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Aug. 19th, 2008
the club for drawing cats
Aug. 19th, 2008 10:57 amIn second grade we were allowed to start clubs that met during our fifteen minute recess at 11:00am each day. This was to prepare us for the advent of after-school clubs with third grade and, of course, to teach us about politics and leadership and marketing -- all useful back-pocket expertises of the well-bred woman.
Of course I was going to start a club. I had to. As it seemed unlikely that anyone would want me in theirs. Plus, if there was an opportunity to lead I was always all over it. Which is so interesting to me -- history points to this my nature, but history also points to all the years I spent disavowing it. At any rate, I started The Club for Drawing Cats.
Each day in recess, we discussed a different type of cat scenario to draw and drew it. The members were my friends -- marginal folk on the popularity hierarchy, but people who were certainly cooler than me. I needed them. And they enjoyed me, although they also found me embarrassing and a liability, but they didn't like the other girls, and so through sheer force of will and the nastiness of others, I won something of their loyalty.
But they were not as obsessive as me, happy though they were to help with signs and choose the best table to pile around while we ate our daily ration Triscuts and cheddar and celery. Sincere there we no other drawing clubs, they, sick of "a cat in the sun," "a cat hiding in tall grass," "a cat eating," suggested we just become The Drawing Club.
I could, of course, not accede to any such thing, but I was in a bad position. It's not leadership if you let your folks blackmail you into leading the way they want to be led. But if I didn't take the cats out of The Club for Drawing Cats, I'd be a club without any members. If they wanted to draw other things, they would form their own club, I said. I'd play chicken with them, and I'd win.
Except that I didn't. Everyone left but Elyse, who then quietly persuaded me to fold up shop. Elena was apologetic about it all when it was over, stating it was just a thing that needed to be done, thus beginning our five-year friendship of brutality and sarcasm. Everyone else -- Jennifer of the lesbian mom and Julie of the British accent -- pretended it had never happened. I had failed, but we were embarrassed together.
It taught me stuff. Don't lead just because you want a fancy title. If you're going to lead, you better figure out the whims of the people you're leading and adjust to them before they figure them out for themselves and make demands of you it would weaken your position to grant solely because they asked and expected you to say yes. Be prepared to fail. Loyalty requires incentive. And never, ever hold too tight.
Small organizations of obscure/obsessive hobbies function thanks to the persistence of the type of people who do idiot things in second grade like found and fold The Club for Drawing Cats. And as adults, most of us still suck at the being in charge thing as much as we did when we seven. Juggling personalities, delegating tasks, being prepared to make people angry, knowing when to bend, learning not to break, using a firm hand: it's hard stuff, and it can seem like silly, unimportant stuff when it's just your buddies and your wacky hobby, but it matters tremendously, even if just in your quiet heart.
Of course, it's all easier to see when you're on the outside. I've spent a lot of time complaining in the last six months about what I consider to be leadership failures in many aspects of my life that are populated by the equivalents of The Club for Drawing Cats. I've that luxury, as I'm not in a leadership position in any of those situations, mainly because I can see no benefit in my doing so for anyone and I'd probably still lead with too hard a hand -- if not in fact, then in relation to the desire of the relevant memberships.
The thing is though, you owe it to people to be something solid, something that pushes back, and if you hate it a lot you shouldn't do the job. But if you love it a little and find yourself troubled by it nonetheless then you're exactly where you need to be. But if you're not stepping up to challenges beyond logistics, you're playing errand boy for some seriously rudderless chaos, and it will end in tears. For myself, I always try not to disappoint people when I'm running the show the way others have disappointed me, because the heartbreaks of being led poorly, while not the loudest, are, in my experience, the hardest to heal.
The Club for Drawing Cats served its purpose, my failure and hatred of celery aside. I learnt, as was expected, about after-school clubs and the back-pocket skills of women, but also about the fact that I loathe the notion of femininity that expects leadership to be exercised only in pleasant stealth.
But finally, what I learned is never, ever paint yourself into a corner, 'cause it's a pretty easy thing to do, even with crayons, even when you're a shitty artist.
Of course I was going to start a club. I had to. As it seemed unlikely that anyone would want me in theirs. Plus, if there was an opportunity to lead I was always all over it. Which is so interesting to me -- history points to this my nature, but history also points to all the years I spent disavowing it. At any rate, I started The Club for Drawing Cats.
Each day in recess, we discussed a different type of cat scenario to draw and drew it. The members were my friends -- marginal folk on the popularity hierarchy, but people who were certainly cooler than me. I needed them. And they enjoyed me, although they also found me embarrassing and a liability, but they didn't like the other girls, and so through sheer force of will and the nastiness of others, I won something of their loyalty.
But they were not as obsessive as me, happy though they were to help with signs and choose the best table to pile around while we ate our daily ration Triscuts and cheddar and celery. Sincere there we no other drawing clubs, they, sick of "a cat in the sun," "a cat hiding in tall grass," "a cat eating," suggested we just become The Drawing Club.
