the best question

probably the strangest question during my 9 hour job interview last week was the final question:

how would you like us to remember you?

me?

yes. 

how i would like you to remember me? am i understanding that correctly?

yes. 

(pause)

wow. that’s a really really great question. i don’t think i’ve ever heard a question like that. it’s a great great question.

(pause)

i guess i would like you to remember me as … um… as…  as someone who was here. who was sitting in this chair. who inhabited this chair at one time, although no records exist to support that claim.

still… it was me who was here. i am still here. and i will be here as long as you remember i am here. i am here as long as you would like me to stay. i would like you to think of me as someone who does not like to be asked to leave this chair.

i would like you to remember me as the kind of person who just cannot accept no or yes as an answer. who doesn’t know the meaning of yes or no. who doesn’t know the meaning of 1 or 2 other words. i would like you to think of me as someone with whom words have no meaning. or is that someone of whom words have no meaning?

i would like you to remember me as someone who will always be here for you. and by here,  i am not only referring to this chair. i will always be in this chair in certain respects,  but if you would like me to be elsewhere, i can do that, too. i’ve done it before.

i would like you to remember me as someone whose character was never in question (but always in doubt). and by character,  i am not speaking of identity or personality or sensibility or integrity, or plausibility or perpetuity, or other traits and vicissitudes. because that is not at all what i am about. and i hope that is something you will always remember.

for what is memory? what stands in its place when there is no memory? actually, perhaps the better question might be who stands in the place of memory when there is no memory?

the answer to that, ladies and gentlemen of the search committee, is me.

i would like you to remember me as a memory. but a memory in the present tense and sometimes the future tense. when you remember a memory, i hope you will always remember that it is me. that is who i am.

ladies and gentlemen of the search committee, you must never forget that, no matter what. you will promise me that, won’t you? and  i promise i will do the same for you.

how does that sound?

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signals

so now i’m at a caribou coffee. i’m having one of those light-sensitive headaches i get periodically. but i have no headache potions with me. it’s so tempting to ask the woman at the table on my right who is also typing on her macbook. our computers look so similar, you would think she might understand if i asked her if she happened to have any tylenol on her. but i just can’t get myself to do it. i think when i finish writing this post, i will focus all of my energies on sending her a telepathic signal about my little predicament here. and if she doesn’t respond, well, then… i’m not really sure what i should do. it’s hard to think that far ahead.

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fire drill

there was a fake fire drill at work today. i was assigned to guide people down from the 5th floor North East stairwell to first floor lobby. they were supposed to follow me.  But i could not find any of them. there was a massive celebration in the lobby, a joyous celebration of our survival. i thought it was a bit premature.  i wonder if the people who were supposed to follow me will ever return.

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the end of “October”

i feel so in between everything. do you know that feeling? does that ever happen to you? how long does it usually last? i am hoping to be less in between before the end of October. that sounds so foreign, “the end of October.” what does that even mean to someone who cannot tell if it’s Christmas or Halloween or the fifth day of May? I don’t know the meaning of “October.” But they say it’s coming.

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succumb

i have this strange mix of dread and excitement about my job interview trip to the west coast that happens on Saturday.

an excitement about the possibility of being out there in the clear open sky (in denial of my skin cancer) and all of the possibilities for a much hoped for restart of life.

a dread of the 12 hour interview experience. they sent me the schedule and i cannot imagine how i can possibly make it through. so many many many committees, such a long presentation, and more committees and individual meetings. i’m actually looking forward to the fingerprinting part of my interview day. that makes me hopeful. i feel hope.

i am trying to keep myself sane, but i am driving myself insane because i can’t figure out whether i should prepare myself to be ready to anticipate Everything. Or just succumb because it might be futile to anticipate anything–and too much preparation might deplete my ability to think on my feet, so to speak. to think in anybody’s feet. if that made any sense at all.

this must be really boring to read. a voice is telling me to stop now.

