When is average good enough?

Design from Nowhere Bad T-shirts

I like this shirt- it makes me think.  My first reaction to it was to laugh- I found it amusing from the standpoint of both a teacher and a student.  'C'? Who settles for a C? Not ME!  I must have an 'A'- at least- but more specifically an 'A++smiley face glitter star unicorn' for everything that I do!  Nothing less than perfect is ok... then I started thinking.  Is that really ok?  Or even desirable?  Where am I on the scale and where do I want to be?  What about my students? What does this *mean*?  (Ok, I know I am way over thinking this tshirt design, but sometimes things click in a timely way and serve as a prompt for some tougher questions.... and this is what I want to talk about today, and it is Saturday, and I've had coffee, and I'm once again doing the whole 'structured procrastination' thing).

First off, students.  They understand the 'no effort required' part of this- but in their world, that equals an automatic 'A' if they show up, remember to breathe, and do something. Anything.  I don't know where they quite get this idea from- and the companion idea that 'art is easy'- but that is what they assume from the start.   Even with my endless explanations, rubrics, critiques, teary-eyed meetings...by the end of the semester I am *still* explaining to some of them 'Why don't I have an A?  I was here and did everything!'......sigh.  Yes, yes you were here, yes you did everything, but you did just that- nothing above and beyond, nothing extra.  You achieved average status- which means 'C' in the academic world (at least according to me).  You followed directions, did what was asked, even completed it....but there is no effort, there is no stretch of learning, there is no......above average let alone the *wow* factor that pushed it into the land of A.  You don't get to have what you didn't earn. Period. (Dit-Dot-Dash as Dad used to say).  Truthfully, most of my students finished up with 'B's... they did go a bit beyond the expected, but not to the heights.  

Secondly, me and the economy.  Income wise, I still fall into the 'Lower Middle Class' and make right about the median income for our state.  My education level is disproportionate to my income- I am highly educated, have almost hit the ceiling in my profession (teacher- the only thing I can do now to increase wages as a teacher is to have a phd), have a glittery A-level resume/experience, but still have to work multiple jobs- with a spouse working multiple jobs- to make minimal ends meet in a lower economy area.  This is despite our living a 'below-average' lifestyle- meaning that we are not indiscriminate spenders, we do not use credit cards but do have loans, have reached the age of entrapment where I am paying for my student loans while healthcare costs are rising due to age (no, I'm not old- just middle aged.  And so is Mr. Owens, but middle age means increasingly high maintenance).  We are more fortunate than the Japanese professional that has to live in an internet cafe, or the earthquake survivor in Haiti that is still living in a tent years later.  We have our house (tumbledown though it may be), cars (one of which is working), electricity, running water, internet.  We can balance our vices (things like his cigarettes) with restraint (no eating out- and consuming our share of Ramen).  We don't have things other take for granted (cable, dishwasher, microwave) but we do have health insurance, employment and enough to eek by.  We are in a huge amount of dept if you add up the house, student loans and medical bills... but that is 'normal' apparently.  Our grade in this area is somewhere around D+ to C-  I wish this grade was higher, but I'm not sure how to get there.

Work. I work hard.  It is important to me to be the best- and in the past that has meant being at the top of my game, the leader in everything I do, work it and over work it to perfection.  I have a competitive streak that is not a nice one- it is mean, demanding and kept tightly leashed.  This is why I don't play games (trust me, it is not fun for anyone to play a game with me), don't do contests (I am devastated if I don't win or place- the self anger isn't worth it), and am not the best at collaboration.  That streak has profited me as a resource of energy for completing projects in a rush- quick/well done, like a magic trick- the drive for academic perfection, the ability to create the illusion of leadership when it is really lone rangering. (Meaning that the collective didn't do it, or didn't do it 'right', so I get angry and redo it by myself at the last second).  Work wise? My grade has been an 'A'- but at what cost and what benefit?  And is it ok to want to drop back some, slow down some?  Can I handle that emotionally? To get into the passenger seat when I have been driving the car for so long?

OoooOoo- Insight.  I *always* drive the car. For years. (the real car, not the metaphorical one)  I really truly get super carsick very easily....sometimes even when I am driving.  That is allot like working- metaphor being that driving = in charge, not driving = sick,  sick = out of control.  I have discovered though that I *can* be a passenger (in the real car again, not the metaphoric one) if certain people are driving- namely Mr. Owens or Melissa. Why? Good question, will have to think on that.  Is it because I trust their skill, and trust it rightfully- or that we are used to each other- or that I am comfortable enough to just be able to take a break?  Is that the secret to passing on leadership- find someone else that can drive the car well enough that I don't become a bad passenger/ back-seat driver?  How do I handle this?  

