachelor's this week - 12 years after my own college graduation.

In my family, it is customary to make greeting cards.  This has always been our tradition, dating back to scribbles on the outside with mom or dad signing our name on the inside before we could write our own letters.

I started to look for inspiration today to make my sister a graduation card.  I looked through my clipping files, magazines, newspapers before it dawned on me, that what I really wanted was to give my sister was some advice that would actually help her.

Listen, I'm all for "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" but a little bit of reality amixed with the graduation glossiness will do everyone some good here.

Ten years after graduation, I realized that I hadn't done all the things I thought I would have done by now.  It's true, it'll happen to you too.  It's OKAY.  Really.  I'm not saying you should plan to not get them done, I'm just saying that when you look up and you're suddenly 35, there will be things you haven't done.

What is more important is what you HAVE gained in that time.

I was working at UArts when Neil Gaiman gave his "Make Good Art" speech.  It was moving and brought the house down.  Everyone was inspired.  He's also, like, totally super hip.

BUT, the truth is, it's not about making GOOD art.  It's about making ANY art.  It's that you KEEP making art.  Make BAD art.  Make MEDIOCRE art.  Just keep making.  CHASE GREATNESS.

'Cause really - if you are N.G., you probs always make good art (or, at least mostly), but if you're 99.999% of the population, you make shitty art 99.999% of the time - especially in the beginning and for a long time after that.  That's just how it is.  The real lesson is: don't get discouraged.

Failure Informs Success.

And there's the take-away - KEEP AT IT - whatever IT is that fuels you.  It could be art, music, writing, science, learning, whatever.  The point is to not give up the piece of you that makes you wonder - that pushes your imagination.

My most spectacular failures have scorched their lessons into the innermost depths of my soul.  I am grateful for them even as I wish they had never happened.

...

And because I've never been short-winded, here're a few other nuggets:

- Relationships are hard.  ALL relationships.  Partners, friends, co-workers, bosses.  Be diligent. Don't take them for granted.  Limit those who are poisonous, but keep up the work for those who are worth it.  Don't compare other people's relationships to yours.  Your relationship will always be its own blessing / challenge as you are neither of the people you are comparing yourself to.

- Be nice to your co-workers.  You'll enjoy your life more.  I've cracked some tough nuts over the years with kindness and laughter.  Keep at the niceness.  In the end, they will also help you pick up the pieces when you make mistakes.

I worked with a woman who I never heard utter a mean word about anyone - in almost a decade! Being nice is a choice.  I'mma not saying I'm never snarky or that it's easy; I'm just pointing out that it's possible to be nice.

- Work hard, but more importantly - learn to work smart.  Prioritize.  Read between the lines - what is it that your boss really wants?  Learn it or ask so you are clear until you can discern for yourself.

- Your corporate boss will never back you (no matter how close you are or how valuable / smart you are) if they think there's more personal gain (for them) if they back the other guy.  Even if you're right.

- Travel.  Travel.  Travel.

- Read.  Articles, books, texts, essays, poetry, you pick.  Just do it.

- Be patient.  This is the hardest thing.  Everything seems to take three times as long as you thought it would.  Be patient.

- Drive safely.  Seriously, get into your zen state.  Road rage is not pretty on anyone and gains you about 30 seconds.  Not worth your or someone else's life.  Try different strategies until you find one that works.  Books on tape works for me.  Comedic podcasts work for many others.

- Take that first crappy job.  You need job experience.  You think you're gonna hate it?  You probably will!  But, it'll serve you well in the long run.  Stick it out at least a year.  Do what is asked of you - but be sure if you are putting in the extra time that your boss knows.  It's a JOB. If you are working crazy hours, you'd best be compensated.

- Negotiate your raise / your job offer.  Practice.  Ask for a raise when you get more work.  Ask for a promotion if you deserve it.  Voice it.  It'll never happen unless you do.

- Go to grad school sooner rather than later.  It gets harder and harder the longer you wait.

- SAVE.  Save those dollars! Start a retirement fund as soon as you are getting a paycheck.

- Before you have lots of other expenses and can live with a bunch of roommates or at home, start paying your loans.  Refinance for a low rate and combine your loans into one payment if possible and set it to auto-pay.  A good student loan repayment history will do your credit favors.  Have extra money because you're living at home?  Put it toward the principle.

- Practice THANKFULNESS.  Seriously, this one thing has been so helpful for me.  Start small if you have to (even sarcastically).  Practice every day.  Practice every time you remember throughout the day.  It gets easier to be thankful the more you practice - and you'll be happier.

Take care of your body.  Wear sunscreen.  Eat your veggies.  Build exercise into your daily routine (bike to work!).  It's much harder once you start working a normal 9-5.

