The next time I post something, I will no longer be twenty eight years old. This realization isn't very dramatic, since I'm fond of twenty nine as an age marker. It feels good. So good, in fact, that I've already told someone I'm twenty nine by accident. I wonder does it have to do with me writing out my planner layout by hand. After all, I have already lived through two thousand and nineteen through its numbers. I've written each date several times in different formats – whole year, months in rows, months in squares, day by day. Had I any interest in that, I could tell you on what day each month starts and which months stretch over six weeks (those are very annoying because if you want any sort of uniformity across all months in squares, they shrink the square size in all of them).
not to name names... but September and December are the culprits
That is a part of my context. I will ultimately struggle with following Judith Butler's thoughts and writing style in Gender Trouble and I will watch a video of a panel about ActivityPub and still not have the understanding to name what it is or to place it, but I will be meticulous in areas that I navigate more easily. Planners are... simple enough, even though I did some research on layout options for that, too.
I enjoy being and describing myself as being in my “late twenties”. I occasionally stay up to wash dishes, gather links for a report that's due before midnight, review my list of tasks and goals, exchange messages with people in a different time zone and do any other thing I couldn't fit into the daytime.
some late night cleansing anyone
I'm a relatively freshly graduated visual artist residing in a country that I can't seem to leave yet. Universe knows why, since Croatia's main draw is self-exploitation-style tourism. I've seen good art and I know excellent people. Perhaps it's that. (It's something else.)
When I do art or art-like things, I like to explore and find new ways to use familiar mediums and forms. If I don't know how something works or what it produces, I want to discover it through doing. I have a collection of student works that I'm not sure whether to keep. Movement, bodies and performance are stealing most of my current attention and excitement. I blame the seductive and charismatic contemporary dancers.
This blog, my Mastodon and Pixelfed accounts and whimsical to-be-updated website are conscious attempts to create an online presence for myself, mostly to see what will happen and to explore whether online social media can emancipate, display honesty and depth and actually be enjoyable. I'm sure to write about the experience in a future post, but for now it's too young to comment on. It's a sapling. Not even a sapling. A seed. A seed I've put into soil and watered twice or at most five times. How's that for metaphorical gardening? Until the next watering.