Different view

While reading the recent issue of Juxtapose Magazine, an article on the Federal Arts Project pulled a quote from Willem De Kooning on his experience with FAP:

“I changed my attitude towards being an artist. Instead of doing odd jobs and painting on the side, I painted and did odd jobs on the side. My life was the same, but I had a different view of it.”

It takes 28 days for new neuro pathways to form, and 30 days for new habits to kick in, so here’s to 28 days of cementing a new thought and 30 days for new actions.

Hiking meditations

Cucamonga Peak hiking

I’ve been hiking more. When I was in Japan, I would arrange those trips and get a handful of people who were always down to go. I would look at a map, pick a mountain peak, see if there was some kind of trail nearby, and then go. It was something for me to explore the bits of Japan that were overlooked and it felt assuring that I can connect with my friends through a common activity.

I like that I have that time to think in those stretches of dirt, concrete, boulders, and foliage – it’s a meditation for me while not having to sit still. That I’m still moving forward to somewhere, even if eventually I have to come back down.

A few weeks ago, I hiked up Cucamonga Peak with a group of people who were hiking fanatics. They were training for a backpacking trip around Mt. Whitney portal, but I was aiming to clear the 6-pack peak challenge.

I still had those out of breath moments, those burning muscles that only get used from hiking upwards for five and something hours. But, this time I had aches in my joints. I had pain in my ankles and knees, my hands felt more swollen…and a twinge of fear perked up.

My parents have arthritis and my mom has more severe symptoms. She has rheumatoid arthritis, which causes severe swollen and pain in the joints. It can be caused through genetic and environmental factors, although, exact causes aren’t clear (x).

So that fear came out of me that this might be the start of it. Hiking up mountains and taking on these activities. A process of getting older, maybe. A process of genetic factors, also a maybe. I started wondering how much longer I can do this. I started limping because I couldn’t put too much weight on my right leg since my knee was acting up. I felt a dull pain complaining in my hip flexors most of the day. And then thinking about how my mom lived with her ailments…and the possibility that I would live through that…and then how selfish I must be for thinking just about myself and my imaginary future pain while she is still living with hers.

I still made it to the peak, fog and mist and all. I still made it down, with the rain and clouds following us all into our cities.

Checking in

ConnieWonnie.com

I’m at the half year mark of 2015, and I’ve dwindled on my blog writing. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to do with this site, whether it was a melange of a journal to keep track of what I’ve done along the way with my progress of being a “writer.”

Then that nagging in my back of my head that all of this is public, and whatever it is that I write down will be out in the open. But that nagging just comes from an old voice trying to hold me back, so that voice just needs to sleep so I can move on.

But it’s interesting trying to define what a writer is for me. Freelancing opened up questions of, what kind of writing should I do? Since I was starting out, I just took whatever assignments I could get that paid.

Then through those jobs that I’ve picked up, they’ve pushed me to other positions away from being a writer. Since those positions paid more or offered more to me, I thought why not? I’m learning, I’m growing, I’m getting paid for it, and that seems to be a good deal.

At the same time I’ve been ruminating on whether the type of writing that I should be doing isn’t income-based, but it fits more into the category of, sitting in a room and throwing all my ideas and images in my head on paper and pushing it out into the world, and whatever I do for work can use my skills so that I can still live my day-by-day.

There’s a phrase that I learned in Japanese, it’s called “ikigai.”

Something like this. It’s way more than purpose, and from what I’ve seen in Japan, it’s something that encompases everything in that graph, plus something that you can do until the day you die. You don’t ever retire from it, it’s something that you do in your daily repertoire.

Think of Jiro Dreams of Sushi

“I’ll continue to climb to reach the top, but nobody knows where the top is!”

OR Hokusai, the Japanese woodblock painter:

“From around the age of six, I had the habit of sketching from life. I became an artist, and from fifty on began producing works that won some reputation, but nothing I did before the age of seventy was worthy of attention. At seventy-three, I began to grasp the structures of birds and beasts, insects and fish, and of the way plants grow. If I go on trying, I will surely understand them still better by the time I am eighty-six, so that by ninety I will have penetrated to their essential nature. At one hundred, I may well have a positively divine understanding of them, while at one hundred and thirty, forty, or more I will have reached the stage where every dot and every stroke I paint will be alive. May Heaven, that grants long life, give me the chance to prove that this is no lie.”

Anyway, this is another atempt for me to try to bring out my writings. Click the 2015 link if you’re curious at what I’ve been up to though 🙂

Looking back to move forward

My writing collection since 2013

A common thread in various texts that I have read is something along the lines of “looking back and seeing how far you’ve gone and how much you’ve achieved.”