Take Risks - this is a hard one to describe.  Risks are different for everyone, but I've done things that seems crazy to me (not as crazy for others, I'm sure) and it's changed my life.  Quit crappy jobs, gone skydiving, started a novel...

Learn to say no.  Man, this is a really hard one for me.  It takes practice.  If you have trouble saying no, just don't say yes.  Learn to give yourself time to figure out how to say no if you are not good at it on the spot.

Stay in touch with your professors!

Stay in touch with great bosses!

Down time - do it.  Make it.  Without your phone.

PLAY.

And to my sister, I am and will always be your biggest fan.  EPG FTW.

I AM A FEMINIST

I am a feminist.  Yep, I believe I should get equal pay for equal work.  I believe I'm smart.  AND, I don't believe that dudes are intrinsically better at everything.  So, I guess that makes me a feminist.

Remember when...
"You can do anything you want to do!"
"You can be anything you want to be!"

Not really true.
I mean, maybe if you are born privileged and a dude, maybe, but otherwise, that's a bunch of guff.

Here's the thing, especially if you are FEMALE:
Let's start with the whole kids discussion.
- When you are between 25 & 40, companies are gonna assume you are going to have kids at some point and so you are less desirable.  It's a strike against you when you are looking for jobs.  In their mind, you either a) are going to have them soon b) you have them and they will take up too much of your time or c) there is something wrong with you if you don't.

I actually had a business mentor tell me that I should make it a point to bring it up in an interview because it would stand in my way (this was woman to woman talk from a woman who has been successful in the world of business for a long time).

AND...
- At some point you WILL have to choose between children and: career, side-projects, & education.  There that saying that you can have everything, but not all at one time - but actually, I don't know if this is really true.
      - If  you get pregnant when you are in high school, or youngish, you become a mom (duh).  I just mean that everything else is exponentially harder AND even in the 20teens, the onus falls to the female to raise the kids.  So, maybe you wait to have kids if you want other things too...and during this waiting you find out that:
     - You can't really have both.  I mean, how can you raise a kid (and be there, foe realz), have a career, and also have a meaningful self-identity through a separate focus?  It's nearly impossible unless you 1. Have resources / don't have to work or 2. Your work is your passion / life-mission.  Some people have this! And it's great, but most of us do not have the means or resources.

- If you are a chick, the world of business is harder.  Just is.  It's also harder if you are a minority. Just is.  Not male and white?  Bummer.
     - Can't tell you how many interviews I went on where the interviewer walked out to meet me, took one look at me and their whole face and body language changed.  I mean, on paper I looked awesome (um, I AM), and they knew I was a lady, but when they saw that I didn't look like a dude, well, I couldn't be smart or capable.
    - I was convinced that I would end up working for a woman (and I did).  Listen, I like dudes.  I'm friends with them, married one, respect the good ones.  But many of the dudes who are in management have old school (read: biased) views.  They cannot see past the ponytail.
    - Don't believe me?  READ THIS.
    - OR THIS - scroll down and start at "What really distinguishes CEOs from the rest of us, for instance?" if you don't want to read the whole article b/c it is long.

- Ladies are constantly hassled AND SUPPOSED TO LIKE IT.
    - When I was in grade school & high school I was teased because I was too skinny (well, and also because I was confident in my singular strangeness).  I believe the words, "She doesn't even have boobs" were used to describe me in 8th grade in front of the entire class (not scarring at all).  I was gauky and gangly (um, still am).  Just part of growing up, and not a singular incident, but my point is - I can't help feel that girls get that type of teasing growing up and do boys?  I'm not a boy, but the teasing for girls seems to be very directed at how much of a woman they are.
    - Once I was out of college and entered the workforce, I have had to deal with all kinds of bullsh!t from males I work with.  CONSTANTLY. It's just creepy and weird when dudes from a janitors to colleagues constantly comment on how you look inappropriately.  Not like, oh, hey, I like that shirt or You look like spring today!  But whispered on the DL often when no one else is around or can hear you.  Harassment?  I guess?  It just walks the border or just doesn't feel worth it.  And it happens all the time for me and has for years and years.  Don't believe me?  Examples:
          - "I'm gonna miss that @ss" - upon hearing I was leaving the company
          - Whispered to me in a low-not-at-all-(sarcasm)-creepy tone, "you are just so beautiful today.  beautiful.  beautiful."
          - "Not everyone is going to appreciate the way you look."

