I want to Sculpt!

Its the week before finals, and Christmas break is just around the corner.  I've burnt my brains out on Human Physiology, Physics, and Psychology. TO MANY "P" WORDS PEOPLE!
Let's get going with SCULPTURE!  I want to have clay under my fingernails again, I want to create!  Worlds are waiting to be created by my hands, and every day I think of something new to sculpt!
It doesn't help that I'm doing an entire presentation on the occupation of sculpture tonight.  As with all things, I must wait.  School must finish, but when its done that clay will never know what hit it!

Enjoy some pictures I found on line, don'they stir the imagination?

 I wish I could say all of these were done by me.  But it wouldn't be true.

I'll have to post pictures of my sculptures soon.

November Muse

Crisp, clear, cool.  

As if one's breathe were its first.  

Floating crystals of morning frost, burning bright in sun lit skies.  

Raw, edged, a blade in the darkness of a shadow.  I am shaded by a thought.  

How fluorescent is the dawn?

In a dream my eyes awoke, starved for sensation, 

pupils dilated, take in, drink in.  

Oh this fall morning, for I am mourning.  

Lost again is the Autumn, flora struck by Ra's flame,

but now as a knife in the dark, winter plants its poison.

Lost again, is the Autumn, again I wait for spring.

A frame of glass has captured me.

Contain my soul, my essence,

one frosted piece.

To you I gave all, one leaf on the ground

You held me close, would not let go.

I froze to death, in pleasures touch.

You must remember,

I must forget.

Do you see, there through the trees?

I'm watching, waiting.

Can you see, there through the trees?

A hope, a prayer.

Feel a thought, a look, a wish?

Muted emotion, dull of blade and light.

Please, please, do not take flight.

Life comes at you fast

It has been a while since I've visited my own blog.  Life has been insane!  But the ride has been good.  Among the stacks of homework, work, volunteering, and being a husband I find no time to write down my thoughts.  So now that I have about fifteen minutes of breathing room, I think I'll do it.

I recently downloaded the newest Coldplay single "Paradise" which I recommend to anyone who needs a good boost for their day.  It's absolutely beautiful.  If the band could see my post, I would tell them thank you for the inspiration, beauty and musical perfection that soothes my inner ear and vibrates the bones to nirvana.   Some how they continue to express their talents with notes and lyrics that I feel describes me to a T.  Its oddly wonderful to be able to find expression to what makes me, me, when I can just flip on my i pod and hear it being sung.

The weather has turned to cool, crisp, Autumn.  My library has smelled like paradise the past couple of days.  I find much solace, and sanctuary within the walls of books.  The old building itself is due for termination coming next year, which is sad, but needed.  Especially when the doors don't close all the way, the ceiling leaks and the heater is bipolar.  But I love the people, the atmosphere and the friendships that are all contained within its rock walls.

The feeling of connection has been strengthen the past week by the reality of me leaving its comfort and striking out into the great unknown.  But before I could walk away, depressed and uncertain, I was offered a new position to be a sub, and travel between three different libraries, once every week.  It was a moment that I have only felt a few times in my life.  One where you feel so strongly about a decision that will change your life forever, where you give up something good, for something better.  I was torn, indecisive and degraditated.

I cried out to my maker and he answered my pathetic call, with this compromise.

Now, I can keep my toes in the water, focus on school, and (greatest of all) spend more time at home, with my radiant wife.

To all those who I work with, I love you like family, you all have influenced me for the best. I'll never forget our experiences for as long as I live.  And to Kendall if you ever read this, you will always  be a Philistine to me.

To my wife, thank you for loving me, urging me to be better than I am.

To God, thank you for being out there, to hear me and to show me that you care for this particular particle of dust.

Quite a Day

Its already the start of another semester. I can't believe it. At least my summer went out, with a bang. . . . almost.

I was standing at the front desk of my work, just this past Saturday, contemplating how much I didn't want to be productive, when an altogether mind baffling, almost heart stopping scene played out before me.

There was Farmer Joe, wife-beater shirt, red bandanna, jeans and beat up tractor riding past straight from 1956. In his lap was an old red gas can, pretty as can be. My mouth was already open in a half smile, when all of the sudden, he whipped out a thin white cigarette. Plunking it between his lips he fumbled around with a silver lighter, its metal flashing in the sun, letting me know it really was there.

