Querido Kerouac...

«Enamórate de tu existencia»

-Jack Kerouac


Escribo, escribo, escribo y recuerdo a Kerouac...

Sickly Ramblings...

    It's been a long long time since I've written and so being almost bedridden (I mean, I could go elsewhere but my body is too irritable for that, so in bed I stay) and officially in vacations it must be perfect timing. My day has consisted mainly of sleeping, reading, and tea. Quite sincerely, I'd aimed higher for this vacations but after a grueling week of perpetual all-nighters I think the body needs a rest. Well, not really my soul is not tired but frankly my body does not wish to cooperate.

    A friend once made a piece about the body not being enough. Lately, I have been feeling more and more in-sync with this notion. Intangibly I am alright, intangibly I am not sick or tired... but the body needs rest. Too tired to continue, since I didn't achieve what I set out to do I'll add an image.

My last still=life of the semester.

Fragile Sentiments...

Lately I have become imbibed with the notion of people having crystal globes on their head in my paintings I had the meaning set for this since the notion was conceived, yet, as I was walking perhaps two hours ago I stumbled into a new meaning these same globes had for me. Before going to work I was seem a friend I was trying to be find a golden fish (a fish that turned out to be simply fictious) and a secret, he was making prints. After a few seconds of searching for the secret I developed a theory (a rather far fetched and albeit sad theory, but I needed to see if it was true) and rushed to the other studio, I walked in to find perhaps twenty or thirty prints and a seemingly slightly vexed or at least aloof friend (sadly, as single-minded as I can be paid no notice to this fact and began to ramble about my theory). Theory was moot since there had not been a fish at all. Conversation soon turned to pointlessness with questions such as "Why do Art when no one cares?" and emotional turmoil about having to depend on other to live as an artist. However at this point I was already late for work and had to go. I began to write a letter (still unfinished) addressing some of these issues. Sometimes I process better when writing.

to sleepy to continue... tomorrow you will meet me again cyberspace

Absolutely Tired...

I am absolutely, completely tired, yet, not sleepy... today I wanted to try something out no music, no movies, no reading, no technology... I failed recurrently but for many hours I succeeded. I love to read, and to just listen to music yet how is this constant activity influencing my brain? For me it is very important to answer this, is all this making me be more inspired or not? After my couple of hours of not having all that I previously mentioned I became more acutely aware of the amount of time that all this took (reading complete worth it, as are movies and music, sometimes, but for example the time I use just browsing the web...or simply keep myself busy, instead of using my time wisely [here I don't mean working to become wealthy or powerful, I am simply referring to doing something that would enrich my soul] I began to paint) And after working on my self portrait until stopping was necessarily I came to bed and found that I was completely tired. And it is this feeling burned out how I feel I should be living my days, doing, doing, doing (painting, drawing, friends, family) this is the being burned up feeling I want. If I still have more in me by the time I hit the bed them maybe I could have done more.This exact tiredness is what I felt almost all days last semester and it was worth it, I grew in so many ways.

As a foot note I want to add to myself that rest is also valuable, energy sometimes needs to be regained.

Farewell Cyber-world!

Writing To Document Different Swings...

     What does it take to be happy? I wish I knew, sometimes I feel in kilter and alright, but once I open the door for the question I am over flooded with emotions more often than not sadness, sorrow. It has usually felt for me that as long as I remain in action I can stay composed but when it stops, or when I am still I crumble, always this feeling, a void. I am feeling this now,  I just stormed away all because of a remark for interrupting, my own fault, it not a normal way to react. I don't expect normalcy, I don't believe in normalcy; but I wish I could change this in me, I usually have flashes that I often regret, asking for forgiveness does not feel like enough. It takes a lot to control myself at times like this and I don't always achieve it, it's instant regret. I don't stay mad for long, but I remain feeling guilty for the outburst for a long, long while. In painting I was told quite often that it was as if I where two people; as far as emotions are concerned I feel that way how can one be so enamored by life when the other is in pain, regretting, and containing the tears. Where is the balance? Which is the self?
     Silent Sadness, stashed away for me, it has a terrible way of creeping up, simply enveloping me, brought on by anything making me desolate. In my opinion my nature is melancholic, for a while most people disagreed, but I am becoming more able to cope, I think. I am fixing myself little by little.

