26 March 2015
03 January 2015
I always say I am not going to make resolutions and then each year I feel guilty for that. Not this year. This year I am making resolutions... but I refuse right now, up front, to feel any guilt if people or events or things don't turn out as I hope they will! I will take this year one day at a time. This year I will be me... just me. Take me or leave me, I don't need to live up to anyone else's expectations, just my own.
So here they are, My Resolutions, fifteen of them for the year--not in any particular order:
- I will write one poem per week. More if I am so inspired. And I will send them out to be published weekly, too.
- I will finish the second manuscript.
- I will lose 20 pounds. Seriously! I will visit the gym more!
- I will Detox on occasion and eat healthier and mindfully.
- I will clean my house better. At least one room per week; a very thorough cleaning.
- I will paint two (maybe three) bedrooms upstairs and finish the copper work in the kitchen.
- I will get rid of clutter by selling off or giving away collectables and books I don't need.
- I will read at least 200 books.
- I will spend (at least) one evening a week with my partner, having some quality time.
- I will do one cultural thing a month (museum, concert, galley opening).
- I will do (or try to limit myself to) one alternate fun event a month (SCA, Steampunk, cosplay).
- I will finally get back to writing on the novel.
- I will finish my freelance assignments before deadline!
- I will blog more this year!
- Last but hardly least, I will not worry about things I cannot control....
This will be a good year. I won't have it any other way! You have a good year, too!
29 April 2014
So now I am the proud owner of a Fitbit. You know how it works. You want to get more fit / lose weight / get out more, you buy the newest toy that will push you in the right direction, right? But like any hurried relationship it will probably not last. . . . Already it is nagging me to get off my ass and go walk around the block. Only 3000 steps so far today. Dammit. Time to run around the building at least twice?
As you get older fitness becomes more and more of an issue. I don't dance or do martial arts like I used to, Steve still fences and does sword work once or twice a week, but we also like eating well and lounging about watching the telly in the evening.
Several years ago the fitness bug bit and we were all about the stationery bike that Steve borrowed from his mom. We rode it in the living room while watching TV. (We would not allow ourselves to spend hours channel surfing unless one of us was pedaling like crazy, too.) It's a shame we never figured out how to run the TV off all that pedal power like Charleton Heston did in Soylent Green. But that old bike wasn't very comfortable anyway, so eventually we traded it in for a recumbent bike. Steve still rode it, and it was better for his knees, but it gave me a backache and it was huge a pain to change the setting from one for a 6' 2" man to one for a 5' 3" me.
Rec Center at the University where I work. Great pool. Indoor track on which to walk. Tons of equipment to play with. Steve liked riding on their bikes (which also have television screens). I took the occasional Yoga Class and did lots of stretching. Until our evening schedules went wildly out-of-sync. It's no fun going to the gym without your gym buddy.
Last summer we both got into bicycling. Spend money on some new, very good bikes. We rode the Towpath Trail that goes by only a few blocks from the house. Winter of 2013-14 put a crimp in everything. No more riding outdoors. Horrible cold days that make you just want to stay in bed. Heat system went out in the Rec Center and it was closed for several weeks. I put on weight.
My health coach also happens to be my wonderful daughter-in-law, Blue. I've been doing online cleanse events with her for the past two years. I've lost weight, felt good, and always come away with a renewed commitment to staying fit. But somehow this spring, between a killer teaching load and a lot of family emotional or health issues, I find myself nibbling and into the junk food more than ever.
So I bought the Fitbit. Now I know there is no magic bullet to staying healthy. And I also know this fitness stuff gets harder the older we get. My left knee hates me ever since I broke it about 5 years ago. My urge each day when I get home is to curl up with a good book, play mindless Facebook games, or watch Castle reruns on TV. So Fitbit, you have your work cut out for you. While you are still the new shiny toy go ahead and nag me. And if any of you out there have a Fitbit, too, do friend me! I need all the encouragement I can get.
