with purpose

Though I am not at home right now, I know that most surfaces in my bedroom are covered in a thin film of charcoal dust. It didn't strike me fully until I picked up a notebook and noticed that my fingertips had been smeared with black. I have been animating lately, and the tedious process of surface-adjustment stop motion animation is a messy one-- all scribbling and erasing and smudging and dusting off of charred vine and calcite chalk and graphite and loosened paper fibers. Today I will buy a proper mask from the local art store in town, not one of those basic "dust masks" that, even in wearing them religiously, still somehow leave me sore-throated and coughing and pneumoconiosis-symptomatic.

Yes, I want this project to be done, and equally so, I want nothing more than to scrub and power-wash everything. I have a little over a week of work time left.

Leafing through stacks of old documents yesterday, I realized how much the process of writing has continuously helped me to synthesize facts and deal with the stress and worry I so characteristically take on. I re-read some of my old poetry. It's funny how that works with me-- some pieces I realize are crap while others are vindicated. Most often, it's some combination thereof (i.e., I sometimes find gems in my writing amidst its piles of dirty socks).

Here's an excerpt from the first poem in a small series of pieces about my father and paternal grandfather. I use apples as a metaphor through which to explore their relationship, and my relationship with them.

"Grandfather first planted the saplings,/ knife roots gouging themselves deep/ into the Michigan soil. His sons later/ took on the burden of harvest, picked/ up fallen fruit in a storm of sharp/ words that, to my father, tasted bitter—/ like swallowing dark seeds full of cyanide./ No wonder he ran away at age seventeen/ to a desert where no apples grew, to paint/ still life after still life of perfect fruit, to grow/ capable of bruising his soft, red-haired wife."

My own analysis? Well, I feel the true strength in that segment starts at "No wonder" and not a moment before. Keep that, toss the rest? I might just have to rewrite this one, now.

Meanwhile, in the land of sound, I'm working on two projects. One is supplemented heavily with samples shared by the good folks at freesound, another is completely digitally programmed. I've a spoken word MIDI manipulation piece due this evening, and a remix due after that. For those of you interested, I'm working in Reason, DP by MOTU, and PureData.

And so, that all aside, there's also the question of teaching, preparing for my new class next semester.
Building syllabi. Writing teaching statements. Developing statements of purpose.

I like that phrase, and that idea: a statement of purpose.

That there is purpose behind what is said.

It also reminds me of the principles of mindful speech present in much Eastern philosophy, where words must pass through three gates (questions) before they are allowed to be spoken. According to this doctrine, you must ask yourself: Is what I am about to say kind? Is what I am about to say necessary? Is what I am about to say true? A fourth inquiry articulated by a 19th century philosopher asked whether speaking would improve on the silence at all.

I know I need to act with purpose more than I do presently, let alone speak and think (for what is thought, but internal banter?) with purpose.

Proactivity? Essential.

Stagnancy? Not allowed.