I've still got it. . .a bit.

As my Sunday came to a close, I couldn't help but wonder if a certain ability of my past still existed.  I pondered the thought, which has been bouncing around in my head for a while.  I confess, proudly, I am a Trekkie, not just that, but a full blown Sci-Fi freak.  Yes it's true, and I have been reminiscing among old and quite cheesy Star Trek movies (as my wife would attest) this weekend.  And it has been amazing watching how bad the graphics were, but how awesome the stories and legends are.
From an earlier post, I let the world know that I am an amateur sculptor.  Having taught myself since the age of six, and until recently had now professional instruction.  I use to spend hours on end, creating ships, cities, creatures and whole universes, just waiting to be stepped on by my parents and siblings.  I sculpted so much, my mother made it a rule that every time I was to come up stairs my hands were to be washed, and my pockets to be turned out.  I was, and still am addicted.

So here tonight, when I should be asleep, I show to you all, I still have it . . .a bit.

To those who need an introduction, the first four are the U.S.S Enterprise E, D, B and original.
To those who don't, I hope you can recognize them.

 Each one is very basic, and to anywhere from ten minutes to 25 minutes

 Don't mind the giant hand floating in "space".

And because I could hear my mother telling me to, "branch out" after every sculpture,  I'll prove to her I have.

I can't wait for my next: Midnight Sculpting Experience!

Lost in Thought

It's amazing to me how on such a cold winter day, I can feel the warmth of sunlight on my face.  Even though my glasses fog, and the wind bites my nose, I can still feel energy coming from our source of life.  It finally the January I know and love.
Today I sat on my bus, with my Anthropology book in my lap, and soaked in the surroundings: a bright blue wispy sky, the ebb and flow of traffic, a grumbling bus engine that propelled me to my stop just in front of a spectacularly designed court house.  I found myself meandering my way past the City and County building, admiring the stone and mortar of its walls, a very stoic figure surrounded by all the naked trees.  And the thought dawned on me: I'm lost in thought!  Not a very profound one, or one unknown to my mind.  But why had this common thought thrust itself out to my mind, to rub against the ridges and wrinkles of my grey matter?  I was lost in my thought, with no accompaniment, there were no words or lyrics being sung into my ear canals.  I had no emotions assaulting me,  I wasn't being moved by a constant melody or beat.  It was just me, my conscience and no one else.
If you do not follow my thought, or understand what I am saying, DROP YOUR HEADPHONES.  I know in the past I have said I'm unplugging for the day, and I often make fun of others and myself for being cut off from the world around them, but now I am unplugging.  I'm dedicating this semester (and possibly others) to an Ipod free semester.  Some may scoff and wonder how long that will last, others just may flip past the screen.  But know, those of you that stay and read this, I am unplugging myself from my small inside world, and experiencing the great wonders around me.
Its already been a week, so lets see what more comes from it!

A return of Kindergarten

21 pairs of hands, holding oversized pencils, 21 pairs of little feet swinging and crossing beneath shin high seats.  21 eyes taking in their bran new classroom.

We spent the past break dusting, cleaning, scrubbing and sanitizing a room of Mrs. Erickson's very own, one that has a tall bouleton board, one name plate over the door jam, and one teacher's desk in the corner.

As I sit here, listening to my wife teach 21 little minds, I can't help but smile at the memory of my own kindergarten, paper lions and lambs hanging from the ceiling, a giant doll house full of furniture and toys, blocks, blocks and more blocks!  Reflected in the small pool of faces before me are my friends, aquaintences, and self of the past. 

Part of me often feels the need to sit at the desk, and write the letter of the day, or sit on the rug and listen to a story being told.  I even feel myself cringe with everyone else as someone gets in trouble, or yearn for praise when someone else receives a complement from Mrs. Erickson.

With Hello Kitty bandaide on finger, my wife fearlessly teaches one how to count to ten, keeping little minds working and staying on task.  I wonder how she does it all.  I come to volunteer and often end up a spectator, and then come home practically falling asleep before my head hits the pillow.  And she's the teacher!

Mrs. Erickson, in the words of one of your student's mother, "Your simply incredible!

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?