I wonder if the Fitbit will count my pedaling as steps when I can get out and ride again?
21 January 2014
I saw Facebook posts. Twitter trends. Lots of outrage and people shouting in various forums. Headlines in online news papers like:
"Russian oligarch's girlfriend sparks MLK day firestorm after posing on naked 'black woman' chair for fashion blog".
I wondered: was the photograph meant to be making a political statement about hierarchies of exploitation, people as furniture? Fashion exploiting the naked? Wealth juxtaposed with the bondage of the consumer? A statement on what? Racism? Forniphilia? Hedonism? (Did no one else notice that the photo on the wall behind her looks like it is of a man in bed between two women?)
I remember a coffee table book of photographs I have somewhere with a series of photographs by Judy Olausen called "Mother" from many years ago where the artist's intent (using her own mother as a model) was to see the way a mother becomes a background object in a sort of nightmare '50s suburban setting--pushing the imagery with an intent to depict the marginalization of woman as wife and mother by and within societal expectations.
I wondered if there was a similar artistic intent here. I mean, really, does anyone chose to sit in a chair that is that ugly? (And I mean visually ugly as much as politically ugly!) What was the intent here? Who is Dasha Zhukova? Is this a chair she personally owns? If so why did she use that chair? Or is it a chair the photographer / interviewer placed her in? Was that purposeful? What is the take home message?
So this made me go do some research on the "chair"--I wanted to know if it was intended as an artist's statement (albeit in bad taste) intended to encourage an understanding or at least a closer look at oppression. Apparently it is part of a series by a British artist, Alan Jones, circa the late 1960s. He made a series of pieces of furniture using naked or nearly naked mannequins (black and white) in bondage positions, "Strippers as Furniture." In the 1960s Jones' "furniture" outraged feminists, too. We may be able to give him some benefit of the doubt if his intent was to showcase the fact that women are demeaned by the porn industry, but I can't seem to find much of the artistic statement on this--just the outrage.
In the case of Zhukova's chair all I can find is the outrage as well. No one has questioned whether she owns the chair, why she bought the chair, or what she was thinking by posing in that chair. Bear also in mind that this is a Russian woman--the same cultural baggage an American sees here vis a vis slavery and race may not be as evident to her. Mind you, her ethnicity and wealth (she dances with billionaires, afterall) doesn't excuse insensitivity; it just explains it. Zhukova,also posted the photograph on her own Instagram feed. Then when the firestorm hit,she and the magazine that interviewed her cropped the photo to take out all but the "boots" of the chair--a very mea culpa moment that tells me she never realized how ugly this photo could be.
It really is doubly ironic that the picture was posted on MLK day and that a woman who made her fortune in the fashion industry is relaxing "on the back," so to speak, of a naked woman. I doubt that,in this case, that anyone actually intended the photograph as an artistic statement about the exploitation of women--especially of black women--since Zhaukov was simply posing for an interview about her new fashion/art magazine Garage. Yet in someways this photograph and its incarnations--the original and the cropped out chair--now become a part of the record of the process of cultural awareness and change. Just as Jones' chair in the 1960s made us think about women's issues, so the photo of Zhukova reminds us that times change and people forget. Do we blame her for being a part of a generation or that has not faced the struggle for equal rights? Or for being part of a priviledged class that doesn't see the implications to others in the iconography of oppression in the very art she wants to support? For ignorance or for nsensitivity? Maybe the very thing we need to remember is that we are all loaded with our own cultural baggage and that photos like this are the things that allow us to react, to express our anger and our fears and our positions. Maybe that is the take home message. That we need to rejoice that people do react with outrage at such things! And that in reacting to such things, we too need to be sensitive--this is a teachable moment, not a reason for a lynching.
As exhausting as the dialog can be regarding race, gender, privilege, and exploitation, it will be when we stop being aware, stop talking, and stop making (or even just finding) the inadvertent artistic statements defining such issues that we will have lost the battle.