Soundtrack: The Perishers - Nothing Like You and I

I woke up during a pivotal point in my dream and this is probably why I can still some of it. The earliest fragment I can remember was being at Austin (not the real Austin, TX but the one from my dream things are much closer and the weather is much nicer) I was exploring there and had walked to the next town and back to meet my mother. I had told her of the small travels I had done in the area even though I knew she would be worried about my doing this all on foot. The countryside by the city was lovely, now that I am awake I realize that it was very similar to that of Eger in Hungary. We went to have dinner, yet sometime during this I became a different person. I had an office type of job and at a subway station I ran across someone I seemingly already knew and was in love with. The color palette in the dream changed and now it was cold and grayer. As time passed however my acquaintance began to blend unto the wall of the subway, little by little until just his head and arm were out, he was still able to speak... the feeling at this moment was quite eerie and as I was trying to get an explanation of what was occurring my alarm sounded, everything vanished, how I detest for a dream to end on a cliffhanger.

Conversations About Virginia Woolf, Vampires, and How to Commit Suicide....

        Yesterday was my fist day of summer classes Biology I and Biology Lab not exactly a fun class that will absorb my mind, but when faced with the thought of doing it for a month now or an entire semester doing it now seem like the much nicer option; I don't doubt that my future self will appreciate it. It was just lab safety dos and don'ts so I got off about an hour and a half early. I wandered about campus looking for a cool place to be, I wound up at Starbucks. After some tea a string of events led me shatter a long held belief that I do not like to talk on the telephone. A friend and I had had trouble communicating for a couple of days now, so I gave him a good trip call. A conversation with this particular friend can brand from amusing to something that will bring a bit of enlightenment. After conversing for a bit I was abruptly asked "What do you know about Virginia Woolf?" I knew nothing, half a second later I began to learn about her, about a movie (one that I had been meaning to watch, ah the wonderful circles of life) The Hours and how Woolf had committed suicide, she filled her clothing with stones and then jumped to a river. leaving a beautiful letter to her husband.
               Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. V
           After hearing this letter and reading it we began to ponder on how we would commit suicide, never with water drowning is dreadful, perhaps jumping off a building? my friend felt that it was the quickest and surest way since taking shooting oneself is not certain there is always the chance that you might miss and just take a long time to die, or end up paralyzed, wrist slitting would not even be considered since I faint at the sight of blood, however I would opt for jumping off a bridge, just make sure that it is high enough my friend decided that jumping of an airplane and not using his parachute. Strange, strange conversations but after discussing suicide for a bit we concluded with the thought that we did not and hoped to never commit suicide. After wishing him a safe trip and a talk about vampires we said good bye, and it dawned on me, I had been on the phone for a little over an hour, perhaps I don't mind phone talking the way I had always thought so. And a perfect ending to a blog entry, albeit completely unrelated, a lovely the Little Prince image.

Paper-cuts and Blind Pilot...

Yesterday I was thinking how often people give flowers and though I love that, I have always been or a rather romantic nature, it is rather sad to give each other something that will no longer have life in it. The last few times that I have seen a pretty flower and automatically leaned to grab it something has help me back, told me to let it be and let it grow. A wise friend told me to follow my intuition, and I am trying to pay close attention to it and follow it;  it's hard but I try to stay aware and remain open, I no longer an so careless. I think it would be even more lovely to give each other seeds or potted flowers, if its a memento of fond feelings isn't something that has the possibility to grow better that something that will just whither  away?

Conversations In Vehicles...