I don't know, and I instantly feel like a slacker for entertaining the thought of anything less than A level achievement in work.  But truth is that I am getting tired of *all* the responsibility, and would like to explore other things- focus more on recreating the classroom/teaching, my personal artwork, just living instead of always thinking 'Oh, I have to get this done, and this and this and this'.  I'm sick of being in charge.  There, I said it.  Maybe it is sour-grapes because I didn't get the Raleigh job I was so excited about, maybe it is karma-in-action, maybe it is self-discovery as I approach my half-life. I'm ready for an adventure that *doesn't* include scaling the peaks.....

Sam and Dean Sock Puppets

Sock Puppet... if it had red/gray hair it would look like me...

The best thing about best friends is that they are in synch with you and know *exactly* what you feel/do even if you are miles and mountains apart.  Email from Melissa (Ms. Ball) this morning~ she has been reading my blog and is right in step with me feeling/experience wise... even talks to people in her head like I do.  Her people are Sam-n-Dean from Supernatural, the dynamic demon-slaying brothers.... mine is more like a sock-puppet version of myself.  Sometimes with angel horns or devil halo, but usually just another version of me.  

I suspect that most people do this, not admit to it, but have these conversations with themselves that are combinations of pep-talks, scoldings, sarcastic quips, reminders, problems solving or just thinking personas.  Thing is, sometimes (well, ok- often) I catch myself talking out loud- usually in the car by myself, or just an occasional blurted sentence in the shower  (what do I say?  Usually something like "You really got to get this done" or "Not bad for almost 50" or "I am so f'ing hungry/tired/thirsty").  Sometimes I catch myself talking in the grocery store ("What? You're kidding me. $5.00 a gallon for milk? No way.") or at school ("Ok, remember to do this, and oh my would you look-at-that!").  Is it crazy space talk or just a bubble of expression?  Or both?  Are all those people talking on their cell phones *really* talking on their cell phones or are they having self-conversations?   My solution?  I'm just going to start carrying around a sock puppet- then people will assume that I am either: crazy, practicing something, doing some sort of hidden-camera-show... and they will either avoid me or give me pocket change.  

Seriously though, Mr. Owens puts up with it as I do it quite a bit around the house... and the kids at school put up with it because in a class of 30+ they all safely assume that I am talking to *someone*, and Grendel grew up with it and thinks it is just what Mums do.  The dogs think I'm talking to them, and look around for treats, the cat ignores me unless *he* wants something (belly-rub, pouncy treats, blanket or one of his other demands).  Still, I'm talking (and sometimes singing made-up songs or poetry) and that is not likely to change anytime soon.  Unbridled creativity frothing at the mouth.

With our new smart phones (which we still haven't tamed- they mysteriously turn themselves off and on, and I can NEVER hear my ring/text tones no matter which one I try....and it plays Angry Birds by itself) the one trick I have discovered is the lovely application called memo.  I can open it up, press the listen button, start talking and *pow* my words are text.  And it is fairly accurate, so it is a good way to capture important thoughts, especially when driving.  Much safer than the pen/notebook I used to keep to scribble down things.

I just need to remember to look at all these brilliant ideas and put them to use.  Maybe my sock puppet will remind me.

A Beautiful Mystery

Somewhere, sometime- 

My procrastination has gotten the best of me, and I seriously don't know why I keep repeating this behavior.   I know (intellectually) *why* I procrastinate, and I've researched and talked to Dr. Mike and know a kabillion strategies for addressing the problem....yet I continue on.  And it gets worse. Right now, I'm thinking that the whole thing is that I simply don't want to do it.  I want to take a break, just do my job and create at my own pace instead of meeting other deadlines- unpaid and irresponsible as it may be, I haven't done *just* my job (or two) in years and years...... or maybe I'm just copping out.

What am I procrastinating on?  The Art of Fashion for the museum, of course.  The job I thought I wanted- writing curriculum.  Is there a meeting today? Yes, at 10.  Is there a deadline looming? Yes, soon.  Have I done *anything*? no..... which makes me feel anxious and cranky and grrrrrr...and there is absolutely no excuse.  It is my own fault- I had holiday to work, and didn't.  I had weekend to work, and didn't. And now must pay the piper.

