Experience: A Work in Progress

I’ve been thinking lately about how we measure our experiences, or moreover, the quality of our experiences. I have been beating myself up for not having done enough, not being accomplished enough as I near my 25^th birthday. I know that many, especially those older than me, would tell me that I have no reason to panic. Yet I cannot seem to shake this impatient desire for what the future will bring. I feel like I am waiting impatiently to find the golden egg so that I may crack it open and secure the treasure that I seek. I am not sure what this is exactly, more an intangible sentiment of fulfillment, a materialization of my yearning for all of these visions that I cannot place my finger on. They are intense feelings more than anything else, scenes I visualize of places I’ve been or want to go, and I am chasing that sensation of discovery. For the first time in my life thus far, time seems to be slipping away. I am being carried along at a fast pace and I do not seem to have the chance to keep up-I want to say, “stop!” I am not ready. I need more time to accomplish something, anything. A line in Bonnie Raitt’s song “Nick of Time” says “Time is much more precious when there’s less of it to waste.” I have to ask myself, am I wasting time or judging too harshly what it is I do with my time. This reminds me that I need to slow down and enjoy each moment, no matter how small. Now you may think that this is just the whining of a young woman, still so inexperienced, and not patient enough to appreciate the simplicities of life. This may very well be true. This is why I seek the answer to this question, so that I can explore the winding road that is this never-ending story. So I ask, “How do you measure the value of your experiences?”

Looking back over the last six years since I graduated from high school, after all that is really when life as I now know it began, I realize I have done a lot, been many places, and met many amazing people. I have had the opportunity to travel abroad and to live in some inspirational cities, Austin definitely being one of them. I went to college, two different ones, and finished my degree in English. Not until the end of my college career did I realize what it was that I wanted to do, to be a journalist. In my last semester I began working as an unpaid, unofficial intern for a public radio station, which even further confirmed for me that this was the path I wished to pursue. Ever since this I have been trying to attain a similar position, to no avail.

Leaving the small college town of Chico, CA has made this a more difficult task. In Austin I have had the opportunity to work for a radio station as a remote coordinator, setting up broadcasts, but promises of training for news reporting have fallen short. I realize this is the nature of the business and the path I have chosen; it is not the easiest nor the quickest way to the top, and definitely not the quickest way to make money. During my last visit home, in an attempt to make me feel better as I expressed my jealousy towards my younger brother’s ability to buy a house (he’s a forest firefighter and works very hard), my dad told me he used to carry around a saying in his wallet that said, “you can either seek repose, or you can seek the truth, but not both.” I am, he told me, the type of person who seeks the truth; my dad, a self-employed musician, has embraced this restless, rambling spirit. He was not trying to demean the success or choices of my brother by making this comparison, but pointing out the differences in the paths we chose. My brother found a job he loves that also pays very well, but in doing this he has sacrificed getting his degree thus far, and he stayed very close to the small town in which we grew up. But he is happy; he is content. In comparison, I am happy, but learning to be content is an everyday struggle that I feel I may always be fighting for. I have a mind that never shuts up and is always asking “what if?” and “why?” This is something about myself that at times I value, and at times drives me crazy.

My life feels, at times, much like a roller coaster, a train journey that I am taking in which I am always getting off at random stops and changing destinations. Understand that I do not regret or wish to exchange this chaos for monotony; this inconsistency is what gives my life vivacity. All of these leaps of faith have developed a collage for me to look back upon, and I know there is much more waiting to be added, more pieces of memories. More colors, tastes, smells, looks, sensations, many more train rides heading in an unknown direction.