Somewhat sad and a bit gray is how I am feeling right now. As I moved further and further from religion it also became more difficult for me to relate to people. The good thing is that I do have a few friends, people that I can count on, talk to, cherish.. other people on the other hand I struggle with; I don't mean to keep them at a distance it's just hard to express yourself sometimes... I often wind up trying to keep everything and everyone together it's exhausting and I don't succeed very much. I often get polarized and absorbed by one thing and completely neglect the others. This is something I am trying to fix, to fix when it relates to people. Months ago I would have shivered at the motion of seeking balance because it's not the type of person I am and for some time it had been entwined in my mind with setting, I am learning to process that it is not. Recently my family has been becoming much more spiritual oriented, I love this and while in some aspects I can connect to them on a deeper level on some I still can't. Some day I feel ecstatic because of the conversations we share, others I just feel unsatisfied. I'm the problem but, as I wrote, it's difficult for me to vociferate my feelings to many people.

Soaking Wet, I Love the Rain and Van Gogh... and Art

   I am re-moving, there is not even the possibility of taking three steps in my room without thumbing, yet, the rain came... so suddenly and I can't ever resist. After some days of emotional ups and downs a dance in the rain puts me in the right place again, in kilter real one. Now I must get dried up.... farewell Cyberspace.

Some Brainstorming...

I haven't blogged in a long, long, long, long time. And the truth is I think I do enjoy it. Today I got to enjoy a wonderful lecture, Markley's lecture have never been anything but wonderful and I am currently journal writing, so here's looking at you cyberspace, some brainstorming from me to you.

Journal April 30, 2012

Today lecture was about Milton being a Christian-Humanist. What this was meant to describe was that although he considered himself as a humanist the fact that he had been brought up as a Christian had tainted his thoughts in a complete manner. All throughout his life he sought to come to term with Christianity according to his humanistic beliefs. This makes me feel immediately connected to Milton, like I also strive to at one point he is trying to reconcile both matters, what is God’s role? Later on lecture turned to the subject of which ultimately brought salvation, Jesus’ life or his death? I have gone through a path of Catholicism to an ample search in different types of Christianity, to the stage I am at. But since I left Catholicism it had always felt that Jesus’ life was of outmost important, why should a sacrifice be needed to amend for our mistakes? It is something that ought to be strived for, done on a day to day basis.

The matter of whether or now we are actually living life has come across in class often. Well, this is something that I think everyone should ask him or herself.  If we are to assume that we have one life (And I am not entirely sure I agree on this matter lately I have been pondering more and more on the subject of resurrection and where would that leave us? Thus most days I think that it is this consciousness is the one we only have once of, souls are eternal and in the next life it will remain the same even though the vessels it comes in, my body, will be different.

I have had this theory about religions for a couple of years now, I think I first began to think about it around eight grade. At their core it seems that Religions (at least the ones I have seen and been exposed to) are striving to help us live a certain kind of life. Religions should see all the similarities instead of looking at all the things that they do not have in common. I have often felt like that about God, and something that is often said in class, “Man is flawed so all religion is flawed” is something I can empathize with greatly, God didn’t make Religion, people did and with this all the idiosyncrasies of people and out flawed attempted to figure it out were absorbed by it. 

I Didn't Do My Essay, But At Least I Have Tea...

I am currently at work, there is a ratio of three tutor to zero students. I am trying to write an essay but devoid of luck. No inspiration, no concentration, no essay. What luck! The only minutes that I could have written or worked on this essay gone... but there's tea so I guess that improves things a bit. Work has been rather empty, sometimes I which there were more students, but sometimes I am a hermit so not seeing people is not half bad a lot of the time. Today a lovely woman, really a sweetheart, came to bring us flowers, Gardenias. Now the lab has a lovely, subtle smell. But what am I even doing blogging? Oh Technology! How you distract me... I must be off.

I Promise That What I Am Wearing Is A Dress, Not A Shirt?

