Our group was supposed to discuss Kim Werker's charge to go out on a "date" alone, which was sort of underwhelming an assignment for me as I do dinners and movies by myself all the time without thinking of it, and (did I mention?) I went to a freaking concert alone, so go me. However, this evening I did find myself briefly on my own in a public date space, and I didn't feel entirely comfortable or natural in the scene, so joining my group in spirit if not in person, I guess I'll talk about that a bit.
I made plans a while ago to meet D for an event at the art museum (Hell yes cocktails and crafts) this evening. Driving from my small town to The City during rush hour on a Friday afternoon seemed like a dicey proposition, so I left with way more time to spare than I actually needed and arrived at the museum an hour in advance of D. I wasn't too angsty about this since looking around art museums is a thing that I like to do, and I haven't been to our local one in years.
At first I didn't do a lot of nonsensical thinking. One of the first paintings I encountered was The Beheading of St. Catherine of Alexandria which married two of my favorite things -- excessive gold leaf and heads getting cut off. Mmm.... shiny AND gory....
As I wandered around though, the museum got more crowded. A band set up and started playing jazz-with-horns. Everyone who came in had really nice shoes. High heels with decorative wooden platforms and big buckle-y straps that hooked around the ankle. Bare legs all around. I had on tights and an old thrift store dress and I became very self conscious of being The Girl who was Alone and Looking at Art. Suddenly I couldn't shake the feeling that I was trying to star in a performance of myself, and not doing a very good job of it. I felt like a parody of a girl in a vintage dress at an art museum.
I stopped being able to enjoy the paintings and started worrying, "If I spend too long looking at one painting, then I'm just trying too hard to be a girl who comes to museums alone to gaze at Art. And if I just wander around, then CLEARLY I'm just here to be seen being here and not here to actually see anything." Such ridiculous dithering, and yet I could. not. stop.
Happily, D arrived very shortly after that crisis, and I was able to transition to the event where I had an AMAZING time which I will probably write about later.
I've written before that I have a lot of hang-ups about the performance side of keeping this blog. There were definitely points in the fun part of our evening, especially when pictures were being taken, when I thought about how much I was going to enjoy it later when I was writing about what I was doing. But shouldn't the point of doing things just be the experience of doing them? This is something I struggle with a lot. I worry that this website is the equivalent of my self-conscious overdressed ass standing in the middle of a bunch of museum goers, thinking about how she looks and thinking that the only way to be genuinely herself is to not be thinking that. And yet still thinking of nothing else.
As I wandered around though, the museum got more crowded. A band set up and started playing jazz-with-horns. Everyone who came in had really nice shoes. High heels with decorative wooden platforms and big buckle-y straps that hooked around the ankle. Bare legs all around. I had on tights and an old thrift store dress and I became very self conscious of being The Girl who was Alone and Looking at Art. Suddenly I couldn't shake the feeling that I was trying to star in a performance of myself, and not doing a very good job of it. I felt like a parody of a girl in a vintage dress at an art museum.
I stopped being able to enjoy the paintings and started worrying, "If I spend too long looking at one painting, then I'm just trying too hard to be a girl who comes to museums alone to gaze at Art. And if I just wander around, then CLEARLY I'm just here to be seen being here and not here to actually see anything." Such ridiculous dithering, and yet I could. not. stop.
Happily, D arrived very shortly after that crisis, and I was able to transition to the event where I had an AMAZING time which I will probably write about later.
I've written before that I have a lot of hang-ups about the performance side of keeping this blog. There were definitely points in the fun part of our evening, especially when pictures were being taken, when I thought about how much I was going to enjoy it later when I was writing about what I was doing. But shouldn't the point of doing things just be the experience of doing them? This is something I struggle with a lot. I worry that this website is the equivalent of my self-conscious overdressed ass standing in the middle of a bunch of museum goers, thinking about how she looks and thinking that the only way to be genuinely herself is to not be thinking that. And yet still thinking of nothing else.
Perhaps there is a reason that a t-shirt along the lines of "I'm Going to Blog This Later" exists. ;) You're not that weird to think that stuff, so don't stress, I say.
ReplyDeleteI sometimes worry that, by taking so many pictures, I'm breaking my memory of an event down to the photographic evidence of it. But then I look at my pictures years later and they bring up details or thoughts I'd have forgotten otherwise.
ReplyDeleteInterestingly enough, when I walked in to the museum in my jeans and goofy kitten skull shirt, I thought "Wow, my friend dressed appropriately for museum night and I am a ridiculous excuse for an adult who probably should be banned from the purchase of any further graphic tees."
Ha. See, that Kitten T-shirt is always appropriate, and I confess that I've purchased both a Jellyfish T and a kitten-with tentacles T from Etsy with the exact thought, "See, if I just had shirts I could wear with jeans like Donna, I could stop being such a nitwit about clothes..." (And I have worn my green/white ranger shirt 2 Saturdays running!)
DeleteI'm trying to come up with something really encouraging to say about how it means a thing to be able to look at yourself and go, "Am I performing me?" and it means you're smarter than other people. But at the same time, there's definitely value in being able to stop the constant cycle of worrying about it and saying, "So what if I am?"
ReplyDeleteRegarding the point of doing things, I think like Donna points out, remembering things and documenting them can be a performance for yourself as much as it is for anyone else, and can have great value.
I'm trying to come up with something really encouraging to say about how it means a thing to be able to look at yourself and go, "Am I performing me?" and it means you're smarter than other people. But at the same time, there's definitely value in being able to stop the constant cycle of worrying about it and saying, "So what if I am?"
ReplyDeleteRegarding the point of doing things, I think like Donna points out, remembering things and documenting them can be a performance for yourself as much as it is for anyone else, and can have great value.