The other think I have procrastinated on is the painting of Meg, which is also due at the end of the month. Black and white portrait (not my best area of art) of Meg, the teacher who died this summer, for the library section that is dedicated to her.  It is started, and actually well along, but I need to refine and finish it. Of course I am not satisfied with it, and worried that it will not be good enough, but it will have to do.  And there are a million other things that I need to do as well- new photographs of Mr. Owens, revise my cv and webpage, write exams and get ready for next semester.  Work on the house and the yard.  Work on getting healthier.  Stuff.

In the meanwhile, I have my morning- and I like this type of morning routine, it feels better and results in a better day than the previous pattern.  I am making time for reading the news while eliminating the other things (blogs etc.) until the weekend- this gives me time to check facebook, submit for casting calls, and write on this blog (my open ended public diary, thank-you for sharing), post my announcements for the online class.  The writing helps me to air out my brain, which is all tangled and keeps skipping... and I know I probably repeat myself in my writing quite a bit but... well....it's how I need to do it right now.  Bear with me.

The beautiful mystery part of today is the picture- I was looking for one to post as I haven't taken any recent ones lately.  This was in a folder, and is something I took during conference in Charlotte two falls ago- what it is exactly  I haven't a clue.  There are layers of reflections, a figure that might be me or might be Melissa, a park or playground with children, bright circles that might be gumballs or toys or? and windows.  I like to think it looks like my brain right now- no real clue where anything begins or ends, what is outside or inside, where I am in the picture or what is going on- but it is complicated and beautiful none the less.

Coming Clean-

Old Fashioned Soap Making

I take my education for granted, and Dr. P thinks I'm to smart. Hum...curious, that.  Anyway- I don't think it is so much native intelligence as that I *pay attention* to things and remember them, and for that gift I owe a dept not to any formal education, but to my parents.  My parents were/are curious about almost everything- and, even though we lived on modest means, not only satisfied their curiosity through reading/watching, but took the time and effort to explore and experience. There is not enough of that today, I think- we have the whole world at our fingertips thanks to technology (and I am it's hugest fan!) but we forget that the experience of exploration is important to.  It is not enough to virtually visit or learn things, or to have them distilled and recounted in a classroom... I miss that component of going and doing.  And not so much school field trips, which end up usually being nasty awkward things full of structured quickpace timelines and kids sneaking off to get high in the bathroom.  Or maybe that's just cause I get bus-sick and have had bad experiences..... but on to the good experiences and why I am talking about this.

Yesterday, in my fourth block advanced art class, we were reviewing and talking about how paint is made and different ways of cleaning it up, which brought us to soap.  And then one of my students asked, "What is soap anyway?  I mean, I *know* what it is- but how do they make it?  The bar stuff?"... and it stopped me cold.  I don't know why I found it so astonishing that the did not know how to make soap or what it was made of... in the back of my head I though that surely this was mentioned somewhere along the line in a history  or science class, or at the very least they had read Little House on the Prairie (nope). So I explained to them about soap making from rendered fat and lye, (and how to make lye) and from glycerine, the differences between soap and detergents blah blah blah.  It turned into a cool little lesson on history, chemistry and olfactory arts  (how does something made from such nasty ingredients end up cleaning you and smelling good?).  Then I got to thinking, well how did *I* happen to know how to make soap, and so much about it... and no, it wasn't because I was taught in history or science class, or even from reading, it was because of an experience.

My parents loved to go on small adventures- the curiosity thing- and fairs, festivals and historic 'living museums' (which were a relatively new concept in the seventies) were some of our favorite destinations.  I remember soap making from several of these but most of all from Bedford Village.  I can't swear to the timing, but they had Fall (?) festivals out there, where there were food and crafts, and demonstrations of how things were done long ago.  I was keenly interested in these things- how to create dye from plants, dip candles, card and spin wool, make soap.  I saw it being done, but more than that was the *experience* of seeing it- I remember the smells, the heat from the fire, the prickly grease of the wool and sticky cards.  I didn't do any of these things at the festival- they were demonstrations not activities- but I remembered them and tried them later.  Some of them at home- I tried to spin cotton balls (not very successfully), make dye out of plants (more success, more mess), and did learn how to make candles in an art class (never quite took to it for some reason....).  Later on in college I learned how to card, spin and weave (as long as someone else warped the loom- never had the patience for that) and make soap, though it was of the glycerine kind.

