June 2006 Archives

I posted that last entry on what, a Friday? I come home Monday to find a neighbor's National Geographic stuffed in my mailbox. Now, I have to say (on the looking for things that mean something front) that I have never seen, or noticed, anyone getting any subscriptions to National Geographic until now. It's not like they're strewn all over the entryway, and one was on the table of mail kind of lined up with my mailbox. They're never there. And there was one in my mailbox. It was the only thing in there.

I thought about taking it, and then I was like, no, there's one other one in someone else'e mailbox, and then this guy will be all, why didn't I get mine? And it might have gotten ugly. So I left it.

I conferred (sp?) with Kristin immediately afterwards. She said, well, I think you should take pictures for the Advocate, because, well, it's National Geographic. And I responded with the story about the time I went to see the psychic with a bunch of George's family, and the only things that I remember my dad saying were: Chi Chi, that the dog was with him and was okay, and that I needed to take more pictures. Specifically too that I needed to frame some black and whites, that my mom and I went through some pictures and found, and I think they're the right ones. So, that National Geographic in my mailbox meant to me, without thinking about it too much in that moment, that it wasn't silly to put the time and energy into something... frothy. Into being an artist. That I could be serious about it, and put the work into my website, and that it was worthy and real and important and okay. And that maybe, it wouldn't hurt to find out what National Geographic requires of its photographers or potential photographers.

I've been lazy / depressed / not sure which / not putting effort into a lot of anything, but it's shifting every day for the better.

My head's been full of snapshots today, of moments stuffed into the bottom of my bag, of hospital passes on bright yellow paper. I'm thinking in prose.

My mom has to go in Tuesday for an angioplasty. I would suppose that the best place to determine something is wrong with your heart is in a hospital, but still. She's not allowed to even like, go up and down the stairs. Her heart's not okay, and as the chemo started to really affect her body, the problems that were manageable got worse. I think I already wrote about how her toenails came off, and how her denture screws fell out, and now her heart - which has survived two heart attacks already - isn't too happy. She'll be in the hospital for about a week. I fucking hate hospitals. Mostly because it's the place where you roll the dice on whether or not you leave once you go in. That's pretty rare at like, Stop and Shop, or the Gap, or even Toad's Place or something. Hospitals suck and they smell like band-aids and all the nurses and doctors - unless you're one on one - are programmed to be indifferent to people crying in little piles in the hallway. It's their job to make this... well, a job. A job to be done well and cleaned up and then you go home and cook your chicken and you can't save everyone, especially not the girl losing her shit for eight floors on the west pavillion elevator, because it's not going to help anyone. People die. People get cancer. People go to war and don't come back. And some second shift nurse isn't going to save the world, and she knows it.

Photographer: 1
Hospital volunteer: 1

There's much more to follow. Stay tuned.

~vvb

I don't know if kristin posted her most recent entry before or after our conversation today, but I'm counting it as obvious.

I am financially hitting bottom. the slowdown of my job has been, while painful on my wallet, an exercise in flexing my spiritual muscles. leap, have faith, pay attention to your instincts, and start getting with Who You Really Are and What You Really Want Out Of Life. things I would have never paid attention to while I was busy stuffing money down my throat. so in a way, I'm grateful.

the end of the line comes today, thirty thousand dollars in debt between my credit card, my car, and a timeshare I can't afford to use. yes, it's true - when you make more, you spend more, so it's kind of like you make more money, but not really. until you learn about this part, or if you're lucky, you know all this going into it. I didn't. I was supposed to go up to boston on sunday to see kristin for a few hours in beautiful 75 degree sunday kind of goodness springtime everything's alive and happening weather, and I can't afford it. and lately "I can't afford it" means "I guess I have to put that on my credit card", and much to my dismay, they won't let me have any more money. I didn't know I was at the limit, I thought I had a good thousand dollars left.

wrong.

usually when work slows down like this, you run up your bills, and then it picks back up a month or two later. and you sigh with relief and pay everything back and throw a few grand in the bank and have some sushi to celebrate. except this time, it's been slow for months and months. I'm making about a third less than I did last year, and that wasn't much to begin with (in comparison with what this job generally supplies me with financially). now I'm at the point where I need over 30K a year just to pay my bills and eat (barely). not all of those expenses are permanent, of course, but they are for the next 3 years or so, and what I'm doing about it (read: nothing) simply isn't cutting it. I'm at the stage of the game where it's grow or go time.

