My Daily Mind Trap: Mixing Writing and Life

A pattern I have been paying particular attention to since I started this blog was the concept of mixing different forms of art with each other or something else altogether.  I see this pattern of doing things–mixing– popping up more and more.  I think, though, that it’s always been there, and for some reason my attention can’t help but attach itself to mixed things.  I found this piece that I wrote about my frustration with my daily thoughts I constantly had in college.  At the time, I was literally venting to the page to suck it all out of my head and free myself of my very own mind prison.  Now when I read it, I see the simple honesty of life and feel a sort of affectionate feeling towards it because it put my hell into words that I could actually see.  Something about that validated me.  It opened me up to self-acceptance and peace.

Mind Trap

“I have to wash the dishes before I leave.  I imagine the way my kitchen is when it’s clean:  the 1940s cabinetry and hardware, as well as the two foot by two foot counterspace with dish ridges, are sparkling clean.  I feel nothing on the floor when I walk, there is no clutter.  I look around and there are clean dishes on the 2 X 2 counterspace and dirty dishes in the basin of the sink.  I lift up my feet and they are black and are sprinkled with stray crumbs.   My kitchen table/desk is a landscape of papers, stacks of Post-its, two oranges and lemon pepper, “Irresistible Apple” lotion, a camera, bright pink Kalanchoe, potted Spearmint, purple and yellow flowers my boyfriend brought me on my birthday, a desk organizer that is spilling forth bills, receipts, recipes, important papers, a dollar bill, a business card and a band-aid.  A sharp, warm anger soaks my sternum and I feel frustrated and hopeless.  Franticly, I try and put everything in it’s place.  I put the dishes away and sweep the floor.  I can Swiffer when I get home.  I have to wipe the counters.  That chair in front of the window by the microwave bothers me.  There is no room for it at the table.  I can’t wait to move out of here.  I am going to miss it here. 

 

I need to drink water.  I will also make green tea.  I already had coffee.  No more coffee.  I cut back to one cup a day.  I don’t even care, or need it now.  Thank god I no longer need to buy cigarettes. 

 

Wake up.  Sit at computer and drink my one cup of coffee.  Make breakfast:  oatmeal, toast and peanut butter or scrambled eggs.  Eat the fruit first to obtain their full benefits.  Go to the gym.  Do cardio for 20-60 minutes depending on the day and my to-do list.  Maybe lift weights.  Rush home, take a shower.  Find some clothes to wear.  They are stuffed in my tiny closet, but mostly tangled up in each other in a plastic laundry basket on top of some sheets.  That really bugs me, every time.  I will organize it when I get home from class.  I am going to be late.  I organized it on my birthday, because it’s something I’ve been wanting to do.  Now it’s tangled in itself again.”

“No matter how powerful we are as a species with our technology, we are still at the mercy of the clouds.”There Goes The Weekend! Pinterest, Instagram And Netflix Down Due To AWS Outage [Updated] – TechCrunch

http://m.techcrunch.com/2012/06/30/there-goes-the-weekend-pinterest-instagram-and-netflix-down-due-to-aws-outage/

Last night I went to Kay’s, a dive bar where my roommate wanted to go to play darts.  I was tired, but wanted to get out of the house since my recent illness was making me stir crazy.  We sat at a wooden table, surrounded by neon signs and thunderous laughter.  A woman behind us teetered in wedge heels and almost took a spill.  I watched her try to save herself but even more so– her ego.  She turned to the man she was with, who was also watching, and awkwardly grinned.  I tried not to look.  Waiting for the momentum of the night to pick up, I took a picture of one of the neon signs to upload to Instagram as a memento and note to my friends about what I was up to.  I watched the blue swirls and anticipated seeing “Done!” on the screen, but all I saw was “failed.”

