Life; Monday

Life: Read directions thoroughly.

Upon adding/updating my beneficiaries for adult stuff (scary things they expect me to know about like 401k and life insurance now that I have a "grown-up" job) I was prompted to an initial page. Here, a highly convoluted message popped up about martial status with a "yes" and "no" button below.

For having been an English major, there is one thing everyone should know: I don't read well.

At least not in cases like this. I fail at anything remotely standardized. GRE? SAT? ACT? Fail. I skim through, and even if I do "read" it, I barely comprehend. So naturally upon selecting the yes or no, I click yes. Yes is usually the positive answer, the optimistic choice, and usually the one pertaining to me. So my eyes saw "married" and "not" and selected "Yes." Apparently yes is my knee-jerk. And then I realized that HR now thinks I'm married.

In an attempt to remedy the situation, I scoured the site, tried clicking back. No avail. Because my information now said "Married" it wouldn't allow me to add or change anything without including my spouse. Who neither exists, nor have I met.

So I utilized my morning break on the phone with HR. ...I accidentally clicked "yes"... No, I'm not married... I know I clicked yes, but no, I am not nor have I ever been married.

When you accidentally do things or you say you're married, your subconscious is not trying to tell you things. The only thing it may be trying to tell you is to slow down. You'd think that over twenty-four years, you would learn, but it's quite clear that you may never learn, as you keep on keepin' on like the stubborn bird you are. It's okay. As long as you continue to click "yes," at least we know you're consistent.

Life.

Friday.
Sage and apropos wisdom from my morning tea: "The whole life of man is but a point of time; let us enjoy it." -Plutarch

When people look to you for insight, consider that yes, you have lived a lot for your tender age. Your view is not unlike that of anyone else. Recall the existential issues you had when you were six years old; how you would continually ask your mother, "Why am I ME and not YOU?" Quandries were endless and pragmatism was not yet a thing. Continue this exploration. Don't ever forget that question, just as you'll never forget the time your mother dropped a bottle of nail polish on the ceramic floor when you were two.

Some things will never leave you; your idealisms are based in a grounded view of life, from your individual encounters and experiences; you can thank your parents for much of this.

Do bear in mind, when you advise peers to live spontaneously, to not allow yourself to live out your ideals vicariously through them. Sometimes, you should take your own advice. Be careless once in a while and live on whimsy. Allow your influences and outlook to be incorporated not only in your rhetoric but also in your living.

a note on categorization

Last year, my dear friend Christopher and I began categorizing our interactions as "Life" and "Living." We did this out of the realization that small exchanges were really quite astounding, that observations and comments can stand alone. The general catagory of "Life" sums up a blanket, a "this is life" sort of thing. Living is what happens in now, only when you are in motion. Which could be always. So these categories mean everything and perhaps nothing.

Our plan was to take these observational beauties and eventually make a book. We had pen names and all. Perhaps one day we will make this book. But in the meantime, I am utilizing these classifications for my everyday, to help me realize that "it's okay, this will probably mean something to you someday."

Life

Thursday.
Despite how resilient you think you are, you need more than five hours of sleep. Even though you used to do this quite regularly, you need a solid eight hours. Consider, you're getting older. You'll get through this, I promise.

living

Wednesday.
Today I woke up and felt alive. It feels remarkable to rise in the morning and not need anything. Almost three months has passed since I've had my routine coffee upon waking up. Coffee is now a novelty, no longer necessity.

Remember how it felt to make an outing specifically to smoke cigarettes and drink endless cups of coffee. You are a lot different from when you were seventeen. But recall that feeling of rebellion, of liberation, of living. You still have it, just let it happen.

catagorize under "life"

I made a promise to myself, in brevity, to put something in here each day. Here we go.

Today is Tuesday.
Don't forget to blow your candles out when you decide to fall asleep at 8:30. Be proud of your grown-up-good-night of sleep, but be mindful of your house. Remember, you love this house and all you keep in it.

Also, don't be alarmed that you did not know today's date. Although you are usually aware of the date and time, sometimes we all lose ourselves. This is why you bought a wrist watch. It has a box with the date in it. But don't be afraid if you forget to wear it, time will keep moving and you will continue to live.

A Wye Oak Monday

The start of a new week. I've stumbled quite heavily upon the new Wye Oak song "Civilian" and when I say heavily, you'll understand when you hear it. What a striking song; just stops you in your tracks. Anticipation for the April 5th Turf Club show is growing more every day.

http://soundcloud.com/cityslang/wye-oak-civilian

I am nothing without pretend
I know my thoughts
can't live with them
I am nothing without a man
I know my thoughts
but I can't hide them

I still keep my baby teeth
in the bedside table with my jewelry
you still sleep in the bed with me
my jewelry and my baby teeth

I don't need another friend
When most of them
I can barely keep up with them
Perfectly able to hold my own hair
but I still can't kiss my own neck

I wanted to give you everything
but I still stand in awe of superficial things
i wanted to love you like my mother's mother's mothers did
Civilian.