My mouth hit the counter as I saw Farmer Joe wrestle with the lighter, his gas can (full by the way) and steering wheel. He ducked his head once, the lighter, his head and the lid to the gas can closer than the ever should have been. Twice he tried this, but failed to light. (Himself and his cigarette)

Finally he got enough gray cells together to stop the tractor, take his hands from the wheel and successfully light his cigarette. Of course over the spout of the can.

Thoughts started to flash through my head: I told my wife I love her right? Did I leave the car unlocked? I wonder how big the boom will be. These HUGE glass windows aren't shatter proof are they. I've never seen anybody blow up before, I guess there's a first time for everything.

But alas, no blinding flash came, no deafening boom or shattering of glass into my face. Farmer Joe puffed contentedly on his cig and calmly pulled the clutch out on his tractor. It sputtered forward and out of our sight.

Today I heard a man died while fishing, they said at least he died doing something he loved. Funny how life can play out, right?

Almsot to July

There is something liberating about being caught in a spring thunderstorm. Especially as one strides onto dry ground, where everyone without the experience of a rain kissed afternoon look on as shoes squeak and slid on tiled flooring. Where tranquility is shattered by slick rubber and an unabashed smile. Oh Ode of Odes, what would the tongue of Shakespeare wag out onto the hearkening ear of royalty long since past, if he had soggy afternoon shoes.

Summer Wonder

Here we are in the midst of the greenest Summer of our lives. With hearts and hands full.

Upcoming finals

Finals Checklist:

Psych Test (I'm still sane after four hours of studying)

Research Methods last assignment & Quiz (Thank goodness!)

History Essay Test. (expected to be writing for the whole two hours. Straight.)

Final Psych Quiz (Good thing these are easy right?)

Psych Optional Final (Just in case.)

Research Methods Final(Pretty much the devil himself is writing it, with his teeth.)

Human Development Final(Here we go an entire lifespan: Birth, Life, Death all in two hours.)

Equals:
me.

Spring Remembered

I know its a bit late, but here's a reminder.

Advice for the day.

"Die young as late as possible." - Unknown.

Writing: Getting the better of me.

I have a confession. An old habit that I love has come back to my hand, especially when there is a blank margin of paper belly up beneath my pen. It comes subtly and on the drop of a dime. Suddenly striking out, creating bold lines, words, thoughts, entire worlds, all within the now gutted and devoured paper margin.
Yes, I write in the margin, and off to the side, and maybe in between lines of notes. Yes it's addictive, hard to stop and has a way of narrowing my attention, vision and blacks out everything else. I feel almost like a killer in some way, destroying white paper.
And when you are already in the most boring class of your semester, listening to a rant from the teacher that you neither care about nor need to pay attention, the pen just writes of its own accord.
Well here are some products of my experience. Enjoy:

Write a riddle, sing me a song.
Don't look at me, all the day long.
Touch me gently, hold me naught
For I am the worst, when the best is wrought.

Find me a rabbit hole, a snake, a fight.
Lead me away, so I come to the light.
Haunt me lovingly, love me with fear.
Never be there to dry a tear.

Confused I am,
Try to understand.


Think like an avocado.


"Amenable to Social Design..."
Amen to design...
Design your social able amen.


UNBELIEVABLE DEGREE!
Due to something.
Put two chemicals together,
A purified Human Being.

Feel better about things. Seriously.
Associate negative side effects.
Suffer those side effects.
Do you affect or effect?

As a sunrise is to life, so a waterfall is its road.
We turn, fall, move here to there.
The path is long, sometimes winding and twisted
You must splash onto hard places,
Create grooves, define your place.
Move or be soaked up into immovable soil.

I want warmth, heat, sun.
I need a summer.
Yes a summer... or two.
Sun, grass, smells of growing things.
I need to feel lazy,
Knowing I have time.
Then bottle it all up,
Seal it tight.
For a later date.

An April Fools

Okay I have a confession, I forgot that it was April fools, in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY, wait, not even middle, THE MORNING OF! Good grief. :)
I had a lovely walk around campus, having a bit of time after my bus drops me off forty minutes before school starts. So I got to explore some of the upper reaches of campus today!
The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and I could smell the runner's track from five hundred feet away. Oh how I have an urge to run!
You know your day gets so much better when you listen to good music. Ya know? The stuff that pumps you up, makes you smile and want to dance everywhere.
Today my teacher never showed up for psych class today, I guess the Substance of the Universe was wanting an April Fools as well. Here's to tests on Mondays!

