Through the Tunnel

April 20, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Well, I suppose I’m better than yesterday. A number of
contributing factors. Met up with friends in the morning, got asked to go see a
play this Sunday, got asked to go to that Dharma Punx meditation group tonight,
made plans with a friend for tomorrow afternoon, made plans with a friend for
Sunday afternoon, got my thesis paperwork signed by the folks I needed and it was
confirmed that the last signature I need can
be gotten on Monday without penalty, was congratulated (even without the
uploading) that I will now have an MFA degree and that that’s an accomplishment
even if I don’t feel it right now, ran into my professor who’s helping me with
next Saturday’s workshop and got some details worked out, got my locker
combination from the sports center and put on the sneakers I’d hidden in there
almost 8 months ago, took a REALLY long walk through the awesome grounds at
school, had a lovely little conversation with a lizard, walked through the
school’s herb and healing plant tour, got some good rehearsal in for acting
class, had some good convo’s with student friends of mine, came home and wrote
the performance piece for May 1^st and really like how it turned out,
and then had a long convo with a great friend of mine.

So…. yes, things pass. I needed ALL of that to get through
the funk, and there’s still the lingering notes of Beethoven’s funeral march
playing in the back of my head, but I don’t feel quite nearly as pissy or whiny
as yesterday. This is good.

Plus, I’ll babysit for nearly all of today, and kids, even
though I’m always nervous to babysit for that long of periods (how the f can I
entertain kids that long!), they’ll help me get back into the more playful,
much less self-serious frame of mind.

There was an enormo orange cat perched on the garage
overhang as I was writing my morning pages this morning. I always try to get my
cat to notice these things, and tap vigorously out the window, but she rarely
seems to get it and thinks I’m just playing. D’ah, well.

Luckily, it feels, there’s really nothing more to report.
Getting through my emotional tornado was enough news for me. Oh, I also got a
few new books from the library before my scheduled phone call with this woman
who used to work at galleries, and now works for a law firm or something for
art and artists – i forget exactly what she does, but I wrote it down. I wrote a lot down.

We’ve been trying to schedule this call for nearly a year. I let the thread drop sometime in October, and finally picked it back up
this month. And we finally got to speak. She was really helpful and informative,
as I gather information about what jobs there are in the fine art world. She
asked why I was more interested in the art world than the writing world, and I
said, I guess I just feel so surrounded by writers, that I like the avenue of something
else. Plus, I told her that personally, I love painting because it gives my
brain an alternate route to process and develop things – she said to definitely
use that sentiment in interviews.

Plus, she gave me info on the other worlds of fine art. The
trifecta, apparently, is galleries, museums, and auction houses. She said that
my writing background shouldn’t deter me (as in my lack of fine art/art history
background), that as long as I “present well,” and do good work, there’s no
reason that this world should be prohibited from me. Which is great news.

So, now I have more info on jobs in that field, a website
for fine art jobs to check out, and a contact to run things by. She’s actually
a friend of my ex, and he’d put us in touch a million years ago, so, shout out
to him. I toyed with texting him my thanks, but figured the best thanks is to
just go forward with this work. He doesn’t really need to know. … As my ability
to let go of all outcome or response from him is limited, and it’s better that
I just leave it be. But I am hugely grateful.

A lot got done yesterday. My eyeballs are quite red and dry
from all the computer hours logged, so I’ll be glad to focus on kids today, the
most anti-computer screen-like things of all.

It’s just sloughing off the old, I suppose. Fear is normal,
but really, it’s just boogymen, and I have a massive flashlight powered by all
y’all. So, thanks.

frustration · progress · school · self-pity · writing

Veysmere.

April 19, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I called a friend yesterday to go over the content of the May workshop newsletter, and told her that I’d turned in my final copy of my thesis, and she
asked how I felt – if I was excited. Decidedly not, I replied. There’s all the
administrative rigamarole to go through before I can call this chapter of my
life closed. Turns out one of the professors won’t be on campus to sign off on my
thesis – literally, sign it – so I now have to see what my options are without
that signature as the thing is due tomorrow. But I’ve seen some chatter about
Monday being “okay,” but I have to find out.

I’m SO over it. Over it all. I don’t really give a crap. I’m
tired, and broke, and exhausted, and unhappy.