That’s ridiculous.  The internet must be busy.  I tried youtube and facebook, expecting a long delay.  They seemed to be working just fine.  I hit refresh.  fail.  refresh.  fail.  No matter how many time throughout the night I tried, all I saw was fail.  I began to go mad.  I couldn’t believe I was so neurotic about Instagram!  But I was.  And you probably were too :).  So now, we wait.

 

La Belle et la Bête

Video

I was just introduced to this today– a modern take on “Little Town” from Disney’s 1991 Beauty and the Beast– which I didn’t know was based on traditional fairy tale first published in 1740. Disney apparently had a RENAISSANCE period!? My hat is off to you, Mr. Disney, because you just upped your cool factor in my book.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2012/06/120629-leap-second-weekend-science-time-utc-atomic-clocks/

These kinds of things always make me wonder what other (bigger) kinds of issues we could run into as a result of superfluous production of and reliance on technology. I get scared sometimes for a second, and then block it out!

The Art of Mixing Procrastination and Productivity

“Don’t just do something, stand there.”

Christopher F. Chabris recently reviewed Frank Partnoy’s book Wait in the Wall Street Journal, which brought up another point about how mixing two unlikely things, procrastinating and productivity, can bring success.

I can’t help but think of the anxiety that comes when I have to make a big decision, or complete an important task.  The act itself seems like a brick wall, standing in front of me and keeping me from happiness.  Sometimes, I dread looking at it, but the longer I live, the more I realize that it’s like a band-aid.  The thought of peeling it off is worse than actually doing it.  At the same time, actually waiting to act or decide often yields positive results.  Chabris notes that  Partnoy’s examples

“range widely, and so does the time scale of the delay involved: the elite baseball hitter’s ability to wait the extra milliseconds to ‘find’ a pitch; the comedian’s ability to wait a few seconds to deliver a punch line; the skilled matchmaker’s advice that blind daters suppress their snap judgements and wait a full hour before deciding whether they might want to go on a second date…”

What intrigued me the most was the Post-It note example.  Post-its were actually first invented as bookmarks with adhesive that would not leave residue on pages.  The bookmark market was too small and after hanging onto the idea for 12 years, employees started writing notes on them… and well, you know the rest.  It’s funny– I use post-its to write to-do lists and notes for things to remember.  Many times, I end of losing the notes when they become buried under more lists and documents that I take out of my box at work.  So there– a genius idea born from procrastination yields more procrastination– right?

When I write those things down, the ideas are not forgotten.  I know they are stored in my subconscious because they sit there brewing.  After some time, the snowball effect takes place.  The idea sits at the top of my mind and rolls down the snowy slope, gathering mass and speed as it tumbles down and out into the world.  While this is happening, my brain somehow comes up with the best way to put this idea into action.  It’s perfect.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052702304765304577478583807992886.html?mod=googlenews_wsj

Cristian Mihai

I began writing in my most vulnerable years. I was dumb and arrogant, as most teenagers seem to be, and I did my best to pour greatness into every sentence I wrote. But I was also lying to myself, writing about what I didn’t know, pretending to know, and I got caught and people could see that I wasn’t willing to let them in – I  was building this wall to protect my true self from anyone who would be searching for it behind my words. There was nothing that belonged to me in the stories I wrote.

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Mixing painting with music, graffiti, and… cars? Yes.

Pseudonymus

Miss Nielly was born in the south of France, and got the sense of space and  construction from her architect father. She has always been a woman of images. Françoise says that “South France is very alive as an experience inside of me. Maybe it is what led me to the use of fluorescent colors in my paintings”.

She is a very passionate woman, but never shared love with another human. Somehow, she says, painting may be the love of my life; and as in every couple relationship it’s a moving territory with high and lows, fights, weariness, desire, fire and water. It can be exhausting, exhilarating, boring, fun, sparkling… whatever i go through with it, i just can’’t stop loving it.

Colorful, Brutal, Energetic, Passionate, Surprising, Free, Sexual, Explosive, Crazyness. All of these are word that describe Françoise Nielly and her art. Françoise is a deeply experienced artist…

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