Swimming in a pool of all clear

There were stories and anecdotes I milled over to incorporate in my long-over-due post but are no longer relevant, no longer fresh.

My stories are not unlike the contents of my refrigerator. I habitually buy yet rarely use the goods I get at the grocery store. Having groceries puts some strange part of me to rest. It's like, if everything else hits the fan, I know I have food in my fridge, and that means something, right?

I just keep telling myself that what I'm doing probably means something, and is in someway "right." After applying to multiple jobs and getting multiple interviews and multiple rejection letters touting me as "the top candidate but seemingly over qualified," I decided to beat them to the punch for the next job I apply to and actually BE overqualified so I can shake my head "Yes" and say, "You know what, I am over-qualified, thank you for reiterating that fact for me." That said, I'm applying to graduate school.

And what a daunting awful thing it is. I signed up for a class to prepare me but all it seems to do is expose my flaws and inadequacies as a human being. It's simple, they tell me. Write a thesis sentence and then construct a coherent, five paragraph essay that clearly conveys your issue. Right. See, that wouldn't be a big deal but consider, A. I haven't written a thing, let alone a thoughtful technical essay in pressing six months and B. There is a constant voice I hear echoing through my thoughts that says "Don't be deadly dull, defy conventions." And there, I have my undergraduate education to thank. I was worked so thoroughly to the bone in the avenues of criticism and craft that I have debilitating anxiety and fear creating the very medium at hand.

So where exactly does this leave me? I have a plane ticket for Boston and a seat at the U of M reserved for the GRE. I'm out six hundred dollars and my anxiety levels have exponentially risen to an all time high. A part of me says, "You're in over your head Hanson, back out while you can." And another saying, "Seriously? Buck up, you asshole." Really no question remains, because, undoubtably I will take this exam. Sure, I may be in over my head, but as this post begs to prove, I can in fact produce a five paragraph something.

Happenings and

And then and then.

Things happen and things move and spaces change and people change and

Then nothing ever changes.

Three year cycle is the course I'm choosing to take.

I should really look into baking as a something. I already do it as a hobby actively. Breads, buckles, cookies, cupcakes are my zen therapy. That makes me want to puke, the saying that, that is. I'm like a true Martha fucking Stewart. Congratulations.

There is something about three years which allows my reset to reset--into place, into motion, into time. Three years ago, I had quit smoking, had lost someone dear, had gone through a wicked split and resurfaced with moments of clarity balanced with moments of sheer floundering.

We are people. We are living breathing organisms that feel things, like it or not. And then sometimes we document these things we see and feel to remind us that we are alive.

A new woman was born into my family yesterday, and somehow, some part of my being feels underwhelmed but also terribly hopeful that she can and will become an amazingly beautiful, driven and independent woman--if even a fraction like the one I, we, lost this year, then we will be in wonderful shape.

Also, there is a person, there are people I, we, meet that make us really feel alive.

i want to feel (hear) the wind blow
down my back
through my chest up into
my bones

sensations

in a time
recently i became a woman
felt like a woman, no longer a girl
age, a coming of
bigger than gender specific

senses of spacial relations
i can feel your resilience
you just don't know it yet

distance, a future is calling
this limbo will not last
but in time, vast expanses

Life

i feel great today, thanks.

Papercuts and Post-it Notes

December has arrived.

A few unrelated thoughts:

The first week was spent in Oakland, California. It was rather nice. Funny, really, is the best way to describe the aforementioned trip. Vacations are a strange foreign land for me, and learning to relax and read a book is harder than it should be. So I slept a lot, ate a lot, and did a little reading, a little writing, and a little shopping. The weather was "cold" and naturally I complained about that fact. Erika's rear windshield was shot out Wednesday night, mere hours after she was talking about how her neighborhood was less sketchy than originally thought. Coincidence and chance.

Biking from Berkeley back home at midnight in dense fog and forty degrees reminds you how nice it feels to be alive.

Now I am home, and am alive.
...
After almost a year, the Walker is still going swimmingly. I am terribly excited for a few things in the not so distant future, including but not limited to the British Television Advertising Awards and Expanding the Frame.
...
Stories have accumulated by the hand fulls. Rather than my usual observe and report ways, I've just been observing, saying, I will do this later, and then forgetting. This week brought a good one, that although not as awe-inducing/inspiring written down, is still a tiny gem to be kept wound tightly in the arsenal.