I could, of course, not accede to any such thing, but I was in a bad position. It's not leadership if you let your folks blackmail you into leading the way they want to be led. But if I didn't take the cats out of The Club for Drawing Cats, I'd be a club without any members. If they wanted to draw other things, they would form their own club, I said. I'd play chicken with them, and I'd win.
Except that I didn't. Everyone left but Elyse, who then quietly persuaded me to fold up shop. Elena was apologetic about it all when it was over, stating it was just a thing that needed to be done, thus beginning our five-year friendship of brutality and sarcasm. Everyone else -- Jennifer of the lesbian mom and Julie of the British accent -- pretended it had never happened. I had failed, but we were embarrassed together.
It taught me stuff. Don't lead just because you want a fancy title. If you're going to lead, you better figure out the whims of the people you're leading and adjust to them before they figure them out for themselves and make demands of you it would weaken your position to grant solely because they asked and expected you to say yes. Be prepared to fail. Loyalty requires incentive. And never, ever hold too tight.
Small organizations of obscure/obsessive hobbies function thanks to the persistence of the type of people who do idiot things in second grade like found and fold The Club for Drawing Cats. And as adults, most of us still suck at the being in charge thing as much as we did when we seven. Juggling personalities, delegating tasks, being prepared to make people angry, knowing when to bend, learning not to break, using a firm hand: it's hard stuff, and it can seem like silly, unimportant stuff when it's just your buddies and your wacky hobby, but it matters tremendously, even if just in your quiet heart.
Of course, it's all easier to see when you're on the outside. I've spent a lot of time complaining in the last six months about what I consider to be leadership failures in many aspects of my life that are populated by the equivalents of The Club for Drawing Cats. I've that luxury, as I'm not in a leadership position in any of those situations, mainly because I can see no benefit in my doing so for anyone and I'd probably still lead with too hard a hand -- if not in fact, then in relation to the desire of the relevant memberships.
The thing is though, you owe it to people to be something solid, something that pushes back, and if you hate it a lot you shouldn't do the job. But if you love it a little and find yourself troubled by it nonetheless then you're exactly where you need to be. But if you're not stepping up to challenges beyond logistics, you're playing errand boy for some seriously rudderless chaos, and it will end in tears. For myself, I always try not to disappoint people when I'm running the show the way others have disappointed me, because the heartbreaks of being led poorly, while not the loudest, are, in my experience, the hardest to heal.
The Club for Drawing Cats served its purpose, my failure and hatred of celery aside. I learnt, as was expected, about after-school clubs and the back-pocket skills of women, but also about the fact that I loathe the notion of femininity that expects leadership to be exercised only in pleasant stealth.
But finally, what I learned is never, ever paint yourself into a corner, 'cause it's a pretty easy thing to do, even with crayons, even when you're a shitty artist.
DoV clothes
Aug. 19th, 2008 12:40 pmSaturday, Montauk Club, options:
- Jack (okay, I keep doing this look, but it's both easy and fun and Patty's back which means I can dance with someone I can actually dance with in that outfit -- highly tempting -- also there may be a new iteration of it by Saturday. And, oh yeah, people are hilarious around me when I dress like this).
- a kludge of a Baroque gentleman's outfit (on theme!)
- 1940s girl, dressy
- 1940s girl, not dressy (because I am so hot like this, and it's comfortable and funny and since it will be my main mode of presentation at Dragon*Con worth getting used to).
Random consideration: may be last chance for polaroid portraiture.
Really random fifth option that syncs with random consideration: I saw a dressin Forever 21 in Chicago that I didn't buy that reminded me of Annie so much I almost photographed it. I could see if it's in stock here.
Sunday, big club night thing, options:
- Black gown worn at Terminus (easy and hot)
- the last three choices of the above
Main consideration: changing into outfit after fashion show.
Thoughts?
- Jack (okay, I keep doing this look, but it's both easy and fun and Patty's back which means I can dance with someone I can actually dance with in that outfit -- highly tempting -- also there may be a new iteration of it by Saturday. And, oh yeah, people are hilarious around me when I dress like this).
- a kludge of a Baroque gentleman's outfit (on theme!)
- 1940s girl, dressy
- 1940s girl, not dressy (because I am so hot like this, and it's comfortable and funny and since it will be my main mode of presentation at Dragon*Con worth getting used to).
Random consideration: may be last chance for polaroid portraiture.
Really random fifth option that syncs with random consideration: I saw a dressin Forever 21 in Chicago that I didn't buy that reminded me of Annie so much I almost photographed it. I could see if it's in stock here.
Sunday, big club night thing, options:
- Black gown worn at Terminus (easy and hot)
- the last three choices of the above
Main consideration: changing into outfit after fashion show.
Thoughts?
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