I'm picking grow.

so, on that entry's lead, I'll start with hobbies and interests and talents and the like:

photography
writing
animals
the ocean
baking
being helpful
extremely organized (in an office setting)
music
good books
teaching
crafty kind of hobby stuff
I type fast
I'm known to be responsible and reliable

and what I want:

to set up roots in the community,
to feel good about my job furthering a sense of the greater well being at the end of the day,
to get a basic college degree,
to be able to afford to do the things that are hobbies - with the hope of eventually turning them into a career,
to have a career and not just a day job,
to work for / with good people,
to not get axed from an interview because of an industrial,

and that's about all I can think of right now. I'm sure if I checked all the boxes on some kind of career test, they'd tell me a few options to try out. but going on my own, what would I do (without boundaries)? be a photographer for national geographic. go work in some third world country building shelters. spend all my free time volunteering for indie labels and animal shelters. it's like, twelve different directions, all with the same bottom line - the one thing that I have figured out is that I do not want to do anything that is not furthering my sense of Who I Really Am in some way, shape or form. unlike some friends, I can do the office gig, but it's got to be for something real. an environmentally conscious architecht, a non-profit, a receptionist at an animal hospital, or something like that. a bookkeeper for a record label. a human resources department head for a magazine. you see what I mean.

so, we've filtered down what I don't want, and on some suggestions from some very wise people around me, I think I'm going to start of at the local community college in pursuit of a business degree. apparently you can take that into finance, management, schools, corporate environments... record labels... non profits... so that's a start. the application is going out in the mail tonight, and then I'll take my placement tests, and start small with like, english comp or something. check.

in the meantime, there needs to be a renewal in pursuit of my interests. go back to what I loved, keeping lists of songs on kexp and making mixes and checking out shows and taking pictures and meeting bands and so on and so forth. in addition to that, clean up the website and make some cheap business cards. there's not a whole lot I can afford to do in that arena, but I can catch back on fire about it, and maybe see if there's a photography 101 elective availlable. ooh! check.

baking? culinary arts? maybe... in the meantime, there's plenty to learn right in my own kitchen. and I have 5 nights a week of willing subjects to bring goods to, that will also cover most of the cost of my experimenting. check.

national geographic? that's what I always said I wanted to be growing up from a very small age. maybe that's because it's the only magazine that was consistently around my house, or maybe it's because I didn't know the phrases like "not likely" and "I'll never be good enough for that" yet. it's staying on the list, dammit. and I can visit the ocean, and maybe live near it someday. that one starts with paying the bills, which is the only way I'm going to get anywhere. I've got two calls into each of the cat shelters, and we've recently discovered a stray at matt's new place. I think she likes it there, because it's been a week or two now and she seems to be setting up shop. I'm calling her maggie. I have to stop at petco and scrape change to get her some basics.

so, at least it's out there. subject to change, pending a lot of different things, but it's out there. and it's a good start.

thanks, kristin. I'm sorry my irresponsibility and lack of direction are screwing up my visit, but maybe I'll learn this time. it's all part of opening my eyes back up - which is an explanation, not an excuse, but still. have a safe flight.

~vvb

apparently, I've got patterns.

most recently I've been advised of how when the plate gets full, I want to cut and run. work needed to become everything, so I backed off, but that was the good kind, because it's making me find out more things about myself. therapy started to feel like trying to fill up a cup past its capacity, so I stopped going. that's the bad kind. I have a hard time with my boyfriend, and all of a sudden I start second guessing the whole relationship. that's the bad kind too, except there, I kept showing up and dealing with what needed to be dealt with, and again, I start learning more things about myself and who I am and what I believe and what I'm okay with and all that stuff.

so I stop writing here alot and stop digging kexp full time because I get intimidated that I'm not brooklyn vegan, because they go to / review / shoot every single show and I'm not them and I'm not doing what they're doing and they're better so I shouldn't even bother. I won't make a commitment to a different line of work where I really have to apply myself, all the way down to I won't take guitar lessons, because I might suck, so I don't even start. this sounds strange, and not like me, and it's not, it's just a part of me sometimes - not even a lot of the time - but I've stil got to pay attention to it.

"I mean, for me, being in the frames is what I do -" I'm listening to a live glen hansard interview. go. now.

okay. wasn't that awesome? I can't wait for summerstage. I'll probably leave after they're done.

so, I have to persevere. it's like, shit, I'm fat, my pants don't fit, so I'm going to eat better today, and the next day, my pants still don't fit, so that doesn't mean I stop eating better, it means it's going to take a while. slow and steady, no instant gratification. and now, a little bit thinner and a little bit feeling better about myself, months down the line, it's worth it. that's my proof. that's my motiviation. this feels great, and more of these little deposits into the emotional bank account of victoria's well being is going to feel even better. but it feels like I'm at the beginning of the rest, and I'm going to need reminders that keep me going - I have to keep going.