Like today’s blog?

Sorry for the Debby Downer moment, but
really, I’m tired of this crap. I get
that I graduate with a Master’s degree, but it doesn’t feel that cool anymore.
It feels like a lot of hoops at the moment, and I have no clue what any of it
will “get” me. I began lamenting in my morning pages the same, and then started
to write all the awesome shit that I’ve done and learned in the last year and a
half. How two years ago, I was in a job in a dysfunctional organization where
my position was going to be cut, and I made the decision, finally, to go back
to school.

I know that I’ve done a lot. But it doesn’t feel “worth it”
at the moment. I feel tired and lonely and despairing of what the fuck I’m
doing with my life. I feel … self-pitying, I suppose.

And I know some practical cures for it, and I know it’ll
pass. But right now, I feel like there are too many demands on me, and my
health is fucked up, and phooey.

You may know this isn’t typical for me. I do have some minor
tantrums now and then, but this moroseness and lethargy is not typical. I get
that it’s time limited, and “once xyz is done” then I’ll be better. But I’m
fucking tired of having to do xyz and THEN being better.

Once the thesis is handed
in.

Once the thesis is signed off.

Once the thesis is uploaded.

Once the school
workshop is done.

Once the May workshop is advertised.

Once the flyers are up.

Once graduation happens.

Once … what?

And then What?

It’s not delayed gratification. I’m not sure where the
fucking gratification is. It’s like some carrot on a stick. One more stupid
thing, and then I’ll be happy? Then I’ll know what the fuck to do with my life? One more stupid flight of fancy, and I’ll be stable and secure and loved?

What the fuck? I KNOW it’s all ridiculous, and I thank any
of you who have read this far into my pity party. But, … I am tired. I don’t want any more hoops. I want to be
done. I don’t want to feel so damn lost. I don’t have a fucking clue where I’m
going – what I’m doing – what I want to be doing – where I want to be doing it.
I feel like a toddler and a teenager, without the freedom of their
understandable childishness.

No, I’m not relieved that the stupid thing is done. I don’t
care a fuck about it. It’ll go on a shelf somewhere. Yes, I did it. But so the
fuck what? How many fucking people have Master’s degrees and PhDs and work for
f’ing starbucks. Literally. I went out yesterday, one of my two ventures off
this stupid couch, to get food for my cat, and the woman who works there and I
chat usually, and she said that THREE PhDs applied for her counter job the last
time they were hiring. A PhD. Selling cat toys. Wtf.

Yes, today will give me plenty of opportunities to move out
of or through this funk. Yes, even yesterday, I reached out to a few folks to
make happy plans, get out of myself and this poopiness. I know it’ll pass. I know
other people see it’ll pass, but in the moment, it’s just ass.

Thank you for coming to my pity party. I wish I’d gotten you
a hat.

(*Veysmere = Vey is mir = “woe is me” in yiddish. “Oy vey” is a shorthand.)

balance · performance · poetry · progress · self-care

Reframe.

April 16, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

In a stroke of inspiration, I have produced both
disappointment and excitement. Disappointment, as I’m not sure I’ll wear a nude
body suit for my Performance Poetry class final performance. Excitement, as I
think I know what my piece will be about.

As I’d mentioned, I needed to see if the whole brazen nude
body suit thing would be supported by the content of the work – why wear that
if you’re going to tell lyrical poems about cherry blossoms? This morning,
however, I believe I was struck with the inspiration paddle, and think I know
what my piece will be about.

Originally, it was to likely be about a woman’s relationship
with her body, how it waffles between ownership by self, and ownership by
others, including mainstream media, etc. But, I feel that I’ve covered a lot of
that for now in my thesis work, and although, sure, that’s an issue that’s
present or “up” in my life, as I began fleshing some of the new idea out in my
morning pages this morning, I think I’ve found something riper, funnier, more relatable,
and interesting. I’ll keep you posted.

I’ve started using a different morning pages notebook, as
I’d finished my last a few days ago. It’s thinner than the last, but much
larger pages, which equals much longer writing in the morning. (It’s also made
from post-recycled materials, so it’s not new growth trees being cut down so I
can write, I wonder what the Harry Potter
stars are up to now – which, yes, occurred this morning along with all the
else.)

