Linguistics and semiotics of radical embodiment, honesty, love, and sex
The thing is, what I really mean, Facebook sucks, but then again, no
I'm guessing you do not need much convincing of this. It is the source of angst, anxiety, doom-scrolling, mis-information, and just plain useless bullshit, plus cute puppy and kitten videos. It is also where I can most easily keep up with what my friends in Hawaii, California, Oregon, Whatcom & Pierce Counties as well as other places you say, and I agree. When I was riding transit all the time this was a welcome distraction from the usual queer/transphobic crap that is part and parcel of my existence, staring, inappropriate questions, intentional and also unintentional shaming.
I deleted mine in November of 2019 and did not create a replacement until January. Too many pictures of my own misery, too many reminders of hurt and trauma. Too much baggage as I switched from a student life to a professional life. My days of throwing philosophical and political bombs was largely over. In one sense this completed my evolution to transfeminist killjoy, MA.
During the no-Facebook time I watched multiple old movies, read about a dozen books, spent some time reading up on feminist and trans academia on Twitter, got some much needed rest, went on lots of walks, caught up on a significant amount of music listening that had been acquired but never heard, and bolstered my queer theory knowledge base with a deep dive into embodiment and queer and transgender sexuality. I also caught up with musical favorites like the Furtwangler Tristan und Isolde recording, female punk bands, Sibelius symphonies, Maria Callas's Tosca, and Miles Davis circa 1964-1970.
Now, nearly a year later I wish I could just delete it again and forget it. The amount of misinformation and groupthink often wears me down and makes me long to return to a near media-free life. This was something I spent a good deal of the 1990s living, a near monastic existence of living life and reading a lot and meditating. In a different way than my present circumstances it was a very thrilling time, full of personal progress, meditation, creativity and it was liberally peppered with sex.
A year ago I was just finishing my thesis and getting awarded my first Master's degree. I published and was reasonably proud of my efforts, more importantly what I ended up doing was closer to what I originally intended than what academia kept trying to push me toward. My teaching sideline gig was just starting to blossom with a sociology of gender class at University of Washington Tacoma. I was floating on top of the world in many ways.
...........Culture, social media and the Trump years...........
Today to think outside of the socio-cultural orthodoxy is heresy. How dare you think that Star Wars ran out of gas and anything of interest to say in the 1980s, how could you not have completed Twin Peaks V. 2, or understand just how cool X band is...etc. Stop. Enough. I have not watched TV for decades and do not care about how “woke” your show is with its “representation” that somehow matters. I know it does, but it is not all that key to actual change and that is often lost in those kinds of discussions.
A friend used to say often, “culture is not your friend”. As the years roll by this simple statement has grown to take on a much deeper meaning in my life. I'll do my own thinking for myself thank you very much. I do not need you or the cultural mavens, let alone some person I do not know sitting behind a keyboard and who knows how much geographical space, telling me what is and is not worthy of my attention, let alone devotion.
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram... these corporations are cultural pimps. Neither are they your friend. Can they be used for good, yes, but I've come to the conclusion that the scales are largely balanced on the consumerist/patriarchal groupthink side rather than the creative expression of people sharing, or being a generator of significant cultural or artistic trends let alone change. It is not black or white. They sell you your own experiences, and a healthy dose of often sexy, desirable things you'll never have (not always consumer goods, sometimes deeper more impactful things), while also giving you just enough of what you and your uniqueness do want that it becomes somewhat indispensable as a method of connecting with friends and relatives in different places as well as a nexus point for culture in many forms. It terms of human contact it has replaced the Sunday afternoon phone calls that used to be part of the routine of life when I was a child and teenager. But it also replaced going outside to a large degree. And if we do we have our technology at the ready in our pocket or backpack, purse.