I want a dog. Not really.

hings of what are to come:



Santa Monica Beach!

Woven leashes, Wet concrete, Why not?

The other day, a girl by me on her sleek silver scooter (the one you always had from grade school, but had kept in the garage the minute you started middle school and then grabbed off the wall in a fit of fancy as you started college). Apparently, and for some unknown reason, she hadn't strapped a certain doggy companion down tight enough. And at the end of a long woven leash, Fido dragged and bounced across wet, cold and probably very hard concrete.



I felt a pang of sympathy for the dog, as its beady eyes looked pleadingly, no with humiliation at me. I'm glad it wasn't my dog. It might lean a bit to one side after that excursion.

. . . . .No the dog wasn't real. . . . .I hope.

This made me laugh.

The other morning, I was sitting in the spare room, looking out at a dark and brooding Wasatch Front. Dawn was there, its brightness masked and cowled by cruel clouds. My heart darkened with foreboding, as if the morning would be choked out and yet another day of gray would be hunched over us.

With my confidence as high as a chopped down tree, I turned to begin my day. But then a beautiful melody came through our not-very-sound-sealed windows.

A single robin song sang into the graying dark. Innocent, sweet and completely disregarding all around it. And with that, the sunlight burst through, huge golden shafts splintered errant gray, darkness fled, burned right from the sky.

Life seemed to finally unfreeze from winter and every bird outside burst into song.

I felt like singing. I think God was teaching me something.

Notes from and Optimist

The other day someone called me an Optimist.
I took it as a complement, seeing that there are tons of other things they could have called me.

Thinking about the encounter, I couldn't help singing a song.
One that gets me up in the morning, and pulls me through my day.


1"Don't let go, you've got the music in you"
2"Don't give up, you've got a reason to live"
"Don't give up. You've got the music in you"

3"Can't forget,we only get what we give."

"Wake up kids we got the dreamer's disease."
"First we run, then we laugh till we cry"
"We're flat broke, but hey we do it in style"

"This whole damn world could fall apart, you'll be okay, follow your heart."
"You'll be okay, follow your heart."
"Your in harms way, I'm right behind."
"Your going to get what you give."

"Fly, fly high."

"You've got the music in you."
"One dance left, you got to get what you give."
"You only get what you give."

-The New Radicals

Spring Has Come

Today is Spring, I don't care that its actually two weeks away. I woke up today with a blue sky and the sun rising over snow capped mountains. I could actually see my wife's face in the blue light of dawn.
We made pancakes and listened to Keith Urban, a sure sign that Spring is here, and enjoyed the morning together.

I feel like the back of my winter has broken, spring is here, and is not going anywhere for a while.

We got new neighbors the other day. They have a candy apple red Mazda, when we opened the door to our apartment, we almost went blind it was so bright.

The other day on the bus, we stopped at a spot that had a bunch of rough looking people all around. It was in the middle of the city, busy streets, and everything. So I had a good view of everyone, but one scene gave grabbed my attention.
There in the shelter of the bus stop sat a mother and two little girls. They were bundled to the eyes but all three were concentrating hard on a book. "Gram the Pig".
Mom was reading it with gusto, facial expressions and all, I could almost pick out what she was saying, and both girls reading along, with big smiles on their faces.
Here was a beautiful family, full of innocence and love, surrounded my the roughened lives all around them. A smooth patch among the rocks of life, a rose among the thorns. So beautiful.

Spring Among the Snow

I have to say, the weather has been changing these past few weeks. I can feel spring just around the corner, waiting with a sea of green and sky of blue.
The other day, while on a bus, I sat enjoying the view of the sun-lit sky, huge puffy clouds rolled above, and all around was bathed in just the right amount of heat. One couldn't help but share a smile. I probably looked like an idiot smiling at everything, but I just didn't care.
As my bus came to a round-a-bout, a panorama was mine for an instant. An open park, with naked trees, brownish grass, and vacant jungle gym laying contented in a pre-spring thaw. It was empty, save for one figure, energetically swinging back and forth, back and forth. Oddly enough, the figure seem a bit to large for the swing. (In a grown up sort of way) My mind shifted gears not used in years, and I felt my inner child surface.
It was her smile I saw first: toothy, from ear to ear. Then her hands on the chains, her feet pointed straight before her, then sharply bending back, pushing her higher and higher. Eyes wide open, taking in her jubilation, she swung higher and higher, seeming to giggle with the feeling of weightlessness.
Beside one of the poles, leaned her bike, discarded. A symbol of this woman's adulthood, her reality,and experience, patiently waiting, grounded by its own sense of responsibility.
Again, my inner child connected with the feeling, the need to be free, careless, and unguarded. I wanted throw my responsibility aside, to jump off the bus, to laugh carelessly, to touch the sky, just like her.
But then my bus slid along solid lines of adulthood. My view shifted, and that stupendous view of childhood contentment was gone.