02 January 2014
02 April 2013
. . . is all the stuff you could not do without them. Even scarier is the thought of losing control of your vision.
A little over a year ago I had to have surgery on the muscles in the inner corners of both my eyes to correct crossed eyes. Last week I had to do it again. Although the first surgery worked and corrected my cross-eyedness, it didn't last. So here I am again. This time the surgery was only on the outside of the right eye--the one with the most issues. Like last time, I had to go into the hospital, have a general anesthesia, only this time the stitches are in the outer corner. Last time my doctor cut some eye muscles to loosen the direction of my focus. This time he tightened the muscles on the outer edge of my right eye. This time was even less fun.
I planned this surgery to take place over Spring Break. That way there would be no classes missed--not that my students wouldn't have liked that. It was supposed to happen toward the end of Spring Break, I thought I might be able to take the early part of that week to visit my son in Arizona (something I haven't been able to do in several years), but then my surgery got pushed up to Monday of Spring Break (my son, though disappointed, is fortunately very understanding). However a couple weeks before the surgery I got invaded by "The Cold" (cue spooky music).
This has been, bar none, the worst flu / cold season ever. In early March I was at a conference in Boston where several colleagues and friend got sick. Coughing, blocked sinuses, sore throats, headache, stomach upsets, all the symptoms of cold viruses or flu or maybe food poisoning? No one knew. One friend was out sick for the week after the conference. Then it started floating around the Department. Then I got it. Mind you the grandkids had the sniffles, too, as did my daughter and her husband, so I could have gotten it there. But by mid-March I had The Cold That Will Not Die. Dutifully I told my surgery scheduler. She said as long as I had no fever we could still do my surgery. Probably did not help that there was family stress, either.
March 18th, the week before my surgery, I went for pretesting. Blood work. Poked and prodded. Measured. Weighed. And I still had the cold. No fever, I tell them, but I have been stumbling through my days and coming home to fall exhausted on the couch. Weekends I have been sleeping all day, sometimes napping again in mid-afternoon. I have horrible wracking coughs, blocked sinuses, killer headaches. My Grandmother always said sleep is the best medicine, but this was ridiculous--I was sleeping all the time. Damn cold was kicking my ass. And I was falling behind on everything. As that last week before Spring Break ran its course, I was far behind. I had email stacking up, papers piled on my desk, prep still needing to be done for events I am running, prep for exams I need to give, writing unfinished, committee meetings missed. Family demands I couldn't meet. Stress in the office. The dilemma: cancel the surgery? or go ahead and let them do it with all its attendant stress on top of all the stress I was already feeling?
The thing that made me go for it was the need to see. All that stuff piling up has been piling up because it has been so painful to read. To look at a computer screen. I need to be able to read to do my job. I need these eyes to function correctly.
Morning of surgery was another stress--family fight that I did not need. Same issues. My friend Lisa took me to the hospital. Steve had used up his last personal day the week before when he got sick with the same cold. He did take off early to come pick me up, though. Then my doctor ran late. And the surgery ran long. I am beginning to think March was a cursed month. In the end the surgery worked, but it is taking longer to heal than last time. I finally needed antibiotics and a corticosteroid to get over the cold--the cough still lingers. The eye has been three weeks healing and, though the doctor says it is doing fine, I still can't look at a computer screen or read for over an hour without pain, or headaches. This delays grading my student's papers, means writing and work is still falling behind. And I have less than 3 weeks left in the semester. And bright light outside hurts a lot. And I am still sleeping too much.
But my eyes are not crossed . . . most of the time. When tired, they will sometimes still cross. It takes an huge effort of will to uncross them, and sleep to really fix the problem. It does seem to be getting better. Slowly. I'm just crossing my fingers (no pun intended) that this will continue to improve. Because if it doesn't there are no more chances for more surgery.