Lament of the Needless

Where is this solitude I seek
When worlds spin out of reach
And darkness fills an empty space
Full of whispers of an unknown speech

Where is this silence that I seek
When quiet drowns an early scream
And lifelessness is hopeless here
In the corner of a subtle dream

When do the answers march in time
To the questions in a beating drum
When the children all run and hide
Through the fog you'll see them come

Where is the home I wish to find
When nowhere is everywhere I'll be
And love is first but never blind
So it can't be there to me

Where do I look when it's all right here
But my eyes won't look inside
Of the hope I trust with everything
As everything always dies

While I biked to Yoga today, I realized that as much as I don't want to, I need to get out of this town. Actually I realized that a long time ago, but it was just really reiterated today. Last Friday I ran into my bane--though it turned out in the end that she was less my bane than I her savior. Somehow from this I need to learn to believe in myself as much as my family does. I feel like my not painting would injure her soul more than mine. And I think it might kill me. That would be the number one reason why I won't quit. Carol even knew.
So as I look for a job, maybe I should quit looking so far away from myself.
I'll keep looking that far.

5 Things In My Fridge1. milk2. Yugurt3. Kefir4. The best Hummus from Harmony--Red Pepper5. Lots of deliciously yummy fruits and veggies!5 Things In My Closet1. Clothes2. gig bag for Morgan3. amp and pedal4. purses5. shoes5 Things In My Purse1. pen2. lotion3. calling card4. some Euro cents (I know, still--I need to get out more)5. Twins ticket from *Fenway*5 Things In My Car1. Steering wheel2. a sign I stole in PA3. Road Atlas of the US4. seats5. seatbelts (which I use--every time)5 Things I Wish I Was Doing Right Now1. Not this2. talking to Val3. Being with Brian, here4. getting a call from Federated5. speaking Spanish5 Things I Like Most About My Bedroom1. I sleep there2. the TV shows me the Daily Show sometimes3. Our wedding pictures4. blue carpet. I like blue5. that the orange chair is gone because someone bought our green one so we moved the orange one to the living room and there is now more room in both rooms. I tag.... No one. this is sort of pointless and cruel. But I love who tagged me and also who tagged her, so I don't mind a bit!

Um.

Said Great Harvest Bread Company would like to meet me. When can I? Hmmm. . . . . . Damnit Federated! Holiday's over; do you want me or not? YOU DO!!!!!! Johnny's graduation was pretty nice. It was outside, which means HOT AND WINDY, but good anyway. I met some of his friends who were super-cool. One is a psych/ed major who is going to revamp the whole K-12 system. Totally awesome guy. I figured a couple of my friends should meet him. You know who you are. Anyway, I wasn't exactly looking forward to the day, but in the end it turned out pretty awesome... the TWINS actually swept their series with Seattle!!! Yeah! And our fantasy team got the most points... watch out CABAM league, here we come!

Thorough?

It's official. Federated Insurance thinks I'm an paranoid, anal, and obsessive chick who is desperate for work. I just sent the second email updating my references, and before the first one I sent I called to let him know I was sending it. Wow. Actually, I have no idea what they think, it just makes me feel better knowing that that could be the reason they're going to tell me that they don't want me to work for them...if they do that. Ah!
I sent in a cover letter and resume and application to Great Harvest Bread Company in Rochester. I know that it is basically a highschool job and if I do work there I'd have wasted a lot of time and more money on actually getting a degree, but whatever, if it's fun. I'm also trying to find out if Running Room will have any openings. Yep, I'd be a shoe saleswoman. Hmmm. I hate retail. Oh well I like running.
Great weekend coming up! We're going to an awesome baseball game with an awesome friend who unfortunately for me but super awesomely for her will be in NYC for the next couple years saving the world. :) One smile at a time, baby, that's all anyone can ask for. Plus, I get to see my amazing sister and her supercool husband (and her nephews, since she said we could share them since she's not going to give me any of my own for a while). Oh well, I'm sure I she won't have any other ones for a longer time than that. Maybe never. We'll see.
Plus, this Sunday I get to see how the uber crazy private Christian colleges send out their graduates, cuz Johnny's graduating too! Just glad there won't be so damn many BS's there. He he!
Well, that's all I got. Oh, and make sure you're never ashamed of being random. Haven't you ever read my blog? Or does it just make you more ashamed of it. :) Chau!

Because they're yellow

Why are people so afraid of dandelions?

What is art?

