Q&A

Everyday, Ponderings
Q: Haley will you miss college after you graduate? Or are you ready to be done?

A: I’m ready to be done. I don’t think I’ll miss college in itself, I think I’ll miss the learning environment. Once I get a job, extra learning will have to be self-reinforced and done on the side which will be hard and time consuming. I would love to be a permanent academic. I love learning and feeling intellectually challenged and stimulated.  However, I’m ready to have my own apartment and “free time” – and yes, it’s amazing that I’ll have more free time after school. I want to be able to cook my own food and put nails in my walls and have furniture that isn’t designed for a dorm. I want to be able to finally commit to leading a junior-high Bible study. I want to only work ONE full-time job and have quiet hours all the time. I want my career to depend on my success as an artist and not on a grade. I am ready to get out into the real ad world and make some great work – work that truly rewards the consumer and treats them like a cohort, making them feel like they have personally benefitted from the campaign. Sure, I’ll miss the dorm life, the unlimited food, the companionship, the creative freedom, the relationships. But I’m ready to be done. I’m ready to make a difference and affect something other than my own future. I want to do something bigger than this campus and bigger than myself.
It may sound corny, but I want to change the world.

Hair in your mouth.

Everyday, Ponderings

This weekend, I went to the Deep Ellum Arts Festival this weekend – as I do every year. Walking down the street passed art booths and food stands, I was taken aback by a building on the street. There were no markings on it and the only reason that I knew that there was something going on behind its doors was the red carpet that lined the sidewalk and two long-haired men dressed in coattails and carrying elegant walking sticks who guarded the door and a sign that read “By invitation only”. So what do I do? I google it of course. I discovered that the venue is called Quixotica and is a “magikal” event space whose goal is “to entertain, give good feeling of positive energy and a sense of childlike mischievous adventure”. Thrilled by this most interesting find, I delved deeper into the magikal realm that was their website and discovered my newest passion – to be a hair poet. The good people at Quixotic provide a definition of this most elegant craft as follows:

Hair Poet (noun)

A man or woman who expresses his poetry through his hair, as well as on paper. A hair poet will have poetic hair. He may communicate with others through his hair. He cuts, sculpts his own hair. His hair may portray his joy, his sadness, possibly his confusion. A hair poet is most of all, quite a character. (also not in the dictionary)

Despite the clarity with which they so eloquently wrote this description, I am still at a loss as to what exactly a hair poet is. Is poetry about hair really so popular. Let the search begin!

A Private Prayer

Ponderings, Random

I do a lot of praying in bathrooms. I just always find that the only time I have to be truly alone is when I’m in a bathroom stall. That’s when I finally have time to think, think and pray. Surrounded by four sturdy walls (metaphorically, since they are usually quite flimsy literally), I can finally seek solace from the noise of the day and slow down the circus in my head. No errands to run, no paper to write, nobody bothering you – that is, until the worst happens: you are forced to engage in a stall-to-stall bathroom conversation.

I’m not talking about the ever common “pass the toilet paper” exchange that is a necessary evil in the world of public hygiene practices. No, I mean the unsolicited (and usually meaningless) chatter that occurs between two unfamiliar people in a public bathroom facility. Now, I know everyone has experienced this phenomenon at least once in their life. You’re sitting there (or standing for the men out there), minding your own business, then, out of the blue, the person next to you gets the crazy idea that it would be a wonderfully opportune moment to talk to you. It doesn’t matter what the subject matter is, they just have the sudden urge to shoot the breeze. Do they know you? No. You they have a reason to know you? Not unless they enjoy meeting people whom they’ll never see again. Do you want to know them? Most certainly not. Although, under normal human circumstances such as an office party, luncheon, or park outing, you might enjoy meeting said individual, all that potential desire is deemed moot once you enter a public bathroom stall.

Of course, you go along with the conversation. We always feel the need to be polite and respond, despite the complete lack of politeness on the part of the initiator. So you painfully endure this human interaction that breaks through the private barriers of your public stall. No longer is it safe. No longer are you alone. You now share it with a detached voice that penetrates the walls and fills the space around you.

I often pray a lot in bathrooms. Most of the time, I pray that no one talks to me.

Pick a side.

Ponderings

If Time was really on our side, why are we always racing against the clock?

Precious Metals

Ponderings

Make new friends,
But keep the old,
One is silver,
And the other’s gold.

When analyzing this poem – which few do, so my audience is quite limited – one might conclude that the moral of the verse to continue meeting new people but that your longtime friends will always be more valuable. It seems logical to conclude that new friends are silver and old friends are gold, but I beg to differ. The poem never indicates which is which, only that one is silver and the other is gold. It leaves it up to us to decide which precious metal is associated with each type of friend. Thus, I will argue the opposite: new friends are gold and old friends are silver. This may contradict age-old mantras, superstitions and party invite lists, but I feel that a case should be made.

Both friendships are important; each have their own benefits. Old friends provide a sense of support and understanding that can only be achieved by age. We develop strong bonds that help us endure through hardship and pain and that we can rely on to get us through the more mundane tasks in life. But new friends force us out of our comfort zones and draw us away from our traditions, allowing us to see things in a different light. Engaging and interacting with “new” people shakes us from our stagnant lives. Not that old friends keep us from doing these things, but we often get so comfortable with our current relationships – far too content with the routine interactions, the ease of conversation associated with aged companionship, the reliability of always being understood – that we miss out on a whole new world of experiences.

Some people are turned off by the idea of new friendships, assuming that you must abandon or give up your securely established relationships in order to pursue some novel companion who is not guaranteed to come through. Worst of all, they could reject you. You could put an extensive amount of effort into a new friendship and it could in fact lead nowhere, leaving you empty-handed, as if that relationship was owed you.

I think that the main fear is that you might lose your old friendships in the process of pursuing new ones. But that is where the song qualifies itself: it says “but keep the old,” reminding us that old friendships are a necessity that you shouldn’t just toss away because you found new people to entertain you. Old friendships keep us rooted while new friendships help us grow. Without the old you could not have the new. It is important that while exploring the possibility of new friendships that you continue to nurture your existing ones.

Ultimately, friendship is an art of balance and adaptability. You must learn to embrace the novelty and growth that comes with new friends and to appreciate the sturdiness and dependability of your old ones.

9/11

Ponderings

9 years ago today I was 11 and staring at images on the TV that I didn’t understand. I still don’t.