    - BUT REMEMBER: as a female, you have to dress as much like a male as possible.  Monkey suit it up.  Seriously.  Society tells women they should look "forever twenty", but in the workplace, a douty, always-looks-in-her-40s woman has the edge.  "Don't take her seriously"  "Has to look like she can be in a meeting" were two phrases I had heard because I like color and wear lady-clothes.  Silly me!  Just remember - dark somber colors (think funeral), no fringes, spangles, sequins, ruffles, prettiness, choose boxy and heels.  Oh, heels.  Yep, you didn't want to wear them? Tough. They should be black or navy pumps.  No straps or fancy-smanch.  Hope you can walk in them.

Listen, I'm happy where I am.  I've made tough decisions and been lucky to land where I am.  I'm not in management.  I'm not working corporate.  I have comp time after I put in my 40.  BUT, it has is frustrating to feel like I have had to pound against the glass ceiling and watch capable colleagues who just happen to be women pound on the glass ceiling.

I often wonder what big world decisions would be different if they had been made by women or with women in tandem with men.  How our history would have been negotiated if women had not worked behind the scenes, but front and center.

How does male domination shape our society - out companies, messaging, culture acceptances if women are absent from the highest echelons of decision-making?

Inner Policeman + Kids' Making Art

David Byrne (Author / of Talking Heads) reads his own audio book Bicycle Diaries (recommended) which reflects on his travels throughout the world and riding his bike in different cities / countries.  But the book is more about social and city structure than it is about scenery.

In one chapter (London?) he is surprised when the topic of conversation turns openly to a topic that would be taboo in the US (race?) and he notes that his "inner-policeman" would not have allowed him to bring this topic up in polite society.

Burroughs talks about the inner-policeman (did he coin this phrase?) in his writings as well.  I had been reading some beat poetry / novels a few months back and I started thinking about Burroughs and the inner-policeman, Byrne and his cultural observations.

I have an inner-policeman.  Oh yes, I certainly do.  Some would say, he could be stronger, but I think he's pretty strong now.  There's a quip in here about the man keeping me down, but I'm too lazy to make it.

There are times when I am suddenly aware of my inner-policeman and it is like getting slapped in the face.  I am always taken aback, surprised to remember he is there, pulling back on ideas, blocking pathways.

Recently, I have been working on digitizing and cleaning artwork created by small children.  This involves a scanner and Photoshop.  It's a fun project (not sarcasm, I love Photoshop).

I'm not changing any of the art, just taking out some glue smudges and digitally putting some pieces back on that did not stick completely.

The project is based on Islamic tiles.  The students have seen examples and are to use these as inspiration to create 8.5 x 11" frames for poems to be created later and by a different class.

As I scanned these unbalanced, off-center, mis-matched frames, I was a little disappointed - none of these were clean or pretty.  They all looked strange and weird and like mistakes to me.

These kids had no sense of the principles of design, no aesthetic understanding.

And then...
and then.
Something magical happened.  

These lop-sided, odd frames became so beautiful and interesting to me.  As I worked on them, I felt they were less sterile than much more refined art.  They were raw and hungry.  The frames were honest and fun.  They were magnificent.

These students had not yet developed an inner-aesthetic-policeman!  But that we all could go back to that time.

One piece was created from all brilliant red & green "tiles" (construction paper squares / diamonds).  Red and green always just reads Christmas to me.  I never choose any design that only has red and green. But this kid looked at those colors and thought, "these are great colors together!" and the kid was right, it was indeed beautiful.

One student had created a frame in greens and blues with only one yellow tile in a strange off-centered spot on the right of the frame.

Some students would cut their own shapes that were twice the size as the pre-cut square / diamond pieces provided to them.  They jut into the center free-space irregularly, they are haphazard and strange.  They tell a different story from the other pieces.  They are rocking out to metal, the rest of the frame is pop.

Sometimes, one side would be drastically different from the other three in color and pattern.  Often this was a side piece, not the top or bottom of the frame.  

One frame had a double row just one one side.  Another built up two or three rows in one of the corners.

One ingenious student cut a long strip of construction paper and twisted it as they glued it down creating undulating dimension (only on one side).  Now there's a student who is thinking outside the box.  I only hope that the school system does not squash this before the kid realizes it's a good thing.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed how one student took a larger square / diamond in navy and cut smaller diamonds in navy and glued them on top.  You could barely see the difference.  It was a little gift to those who took a moment to look closely.

Still other students would ignore the shape of the paper and create a frame that was not 8.5 x 11".

These were some of my favorite pieces.

They bothered me most when I first saw the pieces, but they were fierce and straightforward, unapologetic and bold.

One student had created a giant X across her page with her tiles!

Another, the tiles only grew into the center from one side.  The pile starting on an 8.5" edge and working their way into the center of the piece, filling the majority of that half of the page.