I really do, it is meant to be a dress, and I am short so it all works out, right? Oh Cyberspace, long time no write. In the last couple of days (or weeks, almost a month...) I have developed some musical obsessions such as Jorge Drexler and Jarabe de Palo. Beautiful lyrics, melody what more can one's ears expect? I also learned a bit, a very tiny bit of numerology. And painted. Painting is my favorite thing to do in life.And sculpture feels a tad forced at the moment, sadly...
    Sometimes I like to think that I had a gnome that loves to clean I know its one of my room mates but it is so wonderful as it is, I can leave in the morning a decent kitchen and come back and find this fantastic and lovely looking counter top, who know there was that much space? Only Jenny. Thanks dear Gnome/Jenny, I will most definitely be baking you cookies.
    Today I began a new painting, a still life in a box and I decided to give myself green shock therapy. While I am painting only one color is my enemy. Green. I cannot begin to understand why but using green is extremely difficult for me so I decided that the best way to get over this is to paint with it, lots and lots and lots of it. So I decided that it was better to dive in, I am doing green silk with dark green patterns, good luck Pam!

to be continued...

It's a Bob Dylan Kind of Morning....

I am singing, or rather yelling to Bob Dylan, it is a Dylan kind of morning. My long time friend procrastination has stopped by for a visit, hopefully a short one this time. "You are invisible now you got no secret to conceal!..." I wish I had not left my harmonica in the dorm, I feel very, very, very much like playing it now. Like other times when my pal procrastination paused in my path I am quite productive in other things, I have read two scripts, the beginning of a book, and more than half of Zlata's Diary. "No,no,no it ain't me you are looking for...." I have always thought this is a beautiful falling out or breaking up song. Since I got my fear assignment (to make a drawing representing fear) I can;t stop thinking about what I am afraid of, and it always runs along the same lines, fear of mindless contentment, of being out of touch, unaware, oblivious to life itself! In my opinion people should be passionate about something, about what they do, what they believe in, never just remain in a situation, the fact that people do sink into contentment is my fear. In order to appreciate the magic of life we must face it, realize that is is happening, I leave you cyberspace with a quote by one of my favorite living authors.
"Imagine that you were on the threshold of this fairytale, sometime billions of years ago when everything was created. And you were able to choose whether you wanted to be born to a life on this planet at some point. You wouldn’t know when you were going to be born, nor how long you’d live for, but at any event it wouldn’t be more than a few years. All you’d know was that, if you chose to come into the world at some point, you’d also have to leave it again one day and go away from everything. This might cause you a good deal of grief, as lots of people think that life in the great fairytale is so wonderful that the mere thought of it ending can bring tears to their eyes. Things can be so nice here that it’s terribly painful to think that at some point the days will run out. What would you have chosen, if there had been some higher power that had gave you the choice? Perhaps we can imagine some sort of cosmic fairy in this great, strange fairytale. What you have chosen to live a life on earth at some point, whether short or long, in a hundred thousand or a hundred million years? Or would you have refused to join in the game because you didn’t like the rules? (…) I asked myself the same question maybe times during the past few weeks. Would I have elected to live a life on earth in the firm knowledge that I’d suddenly be torn away from it, and perhaps in the middle of intoxicating happiness? (…) Well, I wasn’t sure what I would have chosen. (…) If I’d chosen never to the foot inside the great fairytale, I’d never have known what I’ve lost. Do you see what I’m getting at? Sometimes it’s worse for us human beings to lose something dear to us than never to have had it at all."
-Jostein Gaarder, The Orange Girl 


Huge quote but it's a fantastic one. The fact that I am here at this moment, that my soul manifested in this time period and that I am aware of this fact marvels me always. So, I am sharing my musings with you cyberspace. 

A Soul in Kilter After Reading a Script...

