Good List Week 11
It was my birthday this week, I celebrated with loving friends and family. I turned 32, thankfully still in my early thirties for the time being (ie still in the "plenty of time to figure it all out!" period of my life, at least I tell myself..). This was my best birthday in so many years, as I was able to open myself up and feel the good in my life.
I Love Boosters
I chanced hearing about this movie on the radio, Boots Riley gave an interview about it, helpfully explaining that boosters is a term for shoplifters who resell to the community at discounted prices (in other words, the facebook marketplace resellers of laundry detergent). I had previously seen Sorry to Bother You, so I was excited, but didn't have much in the way of expectations going in. And I am glad I didn't, because Boosters blew me away: it is such a fun, whacky, wild adventure through class, fashion, and labor organizing. I just adored the dialectical materialism raygun, heighten the contradictions indeed, it took me way back to my days as a youthful organizer.
A Walk in the Woods
Another media hit this week: A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. I grabbed this and The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill at Montclair Book Center, the premiere used book store in Montclair. I was disappointed to see that they're moving away from used books to higher price/margin new books at an eye watering $18 minimum price, but I scored these two books for less than $10 each.
It's a trend for me now that I'm reading so many outdoors oriented books: How to Do Nothing, Into Thin Air, and now A Walk in the Woods. It also coincides with my withdrawal from technology and into slowing down and presence. I can't say I don't still get easily spooked and startled outside, whether from a bee or a deer. But I'm in good company with Bryson, who journeyed the Appalachian Trail (AT for short) in the late 90s. I appreciate his sense of humor, as he describes the typical American as someone more likely to drive than walk to their own mailbox, as someone who's experience with nature amounts to little more than driving into the parking lot of a national park, taking a picture, and getting back in the car. I appreciate the irony that as much as Bryson disdains bland, monotonous consumer culture replicating across the country, nothing pleases him more than a hamburger and cheap motel room after just a few days on the trail.
His walk through history and geography was of particular interest to me, as a New Jersey denizen. I did not realize that the AT is less than an hour drive from me; I also cop to having never visited the Delaware Water Gap despite living so close for so long (I do plan to address this promptly). Bryson's description of nature on the edge, of the total destruction of so many species at record speed (e.g. the American chestnut tree just about eradicated in a few decades, having a population in the billions prior), left an impact on me, in the vein of How to Do Nothing: I feel disconnected from the earth, from my environment; driving in a car through New Jersey's sprawl feels distinctly uncomfortable now, as do the kept, clean and polished spaces where I spend my time.
Boonton Coffee Open Mic Night
For my artist date this past week, I went to Boonton Coffee's open mic night, where local musicians and performers play a couple songs or practice their art for the crowd. Boonton Coffee is one of my favorite cafes in the area, a short hop for me on 280/287. Their coffee is high quality, their pastries and toasts tasty, and the space is big and comfortable, with plenty of seating.
I've been attending open mic nights here for the past couple years, as I'm consistently impressed with the quality of the performers, ranging from hippie dads with an acoustic guitar to up and coming young singers. I also like that the music tends to be more folksy and original, with most musicians opting to play their own music. The star of this most recent show was an eclectic performance by a young artist who danced and sang to what I can only describe as five minutes of scrolling through tiktok, short segments of random songs and audio clips. That she was painted in clown make up and dressed like Chappelle Roan fit the bill.
After attending so many sessions, I do start to wonder about performing myself, though I have nothing even close to presentable (nor any talent developed enough anyway). Still, with a missed karaoke opportunity this past weekend, my inner teen is expressing the desire to get on stage, to be seen and heard and join in on the fun.
Old Photos
I ventured back into the forbidden lands and reactivated my facebook this week. In working with my inner teen, I realized that I don't have any photos of myself as a teenager. But of course facebook does, and I get enough login code emails to be reminded of that. It took a lot of courage, and a couple drinks, but I logged on and revisited all the old memories (curated selection above).
So many things stood out to me. Was photo quality really so bad back then? I wonder if HD (now 4k)-by-default plays a part in technology vampirizing our attention. The way we used to post full photo albums, I remember, with a digital camera and just bulk uploading fifty or a hundred photos at once. No taking the perfect picture, cropping, editing, etc etc, just dumping what you had and moving on. And that we'd look at albums of other people! Now it's a chore to look at one photo sent from a friend. I was also amazed at how innocent the internet was back just ten to fifteen years ago: adding random people as friends, posting on public walls, status updates ranging from banal to banal.
What hit me most was seeing myself as a teenager again. I think that was my block these past years against doing so. I've long carried so much guilt and shame about my teenage years, feeling like a failure. In my healing, I started with my the basics with my inner teen, then worked with my inner child's wounds, and now am back working with the deep wounds of my inner teen. Some pictures are shocking: I can't believe how much pain is written into my face, my posture. Sure, there's gawkiness and angst, but then there's wounds, layered and layered.
In my teenage self, I see so much longing, longing for relief, for acceptance, for guidance. As my teenage years progressed, unfortunately, my home life deteriorated until I was homeless, sleeping on a friend's couch. I had to shut down so much of myself to survive. I see now my bravery, ingenuity, creativity, resourcefulness in my inner teen. Rebuilding my relationship with my inner family will take time, but I recognize the immense progress in this action, and feel the release.
Side note: the Good List Visualizer has been updated to include these new entries.