I see firsthand the debilitating effects hyper media consumption has had on those close to me. While I know a bunch of very interesting switched on people who represent lots of different identities, they tend to be better educated (this is my white and educational privilege) and what could be termed sophisticated consumers of media and art. Far too many of them have succumbed to the non-stop cycle of news, and how it represents consumption of media (and goods) in what passes for mainstream American culture. I've seen the stress, anxiety, fear, depression and experienced how people changed into something they were not before. Optimism and patience replaced with cynicism and anxiety would be the easiest way to describe it but that falls far short of the phenomena I am describing. It does however serve as a baseline upon which to discuss this change in people I am describing.
I am not entirely immune from this process myself despite the above statements. My educational and racial privilege does grant me access to a much wider range of information, art, and culture than many people. It is hard not to be painfully aware of it given my academic and professional interests. But it does not shield me from occasionally falling victim to this process.
.............Feminist killjoy's and the power of memoir.............
I have often suffered from a form of imposter disease. Despite year after year of exceptional academic and professional results, it persists. While it is diminishing finally I am decidedly struggling to fully adopt the personification of “professional”. My life really has been one long strange trip, much of it was anything but thoughtful or professional. Perhaps this new awareness is creating a kind of cognitive dissonance in me that I have not resolved internally. Perhaps my recent marriage and having the life that comes with spending a lot of time with the one you love has also forced me to reflect and make value judgments more as my time is even more tight now and I have a new priority of making room for time with her.
I call this transformation my growing up. My favorite feminist killjoy Ph.D., and mentor, Dr. Raechel Anne Jolie, has been a source of much information that led to intellectual insight as well as personal growth. Something about how she looks at the world re-activated dormant (mostly queer and femme) parts of myself that had been locked away carefully for survivals sake. But I digress, and this is not a trauma story, nor is it my version of new age hokey folk advice on how to transform yourself and win big now!
If you like your feminism intersectional, slightly queer, anti-racist, decolonizing, crip friendly and pro-trans check out the podcast “Feminist Killjoy's Ph.D. Many times I have followed a link from something posted in Raechel's Twitter account, or I heard in one of the archived episodes of the badass podcast she used to do with Dr. Melody Hoffmann (herself a badass academic and bike transportation advocate). One of those rabbit holes led me to Michelle Tea's book, “How To Grow Up: A Memoir”. Another was to Gayle Rubin's brilliant “Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality” (more on this later I'm sure).
I resonated with Tea's memoir and it comforted me and made me laugh at my own misadventures as I contemplated what kind of future I wanted now that I was single (at the time) and my academic and professional life were starting to take off. Michelle and I both had to go through a growing up process later in life and I was blessed to have had her wonderful book as a way to prompt me. Her amusing anecdotes made the more painful parts of the process not seem so deadly serious, or boring for that matter.
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Fast forward to the November 2020 election. The last four years have been an epic socio-cultural and political shitshow with tragic consequences when things were already pretty dire. The refresh key on my phone, pad, and desktop got worn out all over again during the weeks leading up to and immediately following the recent election. As with the difficult and often terrifying past five years, during the past three weeks that lying criminal bastard did a perfect job of taking up way too much space in my own and apparently much of the planets collective conscious. It was nearly impossible not to get caught up in the maelstrom.
Time to move on. Time to let go of Facebook, maybe this time for good. Or so radically alter my habits around it as to not let it infect my own little slice of heaven or the ambitious goals I have set out for myself.
Seems we could all use some mercy now. Sometimes that means cutting yourself some slack. This past week I did in what was a dramatic fashion for me. Part of the growing up process.
The nexus point
As I sit here I am looking at the clock and thinking about my 1 pm and my 3 pm appointments. You see I am a clinical social worker and these two people represent the very first individuals to which I have been assigned by my practice collective. They are my first real clients.
So I'm nervous a little, I've gone over my notes several times and done some administrative work in anticipation and I am still a bit ancy so I thought I'd post something.
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7 years, 4 months and a few days ago I was sitting at Chuck's Hop Shop near Greenlake enjoying a pint of something no doubt delicious when a text that changed my life came in. It was Bernel who was the attorney at the Seattle Symphony/Benaroya Hall and the Seattle Art Museum and would I like to be his paralegal intern. Sure I said, gulping down the beer, inwardly giddy as fuck.
