Yesterday, I wrote about a bunch of stuff: desperation, the use
of the word victim, etc.
This morning, I have gone on our site and not yet found a drawing
from you to which I might respond. So, knowing that it is Thanksgiving
and I am not yet sure when I will be able to write again today, I thought
I would describe my trip here.
My sister lives across from Lincoln Park, amazingly on the 13th
floor, as I do, about 300 miles away, in Chicago. Most buildings
do not have a 13th floor.
That is, they have 13 floors, maybe more, but they skip over the 13th
and re label it 14. Very strange.
I like the idea that we both live on floors visibly marked 13, that we
both can stand out on balconies, looking across the distance, maybe even
to each other.
Yesterday was a funny day for traveling. I had planned to fly out Tuesday
night but found after working with my staff and doing some of the usual
life maintenance, plus individual AND couples therapy, I wasn't up for
Not knowing what holiday plans might hold with my girlfriend, I had purchased
a full ticket fare. A little more expensive that way but sweetly providing
I sometimes do that. Buy a full fare if it is something like Southwest
where there is no change fee so I can fake myself out in my plans and
change them several times if I want. Instead of making me feel
stressed, it gives me the luxury or perhaps even an illusion of a
certain kind of freedom.It is enormously comforting
to me to do things that way. Maybe because my days are so often
filled with meetings and places to be at very specific times.
I got back to the office around 4 on Tuesday, checked in with myself
and realized that despite my planning, I was not up for literally
turning around and heading to the airport. And that was OK. I needed
to talk to my staff a little more, write, hang out with my
birds, so I postponed my flight until later that evening.
That turned out to be too late for Laurel who is needing to go to bed
early these days. So I rescheduled for the next morning, Wed.
Wed morning, I woke up, made some coffee, started my morning piece to
you and realized that I probably wouldn't make the flight without rushing. Decided
not to rush and take the next flight.
Took some phone calls, including an important one about a performance
we are doing for the girl scouts in a few weeks, wrote some more and
decided I was enjoying myself.
The enjoyment of nobody in the office but me, the pleasure of taking
my time in all things I was doing. Drinking coffee. The internal
conversation of words: thought and written, rather than spoken aloud.
It was downright sensual. I didn't want to be anywhere else.
So, decided to take the next flight. Finally, the 3:15.
Caught the metro link and was at the airport in plenty of time.
Holidays mean different things to different people. For a lot of
people, it is about cramming in as much as they can, people they want
to see, people they may not want to see but to whom they may feel
obligated, and lots sandlots of activities. The race against the
Can the clock be raced?
what else can we do in life but race the clock?)
that my days are filled with activities, and like you in your
position as dean, some of it I like and some is required.
I love to let things evolve as much as possible. Sleep if
I feel like sleeping, write and write more if I want, visit
So much about modern life is about time management.
What do you think of my use of the word management there?
I'm becoming more and more aware of the things that
eat up our time, so insidiously.
We only have so much time, Kim. And
it is time we are not guaranteed.
How do we do the things we need to do, the things we
want to do? How do we find as much of a relationship
as possible between that
we need and want to do?
I'm unclear what you mean by a relationship. It seems that sometimes
we step outside of who we are to have this relationship
that has nothing to do with our authentic
I am having dinner with several friends of
my sister's tonight, one of whom is a photographer.
After, we will
stop by to see my
Sabina Ott, an artist I met when she was
living in St. Louis. She recently moved
to Chicago to chair the art dept. at Columbia
I am so grateful to have good friends who are
artists in my life. Grateful for the color
and conversation and
dissension they bring
to my life. I
will think of you.
Thursday, Nov 24, 2005
Catch up time . . .
I want very much to respond to your posting, to ask questions about
things you state. I am paraphrasing and that is a dodgey proposition.
Have you always felt you could figure things out? Always? No
recollections of moments that you felt you couldn't? (Even if you eventually
Actually I'm pretty stuck on what to do with college students
who are so far from being ready for college.
I must have been a goofy mood to have written that.)
childhood, and adolescence.
If someone is not self identifying as a victim, do you think it
is for you or anyone else to identify them as such? You asked about
on the subject of self definition. I am sure there must be some
but that is not the basis on which I make that statement.
My daughter gave me a lecture on "standpoint" which
seems to be the feminist theory that
shares your belief. She said it came from African-American
woman not wanting white feminists to speak for them. One source
I read said that
it was both controversial and insightful. It is post-modern
in the sense that we can't know another's reality. I guess
it is my reality that I
think of you as "whatever." So it has more to do
with me than with you.")
Do you really think we
are responsible for everything that happens? (Kim: Yes.
Our potential is unlimited. See this definition
of responsibility by Werner Erhard.)
Yes. But that doesn't mean the other person is not 100% responsible
as well. Remember,
we are not talking about "blame.")