When Grendel was a kid, he grew up around some of this because of me being in school and involved with the craft business up in the mountains.  I wish now that I had taken the time to do more of the 'time travel' type festivals and places with him- we did do a few and they were important.  And he learned how to make soap like a boss- remember the great soap making year where he made it for everyone in the family for holiday and to sell at local art shops?  Paid his way to Disney World for the 8th grade trip- proud of him still for that.  Turning soap into gold, good job.  An experience that lead to another experience and so on- which is exactly the legacy that I have.  

If I had time, money, energy... especially time... I would like to do a heritage arts fair somewhere here.  Maybe Penderlea- demonstrations of soap making, tobacco staking, quilting, other local arts from long ago.  I wonder if anyone still does these things, or would even be interested enough to come... or if they are like me, to busy with lists to remember the worth of experiences. 

Words of Wisdom and the Wild, Wild West

Madam Dora Bolshaw, Deadwood SD.

Words of Wisdom from one of my favorite philosophers via my niece Franny:  "He who has a strong enough why can bear almost any how"- Friedrich Nietzsche. This was a quote on a site she recommended on facebook, and is particularly meaningful to me right now.  I have had a rough patch this winter- headed off to Dr. P again today to work on the sleeping thing- but I am feeling more positive and starting to stir in my cocoon.  Part of this stirring is thinking and reevaluating where I am, who I am and what I want...and what is important.  I know that I want to work smarter not harder, that I have procrastination issues big-time that creates anxiety which makes me terribly cranky, that I am getting tired of being the boss-of-all-things/ being in charge at work, and that I am *very* tired of constantly being on the edge financially.  I also know that I am smart, talented, more creative than ever- that I have a wonderful, kind, talented husband who works hard, that I have a good son who is responsible, smart and self-supporting, and that life is good overall- just needs a bit of polishing.  So what is my 'why'?   I want to evolve my life for the 'why' of self realization through becoming a creative force in order to teach others.... teach others what?  I don't know -  things I know.  Random things, forgotten things, interesting things.... I know the information, it just bubbles up when it wants to be taught which is why art class sometimes turns into Physics, or Nero science, or Etiquette or....anything.  How am I going to do this and reshape my clay?  I don't know yet, but the thought is floating around.... which brings us around to Madam Dora.

Madam Dora is a bit of a dubious role model- but she took a rough life and made the best of it.  She was brought over from England to America as a young girl, and through poverty ended up being a prostitute at age 13.  She was smart though, and thrifty, and ended up going west to Deadwood (which is one wild place) and running her own brothel by the time she was 15.  Fifteen!  My fifteen year old students can't remember to bring a pencil to class let alone run a business....not that I want them running brothels, but still....  While that is an unsavory business, Dora did her 'girls' a service- she was one of the first who had strict rules about hygiene, dress and even had a doctor on staff...as well as Calamity Jane.  She later married, and actually had a string of brothels around the Dakotas- coined the word 'Cathouse' and wrote a book.  Dora traveled her road- a wild one- but self-actualized her potential, retired happily with her husband and pet parrot Fred, and died in her sleep at the age of 66... which seems young now, but when you think of her extremely high risk life style, it was quite old for that time and place.

So today I am going to think of Madam Dora, walk a bit in her footsteps (Nothing naughty! Just brave!)  and work on my "why" and my "how".

A Foot Above the Rest

Feet.  Biro in sketchbook.

It is no secret that I cannot watch TV without doing something else- usually sewing or drawing, sometimes eating (have to watch that!) or (when I'm lucky) snuggling.  Or massaging the Manz feet.  Feet are important things you know, and I took advantage of the rare sockless sighting of Mr. Owen's feet to draw them in all their bony glory... and then finished up with my right foot, complete with hole-in-sock.

Now, Mr. Owens's feet are rarely seen.  He doesn't believe in sandals, and they are normally icy-cold, requiring coverage in socks.  They are most happy when in his slippers (even though he got new ones for Christmas- slippers, not feet- he wears the old which are falling apart....), work best in his work boots, occasionally visit his sneakers, dress up in cowboy boots or the rare dress shoe.  On set, sometimes he has to wear *their* shoes, which make them a bit unhappy and in need of massages. 

