decision

In thinking about the decisions currently facing me, I got to thinking about possibly the biggest decision I ever made. When I was in UNCG, during my sophmore year, I was a part of the fledgling Habitat for Humanity club. I really enjoyed it, and I became head of fundraising, at which I was pretty much a disaster. But at the end of the year, the president had to step down, as the two most important years of her music studies were approaching, and she needed to focus on that. Of course, I was approaching the same years as she, but still she chose to ask me to become president. During the previous year, I had worked to organize an extremely unsuccessful benefit concert (though very fun! haha - so few people came that we ended up dancing on stage with the band), and it had taken away a lot of the time I "should" have devoted to my composition studies. I was losing favor with my cranky composition teacher, and my grades were starting to slip. He constantly told me that I needed to "lock myself into a room, and write", or "be a hermit for the weekend". Let me tell you, I was sooooo excited to run home and compose after that motivation. All my professors, really, seemed to come up with less-than-creative solutions to my study problems. (One suggested that during my piano jury, I pretend that I am being paid for every correct note. Believe me, thinking about every note, and every missed note, in a piece with some 5000 notes or so, is not really effective) Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming my teachers for my lack of achievement, but I was taking the wrong approach, and being given some ideas of other wrong approaches to try. Anyway, my composition teacher explained that the next year would be crucial to my success. He told me that I would have to write a TON of material, implying (or outright saying) that I needed to make up for lost time. There was a chance for success, if I put my nose to the grindstone.
On the other hand, my friend Jenn was trying to convince me to become president of Habitat for Humanity. She wrote me a long, somewhat manipulative letter (I did actually recognize that manipulation at the time) about how great I was and how much she wanted me to be president. HFH at UNCG was her baby, and she wanted to see it succeed. I didn't want to let her down, or the other kids in the group. I didn't want to see it disappear from campus. I laid down on a campus bench after my last composition class of the year, after my professor's ultimatum. What should I do? Where did my priorities lie? I struggled for a long time, and finally, I chose to become president of the club.

Years later, sometimes I check the Habitat for Humanity at UNCG website. They have up and down years, depending on leadership, but the organization seems to have remained intact. Would someone else have stepped up if I hadn't? Would Jenn have taken over, herself? I attended her senior recital. She was a somewhat talented singer, with a very pleasant voice, though not an opera star. She graduated on time, with her BA in music education.

During my junior year, and tenure as HFH president, my grades slipped further. I dropped almost as many classes as I registered for. My relationships with both my composition teacher and my high school boyfriend disintegrated. I lost my scholarship, and was asked to leave the composition department. The habitat for humanity group stayed intact, though fundraisers continued to lose more money than they made. The only class I managed to succeed in was conducting, maybe because I didn't want to be humiliated in front of my friends when I didn't know the score! I hit rock bottom when I forgot to attend a good friend's recital. I may have been confused as to who I was, but I knew it wasn't someone who got so lost in her own problems that she couldn't support a friend. From there, or somewhere around there, my slow upward climb began.

Who would I have been if I hadn't taken on that responsibility? I don't blame all my problems on it - I may still have had to learn things the hard way, even without that extra strain. But if I had to go back, I have to admit, I probably wouldn't do it. The whole decision hinged on the idea that I was the only person in the world who was in the position to make that particular difference. And maybe I was. When we look at our lives, where are the places where we are the only person in the world who can make that particular change? Is that how we decide who we are?

No map

I've got two friends reading "Quarterlife Crisis" and several more telling me of the agonizing they're doing about the decisions in their lives. For those of us who have a little money (not a lot, but we do qualify for the American middle class), and a little smarts, the opportunities seem endless, in a way. Though no option seems ideal, there certainly seem to be a lot of options. The options are almost crippling (I read a book about this in Chicago, I need to look it up, about how our grocery stores have 200 kinds of cereal, and we spend way too much time deciding about stuff). When contemplating my options for my future life (something I do far to often to actually get anything done in my current life), I could do any of these things

1) Work with Teach for America to teach underserved inner-city youth

2) Go to a cheaper location, and work a low-paying job, while "finding" myself and working on writing and music stuff

3) Move to the big city and meet cute guys in a big apartment complex while working in an office and as a choir director

4) Room with a friend or relative and meet new people while working in office and as choir director

(notice a pattern? I'm doing the office and choir director thing now)

5) Do a ministry internship (ok, now you're just scared. I've got a friend who keeps trying to convince me...)