I was a bit intimidated to be writing these 3 long hand
pages much longer – would I have enough to “fill” it? What more could I
possibly have to say. But I actually think this new length is just right for
me. It’s longer than the last, and is giving me the room to get further into
stuff before I wrap it up or end. Which is partly why I think my new idea for
my performance came about – there’s more room to work it out, and watch it
stumble across my page.

On another note. My friend left yesterday, and my little
space is my own again. Driving to the airport at 5am will a) make you
appreciate a rental car, and b) cause the skipping of my morning blog
yesterday, so please forgive. I was a bit pooped and outward energy depleted
from the trip.

It was very good practice, though, I believe. To wake up and
have a person there. To go to sleep and have a person there. Granted, on the
pull out couch, but still. I’ve been a solitary bird here in my apartment for a
long time, and having another human here … well, was interesting to notice how
I act and react.

Part of me is enormously proud that I got in most of my
morning practices, and I stayed within my spending plan for her trip, and
brought lots of snacks and meals with me so I didn’t have to eat out very much
at all. Part of me is very acutely aware of how other-centered I become in the
presence of someone a) so close to me, and b) who’s in my space almost 24/7.

But, the good news, is that I noticed it. And I began to do
my best to reign back in my codependency. I don’t need to complete your sentence. I don’t need to add in my two cents about your story with my own.
I don’t need to be thinking of
how to respond or what I’ll say next to keep the conversation interesting and
exciting.

It was hard, honestly, in the few times that I consciously
thought, I can let this thread lie. I don’t need to pick it up. It wasn’t that
I was being cold, or uncommunicative. But when there came moments when I
certainly had my opinion, or an alternate opinion, I didn’t have to voice it. I could let my friend state her opinion
or share her story without having to add in my own or contradict or augment
what had already been said.

Some moments, it felt to me like there was a huge, blatant
gap in the space when I was usually “supposed to” say something. And it felt
awkward and uncomfortable for a moment – within me. Surely, she didn’t realize
anything, and a new thread of conversation would be picked up immediately. But
I noticed. I noticed, basically, that I was holding my tongue.

Which, I suppose, leads me back toward my own center. I
don’t have to put out every idea or thought in my head. I can let myself rest
in the calm of a conversation, or someone else’s story. This isn’t a very
frequent habit of mine, usually. Although, I do tend toward the loquacious
side, with my friend from New Jersey, we’ve spent so many years as the other’s
half, it’s “natural” to want to just chitter chatter away. But, I realized it’s
exhausting.

She, again, was not asking me to contribute in a way that
was depleting. And it also comes back my former habit of accepting jobs I don’t
want, when they’re not asking me to give from my dregs. If I take care of my
center, notice that my focus is somewhere in between me and another person, me
and a job, and can bring it back to myself, and sit, sometimes in the
discomfort of not engaging in a behavior that leaves me feeling depleted, then I
get the chance to give from my best, and also, to simply rest in the
companionship of another person.

performance · poetry · progress · school

Of indeterminate weight

April 11, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I met with my thesis advisor for my last meeting with her
before I hand it in to the school library to be bound and put on a shelf with
all the other theses that won’t be read 😉 No, but really, I see the light at
the end of the tunnel finally. It sort of looks like a disco ball, or
headlights – in other words, it doesn’t look normal. But I suppose none of this
is normal for me.

The general feedback I got from both my advisor and my
faculty reader were both rather generic. One said, This is indeed a poetry thesis
(great, it’s not an aardvark). The other said, It was actually interesting
(great, glad you didn’t drool sleep spittle on it). But, really, I didn’t get
much constructive feedback, which is a) a little relieving, and b) not very constructive.

For all the work and mental crises, a check mark, basically.
But, c’est la vie. I have a few things that are room for improvement to
edit/revise before she sees it again for the final sign-off before April 20^th.
Also, I have it out to two poetic friends of mine for their eagle eyes on it –
for, hopefully, some specific feedback.

But, for all it is now, it’s a bit anti-climactic. Which, is
better than drama I suppose.