I have to keep going.

devin davis played monday in new york. devotchka and norfolk & western are playing together on friday in northampton. I didn't go monday and I can't go friday. but sunday, july second I think, alexi murdoch is playing at the iron horse. ray lamontagne is in the middle of july sometime, frames in august, wrens in september.

I think it's coming back.

I was in the middle of another kexp mix and all the cds weren't available. I've got to follow up on that - it was a good one. stacks of cds to load in and file away and listen to more, and I just haven't gotten my shit together.

I get to see kristin on sunday. I don't have any money but I'm going anyway.

um...

summer's coming.

I think that's about it.

they're all saying "feck" and "cheers" and stuff. I've got to go listen to the rest of this.

~vvb

so I'm in the laundromat the other day, and these two grad students are talking about summer living and summer roommates and summer class projects. one of them is saying something about symposiums or symphonies or whatever, and the other one is talking about the people in her class / department going on a research trip to varying third world countries, something and something and aids research and I'm not sure where I'm going to wind up but it sure feels good to be making a difference, et cetera.

right. and I can't even scrape together consistent sanity (read: lasting more than a few hours) in my little corner of new haven, so I might as well go blow my head off. that, or I can feel good about recycling and taking some cool pictures and not running through life like some loser asshole.

I called the purr project and left a message. I need service work. I need them more than they need me, actually, and they have no fucking idea.

so it turns out I'm not alone with the crazy: I should have this and be here and know that by now, and it's a real drag being broke all the time, and I don't know if anyone else really feels like this... turns out at least one (well, one that I know about) person feels exactly the same way. it's like I was sitting in the car tonight, talking to myself a few months ago. and in writing out a long email about what I've learned in the struggle recently, I found out some wonderful things about myself. and that most of it is coming down to my spiritual path, which dictates perspective and gratitude and the level of good and bad self-everything and all that.

that's the super-abridged version. I learned tonight that I'm not alone, and we all feel a little bit not quite good enough, and that the common thread is how we invariably get back to restless, irritable, and discontent if we don't keep doing the work. the real work, the dirty work, not just the half kind. it really is about progress, not perfection. it really is about everything right now being enough, and that if we know we're doing the best we can, then we just have to be good to ourselves and ride out whatever is eating at us. and human instinctual drives are going to be fucking with us for quite some time, whether we like it or not.

and we're all right where we're supposed to be, whether we like it or believe it even - or not.

I've officially got the cutest cat in america, and a million things that show me who I am right in front of me. maybe I should go pull the pictures out of my camera.

here's to self awareness.

~vvb

remember when I talked about how things are really other things, but we don't always know? like, the ones that we do know are when jim morrison is val kilmer in my head, I went on this whole rant about it once.

so, I found it weird today, listening to people talking about a movie on npr, where a soldier receives a purple heart in the hospital - and I realized memorial day is about a three day weekend for most people. like how easter is about bunnies.

~~~~~~~~~

So I wrote that up the other day, and never quite finished the rest of the thoughts. I figured I should throw up some kind of update - I've just been alternately outside and not as caught up in my head as I've been. So writing and perusing all the dusty shelves in the recesses of my brain hasn't exactly been a priority - it's been nice to take a break from being so self-focused and introverted.

I'm thirty now. I wasn't last time I updated. That's like, on New Year's, when you're all telling people they'll see you next year, and it's like, the next day really... that's what that feels like. And if you hadn't noticed, the thought of thirty was bringing on a full fledged panic attack. Emotional heart palpitations. Nervous breakdowns. Sobbing in the car since the holidays, wondering if they were going to write a bell jar kind of thing about me...

And then, poof. Most of it subsides. A few hours on the last night of my twenties found me awake, lying in bed, feeling like if I didn't sleep that the next day would never come. And then a few hours into the first day of my thirties found me with my head up high. I look pretty damn good for thirty. I've been through a lot for thirty. Thirty is sexy and cool and grown up, in a good way, not in an old way. I'm going into this decade a whole lot healthier and aware and sane, I mean, experience notwithstanding I suppose a decade will do that to you regardless...

All that, and I look pretty damn good in my bathing suit for the first time in a long time. That's right, bitches. I'm making a comeback.

So not to be all, I've got nothing to write about because I'm not in a state of angst, but... I kind of want to go outside. I'm tired of mulling and examining and rehashing... I'll save that for the rainy days. The Frames are coming, and I've got tickets for Ray Lamontagne (13th row!!!), and I think I heard a rumor about The Wrens coming to Boston in September. All that, a Red Sox game at the end of this month, flip flops, and the sweetest boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. For a brief moment, I've got a quiet mind and I'm comfortable in my skin - so I'll try not to fuck it up.

Love and rockets,

~V.