In this sense my experience is rich and I am so grateful for what I have seen so far. My bank account is low, I often feel I am chasing after a career that I may never get a hold of, and that biting restlessness always pushing me while at the same time weighing me down, making yearn for solace. I am constantly wondering, and wandering, Am I where I am supposed to be? Supposed to be…that is an interesting angle from which to view one’s life. It is like saying “I should have…” after the fact, after you made a choice out of many you “could have” made. It is like going out to eat, finishing off your meal, and then saying I should have ordered such and such. But you didn’t, so what’s the point? Your belly is filled with something different, that may be just as satisfying but you are too busy fretting over another choice you could have made. Who is to say that one choice is any better than another; each one carries with it a unique journey, a new perspective earned. Another quote from my dad “it is not a right choice or a wrong choice, it is just a choice and you take what you can from it and move on.” In other words, don’t worry so much about what you are supposed to be doing, as what it is that you are doing. This is not complacency, this is learning to live in the moment and appreciate what experiences are in front of your face at this very moment.

How do you learn to live in the moment while still focusing on moving ahead? This is something I am struggling with right now. I know many other people my age are as well. We want what we want and we want it now! Forget patience, life is rushing along without me, as I cling onto the back of it by my fingertips. There is always a reason to look back, to regret, to say, “I should have, or I am supposed to be…” How do we look at the experiences we have had so far as worthy, instead of as only stepping-stones to the “real prize” at the end of all this scavenging for bits. As soon as one accomplishment is met, we too quickly look ahead for the next event, forgetting the value of what we already have in our pockets. Are not these experiences weighed when considering success? After all, life should not be lived as a means to an end.

Are these considerations all arbitrary? I do not believe necessarily that money, or even a job, equals success. It is more akin to passionately working hard at what drives you, to love and be loved by the people and places that surround you. But this can happen in parts, it is a process, not just point A to point B. As I sit in this café and glance around at my fellow seekers, I consider how many of them are fighting the idea in their head that they are enough, that this moment they are in right now is enough. Yes, there are more goals to accomplish, but there is much to be appreciated in their lives at this moment if they really think I about it. If I really think about it…

Adventures in Docublogging

Last Saturday Lindsey and I began an adventure as docubloggers. Inspired by watching some an episode on the local public television station, KLRU, I immediately sent Lindsey an urgent myspace comment (the most urgent kind of message has to be transmitted this way) informing her that we were going to be docubloggers (she just didn’t know it yet.) The next day Lindsey wandered into my office ready for a helping of some of my crazy rambling. But this time I had a rational plan. Well, kind of. I didn’t know what I wanted to do exactly, but I was determined to do something. That’s the first step right? Throwing a few disconnected ideas around, Lindsey expressed that she had always been interested in the situation of homeless people in the city. This idea we decided to overlap with my interest in how all of the recent growth in Austin is affecting the local personality. Basically, I just wanted us to hit the streets and see what we could dig up.

Let me explain a bit about this docublogging stuff. According to KLRU “a docublogger is a video about a person, place, event, or anything else in your community.” And a docublogger is someone who not only enjoys watching stories about their community, but also wants to share them. KRLU is sponsoring a contest to inspire people to document a facet of life in central Texas. There have been entries on everything from sledding at Murchinson middle school during one of those rare Texas “winter” moments, to coverage of the writers guild strike’s affect on Austin’s stage and screen writers, to librarians from UT sharing their blog on celebrity recipes and make-up tips. Really anything is fair game, done with creativity and passion. One of my favorites that I saw was of two UT students conducting random social experiments. For example, for one they got a large group of students to all begin coughing at once in an area of campus utilized for public speaking events. They also did one where they gave a big group of volunteers cardboard paper towel rolls, split them into two groups, and then had them rush at one another and begin hitting each other with them while confused onlookers took in the scene. What I like about this is there is definite objective but to stimulate uncommon, or uncomfortable social situations and see how people react. An experiment in mass social psychology. You can use digital cameras, video cameras, or even cell phone pictures to document your project. This enables everyday people to enter the contest without any prior, or professional documentary/journalistic experience.

