I wrote a personal mission statement

It's complicated.

this is a list of goals, none of which are actually attainable in a literal and complete sense.
they're written with the understanding that life (especially life within a capitalist economy) is compromise, and that to achieve a goal partially is not a failure as long as you're constantly working to improve your achievement of it, and pushing as far as you can with it.

* to free myself from the constraints of capitalism (the neccessity of a "job", the pressure through the media to buy unneccesary things, the presence of exploitation in most of our economic interactions)
* to make a living and get the things i need to survive without exploiting or contributing to the exploitation of anyone or anything. (including animals and the environment)

* once these have become stable qualities in my life, to help enable others to achieve the same, as well as their own goals
* to use art, and music, and beauty, as a means to remind people of the value of these goals, using specific examples.
* to always share my skills and knowledge in order to empower other people rather than using my knowledge as a weapon to keep them subjugated to me.
* to offer people the resources and opportunities to actualize their own dreams and creativity and escape from the constraints of capitalism (the necessity of having a "job", of being convinced that you need to buy a lot of things that you don't really need) without doing it for them, ie to help them become independent people of their own doing.
* to use non-oppressive language, and also to be non-oppressive.

what this means in specifics:
* to become entirely self-employed and make a living only through donations or sliding scale prices
* to be willing to give things away for free
* to only make and sell things that are entirely recycled and entirely sweatshop free, and entirely locally sourced.
* to get a truck and convert it to vegetable oil, and a camper, and convert the camper into a silkscreening studio/artists' residence that i can both use myself and also bring to people who would like to have a quiet, personal space to be creative in, and also use that vehicle to travel to various bookfairs, zine and small press fairs, and small music festivals
* to offer skillshares and workshops to others to help them to learn anything i know that they want to learn, and to write zines with sort of a similar goal. (as well, to simply write zines documenting things that i experience that i think are funny/interesting/inspiring/important/tragic/terrible etc)

on a more personal level:
* to achieve the most humility possible
* to be fearless
* to never make anyone feel guilty, ever
* to be as positive as possible
* to be as realistic as possible
* to have an incredible sense of humour because almost everything that can cause me to lose my humility, to be afraid, to make others feel guilty, or to be negative can also be seen as amusing instead.
* to be ready to rethink everything, including this mission statement.

Anarcho-Capitalists!

Yes, i always thought it was a joke. But, then i got myself a table at an anarchist-run holiday craft sale. Now, what the hell does that mean?

In practice? That there were no assigned places, that vendors had to problem-solve any issues together (as a group of folks working together towards a common cause, as opposed to as competitors) rather than relying on a boss-lady to tell us what to do. That the live entertainment, instead of shlocky christmas music, was live and ranging from neutral to leftist politics. That some of the vendors had sort of alternative or radical content. That junto (the local radical lending library) got a table. That the merch there was (theoretically) local/handmade, although that's (theoretically) true at all craft sales.

So, offering a venue for local people to be self-employed and self-empowered, that's pretty great.
Encouraging people to buy local, handmade, sweatshop free, etc, that's good.
But how many of the materials used by the vendors are truly local/sweatshop free etc?
How much of the content of the stuff being sold was really in any way radical or anarchist?
And is a holiday shopping spree really anarchist?

Here are the reasons i'm still skeptical:

1) what's driving us over the edge is EXCESS. how many of the things one sees at a craft sale are unneccesary? how much of it was made with new material? is consuming these things in any way anarchist? (if i stop for a minute and envision the magical, mythical world where capitalism is gone, i could imagine folks making things to trade or give to each other and while most of it would be useful things like food etc, i think there'd still be a place for art.. but it would have to be made in a way that's respectful of the places the supplies are coming from, for starts.)

2) while we do need to have money to survive, this doesn't necessitate total compromise. we can make money selling things without being assholes about it. i really like the idea, for example, of sliding scale. i really like the idea of "pay what you want". i like the idea of taking the buyer's means into consideration when figuring out what they should pay for something. i like the idea of bartering.


So, the sale was interesting. Most of the folks there did seem to be selling things they'd made themselves, as opposed to being some sort of "middleman" (a loathsome human being and a capitalist of the worst kind). So that was good.

Things i'd love to see at future anarchist craft sales, though?
- skillshares! fuck shopping, learn how to knit and make scarves instead. or whatever.
- more visible promotion of local shopping and recycled products, explaining that there's more to shopping local than just kitcsh or (barf) nationalism. (ie buying local doesn't incur the environmental damage of shipping overseas or across the country) i really like the idea of buying local things (when you have to buy them at all) but really hate how that too is being absorbed into "green capitalism" (barf) so that's becoming sort of a touchy and complicated thing to promote properly.
- flexible pricing. set a sliding scale that can accomodate a wide range of incomes. my experience is that most people will aim for the middle or top.
- more encouragement of bartering.