A February Afternoon, on the Bus

Blue, white and red sped towards me, a great sleigh of metal, steel, rubber and fluids. Rumbling like an avalanche, hissing an ancient steam engine sound; windowed doors folded open for me. I walked up the steps, pulling out a leather wallet, passing it, to the right, over a scanner,which beeped a greeting.

Passing faces, I looked for an empty oasis, there between metal bars and another hissing steam door. Lurching me impatiently into a seat, the bus rolled forward, onwards to its next stop, all regulation and clockwork. With my focus beginning to wander I looked outwards through great glass windows, a sea of colors and movement before me, assaulting my retinas through the glass. So beautiful and different, yet simple and complex. Fractalizing before my eyes.
But something caught my attention, what was there before me, between my own lenses and the pane of glass.

A solemn world, it was dreary, gray and devoid of life. So unlike the world around me. Mirrored buses and cars drove on the wrong side of the road, signs were backwards, doors opened different ways, all a strange, rewound world. Construction cranes swung tantamount to their counterparts, all a grungy gray, devoid of life and meaning, bending with light, filtered through an eternal cloud.

Thoughts came to mind, what would it be to live in that other world. Where right hands become left hands, left eyes, become right. How would words form? Would we count down the minutes counter clockwise? Would we exit stage right on the left or stage left on the right? Would there be a fourth wall? How deep would be our conversations? As shallow as the glass that contained us? Would we take our voidless bus from stop to stop, on the now righted side of the road, entering from the left side, paying ticket stubs to our left, when our brains thought an echo of something was passing through them, as attempts to pay to the right?

What kind of person would I be? A backwards individual, introverted to the point of knowing ones self and not ones surroundings. Would I be rude, or kind; having all the current problems of an unreflected world solved by reflection, would new and unknown errors occur? Did the great computers of the time tick away mans identity, or were they slowly reverting, reversing from my own time, but progressing forward to their future?

Society of this unknown world, did it mold itself from a once expansive hive, with no secrets, identities or individuals, to a person to person connection? Was the individual beginning to see their own freedom, as phones changed from their brains, to their hands to contraptions hanging on a wall, to notes in a metal box. Were their triumphs the ability to write with charcoal and parchment, until the individual became a many different "one" alone in their own thoughts, simple as they are, to then nothing at all?

Is this mirrored world's only purpose to find existence within solitude? To hiccup within itself, imploding into silence.

But silence was broken, a hissing pop, and a ping, notifying me that my world needed my attention. Standing I turned away from that mirrored world, leaving it where I always do, to contemplate later. Purpose grumbled and hissed as I stepped off, my worlds purpose full of noise and intent. I turned right, walking on.

The Rest of My Life

So this past week I settled on a major. Now for those few who know me, this is a pretty big thing, seeing that I have wanted to do everything from A to Z (of course kicking out Math and Chemistry).
I can tell you all, that it is an incredible feeling. To feel at peace with a decision like this, is like having a hand guide you through the darkness, instead of flailing around waiting to smash into a hall lamp or night stand.
My major is: Occupational Therapy. Yup! I'm going to earn a Master's from the Department of Health. And I never have felt better about this choice.
Ask I was talking to the Adviser, I couldn't help but fidget in my seat, I was so excited she probably thought I was going to pee my pants. Everything made sense, and for a first I actually understood all that we talked about, I was on the same page. AMAZING!
Afterwards,while walking to catch my bus, I couldn't help but take in the world around me. The blue sky, the sun shining brightly into my face. The soft breeze blowing a chilly February breath over everything.
A feeling of peace came to my heart, and tears came to my eyes, as if someone was putting their hands on my shoulders, congratulating me. I felt stupid trying not to cry in public. But I couldn't deny this feeling, there have been few times I have felt this way, and all have been choices that have changed my life for the best.