One. A few months back, a mutual friend waited at a bus stop. He smoked a cigarette while he waited. A gentleman incognito (we'll call him BS for now) asked another fellow future bus rider (A)to use a lighter. A said he didn't have one. BS turned to mutual friend. Asked for a light. Upon agreement to let BS use the lighter, BS tipped his sunglasses, peered over the lenses, and said, "It's me! Bruce Springsteen!" It actually was.
...
My obligatory Top Records of 2009 is currently being compiled and shaped by yours truly. It's hard to believe that another year has passed by, seemingly under the radar. A lot happened over the course of the year. We'll leave it at that. While I am unsure of merits as of just yet, here is my unofficial list, as of nine o'clock this morning:

Neko Case "Middle Cyclone"
Grizzly Bear "Veckatimest"
Yo La Tengo "Popular Songs"
The Antlers "Hospice"
Camera Obscura "My Maudlin Career"
M. Ward "Hold Time"
Papercuts "You Can Have What You Want"
Real Estate "S/T"
Fruit Bats "Ruminant Band"
Cass McCombs "Catacombs"
Phoenix "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix"
Bowerbirds "Upper Air"

one. i remember learning how to dive.
two. i never climbed trees as a child.
three. yellow and red leaves are better than green.
four. autumn is the best season.

I'm not dead.

.

it's cool, i'm lazy.

no post in quite a while.

this should tide you over--
Libra:. Opportunities are fleeting. Move fast to catch up to where you know you need to be. No need for fond farewells. No need for graceful movement as you transfer. Simply gather yourself and go.

I cannot talk fast enough

I am beaming. So, apology is coming at the beginning rather than the end.

This week started on a funny note-- missed connection on craigslist. They are total head-scratchers.
To the blond girl with glasses wearing a black and white striped shirt, enjoying the surly bender at the mates of state show last night - seen you around town a few times. Just wanted to write and tell you you're beautiful. Just... yeah. See you around, hopefully.

Part of me had an entirely cynical response. The other part found it endearing and felt hopeful for people. Why? I don't know.

Today, I showed up for work with little work to do. On my break I stopped at Kowalski's for Kombucha and Walgreens for Skor/Sour Patch Kids. I have a steady, healthy diet. I soon realized that my road trip to Oakland/San Francisco is sooner than I think and should look for stuff to do. Done. Within three minutes I found two things: Camera Obscura on the eighth of June and Neko Case on the ninth.

So as if my brain were not already full up, while driving on Franklin, (Neko Case and sunglasses on) and kept jumping back and forth between thoughts. And then, I may have run a stoplight. I say may because there were extenuating circumstances. So then my mind reversed and questioned if I did in fact run a light or not. This story to be continued.

longest weekend ever.

Ohio was the longest weekend ever. Friday night was spent in a desolate cabin with no heat. And of course I forgot to bring even a sweatshirt, so I slept with one blanket, yoga pants, a tee shirt and my jacket in 37 degrees. Wonderful. Then Saturday was the bridal shower. Enough said.

This morning I woke up early and decided to run errands. So I called a friend and made him tag along.

We were driving on 394 from Costco and I had this epiphany. Every time I am in a remote location, I find myself at fucking Walmart. Literally, every random trip I have taken in po-dunk America, I have ended up at a Walmart in the middle of God's territory, usually in the wee hours of the morning.

It should be noted that I never stepped foot in a Walmart in Minnesota while growing up.

So what is it about this empire we so lovingly call Walmart that lures me in when I am trapped or perhaps traveling through America's heartland?

Maybe it is that they have low, low prices. Or maybe the fact that it is the staple place found in every city that you know is open 24-7. It should also be noted that nine times out of ten I am heavily intoxicated when at Walmart. This brings up yet another question. What is the allure of Walmart, in the middle of nowhere, when intoxicated?

Really, I have no answers. All I have is photographs from excursions to various Walmarts throughout the years to prove I was there.

To a wonderful pooch.

Off to a better place where amazing dogs go.

And if the movie I watched as a little kid is right, he's going to heaven.

your hand is right in front of me

Almost two years has passed since I last saw a particular movie. I'd like to think that I am over my phase of terrible movie watching. I will not, however, lie to myself. I will always watch terrible movies.

That said. A quote came to mind today.

SPANNING TIME. WE ARE SPANNING TIME.

Really, it kind of baffles me that I liked Buffalo '66 so much for so long. I also really liked Empire Records a lot for a long time. I think this is for a few reasons:

A. I had this dream of working in a record store
B. '90's stupid teen counter-culture film
C. Ethan Embry
D. Rex Manning
E. Liv Tyler's horrible acting and how she always looks like she is on the verge of crying.
F. Young Renee Zellweger also always looking as if on the verge of crying
G. A crush on AJ. He was a dreamer.

oh, and H. The angsty young Robin Tunney who ended up being the model for Built By Wendy
to this:
Hilarious.

So all of those reasons, but I still identify how annoying and terrible it is/was.

Shitty films aside.

I have a lot to say right now but have been unable to talk about it. Whatever. My palms are sweating. And I have a boatload of new music that has been taking over my life.

And that concludes a nowhere post.

I ran out of funny stories a long time ago.

I keep having strange interactions.

Perhaps it is because I have been working and writing an absurd amount of hours per week, thus incapacitating me and going extended periods of time without real social interaction.

Whatever. I think i should just chalk it up to nothing.

Even though I am over-worked, I am spoiling myself this week. Blitzen Trapper Wednesday night. Yes.

And!!! I get to go on an airplane in less than two weeks. And get the hell out of dodge for three days.