recuerdos y ideas

I wrote this for scammell's most recent piece, about memory. i'm not sure it'll make it into the final piece, but after about a month of reflection, i still kind of like what i said.

as something of an anthropologist i feel like i should frame memory in some sort of anthropological theory. of course, this is in no way indicative of anthropology as a whole, but i think memory is very intimately connected to ideas of truth and history. we are all who we are because of what we've experienced. we have these experiences and we try to break them up into digestible, understandable pieces. we chop experience up into memories in order to endow them with meaning. this is the moment i realized something, or this happened, or this experience is why i feel this way. but in reality, experience is just a long run on sentence of occurrances. and much like history, they depend entirely on perception. there is no single truth. there are as many truths as people who witness or live through an event. and yet, some truths are valued over others. they are reproduced and written down, and thus become fact, "official history." I think we do similar things with memories. We have a vast amount of experience from which to draw, but we choose certain memories from which to make meaning. these memories are a key part of the construction of our identities. they tell us who we were, and thus who we are. we make ourselves through our memories.

i've also been thinking about attraction a lot lately, too, and i think in a way its related. in fact, i think attraction may be the converse of memory in some ways. i have come to the conclusion that (and maybe this is cynical, but that would be rather in line with my usual musings on relationships) we are all attracted to people based on the idea of them. we attribute meaning before the substance, and sometimes forget that's the case.

its the idea that attracts us. the idea of that brooding filmmaker, or that silly footballer. and i think it matters very little how well we know the person. even if the object of attraction is an old friend, someone with whom we collaborate or create, even if we've witnessed them in other relationships or had our own previous relationships with them, its still the idea that attracts us initially. the idea of the good friend that becomes the lover. the idea of carrying over what we have into something else. the idea of the past relationship becoming renewed. we apply cultural narratives to our unique situations to make them meaningful. maybe epic.

perhaps more obviously, even if we've only known the person for a few moments, or simply seen them across a room. the attraction is the idea of them. we make assumptions based on our visual perceptions. As Celia Lury has written, vision and knowledge have become inextricably intertwined in modern Euro-American societies (1998:2). We make assumptions based on the visual. Certain clothing represents interests or values, glasses translate to intelligence, dreadlocks translate to particular recreational practices, a hoodie with 15 mini-buttons translates to some sort of leftist, anti-consumerist, possibly anarchist political position. And because, for the most part, we're using a common script, or what Eco calls “successive transcriptions” (1992:3) the translation is often close to what was intended by the performer. so, this is to say that often the idea of the person is not so far from the reality.

However, the idea is simply the iconic permutation of the real person. Certain aspects of identity may be highlighted while others are ignored or downplayed. And this happens on both ends, the attractor and the attracted. Or perhaps it's aspects of the affair itself that are highlighted or downplayed. Its scandalous nature highlighted, the mundane interactions downplayed. Or the comfort level highlighted, the misunderstandings downplayed.

But this is not to say that attraction is meaningless. Its what happens after the attraction that counts. Its what's built on top of the attraction that lasts. Because eventually (maybe it takes 30 seconds, maybe 4 years) the idea of this person, this encounter or relationship melts away to reveal the truth beneath it. That charasmatic artist becomes a real human with talent, but confidence issues, or the young ambitious politician transforms into a someone too absorbed with the state of affairs in the world, and not absorbed enough with you. But if you're lucky, that quirky bass player slowly transforms into a complex personality that is compatible, comfortable, and real. complete with faults and failings, but with just the right combination of smirks, jokes, surprises, and awkward talks about the future to make you realize its not just the idea of it anymore. there's real substance.

but only if you're lucky.

palabras y nombres

the world was feeling a little out of whack this weekend. maybe because i spent too much time at school. maybe because i cleaned our giant white board with harsh chemicals and the fumes were getting to me. i'm sure it had something to do with certain friendship weirdnesses, but things are feeling back in order again (nothing a little pineapple can't fix). i also think part of the fix has been the way i've been addressed by a number of people. "darlings" are always nice, as are "hello, love". "hey lady" or "baby" from certain folks. "nellochka!" is always nice. I even enjoy "haynes!" coming through on g chat.

last week, when mama H was visiting, i was actually thinking about being called "haynes." My mother calls my father that. My mom's coworkers call her Haynes. But i've never been called Haynes. Not even back in my team sports days. It was always "nellerz." The closest i've come is "Hell Nanes" thanks to the epic farter and rave demon. So maybe this is silly and crazy, but being called haynes actually make me like e.d.a. much better. funny how little things like discourse change minds and moods.

i suppose voloshinov was right

para serge

this blog needs more pictures.

las estrellas

i've mentioned this before, but i don't read my horoscope much. however, it seems like on the odd occasions when i do happen to check it out, it always seems far too appropriate.

today's:

You would be wise today to remember that your imagined scenario isn't the only one possible. This isn't to say you are wrong in any of your perceptions or even in your conclusions. But there are multiple paths diverging from several points along your way, even if they aren't obvious to you right now. Keep in mind that the Taurus Moon is currently in your 7th House of Environment, giving you the impression that reality is more rigid than it actually is. New solutions will become apparent as soon as tomorrow.

so, perhaps i worry too much. i get too caught up in things, and my control freak comes out. sometimes i need to remember that a deep breath can work wonders.

i still don't regret it though.

world theater day

i actually randomly stumbled upon this by someone who is not technically a perf stud (though really, had life circumstances been different, i can totally see rumagin being quite a perf stud in a number of ways), but i think it speaks to a number of ideas i've held for a long time.

i remember first telling people i was double majoring in theater and anthropology. everyone thought this was crazy because a) the only worse than theater for finding work is anthropology and b) what could the two possibly have in common with each other.

and agosto boal on this World Theater Day, states it all quite clearly. but to sum up, we are all actors. life is spectacle. it is what you do with your action and spectacle that makes or unmakes (sometimes both) the world. so today i remember dwight and will consciously work to create social justice through activism, art, and academics.

hablamos

the beginning of this week was kind of rough emotionally (not for any good reason), but there's something about seeing one of my favorite old students (the wave on NM ave. did the trick) on national television to make me feel better. that kid who sits in the back of human mirror is also on there, but i don't have as much affection for him as i do for bryce.

but really, a number of things have changed. first, the weather is warming up, and though its rainy, and still getting quite cold at night, the world smells like spring, and that's enough for me. second, i spent 45 minutes this morning talking to ee about how language used on online dating websites is strikingly neoliberal (the body as machine, flexibly accumulating attributes, commodifying desires) and at one point, i had to chuckle to myself. this is exactly what i always thought was missing in the dale. the sort of spontaneous, organic anthropological discussions that make me feel like a grad student. and as annoyed as i get about how little i get done in the cubes, its really because so much of this happens. i mean, sure, there's plenty of gossiping, complaining, arguing, and plain ridiculousness, but those moments when we get into deep discussions and challenge each other, and i can actually feel my opinions changing or narrowing, or being refined...those are the moments i know i'm in the right place.

to top it all off, the film is still in a precarious position, but is at least coming together a little, i've gotten some work done on my paper for montreal, and there's free lunch tomorrow. plus our first futbol practice. so, while i've been complaining that my friends just aren't cutting it, i'm really proud to be part of a community. and one that (maybe its egotistical, but) i feel like i've had a hand in creating.

so tonight, instead of sitting in the library discussing david harvey, otto, the jag, ee, rumagin, and otto's friend alva & i went to ee's place, sat in his basement office drinking wine and discussed everything from postmodernism to ways in which sea monster on iphone reflects shifting forms of fragmented identity. i guess being a nerd isn't so bad. for the moment at least.

mis chicos

oh my.
a new season of my boys in impending.

this does not bode well for my ability to defend my television viewing habits.

a casa

there's always something about changing the time zone on my computer's clock that feels meaningful. the watch gets pushed ahead or pulled back usually when the time announcement comes over the airplane's intercom as we land. the cell phone clock changes automatically when driving from one time zone to another. but often, i consciously avoid changing the clock on my little laptop. when i moved to the dale, it took me a full month to admit i no longer lived in EST and pull it back an hour. and now, i find myself hesitating to push it the other way. to admit that i am back on the east coast to stay for a while. that i live here. that i live here.

yes, this is where my stacks of books and old canvases are. this is where my snow boots sit next to my old green converses on the shelf of my closet. where the Vegetarian Epicure my mother gave me rests atop the fridge, and my chola puppet and carebear share a seat by the window. but after a year and a half, it still doesn't feel like home. i've met some wonderful people that have opened me up to new ideas, and i've certainly had my share of fun. but it still doesn't fit. i really want to like this place. i try to like it. some nights everything falls into place and the people and timing and weather and architecture all come alive and i forget the reasons i've concocted that i should think this place is wonderful and i can just feel it. but then an hour passes, and the magic is gone, and its back to consciously concentrating on the small pieces of this city that i connect to. the pieces that remind me of other places, usually.

and so, i come back here from a week in a place i love, and everything is dulled. it rains, but without ferocity. i see familiar faces, but i have to prepare myself to smile for them. i find myself in a foul mood, and not even the things that usually snap me out of it will work.

and i don't mean for this to be too self-pitying or depressing. my life is quite nice and i have people here who care about me and believe in me. i'm getting to do what i really love, for the most part, and in a place that nurtures the things i find important in life. but i'm just not sure this will ever be home. maybe i've been misinterpreting robert frost all along. maybe its not that you can't go home again, because places change. perhaps its because once you've experienced something like home, its just impossible to find again.

but i did just reset my computer's clock.