Although I had conducted interviews before, I knew this would be different. Equipped with my mini-disc recorder, a great camera and video camera and not much of an agenda, we embarked on a sunny Saturday afternoon to find our piece of central Texas to share. As we traveled down to 6^th street, enjoying the simple pleasure of the sun shining on our faces, we began to take note of various city scenes. Billboards and business signs that say more than they mean to when interpreted, beggars holding their cardboard signs on the side of the freeway, people wandering with the freedom a Saturday brings, tempting smells wafting from the doorways of local restaurants and then the almost haunting emptiness of E. 6^th street during the day, left trampled by the drunken crowds of the night before. Without the crowds and loud music coming from the open doorways of bars, the downtown streets become raw and truthful, left bare after the chaos of partiers. We are directed into a parking spot by “James Bond” as he is eating his pasta. James immediately offered me some of his pasta. I had to decline his offer, but I asked him if he would mind talking to me. “[I will tell you anything you want to know, as long as you don’t mind the truth because I tell it like it is. I don’t want to offend you],” he said. I told him truth was exactly what I wanted. As Lindsey photographed I continued to talk with James about APD being after him, his view on the skyscrapers going up around downtown and how he would be sad if one fell over and someone got hurt. He didn’t want to talk about his children or he would cry, and he believed growth was good, especially growth in the heart and the mind. We left James to his pasta and headed down 6^th street.

It was almost eerie walking along the grimy sidewalks, the darkness of layers of filth almost making a mockery of the bright sun, passing ranting street people, while naïve tourists rode the duck tours mobile blowing their duck horns at passersby. We spoke with a woman from the Black Cat Tattoo Shop, and then Dave. He had a sad, lonely countenance and spoke with open honesty that insinuated his lack of pride. He did hesitate to admit that alcohol was to blame for his life on the streets. He said, “I would enjoy living in Austin a lot more if I wasn’t on the streets.” When he smiled it was shy and childish, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to express pleasure in anything. He was completely lucid, and I believe he is trying to get clean as he said. Maybe that is naïve of me, but I want to have hope in Dave. I have to have hope in Dave, and the idea that people do get more than one chance at life. We all need that reassurance-it’s ok to fuck up.

A valet at the Driskill was our most intriguing, and unexpected discovery. Approaching him with questions about working at one of the most well known historical and sophisticated sites in Austin, we soon found that he had much more to offer as perspective. He had been a street kid for a significant part of his life until he decided to turn his life around. When asked why he chose to leave the streets he told us, [“street kids do not want to be part of the repetitive life of a job and structure, but living on the streets is repetitive. You get up in the morning, look for drugs and drink, and beg for money.”] Observing him work, his pride was evident and he was extremely attentive to every person passing through the door. He took Lindsey and me on a little tour, sharing some of his knowledge about the history of the hotel. Be fore we left Lindsey photographed him confidently standing with his peers of the Driskill valet team.

After wandering Congress and then running out of batteries for the camera, we decided we would have to call it quits for the day. It was interesting to both us how many transplants we had came upon, all coming to Austin for the unique environment that this city has to offer; freedom of expression, the abundance of artistic offerings, the beautiful green spaces and the friendly demeanor of its locals. But I think both of us were secretly wondering how long Austin will be able to maintain its incomparable personality, characteristic of its ability to offer local artistic flavor that has developed in the city over decades of being able to live by its own rules. Will these outside forces and influence of the influx of “transplants” alter what is innately Austin? How will this affect people like James Bond and Dave who may get further lost in the streets as they become overpopulated and buried by condos and high rise buildings. Is this to be the fate of every small city that draws people because it has something exceptional to offer, then ends being lost because of this allure?

But at the end of this Saturday in Austin, this unbelievable city to which I transplanted, the sun was still shining on our faces and people were smiling. Ben Harper was singing “Don’t let em’ take the fight outta you,” we drove over the Congress bridge and our hearts were full of the possibilities and voices of the people that this city holds in its streets.