You can tell a lot about a person by the things about which they blog

On the way to my art class tonight, I stopped at Moe's Southwest Grill for dinner (think Q'doba or Chipotle style food). Anyway, I was looking at the walls because I was eating alone, and I read all the sayings Mr. Moe thought kitschy enough to make into mandatory franchise wall hangings. The one that caught my eye and has been repeating in my head for most of the night is,
"You can tell a lot by the way a person dips their chips."**
Now, I am no philosopher, but I have been pondering this for a couple of hours, and have a few high-order questions. Like, what can you tell about a person by watching them dip their chips? The same thing you can tell about a person by what shoes they wear or if they like dogs or cats better? Or is that different? Would you be more worried if the common expression was "You can tell a lot by the way a person eats" or "You can tell a lot by the way a person drives" (the guy who called today after I scheduled him for a job interview was real worried that his driving record might keep him from getting a job... what does that mean? Is he then inherently reckless, dangerous, impulsive, paranoid?)? And if I venture to make observations about the way you decorate your bathroom, does that mean that I am more prone to make a judgment about you? You know, that Sally, she chose a puke brown sink, so she will never amount to anything. What????
Let's take for example even a slightly rational saying: "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their mother." We might sympathize with this, nod in agreement, maybe relate to it. We can say, people who are nice to their mothers are generally good and kind-hearted. Except though for people who don't have mothers, or who have socio-pathic mothers who don't deserve to be treated nicely, or who for whatever reason do not observe cultural or societal mores about how we were raised to treat mothers (pretend somewhere else it is acceptable and even encouraged to smack your mother on the hand to show affection, and that is perfectly acceptable and right and good and loving, while we, due to our cultural ignorance, treat it as contemptible behavior... then who's treating their mother right?). Further, the opposite may be true. We may think a "bad" person must be so in all aspects of the characterization, until we discover that some murderers are wonderful to their mums. Then what's to be said? "He/She is a terrible person and therefore he/she must treat his/her mother poorly." No! It cannot be applied either, because herein again lies the fault of not being able to know very much about a person by isolated actions and instances. So maybe you can't tell so much about a person by how they treat their mother or even dip their chips.
I am therefore exclaiming that I know very little about any persons on account of this and other impossibly simple ways of characterizing them. I can't even tell a lot about myself by the way I live life.
As evidence, I will post a poem to unprove what I had thought true about myself before, namely that I could not ever dare to reveal such sexy and scandalous personal writing. But here it is, a poem I wrote this week. I am not saying it is good, it just kept me awake and I had to write it, and it is further unsettling the theorem that you can tell a lot about the person by the stuff about which they write, even if it is just to get it out of their head and have a peaceful night's sleep. You might still venture to say that I am a lovesick crazy mo'fo, but you wouldn't be able to prove that anymore than I can.

He whispers, from behind,
I want to make love to you.
His hands inch down to my pelvis
As I lean over the stove
Cooking everything on high,
The gas-fueled flames licking the pots
And I let them boil over and brown.

He declares, from afar,
I want to make love to you.
His hands inch down to his own pelvis
As I curl up in my bed,
Letting everything simmer within,
The love-filled pangs searing my heart
And I let it blacken and char.


** (from above): as a former English major, I have to clarify, that since "person" is singular, it is not really correct to say "they." It is correct to say, "You can tell a lot about a person by the way she/he dips her/his chips." And that is still not ideal if we are dealing with a person who does not fit into the he/she gender category.
Note: I have not yet deconstructed the meaning of "you can tell..." Is that tell in the sense of determine, observe, say or gossip? As in, you can gossip a lot about a person based on the way she/he removes a big black something from her/his teeth at a dinner party. In that special semantics case, I may be prepared to defend the saying. I can gossip a lot about the way a person talks to me on the phone, among other things.

Moral: be glad that I do not analyze things, strategically or otherwise, for a living, only when multiple hours in front of a computer screen has otherwise rendered me useless for life. However, if anyone reading this is interested in Strategic Analyis, please consult me for a possible career path.