Drama will come both literally and figuratively in the two
final performances I’ll have in May. The performance poetry piece I’ll write
(….???) and the acting scene. I met with the poetry teacher yesterday to talk
about performance persona vs. character. Theater vs. performance art. And it
was helpful. If only to confirm that the “amped up version of self” that I
consider performance art is actually what he also means. He clarified that it
doesn’t mean to do as he does and dress as a chicano in drag with a sombrero
and a dog collar. That’s his amplified
version of self – for me to do something like that would be … well, who knows,
maybe one day – but for today, something else.

I’m not sure what the work will be about. But I know how
I’ll dress. If you remember from the Performance Persona blog, I said that the
most authentic persona I could be right now was myself – well, I intend to wear
a nude body suit, only.

I’d had this thought way earlier in the semester. Something
about both the vulnerability and yet boldness of it appeals to me. With so much
work that I’ve been doing to get comfortable with my body, present in it, a
part of it – well, why not?

The only stipulations the school has, he told me, was no
full frontal nudity. And he said he’d never tell me to pull it back. So, now I
need material that will warrant that. Do I need to go that far? Is it sensationalism? Does it matter?

I wrote a few poems for performance yesterday, but they
don’t have quite enough meat to support the visual. But like a great pair of shoes – sometimes you build the outfit around them instead of the other way around — and so I will just have to build a performance around this visual, costume/non-costume.

I had the strangest dream that two friends insistently brought me over
to do my laundry at my ex’s, and I was reluctant, as his new girlfriend
might be there. She wasn’t there, but he was on the phone with her, and I felt all
awkward, but everyone else seemed to think this was fine.

Random side-note.

friendship · gratitude · poetry · progress

Toodling Along

March 29, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, perhaps it’s the marked decrease in my caffeine intake,
but I feel pretty good. I’m about a 3 or 4 cup-a-day girl, and have been for a
very long time. But, since Monday, I’ve been trying to make… 1 cup a day. I’m
supplementing as much as I need with black tea – but that’s been not all that much. And although I was in bed at 8pm on Tuesday, and had a massive nap on
Monday, I’m wondering if the worst is over or not?

Partly, this is a health thing, partly this is a vanity
thing – I read a few message posts from people saying their skin cleared up
without caffeine, and as embarrassing as it is to say, I still have mild to
moderate bad skin on my back and shoulders, and have since I was a young
teenager. In fact, when I was about 13 and at summer camp, I was so embarrassed
to take of my shirt at the pool that I made up a story that my best friend had
recently drowned and now I had a fear of water. … I don’t think they bought it,
but I never had to go in. I will say, at this point in my life, I’ve given up the hiding – it is what it is, and I do my best, but c’est moi.

The health thing is pretty obvious. Despite the copious
amounts of water that I drink a day, it was recently suggested that I’m still not hydrated enough – Whaddya want me to do,
mainline it?? Caffeine is one of the main culprits in cancelling out my
hydration level.

And so, here we are. It’s an experiment, and we’ll see. But
I liked reading things like “I don’t crash at 3pm anymore” or “Once I was past
two weeks, I felt fine, like I had energy throughout the whole day.” I’ll let
you know.

Other things that may be contributing to my general sense of
calm or low brain activity may be:

I’m almost done with my poetry thesis draft, and will hand it in TONIGHT! It’s basically
a book, is what we have to turn in, and although there are some things that may
be objected to (“It’s not long enough”), I’ll take my chances with what I’ve
got. I actually -almost- like it. Although I’ve been washed overboard by some of the
emotions it arises in me at time, I’ve also found a few moments when I’ve
actually been able to look at it like an editor – with a mildly detached eye
from the content, and more to the flow, what works, what’s extraneous, etc.

That brings me a great amount of relief. And maybe was/is
what this whole project was about. To allow me to get to a place of detachment,
not rejection or dismissal, but of curious observation. Hm, that’s an
interesting poem. Or, yes, I remember that – I’m glad it makes a good piece of
work now. Sure, it’s still my experience, and at the moment it’s still got the
capacity to chuck me off my groundedness, but, I’m learning to dance with that
a little.

