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| I'm going to fess up and admit that I've been slightly disgruntled for the past several months with where I'm at in my "career." (What an odd word to be using with myself.) Mainly because I really wanted to be in a place where I could take off creatively, but I haven't felt that the job I've landed gave me that opportunity. You see, it wasn't until our trip to New York that I felt like I really "got it" in college. And consequentially, it wasn't until my senior year that I really felt my design was "going somewhere" and not looking determinedly "student"-ish. My summer in DE was such a great and creatively-nuturing atmosphere, that it felt like a creative rocket-booster....and then I graduated. And got a job. And felt like I was in some sort of design-doldrums.
Slowly I've started to feel more at home where I work. (On a side note: I really do think that I am the sort of person who can amiably get on with almost any type of people...despite private grumblings.) But while the work we've had come into the office has gotten progressively more interesting, I've still felt that it's been lacking on the creative rocket-boosters. This past Monday I had lunch with my bosses and was pleasantly surprised. Because while I'd been hoping for a position where I could learn, unbeknownst to me, I've been the one bringing insight to my office. Although I suppose it could be slightly disturbing that I'm a teacher of sorts, I've realized this is a huge opportunity in itself to learn more about design. And now I find myself a bit of a pioneer in a newly developing department with our company. I can be a Shaper; a Thinker; a Leader. And in doing so, I just might have found what I had thought was missing in my "career." | | |
| I have found that the months following graduation have been a lot like the months of my senior year of high school. Namely, in that my mind is bubbling with interests and possibilities about the future: only then it was "What should I major in? Which college to choose?" and now the questions are just wide open. The problem is that I have never been passionate about One Thing, but rather have been fascinated by such a wide array of Things, that it's always been hard to narrow it down to that One Thing. I've given up trying.
But I think that I really could be a Professional Student...and suddenly the thought of pursuing all of these Things as a course of study has been flitting across my mind. Don't get me wrong: I love design and am really enjoying my job. It's just...there's so much to do! and learn! and see! Like geology. Film history: especially animation. Art. Linguistics. Forensic art history. Photography and preservation thereof. Grad school looks way more appealing this side of graduation than it ever did to me before.
Right now I'm back on my interest of linguistics: particularly the progression of Old English into Modern English and it's connections to the history of the German language (and Latin, etc...). As I finish up Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, I've been daydreaming about actually being able to read (and study) medieval manuscripts fluently. It's been fascinating to see how many similarities there are between Chaucer's original text and High German, but I long to know how it would have been pronounced in the 1500's.
So, one Thing at a time for now. But it really is too bad that there are only so many hours in a day and most of them are spent at work. | | |
| ...or so my grandma so much as insinuated as I handed her the large stack of letters after the funeral on Monday. My father's aunt had passed away, and since we had already planned a trip to Minneapolis, we went to the funeral. Afterwards, we mingled with relatives I barely knew in a cluttered little farm house that was home to the family's mink ranch.
A stack of photocopied letters were passed to me as I sat in the living room: it was at least 2 inches thick and every page was double-sided. Earlier that day I'd been told my dad's aunt and uncle had met at a dance...but the letters proved there was a bit more to the story than just that. George had already been living in Minnesota when he started writing her on a whim almost a year after they'd met just that one night at the dance. Frank and well-written, the letters chronicled their friendship and eventual engagment. Handing them back to Grandma, I inquired, "I bet you didn't know your brother could be so romantic." "No I didn't. It's too bad people aren't like this any more..."
I wonder what it is that makes older people so down on the current generation in every time period. I hope that she's wrong and that there is still a little romance left out there. And I wish that people stopped and took the time to write each other real letters by post every once in a while. | | |
| There is something beautiful about listening to Ben Folds in the spring: somehow he always knows just what is on my mind. And as I drive through the city, I think back to a magical experience of blending my voice with others in a green auditorium; of rounding bends in the green canopied highway while traveling. And while I do enjoy his funny takes on life (Song for the Dumped), it's his melodic commentaries on humanity that warm me. Particularly The Ascent of Stan right now.
Secretly I've always wished I was a prodigy on the piano. Or rather, something more obscure: like a bowed psalter. Or the hurdy gurdy. (which is just fun to say) | | |
| So I did it. I took the plunge, burned myself a disk, and got prints of my digital pictures. It only took me 2 years. And I'm not so sure that I like them as much as my film prints. Not that I used some shotty camera: it was a good one. And I did my homework on who does the best prints around here. It's just...I can tell it's digital. I can see the pixellation: however minute that is. It's not as crystal clear as my crappy camera from the 80's. I don't know...maybe I'm just old-fashioned. Or maybe I was just born in the wrong decade. So I don't think that I'll be trading in my film just yet. At least, not for the important stuff. And come the sunny weather, I'll be taking my 1930's medium format out for a spin. | | |
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