I feel so much love towards the world at the moment, a strange feeling for me lately. Maybe that old adage is true, after the tempest comes the calm (although I could am reluctant to use the word "calm" itself, perhaps sense, love, endearment?). I was browsing my bookshelves in search of something to read, I didn't quite want to jump into Plato yet... I grabbed two books, one is Brida by Paulo Coelho which I read a few years ago, the other the script for Before Sunrise, one of my favorite movies. I ordered it a long, long time ago but never read it, now seemed like the appropriate time. I just finished and it left me feeling this deep, warmth... a mixture of love, melancholy, and marvel towards life itself. The story is about a chance encounter that meant much more.

I am thinking of how much I have changed through life, religious points of view, political thoughts, but three things have always remained, Art, Travel, and Souls. All life long these have stayed the same. I believe in souls, in soul mates as well. Finishing this script threw me into this nebulae of thoughts. I have been pondering on chances, the path that I chose and where the path that I didn't take might have led me...I love chance encounters that end up making an impact on people's lives. I guess the script I just read felt so close because as I read it I could empathize, analyzing a life but sometimes being detached is something I feel sometime and fear as well. But this same fear is the reason that connecting with people brings me such joy...

Soul mates seem to be the reoccurring theme of my day, I am half certain I was discussing them in my dream, this was the overall impressing the script left me, and it is the way Brida begins.  I feel like there is this beautiful chaos for me to discover...

Last Day!

Last day of the challenge. I am so so happy. And I should have a blogging break soon. Wr are on a race against time. Wish us luck cyberspace!

I'm wide awake it's morning, but I will not leave bed just yet.

For the past two hours I have been a living ode to laziness and refusal to accept the weather. It is simply to cold to get out and go to the studio just yet, it is too cold to go have breakfast, it is to cold to get my clothes from the dryer; all in all it is just too cold to do any activity that requires me to leave my bed, warm, delicious, soft bed. I began reading a book out of this refusal to be dynamic. Dear Murakami has been my company for this time  ( I am terribly sorry Foucault! but you are too far away in the living room!). So I decided to blog since I am not ready to get out of bed yet. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful day outside, I will possibly jog to the "casa de cambio" (wonder what they are called in English, not Exchange House I believe), comeback and start my day. Possibly, maybe just get my clothes and go paint. Hmmm, that sounds so much more convincing. I'll read some more, eat and then go paint, I must finish my painting today, tomorrow there will be a critique and my still life would be moved again.

Speed Blogging

I am blogging and about to go to a type of theatre. Bye Cyberspace!

Challenge Day Four

"I is another"

-Arthur Rimbaud

A quote, my favorite by this poet to make sure I don't skip today's challenge.

Challenge Day Three...

Day 3 of the challenge, I almost didn't write, I am so tired. I have been welding and bending metal for the past three or four hours, the good thing is I am starting to really and honestly enjoy working with metal (as confusing as this might be for me at this point) and I have progressed so much to this point. I wished I didn't have to go to work tomorrow, I wish I could just spend my time at the studios and weld, sculpt, draw, and paint perpetually; but, I have duties, I'll have to ask Gilda to let me leave early.  So tired, must sleep. Ciao Cyberspace!

Challenge Day Two: Free Cookies and Magritte

Challenge Day Two. I am sitting in the kitchen with roommate, she is making cookies I am eating dough, good times. I'm back from the studio where I almost finished my (or one of my) drawing. I saw an old professor  who gave me a compliment and an advice, I applied it and my drawing has improved lots. Today was a calm day, I didn't have much alienation which felt nice, it had been a while since I had had a a day with just good (or positive chaos) emotions. (to be continued)
   Now it's a few hours after I wrote the first part of this post, and it looks like I'll be having a nice evening, there are free cookies, Magritte posters, and Jorge Drexler is the soundtrack, how could it not be good? Anyways, I leave on a short note cyberspace, perhaps I will be a more verbose writer tomorrow.