I’ll count from the beginning of 2013 and on:

Money:
My goal was to pay down two credit cards and one student loan by the end of 2014.
Result:
-Paid it all off in October 2014.

Writing:
My goal was to get a paid writing job at the end of 2013.
Result:
2013
–The Baseline Magazine published “Distanced Love” in Aug. 2013. In 2014, it won second place in a writing contest which was a $50 reward, and fourth place at JACC for Magazine Opinion
-I wrote 35 blog posts for Guest of a Guest, Los Angeles
-I was the senior editor for The Chaffey Review, got a story published (“Lullaby” – anonymously so that I got in with a fairly) in Volume 11, and was selected to read aloud for an “In My Own Words” contest where I won a $50 gift card.
-I published eight articles in The Breeze
2014
-Got hired at Beverly Hills Weekly with my first day on the job on Jan. 3. I headed and wrote 48 weekly issues.
–Montage Magazine published a photo with a story in their summer issue.

Other goals:
Live in Los Angeles:
2014
-Lived in Echo Park and Silverlake

Throughout all of this were many sleepless nights and questioning whether one thing I was doing was going to actually lead me in the right direction. But in the end, I’ve achieved the goals that I set for myself.

It’s not as easy as I’m making it seem. I sacrificed a lot of time and energy and sleep.

In 2013, if I wasn’t at school, I was at work as a server, which, by the way, paid for the debts and expenses that I had at the time. I was so ecstatic at receiving my first paycheck and getting more hours and working the days where I would get more tips. If I wasn’t at work, I was at an unpaid internship, commuting four hours from home to Los Angeles by Metrolink and bus (waking up at 4am just to catch the first train in time to get that bus to take me to the internship on time). Then, with my backpack and duffel bag, I would walk 1.5-2 miles back to either work, or to the bus stop to take me to school.

If I wasn’t at any of those places, I was looking for job opportunities or writing or writing more blog entries from home and trying to figure out how to get those job opportunities and what kinds of stories to write. I had time once in a while to hang out with some of my friends. Having that internship in LA also let me spend a few hours with the guy I was dating at the time. But then my weekends were never free and it got to the point where I would have to schedule my days off if I wanted a “rest” day.

In 2014, all my time was dedicated towards work. I was lucky enough to be able to live with the guy I was dating. When I got off work I either worked some more or shut down and spent time with the guy. I was determined to stay for one year at work, despite all obstacles. And again, no holidays or vacations. But I thought it was going to be worth it. The guy I was dating is an architect, and to see how much work he put into his work and schooling I felt that I’m not an exception. If I wanted to stand out then I would need to work to be as exceptional as I can be at the job in order to beat my competition in the field. And I did great. I really did a great job. I can’t think of anything that I could’ve done better by the time I left.

Then the guy broke up with me. I faired well at work for the first month of that, but the money I was making wasn’t enough to support living on my own or even pay for the rent at the place we were living.

Then…the heartache. And everything that comes with trying to get over a broken heart and taking down the future that I thought I was going to have. Then the realization that the people who I talked to and met in 2014 won’t exist in my life from that point on.

So… looking back at how far I’ve come…I have achieved the majority of the things that I planned out for myself. The large rocks of it anyway. But I have to keep moving forward.

I’ve been watching How I Met Your Mother, and the characters in that TV show are relatively my age now. If that show is any accurate description of life then…I’ll have more heartbreaks and disappointments. I’ll have more job opportunities that suit me or my situation, and eventually both. Life will carry on for everyone whether I’m sad or happy or successful or poor. And hopefully, I’ve done some good along the way. If anything, I’ve done that much in two years, I can do so much more in the next two.

General updates

2013 and 2014 pages are updated with as much as I can remember.

In case you’re curious

This is what I have been doing.

http://www.bhweekly.com

Issues #745 and on.

 

It’s a process

For accuracy, press record.
Stop when the conversation is finished.
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Press play.
Transcribe.
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Rewind.
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Stop.
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Check for accuracy.

Stretch then leap

I have been the editor and a reporter for Beverly Hills Weekly for four months.

After all the work that I’ve done in 2013, I’ve achieved the thing that I wanted the most. Isn’t it strange? To finally get something that I’ve been wanting and working so hard for? My goal for the end of 2013 was to find  a job in doing what I wanted to do, and I found it.

What does that mean? How do my goals change and what can I do to reach higher? Is this a place where I can reach higher or do I need to alter my goals to a more directed path where I know I’ll be successful? Is this what I want to do? Reporter? Editor? Writer? Author?

There is a cautionary side. Should I keep writing the way that I do in this blog and be exposed to the world? How much should I write and how should I write it? Does this mean everyone’s becomes an open opportunity to become a character in my story? Should I fictionalize the story and characters to make it seem less personal? Or should I go straight for the gut? With each new person I write about, and each new person I meet, I think back to these entries and think of the impression these posts leave on them.