And then one student - one brilliant student had taken all of their pieces and in what felt like a random assortment, filled the center of the page!  There was a small area surrounding the tiles, but he had created a center of haphazard colors and shapes.  The frame becoming the framed.

Working on this project was a beautiful reminder to take stock of my views on beauty and art and how much of that comes from societal ideas that were drilled into me.  What an amazing reminder to take stock of my politics, judgments, and beliefs and to critically look at how much of those standards come from societal pressure.

What in my core fiberous center do I believe?  What is beautiful to me?  When my inner-policeman dismisses an idea or an artwork, look again.  It may yet become the MOST enchanting.

Comp Recovery

The skinny:

In the summer of 2012, my external hard drive was pushed off a coffee table and rendered unusable.  I was desperate to get the information back.  After researching companies, I decided to go with Comp Recovery here in Philadelphia because they were local and by all accounts, legit.

"Yes we do take walkins and we have a FREE evaluation with no obligation. Our prices are generally $495-$1495. We have a class 100 Clean Room, a 92% success rate and our policy is based on NO DATA NO CHARGE."


On August 27, 2012, my EHD (external hard drive) was picked up.

What followed was a hellish, stressful, expensive, fruitless experience.

140 (ish) emails, numerous phone messages, and 17 months later, January 10, 2014, I received this email:

"I apologize I could not get back to you earlier. After 12 years, the business will be closing. We have moved out of the office already. However we will still be available for few more months in order to complete some projects and close some cases including yours.  We have no fund availability at this moment but we hope to close your case by the end of February. Your total refund is $$ and the external drive you gave us. Donor drives are the responsibility of the customer. We already have a NO DATA NO CHARGE policy and cannot be responsible for a donor drive when the recovery is unsuccessful. If we receive the funds we are expecting sooner, We will make sure to submit a refund immediately. Thank you."

There are a couple of lessons to take away from this:

1. CLOUD.  If it's important, store it in the cloud.

2. LEVERAGE.  If you do decide to go through a recovery, make sure you pay AFTER the work is completed.
3. Let it go.  If you didn't have it on the cloud and you lose the material, let it go.  It is NOT worth the stress and terrible experience of recovery.  Your one small hard-drive is so non-important to a company that does data-recovery that you will never get the service and attention necessary to complete the recovery (and your recovery will constantly be pushed back in favor of larger projects).

4. Commitment.  If you do decide to pursue recovery, read the fine print. If they haven't heard from you in x-days, then they can take your money and never complete the recovery, so you best be on top of contacting them constantly. Contact via email (or both) so you have a paper-trail. Document everything.

5.  Perspective.  For me, this was a huge choice to spend, what is for me a lot of money, on recovery, but I really thought it was worth it.  If I had recovered the data (maybe even at this point), it may still have been worth it.  In the end, it is only money, but man! do I feel swindled and dragged through the mud.  I consider myself a fairly savy consumer, but unfortunately, I misjudged here (side note: I did have other people look at the correspondence & company, and they too were fooled).

Are they just terrible people?  Does the company not really exist?  Was it just a perfect storm of terrible timing & events?  Did they actually recover my data and sell some of the information?

I'll never know.  But I do know, I'll never attempt a recovery again.

Part V: Sometimes my inner commentary sounds like tweets from The Onion

Rude, jerky girl comes by it honestly, "My parents were assh0les."

Second rude, jerky girl blames parents, "My parents spoiled me."

Boyfriend just trying to contain girlfriend's crazy.

Girl wears full metal spike breastplate to concert.  "They'll only elbow you in the stomach or back into you once." 

Tiny pocket tranquilizer gun perfect for concerts.

Concert Kit includes:  Pocket Tranquilizer Gun, Ammo, 3 joints, Zen and the Art of Happiness, shoe lifts, pocket flask, external pockets.

>>>>>>>>>>

Company hires interviewer to hire interviewer.

Cat jumps into refrigerator, takes bath.

Family decides to invest in coffee maker rather than new car.

Staring contest with dog always disappointing.

Shoe manufacturer 100% positive that large footed women want to wear clunky ugly shoes.

Teen spends all free time writing Amazon reviews, "It's the new Facebook."

Kindle to offer digital toilet paper.  Never put it down.  Read and wipe in one sitting. 

Commute (Philadelphia)

My city.

Mine.

A first returning glimpse of Philly always triggers 

a small tickling of the happiness

known as contentment.

My evening commute transverses the river,

my crossing view that of bridge over bridge under trestle.

I ride along the sleepy banks of the Schuylkill

as stately white skinned sycamores

lean over the river to gaze at their own loveliness, mirrored in the escaping waters.