Why, because my first day of my very first year of college was still three weeks away. I had scored prestige internships before setting foot in one classroom at Highline College.
I loved working for Bernel and the two organizations. My office was in the basement of the Seattle Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park, a lovely art deco building where the hand rails and toilet paper dispensers were art. I'm sitting here thinking about these two people I am about to work with and the work I am about to embark upon and I must say I'm dumbstruck to be here now. To quote Bob Marley
“don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be alright”
He was right. There were stones on the road here and there as well as some interesting side routes, but this is approximately where I envisioned myself during my BA work and I began to dream big and reflect on the life I wanted.
Blood, sweat and tears, loss, love, triumph, impact, learn, serve... it sounds pithy but I discovered this is what I wanted and somehow magically (maybe some hard work) I arrived here, today.
Wow! Seven months to go...
Dear Blog of Mine
I am deeply sorry I have been away for several days. You see I am a graduate student and sometimes my time is not my own. I stay so busy the last thing I want to do is spend time in front of my Mac staring at a bright screen.
It does not mean I do not love you or value your place in my life. I cherish the freedom you give me to just write little bits without any of the structures academic or “professional” writing imposes on people like me who make our tea and biscuits as working “professionals” where writing is a significant part of it.
So do not be mad or sad. I am not abandoning you. In the interests of full disclosure and radical honesty I should let you know that this may be the state of affairs at times in our relationship. We did agree to be polyam and have other creative and professional projects.
To anyone reading this (although who would be?) this just is the way it is. Often my time is not my own. Now that I am a married woman I have even less and want to give some of my energy and time to enjoying the life affirming benefits of being with the one you love. Dinner, snuggling, staying in bed, making coffee, taking walks, sharing favorite art, as well as romance and sex.
To make up for my repeated absences I promise to leave you some stories and screeds. Liberally peppered with sex of course... not really, but maybe.
..................................................................................... I've been listening to a lot of Joni Mitchell lately. Today's ear worm:
“Doctors' pills give you brand new ills And the bills bury you like an avalanche And lawyers haven't been this popular Since Robespierre slaughtered half of France! And Indian chiefs with their old beliefs know The balance is undone, crazy ions You can feel it out in traffic Everyone hates everyone And the gas leaks And the oil spills And sex sells everything Sex kills”
Sex Kills by Joni Mitchell (1994)
What is love?
I'm specifically referring to romantic love. I thought I knew and then I met my wife and I realized I knew jack shit.
What I've discovered is that it is irrational, spontaneous, beautiful, baffling, funny, sexy, but also it is making tea, doing the dishes, a kind word, knowing she's home before I even hear her come through the door, or bringing me coffee while I stare at my screen in pursuit of my academic and professional goals.
She makes me think about flowers, leather, dark shadows, the scent of vanilla, taking long walks, music, art.
I thought I would never marry again, I thought I was done and was looking forward to returning to my formerly monkish lifestyle as an academic. I was wrong, very wrong.
I just started my new life as a married woman. Stay tuned...
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There are many aspects of graduate school that vex me. One is overly complicated assignments such as the one I am doing later today for a class entitled “Clinical Social Work: Practice With Adults”. It is mostly about learning the skill of Motivational Interviewing. It's aim is to encourage the individuals we work with in clinical settings to become an active participant in the change process by evoking their intrinsic motivations for change. Even in the face of ambivalence on their part.
Myself and another student will “interview” each other about a change we want to make for ourselves and to coax out the goal, their motivations, and to encourage their better angels if you will. My social work friends are probably cringing at that description. However, it is as accurate as any other I have found. This interview is to be 15 minutes long. Then we take 5 minutes of it, edit it, add voiceover, and turn that in. We also write assessments both of our performance and our partners. Sounds pretty straight forward.
