What To Do, What to do, what to do

Ahh, conflict. I just want to give it up sometimes, instead of staying the course and sailing through it. Low threshold, short attention span, little patience for things that don’t come easy. Instead of being challenged by and sparked to overcome things that don’t come easy, to just want to give it up. I wonder if it has anything to do with our generation, the fact that many of those of my generation have had it easier than those previous. The Generation of Entitlement, that we internalize conflict instead of acting completely upon it, because we don’t have to act for a whole lot. Accustomed to worrying and not the doing. And if it doesn’t go away, there’s a pill for it. Medicate it away. Because our basic needs and loftier needs, those perceived to be basic but that are actually luxury, have been and at times are currently met by our providers. It’s just how it is. I wonder what kind of people we’ll become as a result of it. I wonder what kind of 50-year-olds we’ll be and what kind of country we’ll be leading at that point. I don’t think it less, I don’t think it a bad thing – I just wonder what we’ll create is the thought.

Yet as well, this is all just one point of view. Like everything it’s all a matter of perception. It’s possible that there are things unaccounted for in the above thought about my generation. Because sometimes I don’t have a short attention span. And regardless of the amount of patience I have, I’ll still handle my sht instead of passing it off or even telling anyone about it, like most people. Who is there to pass it off to anyway? My generation will be working to pay the social security and pensions of the increasingly bionic retirees of the boomer and x generations who will most likely live forever. My generation will continue to work like each generation before it, to fuel the economies of the world like we’re doing right now. I think then, that my generation will get it together. It just may internalize the effort first, have anxiety and harbor a little bitterness, impatience maybe, and then charge through the smoke. We’ll just want it all to happen faster ’cause we’re accustomed to fast.

A college friend just sent an email telling all of her life working for the glossy magazine in The City. Telling all about the amazing parties and lifestyle she’s leading, though I know that it’s funded by her dad, by her trust fund most likely. An impulse beckons me to ask “where’s mine? where’s my golden ticket?”. I don’t indulge said impulse. I have the liberty, but I don’t have the right. But that’s what I’m talking about with expectation and this generation. Another friend just emailed and told me that his sister just died. And that he, at 26, is taking custody of her 4-year-old daughter. And that he is alright, grateful even that he is in a position to do it. I don’t see any entitlement there, any expectation to be handed a sexy and prosperous life. His perspective has shifted. He’s grown up and accepted the yoke. He’s grateful for what he has.

So it comes down to a “kind of person” thing. I know what kind of person I want to be, and I know that I can’t generalize for a generation, though as it rolls on, characteristics will emerge. And about how I’ll handle the conflict or conflict(s), I still don’t know. Most things come down to a matter of resources. And I don’t have much. But like an arsenal, I can build on what I have. I can add to my resources. The challenge, then, is how to build on my resources. And how to do it fking fast.

Wasting the Day You Took Off

I met a pirate last night, a pirate with a bright shiny golden dubloon. When I introduced myself, he said, “Encantada”.

“True,” I said, referring to about 5 different things.

He wasn’t a pirate. He was an oceanographer with a gold Spanish coin from hundreds of years ago. He was tan and had a treasure hunting shipmate who gave him the gold coin, most likely, in a drunken boast. Or at least, that’s what he told the table.

I like knowing that pirate booty is still out there in the oceans and that some treasure hunters actually find them some booty. ha.

There is one other non be-boyfriended or be-husbanded girl in Melissa’s Dinner Club, and last night she showed up bringing the pirate. I asked her how she could cheat on me in front of my face like this, to not even warn me. And she said, “I wasn’t planning on it; I just called him an hour ago!” I said, “that’s worse.” She said, “Then we’ll share.” Then I laughed. And the pirate looked down at the table with a smile.

It was all a joke anyway. It’s funny to see different kinds of couples in different stages of coupledom interact. It’s a grand entertaining education.

I took the day off. I have an interview in an hour and really must get going. I’ve done nothing but read CMJ New Music Monthly and the Sept. issue of Vogue. I should go running.

wowwww.

Edit your blog: Encantada

-wink

On Sleep Deficit

Remember when I told you that I hallucinate when I don’t get enough sleep? I didn’t sleep at all last night. I stayed up all night working. Working for work, because I had to, and not for me. Really.

All
night
long.

– Pause and consider the reality of that for a sec, to get us on the same page –

– whooshhh ~

So today has been out of control. No it hasn’t actually; it’s been manageable but I’ve become supernal so the exaggeration doesn’t really seem like an exaggeration. It just seems like a misused word, or an overused phrase (”out of control”) (think, “quotes” like farley does “quotes”)…or….I should end immediately this internal dialogue…. But my brain feels like scrambled eggs and my head feels like it did when I first stepped off the plane in London. Like a 70 lb weight. I made it through the entire workday, hallucinating up a storm, all right and left and out of control in some Proud Highway-infused surreality, all in my periphery vision; but I made it. Eyes stinging when I blink. Stinging now. It’s a crazed circus of electric chasing colors and sudden flickering movements of usually stationary objects….like that lamp over therre…
I half wish you could see this. Certainly an alienating encumbrance in an office environment such as this.