Good question. You know what I love about our generation? We all have superb typing skills because of those stupid instant messanger things we used in HS and the first couple (maybe) years of college. Yay for us. Anyway that has nothing to do with art.
I am sitting here in Dunn Bros with Amy and she told me she wanted me to write about what art is. Funny thing about art is that it really doesn't matter what I think it is. It matters what you think it is. I look at some paint splattered on a wall unintentionally---is that art? Maybe, it depends on how I feel when I see it. It is probably an annoying spill to whoever made it, but maybe it is beautiful to me.
Amy asked me to take the spiral out of her notebook and make art out of it. I said, "Hell no I don't take junk and make art with it." That's when she told me I should blog about what art is. Just because I don't like to make art with junk doesn't mean it can't be done and also it doesn't mean that it's not art. I am not the art god. Though I am a creator. :) Though I create far less than others. Far more than many more. I guess I am a quality creator, or I strive to be. If I create I want it to be good--in my eyes. I don't mean to sound arrogant but I don't really care what you think about my creations. "You create something, like inward singing. . . " Jack Black. Ha ha ha. That's quality.
Amy, you're just not going to get an answer I'm afraid. At least not with this blog. And judging from my recent history, I won't be blogging again for quite some time. Although I have no school and no job, so maybe next time I'm checking the Twins I'll blog. Oh, I have to do that. Sorry. As far as art goes. If you think it's art than it is. I won't argue.!! (I'll just tell you if I like it or not, and thanks to Natalia, I'll be able to at least sound like I know why).

A Tidbit fom Kurt Vonnegut

"If you really want to hurt your parents, and you don't have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something."

_from A Man Without a Country

In her book of diaries, Daybook, Ann Truitt wrote on the 6th of August, 1974, "Indeed, I am not sure that I can grow as an artist until I can bring myself to accept that I am one."
I say always that I'm not a real artist. Artists are artists and that is just it. Artists have art and that is all. I am lying. I am an artist whether I would be or not. Having lived a bit over 23 years, I don't know yet if I would be or not. But I am. I have more than art. I do more than art. I am more than artist. "Don't it make you sad to know that life is more than who we are?" Damn, if this was my own journal I probably wouldn't feel obliged to cite that: John Rzeznik wrote that, an artist in his own right. That totally interrupted my flow. Ah, work.
I am not saddened by this. I am inspired by it. Everything is more than who we are. There wouldn't be anything if this weren't the case. Why shouldn't we strive to put down in tangible form what we get out of life? This is the way we put things into life. This is what we are. We are so small.
The experiences and emotions and things I've seen of this life are nothing, and yet when I paint, I paint more than an object, more than form, more than color, more than line, more than life. I paint what I see, but not just with my eyes. I see a flower. I don't see just petals and a stem and maybe a few thorns and some leaves. I see more. Life is more.
Many people say that artists see differently. We see no differently than you do. But when we do see something, we take it into ourselves and see more. We think differently. We take what we see and we find the beauty, the ugly, the corrupt, the sublime. We feel the extremes. We can't look on the surface and see just the surface, even if that is really all we're looking at. It doesn't work. Sometimes I wish it had worked, and I'm sure there will be more times when I wish it would work, but that is not who I am. And that probably saved me.
Women do this more than men, it is a part of our biologies, and artists seem to do it more than anyone. I am not tooting my own horn, my life has been a struggle to rid me of this. But I can be more than artist. I can be linguist. I can be wife. I can relax and let myself be me. I can be happy knowing I am who I am, and I can paint. And I can sell paintings and give money to penguins!

pinguinos

I finally found this: http://www.patagonianatural.org/proyecto_pinguinos_a.htm which is part of the Fundacion Patagonia Natural. They have a part where you can donate money. FINALLY. This makes me so happy. After having spent much time looking on the internet for someone to contact about donating money to an organization that protects these cute little critters, I came across this site. I wish their English section worked, but it doesn't seem to. They have some cute pictures at the bottom of the page though if you're interested. :) Of course you are, everyone loves penguins!
Anyway, I can go through with my plan now if anyone buys any paintings. I'd pray for the penguins, but they'd rather I wrote poetry. (This does not apply that I think any of my neighbors are penguins), it's just, they don't actually care what I do, but,

Shiver me timbers

I haven't been on here for quite a while. I guess it seems like a waste of time. No offense. Maybe it's just because I never really have anything to say. At least nothing interesting. I have put all my creative efforts into painting this semester, and last semester I had no time for creating. That sucked. I don't recommend it to anyone. My show is coming up. I hope you all can come see the penguins and smile with them too! I'll put up a picture on here maybe (since I finally know how to do it, yay)!! I had a dream last night that I hadn't ordered my cap and gown and all of a sudden it was the last week of school and oops, oh no! It's too late!!! Then I woke up so I don't even know if I walked or not. Suppose I could use Bill's if all else fails. But I think it'd be too big. He's so wide. Ha ha, I hope you read this one Jeremy Bro, cause no one else will get that.. ARRRRrrrrrr Matey.

