out classed

 

presidential view

 

I’m feeling the tension of transparency. Talking points are not on a spectrum of disclosure.

Sometimes I wish I had the luxury of ignorance but that sounds incredibly pretentious.

I fear the (inevitable) numbness of privilege that’s associated with moving up a class. There are doubts tangled around every conversation and the heavy dread of diminishing self-confidence is illogical but still it lingers.

Assumptions of belonging are dangerous.

Watching those with privilege and wealth access opportunity and exercise their option of choices while ignoring the reality of the majority is a melancholy pursuit. Do you spy what I spy?

Did you feel your heart sink when the rich white man uprocked the evening designed to honor women? The crowd cheered; some even had tears. The injustice was ignored because of the $100k donation and the women danced on the sacrifices of those who had come before them.

Perhaps what I’m really feeling is the tension of working within a broken system where hope is a commodified ideology. Or it could be the looming holiday season of forced consumption. Or it’s the slow realization of not fitting into a place that was never designed to accommodate you in the first place. ¬†There are many hypotheses to consider for the sadness of consciousness.

Recording

Recording every minute of your life can make you instantly nostalgic. I haven’t figured out if I enjoy that feeling of memory or I’m afraid that if I don’t write it down, I’ll forget. Both are satisfactory to me.

 

Ephemera matters

 

Here are some things that happened over the past few weeks:

  • Printing prints with numb fingers
  • Mad dress, gold shoes & ripped shirts
  • Rocking chairs & a softer hair of the dog
  • Sexual terrorism memorialized in a museum
  • A 54 year streak, broken
  • Those who were formerly known as “tea baggers” (never forget) rode a gendered Trojan horse to the mobs.
  • Rejected at the first hoop signaling my exit
  • Out of control plate of charity donuts

The rainy season has started. You plan for it, sometimes you even wish for it. Your eyes eventually adjust to the fading darkness. Looking for new perspectives, new ways of seeing, is my urban hiking goal.

Winter accomplishments this year will include cataloging subtle similarities and observing wide ranges of differences through photos and random epiphanies. Writing every minute down is not the goal. The goal is to live one’s life.