Day 32

I skipped Days 26-30. I went with TM to Indianapolis in the middle of the week. He went to a conference and I hung out in bookstores, reading about my latest obsession that I've had time to explore since being gainfully unemployed: porn and sex work. As a feminist I can't decide if I'm for it (freedom of expression, some women find their empowerment through it, etc.) or against it (based on exploitation and objectification of women, feeds false consciousness, turns a beautiful thing into a commodity, cheapens sex, etc.). It turns out, feminists can't decide either, as I've now read a few articles and books from both points of view. And both camps end up decrying the other side as "not really feminist." Gee...I wonder why the female revolution has faltered?

Anyway...it was actually a really mentally hard week, as this one is shaping up to be. I'm having a hard time staying excited about this gainful unemployment shtick, especially after being rejected from my first two applications (one I never heard back from and the other I sent in the resume and cover letter the day after they filled the position, which they were kind enough to tell me). The good news is that I've only heard about these positions through people that I've talked with, so I can't say it's truly been for naught. I also received a mysterious email requesting a meeting with me instead of the other way around, but I have no clue who this firm got my name and background from. We'll see how that all ends up.

All of this is to say that I'm ready for my gainful unemployment to end. In fact, I'm not sure it's been so gainful this last week and a half. The problem is, I'm not so sure still what it is that I'd really like to be doing. And maybe that's part of the lesson here: it doesn't need to be figured out. I don't need to be figured out by anyone, including myself. I can just do something...and if I don't like it, I can stop doing it. I should just stop being so damn picky and pick something.

To clear my head, I headed out to Frederik Meijer Gardens today. It turned out that one of my favorite artists was the featured sculptor this season: Patrick Dougherty. I began my visit inside a cathedral/labarynthian stick sculpture with the smell of lilacs from the adjoining room drifting in. I walked through the arid gardens filled with cactuses and rock. There are plants that grow disguised as rocks (clever!). It felt so incredible to be in this bright, warm garden looking out at gloomy lower Michigan's idea of pre-spring winter.

After the arid garden, I took a detour into a wetter garden filled only with carnivorous plants from South America and doomed midwestern ants. Then I walked through asmall path of flowers so perfect and colorful they seemed fake.

And then...there was the famed butterfly gardens. Only available in March and April. My favorite? The butterfly that looks like a green plant, the monstrous butterfly with layered wings in wild colors that only flies at night, the black lacey butterfly dark as pen ink with sparse designs...all beautiful. But my favorite was the medium sized butterfly all brown with designs drawn in black tightly together on its wings, like the Roots drawing I loved so much a month ago at the UICA. It had a few dark blue and off-white blots on its wings. I was grand without being flashy, intricate without a million colors, elegant without dizzying layers and trailing bits. Confident of itself, it didn't seem to need all the accoutrements of the other insect-birds.













I admire this butterfly. This is the butterfly I aspire to be. But lately, it doesn't feel like I'm doing the best job. My heart has been struggling with an egotistical need to find a job that says "I've made it" all the while knowing that I would be happiest working in a small, local place where I could do a great job in the day and then go home at night free to forget all about it. I feel compelled to take assignments jet-setting around to prove...what? I thought I'd love it, which was fine. But it turns out I don't - it gives me a headache, tires me out, makes me feel disconnected and depressed. It turns out that isn't who I want to be, which is also fine...so why do I still care at all to force myself to do it? Is it about clinging to expectations I set up for myself and for other people to think about me? How do I let that go? Not should I, but how.

And "looking into my heart to find the answer" is not the how. I've been looking. The answer isn't there. Perhaps I should take some more good advice I've heard from a few rare gems: pick something, do it, and if you don't like it, stop doing it. Seems pretty simple. Perhaps I can do a few cognitive roundabouts to make it really fucking complicated.

Of course, this is all cart-before-the-horse talk - there's nobody really clamoring to hire me in this city.