I finally got to use my parka and mukluks made for mushing to mush!! Yeah for dog sledding..... That's me on the sled, and then from back to front, left to right, we have Earl, Zinger, Andy (my favorite dog in the world), and Ruby. Aren't they beautiful?? And so nice. Didn't even fake a bite! :)

Excerpts from a lost journal

1/14/06:
Painting - no, I don't want to write about that. That's another dimension. World really. I don't even know if I'm the same person as painter and all else. I don't know. I'm reading about Van Gogh. his artist saved him for a while. Mine could kill me.
1/16/06:
Hmmm. It's Julie's birthday. I think we found out today that it would kill me. I musn't let it. here's what I've got: 10 weeks. 7 paintings completed, 4 paintings started, and 4 left to be started, besides putting the supports together. . . But if there's something I hate right now besides George W. Bush and his idiotic regime for oil, war, death, and reversing the progress of women's rights, it is the very fact that . . . is leading me through the process. There's one simple problem. . . I am left to ask my respected classmates for what it is within me that I cannot find. This will build my character as an artist, or kill it, which in turn should save my life. What is more important to me? What I paint, or what I do with the rest of my time? It's not about what I paint anyway, it's the process. I feel stuck in one that dilutes the very emotion I need to transfer to the canvas. Sometimes I hit it dead on. Other times I hit what's holding it dead on and instinctively swear, get red in the face, and subsequently yell at whoever happens by with a word of encouragement or advice. Too bad for my husband, it is not I who has words of that kind, so as he slightly persuades my reasoning brain, awakening language and my voice, he hears the frustration the canvas glares at me as though it wasn't mine to begin with, yet reminding me I put it there.
But in other ways lucky for him that an artist I can't be, for I am other things that I can't quit. My love for other things I can not give up completely. Loving him, for example. Enjoying nature as it is and as it is meant to be and not wondering which colors express its emotion and mine. To feel without the obstacle of production. I will never stop creating. It is a part of me as my breath is a part of life. But I won't let it kill me, lest my breath fade and to this life I am no use. This I refuse to be. I cannot make anything better off if I am mad. My time in which being an artist would have saved me has come and gone. But art did not save me. Something else did. Art and I owe each other nothing. It is an activity that I do in my convenience. It owes me no masterpiece, nothing even at all good. And I owe it no time, though randomly I give it freely. I ask nothing from it, but that I may learn to become better for it. And I give it nothing but faith in just that.

blogs

I hate finding out about truly amazing moments in the lives of my frie nds because I happened upon a web page.

Oh my gosh I figured out how to do it all by myself!!!!

Mmmmm

I love bananas. So smooth and creamy and delicious they are. So pale yellow and packed with potassium. How do you spell pottassium? Oh here's a dictionary: I was right the first time.
And by reading it I made it so much uglier: though it prevents muscle cramps, it is, according to Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 10th Edition, a silver-white, soft light low-melting univalent metallic element of the alkali metal group that occurs abundantly in nature esp. combined in minerals.
What the hell?
Mmmmm, I still love bananas.

Voltaire

Was Voltaire an idiot? Because, according to my Good Earth tea bag, he said, "Anything too stupid to be said is sung." Someone please explain to me why this makes sense,,, in a language I can hear. That would be great. Thanks.

sticky

Hmmm, that describes a lot more these days than Jessie's cat. By the way, Jess, if you find my blog and read this soon "viscosa" does mean viscous, but it also means sticky.. Somehow, that makes sense :) ... but I'll probably see you before then and tell you anyway.
This past weekend... that was sticky too. Somehow, we let other relationships get in the way of our own. Too many friends in too many places, or too few in too many places, or too few here. Probably all of it. We spent about 20 more minutes together this New Year's midnight than last New Year's. That equals about 20 minutes :) Parties and sickness and people that "comfort" is not the word to describe how it feels to be with them. And other people who fit that definition quite well, and solitude. Don't ever underestimate solitude. People are important, so never underestimate them, but it is so much easier to forget what solitude can give you if you let it. But it wasn't Saturday but Sunday and Monday that held the effects of la viscosidad.
But we made a Snow Brontosaurus yesterday, and a Baby Snow Brontosaurus. They're cute. Nothing is sticky anymore, except I guess the cat that lives three houses away. Hmmm. Interesting. :)

I might be back

The semester from hell will be over in about an hour and a half or so. I might blog again. I don't know. You'll have to see. The deal is, I played guitar like 3 days in a row and I'm working on getting my caluses back. I might do that instead, it is more creatively stimulating and de-stressing for me I think. Writing is, I don't know, I can't express things in writing. I mean I can, just not well, as you can see. I'm more audio/visual than language when it comes to creative expressions. Though I must admit I can sometimes come up with some expressions that are quite creative (especially in Spanish). See you later. Have a great break/not break!

I should be researching

Because i have another paper. But I'm burnt out and my professor doesn't work hard for us so why should I work hard for her? I know I know because I'm "really" working for me. Screw that I don't pay myself.
I'm going out to eat tonight with a few philosophers and some English majors. Thank god other people think about that shit. I just think and do stuff and I just talk.
I love linguistics. And everyone knows grammar. If they didn't (yes, they), no one would understand them when they talk. But they do, because they make sense.
I make sense.
Ha ha

hasta la proxima vez.
que pases bien

There was a guy sitting on the couch upstairs by where I work. Then Nick came up here and started talking to him. Then they came over and Nick started talking to me. Then I looked over at the guy and I knew him. He looked different, but like he was doing well. He was an acquaintance that went to Iraq my sophomore year. He lived on my floor, then one day he was gone. Anyway, he's been back and it made me glad.