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the sea on your head

there are moments when shyness is a raft, cast adrift in the sea, never quite reaching shore.

ok. i get the “never quite reaching shore” part, but what makes shyness a raft? I don’t get it.

shyness is a weight. it weighs almost as much as the sea, except that it’s a sea that you wear on your head.

i guess that sort of makes more sense, but… 

shyness is a pasture with an invisible electric fence. there’s a lot of grass to graze upon, which is nice, but sometimes you just want to visit the neighboring pasture. at the same time, you realize it might be more comfortable to stay in the pasture where you are.

um…. 

shyness is  jail cell with invisible bars. the warden has fallen asleep, and he’s wearing headphones and a sleep mask. so you can easily escape, and you try. but you still have to figure out how to work your way through the bars before the warden awakens.

i think you more or less said the same thing with that electric fence metaphor, except for the pasture part. and who is the warden? is that like your sub-conscious? Is it me? Am I the warden?

ok… how about this one? shyness is a loaded gun that’s aimed at yourself, except that it only shoots feathers. and most of the time it misses its target.

um …  i have no idea what that means.

maybe it’s a squirt gun that only shoots steam.

 you’ve completely lost me. but i like that last one the best.

i guess i’ll keep working on this.

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foot in the door

some people fall off the ladder. some people fall off of the grid. some people have a way of falling off both simultaneously, without even an inkling of regret. but it’s not an easy path.

some people exert everything they have towards the goal of being somewhere elsewhere from where they are now. which is sometimes a cruel necessity. and sometimes a luxury. but does it make it any easier or any harder to be where one is right now?

i am not sure how i would answer this question if it came up at a job interview (but it helps to be prepared). i might tell the search committee that living with one foot out the door takes its toll on the foot that’s inside the door after a while. and then the foot that was out the door might fracture under the shift in weight that was caused by the fatigue of the foot that was still in the door. that’s one possibility

another possibility is that leaving that door slightly ajar let’s in the air. and sometimes all one really needs is air, just a tiny bit of air, to get things flowing. sometimes that’s all you really need when you’re basically just trying to get your foot in the door. but that door is always somewhere else.

i’m not sure which answer the search committee would want to hear. the last time this question arose, i told the search committee, just tell me what you want me to say and i’ll say it. but in retrospect, i can see that this wasn’t the best answer. but it was the best answer i could offer. especially since i could not even recall the question.

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June 5

i thought i had already worked through this and put it all behind me. but maybe not. when i was an art school student, i would get very excited about ideas i thought were new … only to discover that Laurie Anderson had already done very similar things, much earlier. it happened again and again.

i have a vague recollection of one of my early sound pieces–performing both parts of a very mundane, superficial phone conversation, with heavy processing of the voice on the other side of the line. i was really pleased with it when i left the sound studio.

but then, immediately after, i went to the library to listen to an album of works by contemporary women composers, assigned to us as required listening for the sound class. one of the works was Laurie Anderson’s New York Social Life, which captured everything I was striving to evoke in my sound piece, only far more clever and much better performed. as I was listening, i was reading her brief bio on the liner notes, which is when I discovered that we shared the same birthday. and i thought, oh great, she’s even chosen June 5 as the date to enter this realm,  eleven years before i could get to it. Perhaps it is my destiny to stand in her shadow. Or perhaps it is her destiny to stand in my foreshadow.

after reading her bio, i thought it might be wise if i just avoided her presence, evaded her influence, from then on. which, of course was both futile and undesirable. o, what a fool i was! But then yesterday, I came across a Laurie Anderson music video from 2011 that was posted on the wonderful Eye to Eye U & I blog. And my heart sank when i discovered eerie similarities with my recent video, The Un Known (2013), which i had convinced myself was my swan song as an artist.

actually it is a good thing i had not seen the Laurie Anderson video prior to making my video, otherwise my swan song would have occurred at least one year earlier. i wonder what thoughts you might have about this. (if your screen is large enough, it’s interesting to play both videos at the same time.)