Sweet Briar reminds me

to pause and take notice.

I gaze those 300 Sweet feet

under an echoey overpass

connecting the Drive to Lansdowne and for a moment,

myself to my father.

The boat houses blink their snowy-eyed windows

as I smile at them from across the water,

now resplendent in reflection of the evening sky.

The sky, the sky!

It is the golden hour.

The sky is painted in Maxfield Parrish pinks and purples,

But it is the skyscrapers who are most magnificent

Ablush with the waning evening light.

I zoom past those autos parked on the on ramp for 95 North.

I am grateful to live in South Philly.

I am not leaving

the city to go home.

My home

is here

in my Philadelphia.

Triplet colonial spinster sisters have their heads huddled together,

no doubt gossiping about me as I motor past.

I'm glad they have hunkered down,

Growing old here,

Proud of their working-man roots.

Two young ostentatious bucks flank these sisters,

out of place but precisely tuned.

As I alight in Penn's Port,

I am greeted by my neighbors,

comrades in arms which we take up

In defense of this small town that calls itself

Philadelphia.

Women & Girls & Finding Happiness

When I read articles or watch trending feeds, they plant a shadowy seed in a dark corner of my brain.  Fields of shadowy seeds, yet to germinate span the horizons of my mind.  Enough seeds planted in the same field and eventually, the planting starts to germinate in that shadowy corner, growing slowly as the light only reaches it occasionally in sporatic flashes.  This is the best way I can describe how I think on events and topics.  Topics all intersect with one another - seeds from seemingly unconnected articles and conversations having been thrown in the same field.

Lately, it seems as if all these seeds have been sewn in a field dedicated to women's issues, but more specifically, young women in America of child-bearing age, say 20 - 35.

I get so frustrated by how media portrays us - young women - (especially commercials - have you seen those BMW commercials that air during Olympic Primetime?!) and annoyed at articles written by men or moms thinking they know what's up.

Here's the truth: moms and men don't know what it's like to be a young woman today.  If you are a man or a mom: You don't.  You are not one.

More importantly, all these messages we receive (men and women) from the moment we are in this world, create a lifetime of hurdles to jump in order to find what makes us happy.  You have to sift through all the things that you think should make you happy, I mean, that's what everyone tells me will make me happy, before you can even start to uncover what really will make you happy (this ties into my thoughts later on still growing and waiting on marriage).

Think on Disney Princess movies.  Growing up, you might have connected with Disney Princesses.  What's the message there?  One, that there is only one right person for you, he's a prince either in name or a diamond in the rough prince, who will fight evil and go through all extremes to be with you.  Sure, recent movies have somewhat flexed in their message, but it's still there.  Especially if you are in the 30 + crowd.

What are the expectations there for a partner?  We will "live happily ever after", he will sacrifice himself for you to give you everything you ever needed, he will always be strong and triumphant, he will forgive all of your flaws because he was instantly smitten with your beauty (hopefully you are beautiful, thin, and have great hair).  Oh, and be sure to get married or find your match when you are like, 16.  Cause, that's when it will happen.  I mean, maybe when you are 18 or 20, but after that you are just too old.

Huh.  Well, it turns out that in order to "live happily ever after" you have to work hard at it and both of you have to compromise.  And if you ask someone to sacrifice all of themselves, they end up with nothing of themselves.
As to your man being strong and triumphant always - it turns out it is better to rely on yourself.  Do your own research, learn to stand on your own feet.  That way between the two of you, you can make a good decision.  Relying on someone else to make all your decisions just leads to helplessness and spite (perhaps you know a mom who allowed her husband to make all of her decisions for her and you have seen this yourself **I'm not lumping all moms in this category! I'm just saying to look around and take note if there is one.).

AND, as to forgiving all your sins because you are beautiful, well, actually, that does work.  Kidding.  Hopefully, you find a partner who forgives you (and you forgive them) not because you are beautiful, but because you are worth it.  Because you are the kind of person worth forgiving.

As to age, well...I'm sure you've all heard of or read the Princeton Mom's article on being sure to use college to find a man to marry.  I've been thinking about the marriage-mart a lot over the years and it just all came back and slapped me in the face when I read that article.

I went to an all women's college, so whoops. 

But really.  Let me briefly respond to the idea that you must find a man in college:  1. Internet dating is forever. 2. How many of those who jumped into relationships young are divorced?  In my circles, many.  I had been in maybe 10 weddings before I was married, of those...let's see who is still married...two couples.  I've been to lots of other weddings where the couple is still together, but the greater message to me has been that an early marriage does not mean a happy one.  AND, that people are still changing and growing tremendously after college and folks often grow apart.  AND that not everyone is really ready for marriage at 25, but society tells us we should get married before we will look old in our pictures.

