On passions

(Hi, happy new year.)

Instead of buying a new diary/planner for 2012, I’ve divided my existing mostly blank journal/sketchbook in half and dedicating the latter portion to documenting this year’s exploits. I spent a good hour a few weeks ago with my stencils and a black marker writing out the days and weeks for the first trimester; I had little else to do that night. I’m sure I’ll get to the next trimester once another bout of “what-the-hell-am-I-really-doing?” kicks in.

Even my new (temporary) boss is aware that I “want to leave.” Plainly, he had asked what I wanted to do and I answered all-too honestly.

But to be honest, most jobs are just jobs.

(Design 945, Sonia Delaunay. Printed Silk. France 1929-30. Via The Bohmérian.)

My particular job is not as soul-deadening as I often portray it to be and I have to keep it mind that it’s only temporary. On my days off, I’ve been trekking out to Gulou to read

which is part comparative urban studies, part political philosophy, and a lot of travelogue.

It’s usually while I’m pretending to be informed that I question (worry) about creative citizenship. I get into moods where I get inspired by initiatives like Triple Major and PROGRAM and think about talking to the guy(s) at piangbanr. “Just do it!” a pair of sneakers admonishes me. Networking and go-getting. Just go.