Challenge Day One

Day one of the challenge take two, take one was done as I happily sat in a very, very comfortable chair in my favorite annex. I had just gone out of painting class, surprisingly I was clean (except for my hands but those hardly count anymore). I wrote about the freedom that painting has for me, at the moment in fact I feel as though it is my favorite of the subjects I study. There is something fascinating about being able to create an entire microcosm. In painting one does not have to follow any laws of gravity, physics or safety. One can do or undo in the universe at will. And that is something that I find to be enrapturing. But, the is something quite charming about painting from life. And a special feeling that comes from having your subject matter in front of you. But these where the ideas I was pondering on during take one. Take two deserves its own ideas. So lets have it. I am sitting in a room that smell like freshly cut metal, my hands are covered in charcoal, like my face probably is too. But, when am I not covered in it? It's actually a state I feel more at home in, that of having the material I just did something with on me. Today I had a good day it was filled with painting, friendship, tacos, automatic drawings, ice cream, and metal. And as far as my challenge goes it is going quite well since it is not even near midnight and here I am blogging. So here you have me cyberspace! I'm being a prolific, consistent blogger. It is astounding to see all te technology that has seeped to my life, as it is amazing the way technology has expanded. Almost everyone has one or more technological devices, myself included. I just hope that they do serve to enable human interaction, instead of driving us apart. Well, this was my rant of the day, now I just remembered that a certain someone had promised to write an ode to black paper, fantastic, definitive, and sometimes challenging black paper. But that ode doesn't exist and I am too find of black paper to disgrace it by composing one myself to maybe I'll just annoy a more gifted poet into doing it. Yes Rome, I'm writing to you. And on this slightly annoying note I bed cyberspace adieu.

Cat Owner for a Few Hours... Continued (finally)...

Last week I begun to write, in yet another attempt to be constant at something, I failed but I did save a draft so I will finish that idea before writing new. What I wrote last week (or the week before?) was this:

     If asked five hours ago, "How was your day?", I would have said "It was a great day, it felt a bit yellow and was fantastic, yours?", now it's just a bit bittersweet. My day (like all my days) began at eight or rather seven since I had to be in class and in critique at eight. It went well, my piece was generally liked, and it was some's favorite. I am happy with the result too, from a quite blended and only color appropriate piece I evolved to something with more life and more like me in it. Self portraits are difficult for me, I am hardly still enough to make a good model and I don't like to look at the mirror too much or too long either, they are all in all quite hard for me....

And that was it, so now I will finish what I started. I was commenting on self-portraits. I am happy with the result, I was finally able to begin to understand myself through paint. Also that same day I began to write my roommate and I found a cat. I (the semi-perpetual cat loather) asked her to keep it, and we would have, expect she turned out to be allergic... But in my three hours as a cat owner I was quite happy, her name was Frida and she looked like a ferret and acted like a dog, a great way for a cat to be in my opinion.

Sometimes I think about how much I would like to be at several places at once, or time travel to be myself but in multiple places, but then I would be missing a moment in the future and I would pine for that as well... My problem is I want too many things at the same time, so mostly I am running about trying to do it all.... Here is a post, a collection of sentence written in long and short intervals, some with days in between others with hours. Most certainly not the most effective way to write but here is the end to this post, I will write sooner next time cyberspace!

À bientôt!

Mean Reds...