(Side note: I worked with a Chinese girl who told me once that after 25 you are "left over Christmas cake" - meaning that everyone loved Christmas cookies, cakes, sweets before and on Christmas, but once 26 hits, no one is interested. - Good grief!)

In our parents' generation, society helped us to see that women played 2nd fiddle to men (that's sarcasm, folks).  But today, women don't have to put their own wishes aside for a dude.  Do you want a career? (it's okay if the answer is no. it's also okay if the answer is yes!)  Not sure if you do or not want kids?  Oh, and you don't have to settle for the first guy you sleep with.  That doesn't make you a slut, that makes you practical.

As to wanting kids... There have been a lot of articles about women who don't want kids flying around.  You've read them, I'm sure.  That's great if you don't want kids.  You don't have to want kids.

BUT, it's also okay if you don't know.  OR, if you don't want kids and then you decide five years later that oh, you really DO want kids.  OR if you want kids want kids want kids (and if later you decide, 'what was I thinking! I don't want kids!', that's okay too).  You don't need to make up your mind now, you don't need to get married just because you might want to have kids.  You can decide later, and you can always adopt.  It's okay to change your mind.

Speaking of burning down the planet and getting back to one other important issue I want to touch on: appearance.  Women and girls and beauty and Disney and stories.  When was the last time you saw an overweight Disney Princess?  What message does that send?  Come to think of it, when was the last time you saw an overweight girl heroine (not woman, girl)?

I remember reading, "Fit is the new Skinny".  That's ridiculous.  Skinny is skinny.  Fit is fit.  They are not the same.  If you are physically fit, then that's amazing.  Don't belittle it by saying fit is the new skinny.  Just embrace fit as fit.  It's like someone saying Orange is the New Black (and meaning it in fashion).  It isn't.  Black is black is will always be black.

I'mma let you in on a not-so-secret.  I'm skinny.  It's genetic.  I have a sweet tooth that takes up my entire mouth and makes it hard for me to talk.  I'm also pretty.  Sorry, it's true.  But, there are still tons of things I would change about myself (that's the not-so-secret).  I consider myself to be fairly accepting of myself, but I still find I am extremely critical.  I'm never going to look like a Disney Princess.  First, I don't have the hair for it.  I have super shitty hair.  Secondly, I can't sing, and that's a big part of being a DP.  Also, I don't have that straight nose.  Seriously, though, it's like trying to be a Barbie Doll - physically impossible.

There's a great short TED talk by a super model who talks about how super models are the most self-conscious people on the planet.  That's what I'm talking about.

We live in a place were people are telling you that to be happy, you need to be skinny and beautiful, you need to find a man, you need to have kids, you need a big TV and fancy clothes.

I guess I think it's all bull.  I'm happier than I've ever been.  I do have a husband, but my happiness does not come from him (although, I'm happy to share my happy life with him).  My happiness comes from my self-fulfillment.  Truly.  I don't own a car, I don't have a fancy house, I can't buy lots of expensive clothing.

You want to be happy?  Be thankful.  Be honest with yourself.  Find your personal mission statement and use that as your North Star.

Love and Chocolate. Valentines for my Connections.

I often wonder about love.

The concept can be used to describe so many different emotions.

In Spanish, there is a 'te quiero' and a 'te amo' way to say 'I love you'.  One for family & friends and the other for your sweetheart.  So, two kinds of love.

I think about people I love and how prismic my connections are.  No one connection is alike another.

Connection.

Love is really about connection.

Sometimes when I'm around my parents, I try to hang onto the moment in my mind, in my heart.  I say to myself, Be more present than present.  I wish I lived closer, saw them more.  I miss my family all the time, but most when I am around them.  The contradiction of missing them while being in their presence is often present.

My love, my connection to my siblings is acute.  Focused and intense.  I miss my siblings, but it is different from missing my parents.  I don't miss them any less, but I don't have the sense that I'm grasping at shadows when I'm around them.  I only feel excited and happy.

In the past few months, I've had a few folks close to me who've needed emergency care.  There is no better way to confirm if you do or do not feel connected to a person then having a surprise health emergency.

Unaware, you are caught in a moment of honesty.  

People I should feel connected to, such as my grandfather, I do not.  Shocking, I know (not as shocking if you know me).  He is in a terrible state of health, and I hope that he does not suffer.  However, I don't feel at all connected to him.  I am curious at to my heritage, but not enough to get the story from him on tape.  I don't feel agitation or grief at the chance of his passing.  I feel empathy for a difficult life.  I feel anticipation.  Anticipation?  Anticipation.