What I really enjoy, is writing about being a floundering twenty-something, and making my friends laugh. Also making my choir laugh. What a great group. I'm gonna miss them. I'll even miss the frustrating things that happened, like when the organist wasn't prepared, or when I wasn't prepared (eek!) because the reason they upset me was that I cared about the job. The problem with this time in our lives when our values are changing (trying to become people who are different from our parents) and our minds are being opened to all kinds of new things, is that it is hard to figure out what it is we DO value. And when we figure that out, we question WHY we value it - is it because we feel we're supposed to value it? And when we value many things, which passion should we follow?

Radio listening as cultural anthropology

So every morning, I listen to a bunch of different stations on the way to work, mostly looking for a song, not a shock jock, but occasionally I hear a little snippet of morning program. One curiousity of these programs is the WHUR morning show (96.3), which is an acutal local morning show, from a DC station that plays "adult" (in the "adult contemporary" sense) R&B. There's a daily feature they have called "the D.C. thrusts". This guy starts rhyming (poorly) about said thrusts, ( You must......you must trust.........you must trust that thrust....), and then he gives a list of names of people who have birthdays, or for some reason need a "thrust." (I thought they were called "shout outs" but I guess I'm behind the times) It goes like this: he'll say, "Tina, your Mom wants you to know that she's thinking of you today while you start your new job. Congrats Tina! BAAAAAAAAMMMM! " Then he starts talking about the next person, always ending with another "BAAAAAAAAMMMMMM!" Now I am so out of it in the morning, and so amused by this whole thing that I end up participating, saying outloud to my radio, "Good for you Tina! BAAAAAAAM!!" It's so nonsensical! How did this get started? How can there be people in the area who wake up and think, "hey it's my husband's birthday! I have to call WHUR so that guy can yell BAAMMMMM to him!"

Every now and then, I re-watch one of my favorite movies, Wonder Boys. I seem to do this when I'm trying to make a decision or facing some sort of "block". Which is sort of strange, as movie-watching, especially watching comedies featuring Michael Douglas, isn't usually considered a spiritual practice. But there's one scene toward the end that always gets to me. Toby Maguire's character, James Leer, has effectively ruined his academic career over the weekend, and Michael Douglas's character, Professor Tripp, has hit rock bottom as well. They seem sort of at peace with that, though, as they attend an assembly at the school (the hall they filmed it in reminds me SO much of the hall in the Iowa Memorial Union, where I saw Kurt Vonnegut, Angela Davis, Coretta Scott King, etc.!) They've basically hit "nothing left to lose", so when James is recogized for a writing acheivement, and asked to stand, it comes as a surprise. The applause deepens in sound when Prof Tripp shouts out, "take a bow, James!" The look on Maguire's face as he takes his little bow is sublime - it stops just short of smug, and instead hits childlike joy.

Watching that movie reminded me again that all of the BEST things that have happened to me through the last year or so have come not by my ambition or effort, but by grace. You can't earn an afternoon sitting with Ryon by a pool, or a walk in the woods with Jennifer and Elizabeth. The odd way my choir members respect and hold me in high esteem, also seems much more gift than accomplishment.

One reason that this area still feels foreign to me, is that so many people are so driven and ambitious. While I want to achieve a lot, and strive toward the highest level of all that I do, it's not so I can validate myself by saying, "look at me, I sang at the Kennedy Center, look at me, I did this, etc." It's just that I believe that I'm capable of working at that level, and I don't want to sell my self short. The worship of Humility (alone) is a dangerous religion (God help the Lutherans), and one to which I will not belong. I do not wish to imagine myself to be something I'm not, but I don't want to let go of what I may someday be.

It's hard not to be vainly ambitious, as an artistic person in a capitalist world. There's so much self-promotion and marketing that has to be done, it's easy to lose sight of what you're doing. If you're like me, every now and then you take a sick day, to remember. :)

Sleeping with the "enemy"

"The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off." - Gloria Steinem

It may not be clear by the way I live my life, though I think slowly it's become more apparent to those who know me, but my views on gender and feminism are fairly radical. This causes me a big problem, for a big reason: I'm straight. Now you may think that sounds silly, but most guys I meet aren't particularly interested in feminism, and many disagree with most of my views on it. It's like trying to date a person of a totally different religion than you, who thinks your religion is sort of unneccessary and dated. Not only can you not talk about your views with that person, but they think those views are sort of a joke. It's a highly personal rejection.