Memories

This morning I got up fairly early and walked down our one-lane road to see my grandmother Betty. She was pleasantly surprised to peak through the curtains on the door to see me yelling at my mutts to "Get down!!!!" and she let me in for an hour-long chat.
There's no telling how we got on the subject now, but she started telling me how she used to live in the small house on the corner and that was where her 3 year old sister contracted measles, later got pneumonia and then died. She continued by describing her only memory of the funeral; viewing the small casket through two large windows at the front of her grandfather's house.
While on the topic of funerals, she exclaimed that this year will mark the 18th anniversary of my grandfather's death. She asked me how old I am to be able to calculate, and we concurred that I was too young to remember too much about Royce Daddy. Enblazoned in my mind is a photo of me, my brother and my younger cousin Alex sitting in our best clothes on the porch swing, not understanding the gravity of the ceremony we had just witnessed and why everyone we depended on was crying. She asked me if I recalled much about her husband, and I related that my one real memory is of getting bit on the nose by his dog Buck. Actually, I remember from stories that I was on the front patio playing alone, and that for some reason the hound dog bit me, and that my screaming prompted both my Dad and my grandfather to rush out to my aid. My Dad carried me in and everyone inside looked after me, and when I had calmed down I asked where my grandfather was, and then fretted because my parents told me he was outside beating the dog. Pretty graphic I know... it is interesting to me that I am still concerned about the dog, and impressed with my grandfather's rencor with an animal that would dare to hurt one of his grandchildren, and unaffected by whatever wound I suffered.
My Mom and Dad also shared shoe-shining memories; my Mom was polishing her shoes and then polished the shoe-shine box, and my Dad shed light on the origin of said box. He received it for Christmas from his father when he was seven so he could earn a dime per pair shined and my Mom countered that he got the short end of the stick, since she was given a quarter for every pair she shined (including the pair of her father's shoes to which she applied shining liquid to the leather soles as well, making a slick surface on which to walk).
I wonder a lot about the stories I will tell future generations, if they will seem as foreign and ancient as the ones I have heard today, if our way of life will be fairly incomprehensible due to all of the changes that are constantly occurring. I want to be able to convey more than a couple of images or motifs; I want to be able to recreate a little of my world so it is not lost like these stories that haphazardly come up in mundane conversations. I wish there were some way to preserve all of the memories that my grandmothers and parents and aunts and uncles have stored inside, especially including the senses of deja-vu, the sights, sounds and smells that trigger the past and cause it well up inside them, when they can only hope for someone to listen to the legends of their youth, lives, loves and losses.

Working Girl

Today I reported for temporary duty at a local corporation (anyone else think that is an ironic pairing?) after being called in a bit off the cuff on Monday when I was on my way to Lexington for fun and poetry. I did manage to squeeze those things in before starting by jabbering endlessly with Carrie, downing a couple of pints and being amazed by Saul Williams and some UK student-poets, and now my life has changed. Actually, it is not all that dramatic, but instead of being farmed out to one of the many departments, I am in Human Resources and learning all about hiring people. I will be assisting two great women in something, as I have passed all of the computer proficiency exams (thanks be to my thorough undergraduate education!!) and plan on showing up tomorrow. I am most looking forward to lunch break, the office gossip and the swivel chairs. Really, it should be quite bearable and neat, and pays in dollars, which is a real perk.
It is a welcome opportunity, considering that today I was finally informed of the outcome on the OTHER job: "Thank you for interviewing for the SOS position. All of us were impressed with not only your experience but also all of your positive energy. As you know, there were many candidates for this position and you were among the top three. While we loved your background and abilities, we ended up choosing a person who could give us a multi-year commitment. It was a difficult decision and we hope you understand."
I can't say that I'm broken-hearted. They made me feel good about myself, and even better that I am not the one making a MULTI-YEAR commitment. I just can't swing that yet, and I have majorly ridiculous adventure plans coming up soon (after the paychecks start rolling in) which include a lot of art, travel, writing, new acquaintances, friends and soon-to-be disclosed project for combining them all. Stay tuned for that.
Also today, I visited the Kentucky Museum for Art and Craft, bought supplies for my acrylic painting class and ate Cuban food for dinner with my family (washed down with a -singular- sangria made by a lovely Venezuelan woman). What treats in this life!
But, now it's almost 10:30 pm, two hours later than my retiring time last night, and I have to join all the worker ants in the march to the work colony early tomorrow. So, adieu for now.