So what's the point of this long ramble?
My usual point: An anarchist craft sale is sort of a compromise, but we're living a life of compromise so it's, in it's context, not a bad idea. (and that this doesn't mean we should embrace it whole-heartedly, it means we should not destroy it, but work to improve it, and use it as a tool to break down shit that really needs to go, like mindless, selfish, destructive consumerism)

I feel a bit like a liberal. I'm not entirely convinced of what i'm saying. Please help?

.

Colonization. In the Present Tense.

Something else that i've been thinking about lately, which i posted about on my other blog and which i'm apparently not done with yet, because here i am doing it again.

I was kind of disturbed to see a white girl selling a headdress at an anarchist craft sale a couple weeks ago.
(okay wait, anarchist craft sale? yeah i know. here are the fabled anarcho-capitalists we all thought were a joke. and i was one of them. hah! more about that fascinating contradiction later.)

I'm not going to outline the whole conversation i had with her about it, most of it is covered here
http://nativeappropriations.blogspot.com/2010/04/but-why-cant-i-wear-hipster-headdress.html
(i really recommend reading this, hits the sketchy racist nail right on the head)

She did have a few unique arguments, like that "we are all indigenous, because we were all born here", at which point i sort of just wanted to vomit all over her feathery handiwork and changed my tone from "have you ever considered..." to "that is racist, whitewashing bullshit".

I think the conversation ended when she tried to justify the whole thing by telling me how she made a dreamcatcher all by herself and then her "native friend" came over and saw it and said she'd magically found the right kind of wood to use. Clearly her 1/8 cherokee blood justifies everything. Clearly "their" gods smile down on her and approve. Vomit vomit vomit.

Anyway, the whole thing served to remind me of how fucked up it is that most people swallow the whole "Canada did some bad things while they were settling the country but colonialism is over and now the natives are all integrated, all the better for them, and everything is fine" argument. It always reminds me of the drunk person who says they USED TO be an alcoholic, but that they quit, and that the mickey in their hand is fine because they're better now. (no disrespect to folks dealing with alcoholism)

Just to be clear:

1. White folks continue to colonize Canada. Ongoing problem.
2. Any action we take that moves control over the public image, iconography, culture, history, etc, of first nations groups into our hands (ie white people making headdresses) is aiding in the colonization of those peoples.

There are times when people make art that's inspired by other cultures' art and claim that this is an homage, that it's a sign of respect, etc, and while a lot of the time this is clearly not true (the comic linked in that blog post up there is a great example), i'm not going to say that it's never, ever, ever true. However, there's a difference between being inspired or influenced by something and doing a cheap knock off of it to sell (or an overpriced bougie knock-off for that matter), and there's also a difference between being inspired or influenced by a culture and stereotyping a culture. So that gets complicated?

Then there's white people wearing first nations' traditional stuff, like mukluks, for example. When i see folks wearing these i (cynic that i am) tend to cringe and mutter "cultural appropriation" under my breath, but the truth is that there are lots of first nations artists in winnipeg that make mukluks, and lots of white folks that support them by buying them, and maybe that's not such a bad thing. But still complicated. Like, are you wearing those boots because you want to demonstrate that you are in solidarity with first nations folks, or because you like fetishizing other cultures that you actually know and care very little about, because it's edgy?

Life, so far, is Compromise

I spend a lot of time analyzing what i'm doing and whether it's contributing to or remaining neutral to the major problems with mainstream society, the planet being fucked over, etc.

I just spent a month making crafts of all kinds and selling them at craft sales.
Is this useful?

Being self-employed, if it's not fucking over other human beings, (horrible people, horribly rich people, and corporations excluded) is probably better than being employed. The last two jobs i've had have basically been focussed on pampering the rich and i don't really like encouraging shit like that. These excesses are the ones that are making us as a species unsustainable. Fuck fancy restaurants and fuck nice hotels.

So being self-employed is kind of useful. Making a living by selling things i've made myself to people who really appreciate them is way less dehumanizing than reciting the script that comes with almost every job that involves public interaction. ("would you like the meal deal or just the sandwich? would you like lottery tickets with your fuel? pickles, lettuce, tomatoes, onions?")

And making shit that's recycled is alright. I feel alright about that.
Although none of it is very, very necessary shit. But life is not just about stark survival. Inspiration is important. So, grey area.