    I had promised to blog about the semester, which hasn't happened, but since the semester is only two weeks in I think this is not so bad. Maybe a little bad, but I am attempting to mend my ways. The two first weeks have gone by fast, to my (happy) surprise I like all my classes. And aside from the fact that I must work with metal, all goes well.  There are projects that have or will be done over the semester, such as painting in lingerie (yet to be accomplished),  culinary duels (later this week, this I hope to win since...well, I don't want to be a slave for a day), and getting the angry art major to smile (this one I accidentally accomplished last week, I had expected a harder challenge, but maybe root beer can't be resisted), and public art (origami, banner, I can't wait on this one).
    For the seconds before I began to write I felt the mean reds, I am glad that they left soon. Last week I met my Literature professor, who is simply a fantastic very much pirate looking man. He is quite a troll and believes so much of what I believe, no hell, religions separate instead of bringing people together, religions are different perspectives on the same thing. He aims to stir up people, and I hope he does, by the end of class many of my classmates wanted to find a different professor. Personally, I can't wait for class number two.
     I just finished a book about people and discipline, whether we innately need someone or something to  follow. The book reminded me of one of my favorite Gaarder metaphors, he wrote that the universe is a magnificent magical trick, a magician taking a rabbit out of a hat and that when people are born they are at the tip of the rabbit's fur, curious about the mystery and impregnated with question to figure it out; but the trick is so slow that as people grow older they began to crawl deep into the fur and never think about such matters. I feel empathy towards Gaarder, maybe  people are a little too comfortable with the pace at the moment. Maybe this is the reason why I like my Literature professor so much, because he is so passionate about stirring up people. If I think of it even in what some people consider to be the most important things they are being led, rather than encouraged to think for themselves. Religion for example, or a specific one, Christianity people are to be sheep and follow blindly and if we look through history whenever serious doubts have been raised there has always been a separation. Why is such a collective mind preferred? people should be able to decide what they want for themselves, but are they thinking about it or just following?. I think it was a matter like this that led me further and further away from religion. Sometimes it seems that my entire life I have been distancing myself from religion from a childhood in Catholicism, to a youth in Christianity, then again an attempt in Catholicism (the only result was a group of aghast adolescents mad over too many questions, a strange election, and more questions).
    Ah, the mean reds are back. Perhaps music will be the solution. The thing about them is that they disrupt everything and leave you feeling half emptied out, hollow and rather red, a cool shade of red. A bit like hunger, but deeper or more intangible. Sometimes it goes away fast, others not so much. Sometimes what I need is a friend, sometimes a book (those wonderful companions portable companions) helps too. But music has always been helpful to me.
     Here I am sharing the fruit of wonderful photography skills paired with literature. One of my best friends will be graduating soon (as will most of my friends and art majors, soon I shall simply be known as the last Art Major in the Universe [or University...] when people refer to me a name will no longer be needed, when there is only one a title suffices) and I am to be Lolita, I hope once I get socks this will be more successful.

Murakami at Heathrow Airport...

     I enjoy reading authors that write complex plot lines, characters with lives that try to discern mysteries begun in past generations, years and sometimes decades or lives ago.I enjoy the fact that sometimes, a lot of the times, a chance meeting, a scrap of conversation, or a movie that once caught my eye will come back.

     The magic of life that I so often encounter in literature, is in fact a fact of life, paths, connections, and closed circuits, everything seems to connect. Although depending on the level of skepticism in my day I find myself teetering between two alternatives is it that everything is recurrent and causes a ripple, or that we follow sequences and are changed by every bit of knowledge in such a way that we cannot avoid re-discovering them again. Andre Breton once said, "Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten" and sometimes, I feel exactly what he means, I think I learn or discover something new and a shade of disbelief runs by, have I really? then why does it feel familiar, like I have been there before, it more like a sensory or thought deja vu. Other times I feel as if this emotion comes from discovering a knowledge my soul has had before...

     Between a search for authors I came across a name, Murakami. I looked it up and found that he had written a novel called "Norwegian Wood". Today, although unknown to me I was to pursue a trail left by myself and a chance encounter months ago. Almost half a year ago, I was waiting for a thrice delayed flight back home. Having arrived early only to find that the flight had ended up being delayed. We now had about seven hours to spend in Heathrow Airport, thus me and Moriarty had much time to kill. We spent between a bookstore where I was able to find a copy of The castle in the Pyrenees by Jostein Gaarder. Then we went into a video store, where I found a movie called Norwegian Woods,  which first called my attention because of its title (I'm a Beatles fan), but the summary seemed interesting as well. Yet, seeing as I was currently a broke wanderer I could not buy it (it was seven pounds over my tiny budget of three pounds), I left it and made a mental note to see it when back in my continent. Sadly, the movie was not available. 

