scarcity

I need help in refocusing my attention.

My sense of purpose and preference for a life I dreamt of as a teenager is kind of on my mind since I spent some time updating my resume and submitted to www.externalassessmentsummer.com today. I want to have a more artistically robust life I think, maybe one in the art, design, or fashion world. I need to think about it more. I’m 23 and still figuring out my life. Things are going to be fine.

I’m reading about abundance vs. scarcity mindsets right now, and I need help removing bits of myself that have become mired in a scarcity mindset. I feel historically like I’ve been very much attuned to an abundant mindset, I’m pretty noncompetitive, but recently I’ve found that my ego has been so fragile. I don’t like having to make decisions, I don’t like talking in a group setting, I don’t like performing because I have to cling so hard to a narrative that I constantly forget. An abundant mindset is not defined just by what it’s not. It’s collaboration over competitiveness, and I do find that distinction hews close to but a few degrees left of my more basic operative mode in the negative. Non-competitiveness

Scarcity Mentality

  1. Victory means success at the expense of someone else.
  2. Difficulty showing happiness for the success of others including family, friends and business associates.
  3. Difficulty sharing credit, recognition, power and profit.
  4. Difficulty being a team player because differences in opinion are perceived as disloyalty.

Maybe I’m going out too much and projecting. Doing things out of love, not for love. Gratitude and grace as cures for one’s jealousy – jealousy defined as a projection onto others. A lot of abundance seems to come easily to me when I adopt a childlike wonder. Imagine a world of abundance

I also need to remind myself that it’s okay to want validation. Maybe it was the effects of physical, social, and psychological silos in quarantine that made me more sensitive to the burst of life this summer. It’s been wonderful to see everyone doing amazing, but you know. It’s also the awareness or self-perception that I’m not doing as amazing. Or that I could be doing more and that perhaps there’s something critical that I’m missing. Writing it out makes it seem silly.

Related to this anxiety around not doing/being enough, I’ve been reflecting on The Nap Industry’s posts on social. They promote rest, less work, more naps, not using the word “lazy” derogatorily or at all, etc. I feel like I’m very much into all of that, so it makes it a little hard sometimes when I compare myself with people in my age group who are doing so many things when I sometimes forget to do basic things like…laundry. I feel sometimes that the more I see people doing things, the less able I am to do those same things. Like a “too many cooks in the kitchen” cognitive distortion. That feeling of redundancy is paralyzing. I have this narrative of myself that sort of distorts the past as times gilded with greatness–great potential, great intelligence, ability, tact, skill. The future conversely feels so self-corrosive, or more accurately the potentiality of self-corrosion is so closely felt that it ends up becoming so. It’s that to venture out I’d be on inevitably diverted paths, ill-equipped and un-self-aware of what I need to re-correct. So I end up not venturing out at all. So I pull from what I feel like I’ve lost in a self-pitying way to paint my present as deficient in one manner or another. It’s a bit cyclic.

A pure example of this is my understanding of high school when I juggled so much “productive” work with relative success. Everyone existed on close rails and it was easy to understand hierarchy (grades) without the need for projection. In high school was when I began creating and carrying myself apart from the baseline priority of grades. I still did well in school. Exclusion was an easy way to experience an another/adjacent form of exceptionality. Self-directed exclusion made me feel a bit more in power. I don’t know what to say about the immigrant imperative to make no trouble for others, being closeted, not being white, and what it meant to be good at school. I am editing, qualifying, and refocusing my experience of exclusion as being self-guided to a large extent. I wonder what America as a land of perpetual adolescence means in this reconsideration. I’ve been reading The Topeka School by Ben Lerner. American perpetual adolescence is my symptom. My distortion of my past as a time of great potential. This conflation with my need to tap into a childlike wonder to think abundance. Oh.

Sure, so I hyper-fixated on growth in my adolescence, was prematurely trapped within an idea of what I could know and what I could never know. I recently told a friend over bad Viet food, “my base of knowledge is too small.” So, American perpetual adolescence (APA) as a lens through which I understand my increasingly scarce mindset.

Victory means success at the expense of someone else | Defeat means loss at the gain of someone else.

Another neuroticism: the need for exceptionality in arbitrary measures. If someone is typing, I am not typing. If someone is on their laptop, I am not on my laptop. It’s a paralyzing fear of redundancy. A deference built from negative modes of operation rather than the grace of abundance. We can only exist together if we can both accept our own uniqueness and others’ and see them as strengths. This is all we need. Scarcity is an illness of over-individualization. Everyone matters! It’s not you or me. It’s not us or them. It’s all or nothing. All as in the all in queer liberation for all. All as in the all in we are not free until we all are free. All as in the all in we are all worthy of love.