What do I want out of writing? I’m forming more ideas and gaining more experience in what I want. Essentially, I want to write what I want, and I want to write it well.

At the same time I’m hesitant. I’m not used to having all these eyes on my words, on my stories. Granted, it’s all journalism and all news stories and there shouldn’t be a trace of any kind of fiction in my work right now. If I pick a career path of writing, then the only way to make this a successful career is if people read my writing. Duh.

The transition from community college, where advisors and professors want you to succeed and will guide you on a path to help you succeed, and then jumping across a canyon that I can’t quite reach across and constantly being slammed. Granted, I do make mistakes. But mistakes are unforgivable in the real world to an extent. How do I stop making these mistakes? How do I prevent these mistakes?

I don’t like being weak. I don’t like being a pushover. I don’t like having a weak voice. What can I do to become stronger?

Four months, and I’ve become quicker. Four months, and I should know the technicalities of the “how to” lists. Take all those bundles and string it up, put it on a shelf. Move on. What can I do to be better at what I’m doing?

What do I want at the end of this year? What level should I be at in order to move on to the next stage? What am I doing to move on to the next stage?

Note to self:
Throw these questions out in the void, and make the moves to answer them. You’re not where you want to be yet, and you’re not entitled to anything just because you have a job.
You’re not restricted to your job either.
Follow the thoughts and the curiosities and take action.
You can’t have a strong voice if you don’t know how to use your voice.

What it means to fly

I have what I want. It’s right here at my feet. I can grip the gravel in between my toes and grit the morsels of dirt against my skin.

I’m standing right on top of it. That distant destination in the horizon finally rushed up to meet me and said, “I am what you are looking for, but is this what you want?”

The horizon is gone, and I am taking a glimpse into a dark space with no depth, no color, no light. The rocks spill over the edges and seeps into the darkness, going to a place that will swallow it up whole. Or, perhaps, the stones engulf themselves in the unknown with only hope that it will finally land on solid, steady ground. Perhaps, to a place where it doesn’t need to constantly shift and move, and it can rest comfortably where it’s supposed to be, until it only needs to move out of necessity, not because of a constant journey.

I turn around and look at my footsteps. I place my toes against the imprint of my steps behind me, and my heels rest at the edge of my earth. I look up at the scenery that I have passed along the way, spread my arms and fall back, letting my feet release itself from the bounds of gravity so that I can take flight further into the unknown.

The things people don’t tell you

There’s an age where you can’t dream anymore. The age where people start telling you to get a job, that you should’ve figured out what you wanted already, that you should’ve already been building what you wanted from before and not now.

Those assurances where people tell you, “You have time,” they’re lies. You don’t have time. You can use as much time as you want, but you don’t really have time. Because that time will come up when you’re with someone, and your time goes to that person. Then you’re thinking about marriage and a wedding, and having kids, and having a life for your kids too. So the time that you thought you had because everyone tells you that you have time, ends up not being your time at all. The time you spend working ends up going towards your debt, from college or from useless things. You’ve never had time. They’re all lying to you because they don’t know what else to tell you.

Those encouragements are lies too. “Good job,” “Keep up the good work,” means nothing. It’s just there to boost up your self esteem if you have none, but don’t rely on it too much because you’ll plateau and get stuck into thinking you’re really okay.

You’ll feel outcasted when everyone else around you has finished their masters degree and has almost everything in their life figured out, or at least the details of their life that you haven’t figured out yet. The job, the marriage, the kids. Even without the marriage and kids, they don’t live at home with their parents. Even if you have a job, a server job, that pays your debt and pays for the things in your life that you need, you’re still a servant to the food industry while they’re in an office wearing suits and skirts.

Because one day, they’ll stop saying all those positive things, and tell you to get serious about yourself. That you’re dreaming too much, and that you don’t have time anymore, and that you’re not working hard enough, and compare you to so and so and how they have everything together while you don’t.

That these little things that you’ve tried to grab and build on top of each other means nothing if you’re not getting any kind of money for it.

It also doesn’t matter how hard you work. Or how good your intentions are. Until you have something tangible to talk about, it doesn’t mean anything.

You’ll never know how much you love a thing until you’re willing to work for free for it, but unfortunately, you can’t live off of free things, and society will use you for your free work and tear you down at the same time, and toss you aside and find another sucker who is so filled with their own dreams who doesn’t know any better. All while scorning you for not keeping up with the Joneses.

I can jump off ship and drown, and be bloated with the cold water to only be satisfied that at least people will think I’m not dreaming anymore. That I’m willing to float alongside everyone else and be normal.