The problem with sexism is that it devalues the essence of the person, much like homophobia. Religious people who say "love the sinner, hate the sin" (regarding homosexuality) are ignoring the fact that the "sin" is part of the essence of that person's being. The same is true of sexism. It denies a person's worth in ways that preclude the ability to respect, let alone love. It makes as much sense for a woman to marry a sexist man as it does for a black person to marry a white racist. Unfortunately, sexism is so pervasive in our culture that it seems to touch everyone, at varying levels. How can you have the deepest, closest relationship of your life with someone who thinks, at some level, that you are inferior to him?
Now none of my male friends come right out and say, "Kim, I think you're inferior to me." The messages they send are far subtler. A friend of mine once said that he believed that one of the reasons women are less involved in sports is that they get their period, and that since having your period "takes a lot out of you", women have more difficulty being involved in sports. I don't think I need to take much time debunking that theory; if Michael Jordan could score 45 points with a high-fever flu, certainly he could have done it with a slight cramp in his back, and grouchy mood. Arguments like this, that suggest women to be biologically wired against achievement, subtly reinforce the messages we've received all our lives about our "natural" inferiority. The same male friend, after I told him that playing the guitar is annoying for me because the darn thing hits my breast in an uncomfortable way, is now convinced that there are fewer female guitarists because the instrument isn't boob-friendly. Just another example of the way sexist thinking tries to explain away the results of years of repression with bogus biological justifications.
Now, granted, some differences between men and women are biological *looks down and notes her lack of penis* but it's difficult to pin down which are really biological and which are the result of cultural cues, many of which are so a part of our lives, we don't even realize they're there. (Read Carolyn's fabulous Newseek article which addresses that topic very eloquently:http://www.mrvmath.com/matharticle.htm ) And interestingly, the biological arguments are used most often when attempting to explain the power divide between women and men. The argument that women are wired better for multi-tasking is terribly convenient when explaining why more women are secretaries than engineers. The argument that men are from hunter-gatherer lineage rather than nurturing-family-oriented roles is terribly convenient when explaining why more men are breadwinners and achievers than family caretakers. In fact, it seems MOST of the "findings" about differences between men and women are power-related.

The problem with relationships, and marriage, with a sexist person, is that when you spend a good deal of your time with someone who thinks you (naturally) belong in a certain (subserviant) role, you start to believe it yourself, unless you live in constant conflict. Peace-loving gal that I am, I find that possibility difficult to stomach. And I've found that even the most enlightened men expect me to fill a particular role, if not in society, then in their lives. It almost seems that the "enlightened" men are MORE likely to expect me to do all the relationship "stuff" (keeping in touch when away, working out issues that arise, etc.) than the guys who put their sexist views out in the open. These men, though they respect my views, intellect, and insight, expect me to keep them in line, "challenge" them, provide a moral compass, keep them grounded, or one of many other exausting tasks that really shouldn't be expected of anyone (except maybe one's self). I've had trouble finding a romantic relationship that gives me energy and strength, the way my friendships do. Instead romantic associations have tended to drain and limit me. As a feminist, I'm already trying to be someone that society doesn't want me to be. I need an ally, not another adversary.

self-determination and freedom

How is it that the more I'm able to control my situation, from a money standpoint, the less free I feel to do what I want? As I get more stable jobs, I find I feel I need to dress and act a certain way to keep them. The pressure to be "normal" bothers me. Here I am on the cusp of a new lifestyle, where I'll be able to work with young people and follow my musical passion, but I'm wary of the changes that it will bring me. I can't fathom living in a $900 a month apartment, or shopping for fun, or doing any of the domestic things that seem to bring my co-workers so much pleasure. Or spending my free time watching reality TV (what IS it with the obsession with American Idol in my office??)

Hmm...I'm going on a tangent. What I mean to say is that I love being independent, but for some reason that independence seems to rob me of the ability to live a creative lifestyle. Maybe it's the fact that I do clerical work all day, but I feel like I spend such a small part of my day thinking about the things I love to think about. When I was dependent on my mother, I was able to go to school and learn and dream and pick and choose from what seem now like many options. Now I'm limited by what is profitable, and what can be sold. All for a comfortable place to sleep where I don't have to worry about roaches or mice crawling out of the woodwork. Tell me when this gets easy.

Sometimes, when I'm driving my car to work, (1 hr, 20 min), listening to a morning show, or some assinine pop music, I think....oh my god, I'm one of THEM. I'm the adult I promised never to be. I have no problem with responsibility (well maybe a little ;) but every institution I enter makes me feel like I'm part of a facist regime. I know that's bizarre, but it's true. I feel like I spend my life being somebody's bitch. Capitalism's bitch. Oh my word, that's the best band name EVER.