Coincidentally, I’m using the “20 minutes on – 5 minutes
off” technique I learned when I was training to be a live art model, although I
didn’t pursue that. But the technique works for writing for an hour (or an hour
and 15 minutes, to be exact). Enough time to get into the work, but not long enough to get mired by it.
And then, 5 minute break. Sometimes I’ve just sat and stared, glassy-eyed and
spun for the 5 minutes. Mostly, I get up, make tea, use the bathroom, move
around a bit. It’s been a useful technique.

And just to round us out, other things on my mind are pretty
positive: I am reading at a poetry/open mic on campus tonight – although what I’m reading I have NO idea, and I haven’t advertised
or invited people mainly because I’ve been so concerned about what on earth I’d
read – not sure if I want to read from my thesis or not, in a 3-5 minute slot, but I might. But I’ll
be happy to be up and out there again.

Also, today is the day that I perform my monologue for my
acting class. It’s Dennis Shepard’s speech from The Laramie Project, about Matthew Shepard’s murder in Laramie, WY back
in 1998. I still remember when it happened, a few folks in the class do, but
most are too young to know about it, being 10 years younger. But the teacher
chose this play, and we each chose a monologue, and I’ve actually, SURPRISE!,
been practicing and reading it over the last two weeks – as a marked difference
from previous auditions when I tried to cram the few days before.

And last, just to say, my very best friend, whom I’ve
written about here before, is coming out to visit from New Jersey in just two
weeks. I’m really excited. Also a bit nervous. 5 days in a studio apartment
with anyone is a lot, but I’m sure it’ll be alright. I’ve learned that
Enterprise Rent-a-Car is actually cheaper than Zipcar if you need it more than
4 hours, and it also takes a debit card, so we’ll be some mobile cats around this fair city.

So, that’s about it. Feeling generally good. A mite nervous
about what on earth I’ll read at tonight’s open mic, but I’m sure it’ll work
out just fine. (I’m even bringing my old chapbooks from last year’s Art Show to
sell – who knows!)

action · adulthood · finances · progress · self-care · surrender

Chaos Theory

March 20, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Chaos, perceived order, chaos, perceived order.

I won’t say “order,” because I’m not sure that’s exactly what
it is, but it sometimes looks like
order, in that things seem to make sense, and life is calm or happy, or the
check comes in time, or the person you were just thinking of appears, or the
trains all arrive just as you step down to the platform.

Order? Maybe.

My ferret brain is currently perceiving chaos. And
terrified, gnawing on its own limbs in visceral worry, that there will never be
order, even of the perceived kind.

I know that this is
part of the pattern of life – I’ve watched others go through it, I myself have
gone through it – but each time the chaos occurs, it’s like order never
existed; faith, calm, ease, joy, never existed, and never will again. We’re at
the end of days, and time’s up, and meter’s run out, and you’re screwed.

Do you ever get that?

Fear brain is in hyper-drive, and so the small action steps
I’m supposed to be taking are all the more important. My fear brain is stuck in
the gear of “you have no income, no prospects, no job, no career, no ambition
to a career, you’re lost and will never be found, and get used to asking for
handouts…again.”

Silly brain. I feel it. I get it. I am thrown by it, and
sometimes owned by it. Like today.

But, there are a few chinks in this armor of fear, and one
was an exercise in the Money Drunk, Money Sober book: “What would it feel like to let go of desperation? Explore.”

Hmm. Let go of desperation? Well, as I wrote in my Morning
Pages today, it’d feel like freedom, calm, availability, faith. It’d feel like
being open to what’s around me, the perceived order where coincidences do
happen, and help is available, and guidance is sure and strong.

To let go of desperation, would mean letting go of
smallness, isolation triggered by fear and financial insecurity (or fear of
financial insecurity). You know, “No, I can’t join you at that awesome event, I
don’t have any money.”

I was sent an email from a friend who I’m in irregular touch
with, so, it was rather unexpected. It’s for a job that my closed-off brain
says is too low paying, sounds too overworking, and is in a non-profit, which
usually means (or has meant in my experience) that half the time, if not more,
is spent on trying to beg funds from people.

I do that enough in my real life, eh?

That said, one of the other suggestions I read last night in
that book was: Step 1: Get. A. Job. And,
hello, applying to something is not the same as taking anything. And it would
be good for me to get off my high horse/pity-pot and just start to apply to
shit.