And now it begins. I've never been happier to say that.

Six More Weeks

Today I Feel adventuresome. There was something in today's sunrise, a glow of rose pink in the clouds. The gray sky of a morning winter was trying for a cover up, but a bit of sun peaked through.
Spring was touching the world for the first time this new year, reaching out ready to awaken the world from sleep, I witnessed her this morning, among the deadened sky.
But old man winter knows he's not done just yet. There still is time for his taunts, and tantrums.

Six weeks can be whole eternities for a tiny snow crystal.

As if to remind me of his presence, a cold breath washed over my face, seeking the warmth beneath my coat.

Be warned, Winter, Spring is coming.

Opening Your Mind's Eye

Ever felt like your own eyes are to small for your mind?
Like the mind's eye has been stretched and then melted wide open, taking in the world around you. You have an overload of every sense, taste, touch, hearing and sight? The world flashes past you, making your eyes spin, but feeling the pleasure of your synapses firing the information off through your brain.

I was there, on the bus that afternoon, feeling like a child, seeing everything for the first time again. The window of my imagination seemed to spill over, I was seeing every car, person, biker, door, window, street, lamp, lights, meters, column, alley, skyscraper, crane, welder, construction hat, cement block, for the first time.
My eyes, took apart each, piece by pieces,particle by particle,mapping it out within milliseconds. I was hooked, addicted, obsessed with the view out the window. My ears were assaulted with the music of my Ipod, the conversations of the people around me, and the deep thrum of the bus beneath me.

As I walked home, from my stop, each pore of my skin was open to the wind, sucking in air greedily, wanting more. I could feel the sun, warming me, and the hard earth pushing back on my feet with every step.
It was incredible. I never felt more alive.

Simple Things

Today a co-worker told me a quote, "It was the simple things in life, in marriage that meant the most. A kiss goodbye, holding hands, or even a smile." She said, her face glowing with adoration, "My husband has made it a habit to kiss me once every day he leaves for work."

I had to stop and think, what were the simple things in my marriage?

The kisses goodbye.
A whispered: I love you.
The squeezing of my hand.
A simple love note.
Peanut butter and jelly.
Secret meetings in the shelves of the library?

Each day, we are filled with so many things. Our days are as big as our schedule. Our thoughts are on tasks at hand. There are largely complex problems to deal with, some may be beyond us, others require sacrifice, hard work and intellectual stretching.
In these days we accomplish so much, go so far, stretch beyond our limits and achieve the impossible. We are proud of our accomplishments, conquering our foe, beating the rival, winning the prize.
Our cups are seemingly full to the brim, even flowing over.
So why bother about the simple things?
Why enjoy the puffy clouds in the sky, or feel the sun, just for a moment, kissing your skin with rays of warmth.
Why bother about a hand held, or a smile passed on.

I ask myself these questions.

And I think I need to be more watchful. . .thoughtful. . .and grateful.

Simple things.

Hot Chocolate and Marshmallows

Remember those days: being under four feet, snow up to your nose, and bundled with thirty layers of soggy wet fabric?
Sliding down what seemed to be the grand canyon on a small thin disc of plastic?
Falling onto your canvas of white, making all sorts of snow angels?
Building an ice wall so strong only your older brother could knock it down?
Watching the snow balls fly and fall like rain.
Hearing the trees rustling and an unexpected snow flurry finding its way through all your layers to trickle down your back?
Watching the world around you blanketed in millions of perfect crystals?
Smelling the snow was ready to fall?
Jumping over huge ponds of slush and ice?
Not entirely making it.
Feeling the snow finally seeping through your boots?
Clenching and unclenching your hands to keep them alive?
Finally blonking your way to the back door too tired to grip the door handle?
Knocking your boots against the back porch step?
Opening the door and feeling the warmth of inside on your ice and cherry nose?
Not exactly seeing your mother helping you get your snow gear off.
Feeling weightless and almost naked in your underclothes?
Knowing you are safe from the cold?
Wiggling your toes as they tingle with heat?
Sitting down at the table, grinning like a fool?
A plate of cookies, fresh from the oven in front of you?
Seeing your mom walking towards you, a steaming cup of something in front of you?
Hot Chocolate and Marshmallows, smiling back at you.

Do you remember?