A Series of Fortunate Events

I just read the poem that Carrie sent the FJ:

We must become ignorant
Of all we've been taught,
And be, instead, bewildered.
Run from what's profitable and comfortable
If you drink those liquors, you'll spill
The spring water of your real life.

Forget safety
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation
Be notorious.

I have tried prudent planning
Long enough, from now
On, I'll live mad.

Then, I received an email reply from a glassblowing studio in a small town outside of the capital city of Oaxaca, in Southern Mexico, where they use recycled glass to make cool wares and try to keep the studio as sustainable as possible. They are evidently willing to train me.

Then, I ate a Dove Chocolate that commanded me to "Do Something Spontaneous."

And, prior to that, I never heard back from the job that I had really thought I wanted.

I took an informal survey of all opinions expressed to me by friends and family concerning my decision between a stable job here or a leap into art and further foreign travel, and it weighed strongly in favor of running "from what's profitable and comfortable."

Further, I finished Narcissus and Goldmund and rejoiced in the triumph of the wandering artist, who lived a life full of adventure, suffering, hardship, discovery, passion and illumination that led to him being contented in the culmination of his creations and deep understanding of the world and sacred feminine.

And, I have had the fortune of being advised by numerous established older people who have lit up upon hearing of my adventures and admonished me to travel without hesitation.

Fortunate, indeed.

To the FJ, Feliz Dia del Amor y Amistad

I have been reading a lot lately since I am unemployed and cannot make crafts at all hours of the day, and I have discovered that once you suppress the feelings of guilt at being so self-involved, it works out well. I am currently in the middle of Narcissus and Goldmund, by Herman Hesse, loaned to me by Carrie, and Ten Stupid Things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives, by Dr. Laura Schlessinger. The former is the story of a friendship between two men who couldn't be more different, as one, Narcissus, is driven by his masculine side, and the other, Goldmund, by his feminine side. Goldmund wanders around homeless making love to women and becomes an artist, which explains a lot about me and my choices as a female. I love it.
The latter was checked out of the public library by my mother, who wanted to preview it to decide if it would be helpful for one of my cousins who is having real problems deciding if her fiance is the man she really wants to marry (no one else seems to think he is). I grew up listening to Dr. Laura's radio show on the way home from school in the afternoons, and I have never forgotten the self-proclaimed voice of reason that speaks into the lives of women who have concentrated all their life energies into a man (who usually is a bum or a louse, as it would seem). I haven't made it past the first chapter, but I want to share something from it:
"It just seems such a tragic waste to see young women suffering needlessly by having no independent goals, to observe them acting so stupidly. I can't tell you how many twenty-something women I've talked to over the years who are furious with the young men in their lives who don't want to get married just yet because they're working practically full-time getting their education and/or building their careers. If you're one of those women, take his hint-- or follow his example! Because, as I've said, men do have traits we'd be smart to adapt."
Now, I cannot speak for the rest of the book, but what I draw from and appreciate about what I have read so far is that she posits that women can and should do many things for themselves aside from hinging her whole life on a man, although she celebrates the positive qualities of men. My Mom asked if I thought the book was helpful, and I said that I think my friends and I are a bit outside of the target audience as we all have our big ideas, strong opinions and wild dreams, plus an insatiable sense of adventure. Now, that doesn't mean we don't have some pretty sweet lovers, but our lives can exist independently (case in point: long-term separations that don't kill the relationships) and we are still free and confident enough to pursue what makes us happy, like teaching English and environmental education, working with high-need populations, writing, drawing, reading, traveling, serving others, learning languages and supportive friendships that will carry us through it all. And we realize that we can learn a lot from boys, but that we most need to learn to be and love ourselves, since we that's who we never will be able to escape. So, cheers to my beautiful friends and all the women who find inspiration and power in being female and having male partners who support but do not consume them.
Sort of related, the woman who is teaching my adult education acrylic painting class, Laura Parker, is facilitating a "state-wide contemporary art exhibition about growing up female in Kentucky." So, all my talented friends, you have until May to submit your writings, art or music for the project. See the blog: http://kygirlhoodproject.blogspot.com/
Lots of love to you, today and always.