- Pause and consider the reality of that one – -wink

No appetite, haven’t eaten since yogurt at 5 am yesterday – I mean today, GAWD! – except for 2 swigs of pepto around 10. So I’m doin’ it college style again for the day…(except, of COURSE, without you, so it’s not at all the same).

But I’m still making it, I guess. It’s not comfortable and I would really love to sleep, but I’m still at the office with an hour’s worth of writing to do. Fk. Me.
FKME.

My computer at home has now become a cancer to my soul. It is the most difficult, hair-pulling rage I have ever experienced really. It has become bad between us. I’ve been writing posts in word and just saving on the desktop like it’s my own little imaginary personal blog because I haven’t had luck connecting to the net this week. Sad little substitute for blog. My shTTY little processor can’t handle shTTY yahoo DSL – which I DO NOT LIKE because of the standard interface and explosionary exploitation of my attention with advertising. I would really like to design my own graphic interface. I am currently offended by yahoo. Why aren’t we doing that yet?

-knitted brow-

-because I’m actually contemplating the question-

- i’m a wildcat; rawrrr

Does it take anyone else 2 hours to write a post? Especially if I embed links; another hour or two there. So much effort afforded to the tiniest things.

It took me 5 hours to write a profile/feature for freaking the chronicle “this week” last night. 5 hours. For a 2-pager. In college that was all I needed to kickout the semester’s anthology. Which, I keep reading, is a surefire way to get published – to compile an anthology.
Hm.
“Encantada’s Anthology of Rants,” compiled by a young enthusiast

I’m stopping the madness ahora, or at least the shared madness as I am not stopping at all. Melissa organized a Dinner Club with her gorgeous Houston-based be-boyfriended and be-husbanded sorority sisters, some of whom I like, to try new places for dinner on the last Thursday of each month. And each month has a different theme and tonight is Italian…delis’!

So I’m going to meet them – although an hour late – and will certainly fright them all with my current, personal, style of gauntness. Or maybe that’s not how I look at all.

Maybe I’m hallucinating.

For all that has been, Thanks.

For all that will be, YES.

Conversations as blog posts

When you’re writing the way you’re talking, when you imagine your audience is 4-strong and you’ve pretty much talked to those four at length during the last week or two, conversations serve the same purpose as blog posts. Or vise versa, I think I mean. This week it’s been strange. I’ve spoken to those who, well, read and it’s become difficult to distinguish between what I’ve read and what I’ve said. Between what they’ve read and what I think I’ve heard them say to me. I can’t keep it all together. It’s all some mass communication that entangles me.

What a week; truly. It’s a whirlpool, swirling somewhere and I don’t know where the bottom of the swirl ends. I don’t know what state it will leave me or any of these situations in. Whirling around and around. Like a Dirvish.

I read today that the largest ice shelf in the Arctic, a solid feature for 3,000 years, has broken up according to scientists in the United States and Canada on September 22, 2003. Yes our world is changing. Of course our world is changing. It is also breaking.

And I understand about striking when the iron is hot, selling when the public is hungry….but this just feels too early. Like it’s pre-empting total public interest. Like it’s telling the public to be interested in it. Like it’s trying to set the trend. I hate that shite.

Anyway, tonight it is. After the day is over. I’ve got things in my head that want a resting place.

I’m going to see Radiohead next Wed. and I’m fking stoked about it.

I chatted with Miranda in Bulgaria today. Give her a hello, she’s doing the Peace Corps thing in Eastern Europe and would most likely enjoy a spicy distraction.

And now the news that interests:
That is as well, all a placeholder for future posts. I’m just putting these down so I don’t forget about them…

Buyer beware: about the automatic sexual response. More about automatic sexual responses? Comment.

Reports that the government is still using truth serums? From LSD to ___? Listen at the link provided or go to Slate.com. Controversy! Controversy! Inspiration!

The [relative] Truth about Happiness…or the futile pursuit thereof. What may be true however, is that when it comes to predicting exactly how I’ll feel in the future….I am most likely wrong.

BBC says: “People who experience a sense of spirituality in church may be reacting to the extreme bass sound produced by some organ pipes.” heh.

And I’m wanting to comment on nature v. nuture. On health psychology. On circadian rhythms and biometrics. On paradigms that we base the living of our lives, and whether they’re true or false. I’ll get there – this is, as I said, a placeholder.

I just find this so unsurprising. And unfortunate.

Alright, so Who’s Comin’ With Me?

i love you, spree. i’ll have to catch you in december since charlupa is throwing me a party in your place.

and this i understand