Cuz…here’s the fear brain ferret’s mantra: You don’t have
rent for May.

Here’s the recovery brain’s mantra: Next right action.

I have rent and all expenses for April, covered. I have
shelter, clothing, food (though in my typical pattern, I’ve scrimped on getting
to the grocery store this month, and thus have spent much more in eating out than
planned). I have this internet connection, hot water, shampoo, coffee, art
supplies, happy yellow rain boots.

Plus, I have all the resources of friends and fellowship
that I could want, if I avail myself of them.

There’s a line from another book which states something like
the following: Given the choice between going on to the bitter end, blotting
out the reality of our situation, and accepting help, we often balk at the
choice. Stall, hem and haw, measure our options.

Options: go to hell in a handbasket – OR – take an action
step. Hmmm…..

It is as much perceived
chaos as it is perceived order. There isn’t chaos here in my life at the moment
– there’s a tantrum. And a choice. I can give myself the gift of clear
direction, and let go of desperation by taking action. Or, I can continue to
pin abundant affirmations to my walls and discount unexpected emails.

My best ideas continue to send me to the edge – may I now
please accept a different solution?

commitment · community · progress · recovery · self-care

Scatterbot

March 19, 2012 Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I dunno why. Sounds about right. Scattering parts of me
hither and thither. My apartment reflects that disarray most of the time. And as
I’ve written, the disparate parts of me are scattered. And my thesis, scattered.

I mention it today, as one of my action items is to print
the last 9 pages that I’ve written and consolidate them into the whole. This
isn’t like tacking them on to the end, that’s not the way my thesis is written
– not linearly. It is more like a collage, and I have to figure out what makes
these disparate pieces a whole.

As you can imagine, this is as – if not more – metaphorical as
it is literal. And I’ve been stalling. Not long, just a few days, but long
enough to notice. I went to the local library to print out the 9 pages, and a woman
was on the computer, so I waited about 5 minutes, and left. And, it’ll be time
for me to do that again today – but, uh, stay
this time, and print them out.

It’s like … gluing an old vase back together. You’ve hung on
to the pieces because you couldn’t bare to chuck them; and so you’ve lost some
of the little bits that used to create the whole. But I notice the missingness
of the vase.

I’ve asked a girlfriend of mine from school to take a look
at it once it’s in order, and to read it with an editing, writerly eye. She’s
agreed, and I feel safe and comfortable showing the work to her – she’s been in
workshops with me, and I trust her eye on my work – she gets it. Plus I respect
and love her writing, which is helpful in a partnership of this sort. So, I’m supposed
to get something – by my own deadline – to her by Friday. The end of Spring
Break – which, doesn’t look much different to me than any other week, except
I’m not on campus two days this week.

The other thing I have to unscatter for tomorrow are my
numbers – I meet with someone weekly to talk through financial clarity and do
some work, and it’s my self-imposed deadline to load all my numbers into my
spreadsheet before I meet with her – as when I was only doing it monthly, it
felt too vague, like I really didn’t know what I had to spend or had spent in the categories
I’ve designated.

I also have an “action partner” now. It was suggested to me
last week that I get an “art action partner,” but as I was talking with my
friend last night, we agreed, they’re pretty much the same thing in our lives.
So, I have someone who I’m emailing now daily the tasks I’ll do today – like
the printing and the numbers – and then, theoretically, I’ll email her tonight
to let her know what I’ve done.

We’ll see how it goes. We’re playing the structure of it loosely, but I know
I need a daily list at the moment. My fear is causing my lack of structure to
dissolve into procrastination and paralyzation. (The three “P”s, I’ve heard
are: Perfectionism, Procrastination, Paralyzation.) So I’m trying to head the
cycle off at the pass by creating a structure where babysteps are acknowledged
and doable… and accountable.

It is by baby steps that I won’t fuck it up, basically.
Inaction has the same result for me as too much or big action – taking an
outsized step, and falling, and then feeling like See, I can’t do it. When in
reality, it just was an outsized step for where I am in my development, and I’d
set myself up to fail.

I’m looking forward to some of this structure, because I
feel like by standing on the foundation of it, I feel supported, and like I’m
taking estimable acts.

Scatterbot, powering down. Gathering time, commence.