Number One Stunna

I am bypassing my anxiety to post my first blog entry ever, since all my friends are doing it and they are utterly inspiring and interesting people. I thought I wouldn't have anything to write about since I am no longer in a foreign country, but in my hometown of Louisville, Kentucky. But then I got to thinking about how someone from another country could be reading this, and my bluegrass life and frenetic personality would definitely be foreign enough to make this worthwhile. Also, my glass-blowing instructor told me I am traveling in glass and relating my adventures to my far-away friends (it sounded better when he said it). That may, then, be the purpose of this... to explore my artistic activities and reverse culture shock as a journey too.

Just so you know, because I have some new friends who only know me by stories they have heard, and other friends that I have not told much to, I am seriously contemplating jumping into art and trying to make it a lifelong endeavor instead of a short-lived hobby. I started out making jewelry when I first moved to Puebla, Mexico about a year and a half ago, when I was teaching English classes to artisans and hung around afterwards to watch them fashion their crafts. So I got some supplies like wire and pliers and picked up broken pieces of glass from the roadside, and started making pendants and earrings and such. That has evolved to include more beads and stones from Mexico and Asia, and I am starting to do more collage and layered work. I am borderline obsessed with glass, and wanted to take the reusing to a dimension beyond merely smashing colorful wine bottles, so I am saving up for a blow torch to start melting it down into custom-made pieces.

Since I returned from Mexico in December, I have been in a weekly glass-blowing class where I have learned to blow ornaments, cups (a bit lopsided, but thoroughly functional), vases with pulled edges, a giant kiss and a miniature gravy boat (a welcome accident). Also, this Saturday, I talked my mom into going to a one-day glass fusing workshop with me, and I think I may have discovered something that I could dedicate guiltless years of my life to pursuing. Fused glass is cold glass that has been pieced together to make a design or image and then heated in a kiln to close to 1500 degrees F until it fuses together. After that you can take the piece and put it over a mold, heat it again and let it slump into a new shape to make a plate, vase, dish, etc. It is wonderful not only because the glass is so colorful (you can use matte, metalic burnished, patterned or translucent glass in a rainbow of choices), but also because depending on how you piece it, fuse it, slump it, and decorate it (with stringers, confetti, copper, frit, etc.), it always comes out differently. It is also perfect for making jewelry pieces.

Also, I am looking into learning metalsmithing to be able to set stones and glass in silver. There is this great school in the Estado de Mexico, and you should check out your website and then encourage me to go. Here it is: http://www.escueladisenodejoyas.com/Galeria.html

Aside from glass, I am attempting to sew my own clothing and bags, although I am still not too proficient with the machine. I am a good hand sewer, but let's face it... that takes forever.

As for Mexico, I am pining for it and can't wait to go back and visit Central and South America, too. However, I am waiting to hear about a job that I am in the running for with SOS, a nonprofit in Louisville. Here is their site, and it is worth looking at even if they find someone they like better than me. http://www.suppliesoverseas.org/ If they do not hire me, I think I will start traveling again, and if they do, they are setting up some connections in Nicaragua and that will keep me connected for the meantime.

That's all I have for now, and it's about 41 degrees so I am going to see my horse before the temperature drops again.