self-archive part twelve
Volunteering for NISE: Nanotechnology...does anyone know anything about it? I don't, but am helping to put up this conference the Exploratorium is hosting. I lifted many a table, chair and beverage today not to mention filled many a box with markers. It feels good to legally be a volunteer now, I have been wearing the badge for a week, and hadn't yet lifted a finger for anything but this class. First thing, one of the people working for the event had seen me at the museum, very serious and intently sketching and mistook me for an exhibit developer. That made my heart make rainbows. Moi, developer? Maybe some day, with much ingenuity and luck. Getting to work with the volunteers has further rounded out my experience here, and I definetly got to hear some new voices.
Tomorrow I have my interview with Dennis Bartels and more documentation madness. I am still battling off a sickness, and am antsy right now to leave for the Vetiver show. Blake, where are you? We should be leaving right now. Vetiver fa shizzle.
I am becoming aware that I don't have that much time left in my new home. I am getting strange about it, I suppose.
Last night, I had the most depressing dream. I was back in Steamboat (ah, my love) and laying in "bed" (foam cushions) reading when there was a violent and opressive attack on the community I was living in. Steamboat was parked and on stilts under a shed by the edge of the most beautiful sparkly creek (picture the creek in Neverending story where Atreyu and Artax eat lunch before everything bad happens to them) and an art workshop/shed. I emerged when the bombing was over and saw half my community in dire destruction. They had bombed our fields. Instantly, I worried about how are we all going to nourish ourselves after this ugly incident? I started walking around surveying and one of the elders in the community was dead and lying on the porch of the community house. I kneeled beside him and started singing this mournful/sorrowful song that was achingly beautiful. My voice had this clarity. The scary bad woman in red leather came up to me. I didn't notice her approaching because I was staring into the face of this elder man that I must now bury and singing loudly. She commanded me to stop singing and to go inside. She said that my community was going to be taken over and there was nothing I could do about it. I started crying and trying to figure out what could be done.
This is the part where I woke up, and had to get it together enough to get on BART. Really , really depressing.
Tomorrow I have my interview with Dennis Bartels and more documentation madness. I am still battling off a sickness, and am antsy right now to leave for the Vetiver show. Blake, where are you? We should be leaving right now. Vetiver fa shizzle.
I am becoming aware that I don't have that much time left in my new home. I am getting strange about it, I suppose.
Last night, I had the most depressing dream. I was back in Steamboat (ah, my love) and laying in "bed" (foam cushions) reading when there was a violent and opressive attack on the community I was living in. Steamboat was parked and on stilts under a shed by the edge of the most beautiful sparkly creek (picture the creek in Neverending story where Atreyu and Artax eat lunch before everything bad happens to them) and an art workshop/shed. I emerged when the bombing was over and saw half my community in dire destruction. They had bombed our fields. Instantly, I worried about how are we all going to nourish ourselves after this ugly incident? I started walking around surveying and one of the elders in the community was dead and lying on the porch of the community house. I kneeled beside him and started singing this mournful/sorrowful song that was achingly beautiful. My voice had this clarity. The scary bad woman in red leather came up to me. I didn't notice her approaching because I was staring into the face of this elder man that I must now bury and singing loudly. She commanded me to stop singing and to go inside. She said that my community was going to be taken over and there was nothing I could do about it. I started crying and trying to figure out what could be done.
This is the part where I woke up, and had to get it together enough to get on BART. Really , really depressing.
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