I've found I can be very connected to people I haven't seen in a long time.  I was lucky to grow up with a small, tight knit neighborhood.  My two best friends lived about mile from me (opposite directions) and one was an only child (read: I got to do lots of things with her family - vacations, sleepovers, you name it).  Many of my fondest memories are of popcorn and Fawlty Towers or the hiss as our snow-coated gloves dropped ice chunks onto the wood-stove in the kitchen, drinking hot cocoa, and reliving our best runs down the graveyard hill (what? you didn't sled in a graveyard?).  Who had the best run? That near hit of the stone on the left just coming to the bump, but rolling off just in time, and on a good day, the air you could get over that same bump.
           People get busy, we drift into other parts of our lives.  I don't see them much.  But I was surprised at how strong my reaction was to hearing of a scare for one of them.

Sometimes a scare can be a blessing when it is only a scare.  You can remember your love for that person.  You can remember your connection.

Another extended family member had emergency surgery this week (surprise brain tumor).  Again I was struck by how immediate and strong my reaction was to the news.  I felt panic.  After the surgery, being with that person in recovery, I felt relief wash over me in great strong waves.  Imagine that famous Japanese painting.  You know the one.  It was like that.  I felt so grateful.  Grateful that this person was part of my history.  Grateful that I was able to share another moment with them.

Social Media is amazing.  People post all kinds of sh!t that you would never say to people you barely know.  Sometimes I read very mushy postings about significant others (some people post like this every day).  How lucky for them!  But, I'm not sure I'm wired that way.

My connection to my partner has washed over the beach of my being.  The tide coming in, barely noticeable as it gains inches.  The sea crashing and crashing against my safe shore, gaining ground so slowly as to put me at ease.  One day I looked up and realized I was standing knee deep in surf, the white foam swirling about my chicken legs, sticking to my sunscreened skin.

I often fear that I don't have the capacity for love.  I mean, "real" love.  Movie love.  Book love. Burning love.  Take over everything in your life love.

But that's not love.  Burning so bright comes with too much weight.  Too much responsibility on that love to be your everything.

Love is mosaic-ed of little moments and pieces.  Love is the small marionette strings that run from your left big toe to their right hand as they cleaned the blood from your broken bone over the bathroom sink.  Love is the string that runs from your aching knee to your left hand to the ice pack to their forehead as you laugh together about Robert Palmer in a recovery room.  Love is the string that runs from my slow smile to that moment this morning; I'm remembering the breeze through my skirt as I biked downhill clutching the small moments from the morning before work.

Love is in the lotion your hands drink after drying and cracking from doing the dishes.  Love is in the chill on your face as you shovel the steps, dig out the car.  Love is walking into a house after a long hard day and it smells delicious.  Dinner is just coming to the table.  You eat together and are reminded of how lucky you are.

You know that moment you have when chocolate first hits your taste buds and they tingle so softly?  Or after a spicy meal and your lips burn just enough to make your more aware of them?Like that.

Employment & Creativity

It must be amazing if you don't have to work ever.  Imagine having money to do your everyday things (rent, food, clothes) plus art supplies/house stuff with a little left over for a vacation each year and donating.

I recently read Junky (or Junkie depending on the edition) by Burroughs (excellent, I thought). Here was a guy who had an allowance which allowed him to either not work, work occasionally, or work to support his habit.  Even so, it was years before he got it together to publish Junky, sending installations to friends who helped him get it all together for publication.  Granted, he was not as...focused as he could have been, but it just goes to show how distracting life can be (and makes me feel slightly better about not having something 100% finished from my time off).

Now that I'm working again (more on that later), I see how life truly gets in the way.  I'm not sure if this is how it is for everyone (I expect so).  It's bloody hard to minimize distractions. 

Now that I'm working again, I also get mentally tired from learning, thinking, problem-solving all day (hopefully, work affords the opportunity to learn, think, and problem-solve too).  AND between getting ready, the commute, and my work day, there isn't much left time over (leaving all health issues aside for now...).  Dinner and a minute to chat with S and that's about it.  I'm trying to train myself to get up early to write, but it's only been one week and I'm still adjusting.

I did get up at 5 am today though on my own (yes!) and then I had a work from home day (yes!) so I also saved the getting ready and commuting times.  It was a good morning for writing.

BUT, I'm hopeful that once I adjust, I'll be more productive.  There were also 3 evening work events last week, so that was a factor too.

I've set myself some general goals and I'm hoping I can stay on track.  They are attainable, so I'm hopeful!

.................................

And now about going back to work...

All that time off...

(Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme...)

All my persnicketiness about which jobs I'd even apply to...

All the countless hours applying to those could-be-perfect openings...