My feet....are happiest naked, or at the most dressed in flipflops.  But they also don't like being cold, so winter socks are needed (thick heavy man socks- the long kind- not white-).  Shoes are required because school frowns on flipflops (even if they are my beloved rainbows), but I am not a 'shoe person' so I wear one of two things: my pink combat boots or my gray fake converse sneakers.  Both of these started out pristine, but have since been battered, splashed with ink an paint, and the Chucks have acquired a mysterious amount of unintentional glitter glue.  Still and all, I love them both, they are comfy, sensible-practical and provide good support.... speaking of which, I have an age-based confession to make: MOTHER WAS RIGHT.  Insoles and support hose are saving graces for sore feet/legs from standing all day on bad floors.  And...support hose at night (which are super sexy with my new hot pink fuzzy cheetah print pj's).  Oh- and I do have slippers- my black fuzzy ones that have a hole in the sole now, but like Mr. Owens, they are still the best.  Even though I abandon them around the house like giant black woolly worms.  

I'm not totally hopeless, I do have dress shoes- the sensible black pumps for interviews/ professional stuff and funerals, the knee-high brown lace up 'Stevie Nicks' leather boots that I bought for a wedding long ago (One of Sue's boys) and that I never wear but can't part with because they are beautiful, three pairs of old flat flats (tan, brown, black) that I wear to school when it is to hot to wear my boots with skirts. But these sit neglected in the closet... along with my emergency Wellingtons (for Hurricanes and Wet Yard Work) and battered Tom-type yard shoes (ancient relics).  I've never had a pedicure, but paint the toenails dutifully every summer (and stop sometime in the fall, where the paint commences to wear off... it is almost all gone now). I need to clip the nails- the regular ones are never an issue, but the big toe grows like crazy and gets all pointy sharp for some reason, creating holes in socks as seen in the drawing. (Mr. Owens has his share of socks-with-huge-holes, which have ended up in a box in the bedroom for the cat to play/sleep in. Spoiled!).

Today the weather man is promising "mid-winter warmness" but I am disbelieving him as it is below 40 and raining... so it is thick socks and pink boots, long skirt, shirt and sweater, all in shades of brown and red.  I feel rather Ridinghoodish, which is a good way to feel.  All I need is a basket full of pie~

Winter's day, afternoon

My desk, in the studio- on a Sunday Winter's Afternoon

It's Sunday afternoon, raining and cold, dark early.  I just got off the phone with Mother- one of our brief conversations for neither one of us can here- she is the only person just about that I talk on the phone with, and that is more to hear her voice than anything.  Just that little bit is a comfort.  

Today I have been drifting, working, the internet is slower- much- than it should be and I don't know why.  It took me a considerable amount of extra time to finish with my online student work, and with checking Charles's casting for the week, but that was ok.  Sometimes it is nice to move slow.  Which is funny because even slow, the internet now is a kabillion times faster than back when it was blue, and we dialed up on phone lines.  And I remember the skill of balancing the wait with having something hands on to do- in this case my sketchbook- to occupy the time while the pages load.  (It's the images the students post- just one uncompressed image- and there is always one- slows down the whole process).  I have graded and napped, drew and painted today, finished a little wooden box I was working on (well, finished for the moment at least), watched some TV with the manz, did the laundry, cleaned the kitchen, went to the shop and basically had a nice quiet day.  I did not write on fashion, though I did do some research, and will do some reading tonight.  I get weird about projects sometimes- the 'structured procrastination' thing- but I have time blocked out for it tomorrow and will get to it then.

In the meantime, let's have a look at the desk.  I've posted photos of it before- I never tire of my desk and studio.  I love the little stained glass lamp, the tin decoupaged by Mother long ago, the picture with carefully arranged dried flowers that Wanda gave me. Other treasures, my sketchbook and new smart phone (hooray for texting!) my mug of tea.  That's how you really know that it is winter around here- when I start making tea. I love tea, mind you, iced with lemon in the summer, Southern sweet tea on the porch.  I love hot tea as well, nothing is better when you are sad or sick or wanting to feel cozy... but I am usually to lazy to make it.  And it is a winter drink.  My beloved Mr. Owens usually has a cup ready when I get home from school, and I do make it for myself when I get the urge.  It must have sugar, and milk, or- if I am wanting a treat- a splash of Old Crow without the milk.  Warms the soul, like the colored lampshades and stained glass windows, the old leather desk and the smell of beeswax as the crockpot cools down.  I confess being in love with this room- my favorite in the house- full of books and paints, comfy old leather chairs and baskets of papers.  It is a place to dream and make, to write and draw and think.  It's home.