    Today, I stumbled into the author's name, looked for the book on my dear friend amazon, and ordered it. After almost half a year, five months and a few days actually, this search, this tiny example of reoccurring, has continued, hopefully to be followed by an interesting book.

Moving In, Questioning My Existence...

   Moving in and moving out, an activities that I have done at least nine times, from houses, dorms, and tiny but lovely apartments. Although, I know that some people find then sad or nostalgic I hardly felt, oftentimes I feel as though I never will conect connect a place like that... I ask myself what home is, but it has never been a tangible place for me, and I can see friends having this almost loyalty to a city or a house but I've never felt that. In part, I think it is not something I want or something I am wired to want. Over the summer I was able to go on a backpacking journey. My favorite experience was the fact that I was absolutely untied I could flee a city as soon as it had tired me or as soon as I wished for a change of setting. Constant change is something that I welcome whole-heartily.
   Today was move-in day at my university, first change of the year I suppose, big although perhaps equally big as beginning self-portraits. (an activity strange enough for me, like with places sometimes I feel a bit disconnected to my physical "self", I think it was Rimbaud who said that "I is another", feeling I am very, very well acquainted with. Sometimes when glancing at the mirror I am surprised to see that the figure looking back is in fact me, these self-portrait, I feel, are helping me understand this lacunae in my comprehension of myself. It is this same theme of "who is I?" that fuels most of my work.) Perhaps I will have a new room mate, which for hermits like me is not the most suitable option. It comes as a surprise that in a few short days I will begin a new semester, for classes I am mostly unsure of what I want to do (other than sometimes creepy eerie and often existentialist sculptures, Humpty Dumpty figurines, anthropomorphic balloons [which probably belong in the eerie category] ... how I wonder how the semester will unfold).

P.S. I figured out how to put label in these posts, technology I am discovering your secrets.

Hupty Dumpty would like a friend...

   Second day of blogging, this is nearing a personal mark in anything keeping a journal related (if I get another post, it's a new record). Today has been a nebulae of emotions expanding from anger, sadness, tardiness, to happiness, confusion, and a bit of repeated stress (brought on by a consistently mistaken identity). The idea of tossing thoughts to the cyberspace is growing on me, it like sending a small vessel to the unknown, and the unknown has always been an interesting place. Today I fell even more in love with the wonderful artist, Odilon Redon. His work is bizarre and at times awkward. I wish he was alive nowadays our drawing could be friends, particularly Humpty Dumpty.
    I read a book a long time ago, the main character asked a wizard -why?- to which the wizard simply replied -why not?-  I like such a hands on approach to life, although I do enjoy thinking over the abstract concepts so I may very well be insane... but a bit of insanity makes for an interesting life in my opinion thus I am quite at ease with my unbalance mind. What is balance anyways? This leads my mind back to Odilon Redon, he was just so imbibed with the magic of life. Fantastic, fantastic work! it is convulsive (like Breton once declared beauty should be, and I extend to life) and my soul is exalted when looking at his work. It is a wonderful feeling when Art does this.

Eye-Balloon by Odilon Redon

Hello Technology, First Day of Blogging...

   Today, or tonight rather marks day one of my blogging experience. Although at first this seemed like a bit of an awkward thing for me to do, after a few moments of struggling with technology I decided to do this. A few days ago one of my closest friends asked me to have a blog, to know my thoughts, I replied she could just ask me; as a reply I got a whimsical metaphor of how asking was like fishing but blogging would be diving and discovering.
    Then, I figured that this is rather like a diary or a journal, which I have always intended to keep, so here goes my first blogging experience.