Redundancy brings up the idea of uselessness and usefulness. I hadn’t considered that. I usually think of it as a way to balance. If there’s no need for balance, then I can remain useless. The cumulative effects of passivity on my identity? It’s deleterious toward identity. Remember, I forget to remind myself of my narrative. This is scarcity.

What are its roots? Masculinity and its making? Pg. 160, the father Jonathan: “unmoored by the absence of someone who needed me” (Lerner). I feel closest to the character of Jonathan. He does not react aggressively when Adam does, which makes Adam more aggressive. He says the above line^ and this: “Maybe I was only relaxed when I was with someone who wasn’t, when I knew it would be useful for me to be calm, calming?” – which is often an experience I felt I had as a kid. If my sister was scared watching a horror movie, I wasn’t. And then I experienced so much of my life alone with art in a sort of mutualistic relationship. Reflections, attention, words for new catalysts, for more enrichment. Jonathan has that trip. He makes that film of a play. Adam describes the texture of a memory. It reminds me of an instance of depersonalization in 10th grade. Waiting for the bell in the cafeteria. Feeling reality shift into a filmic dimension. And then the texture of a memory, shoes up the ramp. Repeated hundreds of times and coiled now from the unconscious into a conscious touchstone that’s less textured than when I first recalled the memory of shoes, ramp, looking down. Language as synesthetic? A quote from the documentary Fantastic Fungi. A tactile memory, and memory relating to language. Yiyun Li. History. It’s starting to not be useful. Relevant (redundant).

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but it is just fine and i’m okay with fine

on the precipice of a widening gulf and a watershed moment where the first line ends. 
who, whose, whom, which, what, how, why, when, where
i remember when salted air touched chapped lipstransfused aridity, salted limbs and skin (on Mississippi mud-skin)
I guess we all live from one weighted bell valley to another \ i feel “drenched” in the gravity of desire, unequipped with the vocabulary to situate myself within it, and ever around it – to feel its contours, to want to know where it ends and i begin
“trapped” “stuck” “impeded” “confounded” an inexorable pull, a matter of degrees
i know when i close interruption, distraction, my thoughts on cobbled-stoned keys rock on about power, with a little prompting, – – – and on about reciprocity. gentleness, altruism. 
and then I guess I would say more about desire and intimacy, aloneness, needs – a pencil. Joy at information gathering, a prefrontal predilection for dopamine. These were all you.
the truth is too scary to write down, so I think them instead, in discursive reels . \ i wouldn’t want to know it.
Dream looping, an ouroboros – full of scales, what else?
a distributive copy 
copy as essence, as property
the lonely city: intimacy, to be seen, or to see, focused absolution of the self, an ego-dissolution, a rebuttal to loneliness

“a whole new universe to be alone in” the world being a bit amorphous? I’m only concerned with myself really. “making art is a selfish act” that’s all well and goodthe step is then filled with uncertainty – something has to be here. Then it won’t be there. Absent presence. The past in the present as yourself with other people. 
absent presence: sometimes used to describe the layered experience of landscapes changed by time; revisiting an old childhood town to find that the Blockbuster is now a mattress store, or the saplings you helped plant at your middle school are now fully grown. I guess you’d call it nostalgia, or the persistence of memory. 
i don’t have the ability to care enough about what other people want. enough as in care appropriately, or care sufficiently. or care at all. longevity is elusive for me, i force it into illusion, isolation 
I’m sad that I’m lonely. 

fear is the greatest human emotion, perhaps the only one.

fear is the greatest human emotion, perhaps the only one. even love is a sub-feeling, a by-product of fear. we love out of fear. no matter what fear, it doesn’t matter. fear of loneliness, mostly. fear of death. wanting to last in people’s memories.

not sure where this is from

To all the clothes I loved before..

I’m trying to be a lot more deliberate in my looks now that I kind of have nowhere to go. For hair.. I’ve had a pretty boring series of haircuts all my life; I’ve never ever dyed my hair, never done anything wild in styling it, and have never had an unusual cut. I cut my own hair now, which is an easy 2-minute buzz of my back and side hair and a 20-minute to an hour long haphazard job with my top and front hair which I hack at using a pair of scissors and a wild amount of self-doubt.

So, I’ve had some haircuts that I preferred. For a long time it was really long hair – so no haircut at all. More recently it’s been short hair.

into this- last last summer

Here’s me with messy short hair (and overall messy look) which I liked a lot at the time:

also from last last summer

I still like the messy short hair – it’s easy, and looks alright sometimes. Having looks look good by chance was my style philosophy for a while. Intentionally stylized looks could be fake, or forced. But they could be beautiful too.

full on

My lazy style meant throwing on all the clothes I loved, messy hair don’t care. Now I guess I’m thinking of paring back, wearing maybe just 3 colors at most lol. To all the clothes I loved before.. I’m still thinking of clothes I love as items that I can still love…just not all on myself 100% of the time.

