Memory Banks

I've been working on a couple of non-blog writing projects lately—collecting and digitizing old teenage angst poetry and journals, working on some academic articles, outlining a salacious romance novel so that I can finally retire at the ocean (kidding! or am I?), sending birthday cards, balancing the checkbook, etc.—so I haven't been spending much time scouring the internet for snark to snark about while being a snarkity snarkmaster. Looking through my old journals and writings has gotten me thinking about what it is that my brain actually catalogs...

Because of my OCD, it seems as if most of what I remember from a moment is what I was worried about, obsessing about, upset about, you name anything other than what actually happened at the event or specific details, that's what's in my brain. That, along with useless celebrity gossip and decades-old CBS soap opera plotlines. I'm consistently unable to remember a really funny event that happened with my best friends, but can recall the Wednesday 2 months ago that I was unable to get anything productive done because I was replaying a conversation from years before over and over and over again.* I can remember all the times I was upset in elementary school, but very little about childhood fun and games (whatever the hell that means). No matter how I try, I can't recall half of the stuff that happened in high school, except whatever insecurities were bouncing around and around in my head. This used to upset me: here was ONE MORE THING that I couldn't do right, so much of my life stolen from me because of a stupid wonky brain.

But...thinking about how I remember all of my incessant thinking, got me (you guessed it) thinking. In truth, there's no "right" way for memories to be kept or, even, one way events are supposed to be remembered. My memories are a reflection of my worldview, whether I like what gets captured or not. I'm seriously considering seeing if I can't scrap together some sort of timeline out of all my anxieties, see what I can piece together in spite of this thing that, for whatever reason, is a part of how I view, deal with, and remember my life. 'Cause knowing what it was that was bothering me (OCD or "real") at a certain time in my life, OCD is certainly better than worrying about how I can't remember... I mean, 'cause really, do I need any more worry floating around up here in my noggin'? I think not.

*My OCD doesn't manifest in the stereotypical "germaphobe" way... I tend to have issues with perfection, fear of harming or hurting others, and fear of misremembering something important, misrepresenting myself, or misleading others in some way. I tend to make a lot of lists, rearrange items, and replay conversations and situations over and over and over again.

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In Defense of (Meat) Food

Even though I classify myself as a "flexitarian" or a "less-meatitarion" (shout-out to Sara for that term) and I try to eat at least one veggie-only meal a day and several vegan meals a week to help lessen my impact on the world and its available resources, I couldn't help but laugh at this video ribbing vegetarians. It's pretty smart, I think, regardless of how you feel about what food we eat and why.

Enjoy

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Living Versus Enjoying

While one might argue that my recent exhibition for work* is an expression of my inner Harry Potter fan, I tend to look at it only as a career opportunity, albeit a fun one. I prefer to keep my fangirl love to myself and close friends and snarky blogs. I enjoy it...I don't LIVE it. I don't make costumes, or write fanfiction, or listen to podcasts, or go to cons.

Until now.

As part of the outreach push of the exhibition, I went to my very first "con" this weekend, for Harry Potter, obviously. I spent most of the time working--telling everyone and their fellow wizards about the project in hopes that they would go to the website or tell their friends to visit it when it travels to a local library near them. The rest of the time, I admit I was a bit, well... flustered. I was surrounded by people who LIVED their love. They wanted to share their passion with others through music, role-play, fic readings, costumes and balls, and scholarly-style sessions. It was equal shares embarrassing, inspiring, silly and fun. A part of me wishes that I was the sort of person who could immerse myself like they did, so fully in something they love even if mainstream society thinks it's trivial. Another part of me tried very hard to clearly demarcate myself from the attendees. I was there as a scholar and a professional, sharing my project with a vested audience--I wasn't of the audience. Finally, I was jealous of the younger people at the conference, who seemed a bit more like "funky" or "regular" kids (with social skills!) than their older counterparts did, many of whom were, let's face it, nerdy. This younger generation grew up, literally, with Harry. He was a common cultural touchstone for them and was nothing to be ashamed of. Kinda like Star Wars for my generation, except gender-inclusive with more than just a braless Princess for girls to relate to. For many of the older attendees, Harry Potter was something we either allowed into our lives as an engrossing read we constantly had to explain to our peers or we instantly embraced because it was similar to our other fandoms, such as D&D or Buffy or Ren Faires or Mercedes Lackey, etc. Let's face it, loving Harry Potter ten years ago as a 35-year-old isn't the same as growing up reading Harry... and now playing lead guitar in a Wizard Rock (Wrock) band at shows attended by everyone from football jocks to science nerds.