Except that we have had scheduling (how that is possible during a pandemic I'm not sure, nonetheless) and technology issues. It is 40% of our grade. We are getting a bit stressed. No I am not going into the university to use the departments media lab to record this, there is a pandemic taking place outside in the real world.
Too many students have technology issues, or a lack of privacy because they are home, or in the case of several of my students last Spring Quarter, across the Pacific Ocean in Taiwan, Malaysia, and China, in very different time zones. Too many have inferior or outdated technology that make streaming media and video downloads and uploads a real problem. This also requires video editing and adding an audio track and subtitles. I am privileged to have a nice desktop computer and a tablet along with both wireless and an ethernet connection. During my previous Master's degree I got hands on learning experience from an instructor how to create video content for the classroom by creating a five minute film for my MA hooding ceremony. I've got it easy, and I am having issues...
For all the trouble I fail to see much usable knowledge gained here, or practical experience for that matter. In one hour of a therapy session with an individual I am working with, or shadowing my clinical supervisor I learn 10-20X more because there is context, randomness, real world actions and reactions. Not to mention my own therapist gives me a twice monthly master class in effective therapy techniques. This material screams in class practice, a fair amount, which is difficult at best via Zoom.
I get the point of the assignment as an instructor. I have built syllabuses and followed others while assisting with the class as a co-instructor. Get the students to “practice” and reflect on what did and did not work in a given situation using a bit of knowledge and/or a new technique. Classic pedagogy. I just do not feel for the time and hassle involved the payoff is sufficient to account for 40% of my grade.
Second guessing instructor choices is a hallowed practice among graduate students and we engage with it lustily. It is a normal part of being a grad school. I once heard the experience of being a graduate student described as being not quite an instructor, not quite a student. That's apt. We occupy both roles frequently. I'm sure there is a student or two among the 100+ I taught last Spring who second guessed my decisions (and I have the evaluations and some emails to prove it). I feel no ill will towards them. Criticism is part of the ecosystem at a competitive research university.
When I think about this issue of Motivational Interviewing and it's place within my overall clinical social work education I am reminded of something my field instructor told me, “modalities are brands”. Indeed they are. They are really big business. And while this obviously useful skill is something else to learn and add to the tool bag to bring to bear working for the people who come to me to for therapy or case management, I'm just not sure it justifies taking up ¾ of the oxygen of this one core class because of the lack of praxis as a learning tool, let alone an objective.
This and two other are the last core classes I have left for this degree. After this, nothing but electives I choose and advanced practicum work before graduation in eight months. Not that I am counting or anything.
Back to work...
What do I mean by linguistics and semiotics?
linguistics: (noun) – the branch of knowledge that deals with all facets of language.
semiotics: (adjective) – symbolic, serving to convey meaning, (noun) – the branch of knowledge that deals with the production and interpretation of meaning of symbols and language.
What do I mean by radical embodiment, honesty, love, and sex?
radical: (adjective) – forming the basis, foundation, or root; original, primary. Also, characterized by departure from tradition; progressive; unorthodox.
embodiment: (noun) – a material/actual thing, or person in which a concept or abstract principle, etc., is realized or visibly expressed. Phenomenologically, (branch of knowledge and/or science that deals with phenomena that generally can be described and classified) it is an effect whereby your body with its motor and sensory functions, its forms and structures, or its mental representation (the mental imagery of things that are not actually present to the senses) play an influential role in the processing of knowledge.
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What this blog will be looking at are my experiences as a researcher. writer, social worker, clinical therapist, and middle aged woman who is disabled, femme, trans, lesbian, as well as sex positive. It will also include some of my experiences of just trying to stay mindful and present in the moment in search of bliss, or at least a reasonably happy state.
This is the purpose, or raison d'être of this space and what I intend to do with it. To that end I will share the humor, the wisdom gained the hard way as well as the occasionally messy details of my life in an effort to better illuminate the stories I want to share. Because in the end, that is really what this is, my story...