But ironically, one of the things that i sell the most of is shitty junk jewelry, the parts come from michaels (the big megacorporation craft supply store) and are probably made in a sweatshop or something, (i don't pay for them, but that doesn't make me feel that much better about them) and all i really do is attach part A to part B with a little wire loop, and ta-da! a necklace!

And yeah, i sell a lot of those. Those are the little things that fill in the financial gaps between the occasional rug or wind chime or whatever.

This is fine, this is survival.

But then the other day (on solstice, actually) dandy and i went for breakfast at the black sheep, and from the table beside us, one girl to the other, "aw, that's so nice, thanks!"

And i look over, and lo and behold, i'm witnessing someone giving someone else something i made, neither one knows that i have anything to do with it, and they're both excited about it!

And, it's a shitty piece of micheals junk jewelry.

And so it goes.

The Darkest Day of the Year Approaches

I don't like the "disorder" part of "seasonal affective disorder". (also, what a shitty acronym!). I feel pretty affected by how much sunlight/daylight i'm getting but i don't really feel the need to paint it as some huge flaw of mine, or as a horrible weakness. I just spend more time in bed, expect a little less of myself, rely on my friends a little more to keep me going.

And, that's the thing i've been figuring out lately. I spent some time reading old journals, thinking back over the past few years, and the times when i've been really unexcited about everything, right down to existing in the first place, are times when i'm not spending quality time with other human beings.

Winnipeg has been tough because i'm not super close to many people here yet. (other than a certain amazing person who i love dearly).

I miss being able to walk down the street and hang out in the kitchen with a bunch of other kids who also don't work and like to hang out and make art and play music. I miss the ones who are always making things and finding reasons to get people together, I miss that one who's always joyfully making strange things out of ceramics, i miss that one who stayed up all night telling me wonderful stories about his family, i miss that one who checked in on me when i seemed particularly depressed, i miss the one who crisply and politely asked the most direct questions, i miss the one that would get so excited about everything and play fiddle like a madman, i miss all the kids taking photos and lovingly documenting things, i miss the one i played very old nintendo games with, i miss the calm, joyful way those other ones were ready to subvert everything, as though it was only natural to do so, i miss the strange electronic creations of my favourite computer genius, i miss the one i often drank tea with, listening to their complicated and wonderful analyses of class and oppression, i miss that one that i made a rap album with, who lovably does whatever the fuck she wants, i miss that one who seemed so quiet and complacent but always remembered the crowbar when we went where we weren't supposed to, i miss the one who couldn't walk down the stairs from my apartment without jumping most of them and doing a ninja-like 360 on the way down, i miss that one who introduced me to the idea of listening to two tapes at the same time, and the one i played ping pong in the bathroom with, and the ones who dressed up ridiculously just to go stand on the corner and confuse people. just to name a few.

These are the people that reflect my excitement back to me and keep it alive. these are the people whose actions excite me. I miss you all dearly.

It's 30 below!

This is the existence i've dreaded for the last few months. maybe even since i moved here. possibly since i first thought of moving here.

After ten minutes outside, my scarf is frosty and i can't feel my fingers and toes. There's ice on the INSIDES of the doors and walls of the house.

But i'd forgotten! I'd totally forgotten how clear the air seems when it's this cold, how everything sparkles when it's coated in ice, the beautiful angle of winter light, the way snow muffles everything like a blanket, the way untouched snow glitters, and reminds me of being a kid and walking around in winter, of the icy eternity of prairie in winter and how much respect i have for it, and how much bigger and older and more important it is than this foul city and the people crawling all over it.

And, i'd forgotten how much more of a pleasure it is to arrive, when you've worked hard to get there. I walked into the drag on saturday to pick up food not bombs and was so pleased to see so many people i knew, and so happy to just sit down with them, and the cold outside, rather than being oppressive, just made me enjoy their company even more.

Maybe i'll be less excited when it's 40 below. But so far, so good.

How to get a "Sick Pack"; Three Easy Steps!

1. Get a cold or flu.. preferably something that will make you cough a lot and be very uninterested in food.
2. Cough a lot, for a few days. Make sure to use all your abdominal muscles while coughing. You'll know you're doing a good job when your ribs start to hurt.
3. For the same few days, be nauseous, eat very little.

Ta-da! I have emerged from my sleepingbag/cocoon after three days and there they are, subtle but clearly there, the thing that every beach goer would die to have: nicely defined and clearly visible stomach muscles. All i had to do was suffer a few days of fever, headache and miserable hacking coughs from the depth of my lungs. I can't wait until the fashion industry finds a way to market this.

Next week: How to find out what your man ~really~ wants!

[this is all a joke. except that i have been miserably sick and did wake up with creepily well-defined ab muscles this morning. and so it goes.]

[oh, and, i'm getting better. hooray!]