So, why did I feel this way? Why did I feel like such a... a... a SNOB?!? Is it because when I was an adolescent teen, I was a fangirl who was ostracized by most of my peers? Is this the same feeling I experience 15-years-ago that beat out of me all displays of geek love so that I could better socially integrate...even convincing me to get rid of all evidence of my interests, from my Star Trek micro-machines, to my Death of Superman comics, to my Star Wars books, to my X-Men trading cards? (Ah, still soooo sad about not having any of these anymore!). I want to know because I certainly don't want to look down on people who are expressing themselves, just like I hated how that made me feel back when I was growing up. Today, I take pride in my nerdfests, in my knowledge of Trek, Lucasfilm, and Harry Potter; it's one of my defining characteristics. Or, at least until this con, I thought that it was. Am I really just a fair-weather fan? A half-hearted lover of geek? Am I still unable to truly be myself?

Or...were these people just not my people, even though we had common interests? Was this event simply not the way that I best express my inner fan? Is it okay to totally applaud people who are fanboys and fangirls, but to not feel comfortable being "out" as one with conferences, costumes, and fanfic communities? Perhaps my continued desire for a career with an academic interpretation of popular culture is the way that I personally feel free expressing my passion for tv, comics, media, and film... Perhaps instead of making a costume, I write papers and do research? Not quite as fun to wear, but there you have it...

Regardless, I have to say that I am very glad that I went and not just because of the warm embrace everyone had for my project. I met some AMAZING people, who were open and friendly and fun. I was allowed to witness** the oft-times intricate and creative ways that people express themselves and live their inspirations. I'm not sure if I'm one of them, but I'm certainly glad they allowed me to pretend, if only for a weekend.***


*I haven't given specifics, and won't either, on this public site. Though this post is a bit of a cross, I prefer to keep this blog anonymous as possible for professional purposes. You know, with big brother watching and all :)
**I'm not posting any pictures, 'cause I don't want to objectify these people... Google Harry Potter + conference and you'll get a good idea...
***Check out Lev Grossman's blog for TIME on this subject--he was there too.

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And... Pause!

Life has been very busy for me lately... or for the last six years since I moved to DC, actually... I got a masters degree, had several jobs, got hitched, lost family members and a good friend to illness, moved a mazillion times and then bought a house, fixed up (mostly) said house, worked hardcore on my OCD, discovered acupuncture, made new friends, hung out with old friends, became an auntie, and dreamt about the next steps in my life... In the next year I hope to finish fixing up the house, publish a couple of articles that I'm working on, start going back to school to get my Ph.D., keep getting healthy, and continue to be present in my life instead of being a big ball of squidgy.

This part of my life have been in parts amazing and horrible (sometimes at the same time), and it's sometimes unclear how I'm supposed to process it all... But I'm one of those people that really tries to look at life not as a set path towards a specific destination. I like to think of it more like a discovery--you chart your course and follow the path as it leads you, often to something surprising and unexpected. There's no one right way to live your life or to define yourself. Sometimes the most amazing experiences happen when you accidentally veer off course. I admit that it's hard to keep this perspective with a mental illness that's all about trying to control the unknown, but I really do feel like I'm beginning to get the hang of this stuff... I'm much better about saying "no" to things I don't want to do, taking responsibility for my own happiness and not for others', and for knowing when to say "stop." Oh, and saying "yes" to the unknown. Like surfing. That's right. S-U-R-F-I-N-G. On a vacation. That I didn't take ANY work on... That I just relaxed at and did what I wanted to do because I wanted to do it, with amazing friends, natch! And it was AWESOME! I had so much fun, even if I fell off the board and never really "stood" up... Sidenote: can you say "learned to surf" if you never successfully apply the techniques? Survey says...YES!

This is me being present as I fall off my board and under the surf. I got bruised knees. It was AWESOME!



This is the beach where I finally pushed my (much-needed) "pause" button. A vacation with no other purpose than to vacay. No weddings to witness, no family to visit, no conferences to attend, just going for the sake of it.




Say it with me: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

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