Hair is still a WIP. I love my black hair, I don’t think I’d ever dye it. I also don’t like gel, so the best I could do is something wild with the buzz. Or I could start wearing wigs.. Khruangbin vibes?

with big sunnies 😎

Muff

going back in time. here are 10+ drafts from my tumblr vault–a washed out look into 2012-2015. Age 13-15.

Music to Check OUT/ download

http://blankkytt.bandcamp.com/album/heavy-crazy-serious

http://www.insaneproject.com/2011/12/2011-10th-best-tracks.html

http://freemusicarchive.org/music/The_Paperhead/Live_at_WFMU_on_Talks_Cheap_July_28th_2011/The_Paperhead_-_04_-_Cant_Keep_My_Eyes_Open

Engorgio

Just more thoughts while I’m on this machine. I feel unfortunate because this will make the total number of my drafts reach thirteen.. oh well. Haha well, this art-blog-scrolling-music-listening hobby of mine is getting nowhere. It has no point, and yes I don’t know. The music is nice though, very goood. So I am going to watch television series now I guess, which is so dissapointing, but there’s no helping it. I’m sorry.

Queer Art and Work and Words

Reading – skipping lines, dropping words, mutating forms, skimming – as a kind of poetry

y

some rules of alliance born of sound display

Today I went from opening a regular email to clicking to a list of 50 Best LGBTQ books on Oprah Magazine, to a review of Jean Cocteau: A Life, to more work by the reviewer, to a piece on Instagram and looks.

In a separate distraction, a search auto-populated with some past page I must have opened of an i-D article on side-hustles that I’m now fully reading. Looking at quotes like “inactivity as a goal”

floating notes: aspiring artists used to make porn in the 70s.
giving the audience exactly what they want describes porn

How to capture the essence of a moment

To capture the essence of a moment, put it in a bottle and secure it’s precious quality for later reminiscence. How to: 

1. Find an empty part of the mind.

2. Keep mind open.

3. Allow moment’s sensations and emotions to flow into the vacant lot.

4. Focus on capturing the essence.

5. Seal the memory by soaking oneself in its sensory perceptions and feelings.

Ender’s Game

Just watched the movie. Out of pure curiosity, I mean there’s a movie, why not watch it? Gavin Hood directed it, and he also did Wolverine, which was absolutely pounded by the critics. I found that out after the viewing, so I could watch it unbiased and develop my own opinion in contrast to the book. All of my following statements are obviously my own personal opinion, I don’t want to sound pretentious, or odd about the whole thing.

A book adapted into a film will always have it’s shortcomings. Unfortunately, Ender’s Game had many, but it had some redeeming factors worth pointing out. The book allows the reader to peek into Ender’s mind, and the benefit of the third-person limited-omniscient viewpoint is that the protagonist is much more complex, and his thoughts are compounded thoroughly, resulting in a truly visceral experience.The movie on the other hand was handicapped by it’s inability to see into the Ender’s mind, therefore we had to rely on the character’s actions, and put our faith in Asa’s acting prowess. To say the least, he did well! I didn’t like how Gavin modified the script at some points, he even omitted the kiss from Alai, which I thought was a pivotal point in the plot structure. Instead he allowed the momentous encounter to pass without much recognition. A kiss on the cheek implanted the instance deep into the reader’s mind, a mere gesture of departure does not do the same for the viewer. This along with many other details, were chopped off from the body of the original plot. The movie suffered from shallow characterization in favor of eye-catching special effects, which were, as expected, spectacular. One thing I did like about Gavin’s revision was the alteration of the mind-game. It was practical in it’s execution, and added a layer to the otherwise woefully mundane Ender. The movie moved too fast for my taste, a side-effect of the many omissions and revisions. Now that I’m done degrading the movie, I can’t find any reasons to commend it. I mean, the Battle School was a dazzling set to look at. Asa Butterfield is great, but that deserves it’s own little draft, because if I’m gonna mention greatness, I have to point out Harrison Ford, Ben Kingsley, and Viola Davis. I couldn’t get Davis’s maid character in The Help out of my head though….

Well that’s all, I thought I would have an intelligent discourse on the film, but I guess in the end I’m just disappointed. The book wowed me so much I read it twice! I was hoping the same for the movie, but in the back of my mind I knew this crazy sci-fi concept would be blown up in favor of mass appeal. So yeah; lots of action, explosions, not much character development, but I understand that. Once again-Asa Butterfield, that is all.#asa butterfield#ender’s game#harrison ford#viola davis#ben kingsley