paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- when does the image take over I sit on the board of one of the coolest organizations in town! How is that for an enthusiastic board-member statement? It is a community education program where people from the community teach others for nominal fees (about $10) a range of things. Some of the classes are sweat equity for products like books, so their material fees are high, but many others are not. They have classes on tuck pointing, for example, as well as tours of places known to be haunted. I am trying to decide what �class� I will convene next term�. The program is huge and runs itself off the modest fees and has been going strong for over 30 years. I like going to the board meetings because in the company of this board I feel like the poster child for the status quo, and that keeps me honest. I do not want to project this image, and yet I do in my french blue shirt, black slacks and black jacket. There is nothing about me that looks original. I have a job with a fancy title, I live in a house and have a new car. I know I was born to be groovier than this. I sit here typing, oh, better watch the time, I have to be at work by 7:15 tomorrow because I have an early meeting with a grumpy associate dean and a crew of people from a battered women�s shelter concerning program evaluations and organizational research. Sometimes I wonder how me this is. I would rather be working directly for the battered women�s shelter, or any other social cause, than enabling others to be good citizens. But heck, this is my diary, and so I can also tell the truth: I would rather be doing any number of things besides what I am doing. I am having difficulty getting a �life plan� together. I just move from one bad situation to the next and wake up in the night feeling nervous that I should do more about retirement. I am 3 years late for solid retirement planning�.I have no money for solid retirement planning. It seems that as my brain is releasing itself during slumber that some really bad brain gas escapes and I experience the sort of doubts that take this line of worry to the next level. At the board meeting, I sat next to a woman who has been a full-time lecturer at the university for 20 years who walks everywhere (full-time lecturers make about $20 K/year) and in the 70�s took �songwriting for the brave� and has reel-to-reel tapes of her songs, somewhere, in her apartment. Everything about her was cool � definitely in a different league from me, in my esquire-pleasing suit with my tidy little job,� She gave me an �I�m looking through you� look. Whenever I have encountered her outside of the board meetings, she gives me a look that lets me know that she is looking through my image but not really me. It makes me remind myself to think about at what point does my �image� replace me? I�ve often wondered, what if I became her, only not her? Shorter. Not quite so rugged. Probably not smelling like cigarette smoke, but it would be all right if I did. If I became someone like her�. She writes poetry and teaches lower division college classes in a sort of position that carries no benefits of university employment�.or maybe it does�. That could be me if I were to go out and do the sort of thing I would like to do. But I don�t want to live like a monk. I used to live like a monk and I was fine. The secret is to keep busy and to not watch television. When living like a monk it is a good idea to try to avoid as much of popular culture as possible. Popular culture, I am increasingly convinced, is an image-breeding machine that has gained the power of thought. But I would much rather travel. I like our house. I needed a car (I had not had one for six years). So I kick the money machine, basic though it may be, and try to find some balance between my personal aspirations and my need to make a living that frees me from the trials of monk-like living. I am tired tonight. And I do have that early morning meeting�. Guess I will be hip and cool another day. 11:08 p.m. - 2002-11-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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