All those terrrrrrrible interviews...

And now...

And now.

What do I think?

I think it's only the first week.

(too early to tell)

BUT

I'm pretty confident I'm gonna love working here.

The mission of ARTWELL is so closely aligned with my own personal goals and mission that I find just being there exciting.  The staff is amazing (I know it's only a week in, but seriously).  I hope I am there a long time and make a meaningful contribution to the organization and through ArtWell, my community.

And if you have to give up making art & writing all day, the best way to do it is to support the arts and better my community while working with great folks.  So, I'm alright with working for now. I've had my [f]unemployment time to be off and find something (else) I love (writing!), but now it's time to return to reality.  Alas!  I was not born a countess.

Evaporating Time

The last year has flown by.  Dang.  It's been amazing.

It seems like one year off from full time work would be enough time to write The Great American Novel, create an amazing body of artwork, visit everyone, and re-do my entire house.

But here's the truth:

Time has a way of evaporating.

There are still the realities of your everyday (dishes, laundry, dinner, etc.) paired with not having an income and being careful about spending (hello art supplies! hello travel!).  If you have a partner in this life, you want to make them a priority as well.  And honestly, I love to read, so...

PLUS, I'm the type of person who thinks, "I should use this time to [insert huge OTHER project]." READ: getting married in 3 months with a DIY party for 100 people.

On top of all of this, I started looking for a job months out from when I really wanted to start.

It is really a job in and of itself to get a job.

So, what was left was time fairly well spent (see earlier post about what I've accomplished).

If I had to do it again, I'd not have thrown the wedding (just gotten married & maybe done a great honeymoon).  The party was great fun, but it did consume 3 months of my time off which could have been spent on art / writing.

AND LISTEN...

I'm under no illusions - taking a year off is pretty selfish - especially if you have a partner.  Even paying for myself (I'm an independent woman!) doesn't mean that it's not selfish.  I mean, you end up putting not just your, but BOTH of your lives pretty "on hold" until you figure out what your new job and what your new life will look like.  

It has felt like a pampering.  I feel refreshed.  I feel creative.  I feel inspired.
I feel HOPEFUL.

I'm very lucky.

To top it off?  I found an amazing organization to work at!  So, all in all, mostly a success.

Another First Day of School

I've always been a weirdo.  It's cool, I come by it honestly.  And really, all the interesting people are weirdos.

But man, I hated grade school (standing in a snowy field on the brightest day with a migraine and no sunglasses hatred - you'll live, but it'll be excruciating).  It's really hard to be a weirdo in grade school.

At the end of 4th grade, one of my best friends moved away.  At the end of 5th, I was miserable, and at the end of 6th, I was desperate to get out.  So, with the help of my parish, my parents agreed to let me go to a private school 7th (and 8th) grade.

I remember the first day of 7th grade.  I had my packed lunch and was filled with happy anticipation to meet all new people and make lots of friends.  I was sad for summer to end, but I was ready for a new experience.

I mean, I kinda already knew what it would be like (it was still school, afterall), but not entirely. Would I make a ton of friends?  Would they like me???  Would I be able to keep all my stuff somewhere?  Would there be any cute boys?  Would I like my teachers?  What if I was the dumbest in the class?

Starting a new job is kinda like starting the first day of a new school.

An aside...
I'm lucky enough to have found a position that meets almost all of my hopes (!), but first day jitters will still be first day jitters.

A bit about the position I'm starting...
     - A mission that dovetails with my own personal moral compass!
     - People that seem super interesting and open
     - A chance to really learn both a new skill-set AND from colleagues

Unfortunately, I can't walk to work, but in the future, I may be able to bike to work, and that'd be pretty great.

I remember my first day of 7th grade well.  The day started when I met a certain red-headed nemesis. Upon walking in, she was holding court and announced, "Oh, I was hoping you were going to be someone else." (it did not much improve from there.).

BUT, I also met a bunch of amazing, funny, weird 8th graders.

In the end, I was victor, as I was voted Student Council President, she was unable to steal away my best friend (as if !), AND two of those amazing 8th graders I'm still good friends with today and they continue to enrich my life.

I'm convinced my new job will have no nemeses and a slew of 8th graders.  I'm not sure if that's because the organization is small, if it's because they are community focused, or if it's the draw of non-profit (translation: you will never be rich from this job, so you must really believe in the mission), but whatever the reason - I'm once again going to pack a lunch and bring a heaping helping of happy anticipation on my first day.

...in the off-chance you are in grade school or middle school and reading this - hold on!  It gets better in high school and it's a million times better in college.  The misfits are the ones who make life interesting.  Everyone will realize this when they are older and wish that they were friends with you.