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sweater vest

i woke up at dawn from the most terrifying of nightmares. in this nightmare, i was staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, and, as if that were not terrifying enough, i was wearing a gray sweater vest over a pink buttoned-down collar shirt. my hair vaguely resembled an Afro.

i could not turn myself away from the mirror. i seemed to be convincing myself that i actually looked pretty good. that it was a good look for me. that was the scariest part.

 

 

 

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the inconceivable

i love this time of night… the moments that occur between 10:54 and 10:55pm. i seem to come alive then. something transformative happens. my eyes open. i remember how to breathe. all of the lingering doubts and regrets and fears and speculations and obsessions… they all stop lingering, exhaled away. i find comfort in the murmur of the refrigerator, even in the persistent ringing in my ears. as long as i sit here, writing to you, nothing conceivably bad can ever happen. i could sit here writing to you forever.

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the pony and the bear

finally, at the 24th hour, silence. even the bear and the pony who live next door on the other side of the wall, even they have stopped whinnying and growling. it’s eerie. traffic outside the window has ceased, except for one car. at least i think it’s a car. i seem to have misplaced my glasses.

 

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i forgot

i forgot to look at The Lake today. i have no explanation, nary an excuse. it was there, right in front me all of the time. I knew it would be a Good Lake. I heard this from many people i’ve come to respect. i’ll have to make a more deliberate effort to be there the next time it comes to town. But at least I finally saw The Book of Momon.

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2

i apologize for not having written to you in days, but it feels like forever. if writing years are akin to dog years, then it’s been quite a long time. i’ve missed you. i hope you don’t mind my saying that.

but since we last saw each other, i’ve finally found an apartment in Chicago at the very same moment I decided to move to the West Coast. i’m not quite sure how this is going to play out, logistically speaking. but what does it really matter since time and distance are delusions? something has always told me that when i eventually grew up, i would grow up to become 2 different people in 2 different places. but i was never quite sure if i would live to see that day. and now it’s here. and i’m ready. and able. and willing. to go.

at least i think i can do it. a lot of people do it, don’t they? but a lot of people do it because they don’t really have a choice. which makes me 1 of the fortunate ones. and i think the other one who is me is kind of fortunate, too. although i can’t speak for that person.

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sun exposure

shortly before performing the skin cancer surgery, the surgeon asked me if i had been exposed to the sun very much as a child… which, upon reflection, confused me. at first i thought she was asking if i had been exposed to the sun during my childhood. i had never really thought about this before. i seem to recall something out there that i imagined to be the sun, but back then, i didn’t really have a way to prove it. i simply relied upon popular opinion,  and never considered questioning it.  o, what a fool i was back then!

unless i had misread the question entirely. maybe Dr. Metha was asking me if i had been exposed to the sun during its childhood, not mine, 4.6 billion years ago–in which case, her question made complete sense.

but it was a different sun back in those days. I will try to resist the temptation to slip into sentimentality, but i am simply telling you  that the sun in its childhood had a lot more going for it than mere exposure. now it’s all about exposure, marketing, networking, image. I find this to be disheartening.

not that i’m giving up hope. planets, stars, galaxies and constellations are all capable of positive change. people have that capacity, too. perhaps the sun will take my words to heart since we have so much history together, quite a history, a torrid history. in my view,  the sun just needs a bit of prodding. call it an intervention for the sake of change. what could go wrong?

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polite exit

actually, the story i was about to tell had to come to an abrupt stop because it occurred to me while i was daydreaming tonight at a dinner party in which i stayed at least an hour later than i intended, but i was waiting for the right moment to make a polite exit, a moment which never came, so my exit was not quite as gracious as my preferred kind of exit. but what i was starting to say was that it occurred to me in a daydream that this was a story i have told many times over. and i think it is time for me to begin a new one, or at least one that i have told less frequently, at least to a different audience. i’ll have to think of something. nothing is coming to me just yet.

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