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| I remember constantly talking about needing an inspiration to write. The more I realized how much I needed an inspiration in order to write scared me. I had a dependency. I could only produce some poetic prose in five minutes or less if I had an amazing picture to look at, if I saw something amazing, or had a moment of joy. But why..why was I only able to write on xanga if I had some motivation? That impetus, it eventually became a drug almost. I had my highs, and lows, according to how much inspiration I had. I could write, and couldn't write, depending on how much inspiration I had.
Because of this, this xanga site eventually became an object of despise to me. I realized that I had lost my ability to write, to spend a few minutes and construct a poem. I wondered what had happened to me and came to a temporary conclusion that first year of college was what happened to me. (I say temporary because I am sure in time the reason will change yet again. Hopefully it will never be that I have fogotten how much I love writing.)
Having just completed my first year of college, I learned a lot about myself, much more than I had ever expected. However, the only way that I could have learned all this was through, not finding that inspiration, but going through life- relationships (friendships included), 13 all nighters in a row, hospitals, deaths, religion, and behaviours. I spent so much time mulling over all of the above that I forgot to really sit down and think about anything. Actually, I did not forget. I just never prioritized it. I rarely looked up at the sky and really, really deep down felt inspired to write poetry. I felt so empty, so dull. I could no longer spit out a few phrases, a few rhymes and have it entered in a contest the very next hour. I reread myprevious entries, and recognized a pattern. I found everything to be so glorious, yet the appreciation was soon difused by another test, or another long chain of all nighters. So, this summer, I plan to sit back and relax as much as I can...as much I hate my dependency on it, I know that it is indicative of my emotional and mental state. As long as I do not replace that feeling of satisfaction for God, I can continue my ventures.
And I think one song that can always unfailingly bring me back to that romance- absorbed state that causes me to produce flowing yet capricious words is Jason Mraz's Bella Luna. Listen to how he strings together so many metaphors..it's amazing.
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If I had a car, I would drive myself to NYC one morning at 8 AM and find a perfect building to sketch. The perfect building would be the best challenge. The scenery would also have to be amazing, which would be even harder to sketch since it is constantly changing. But that's the beauty of art...it's always changing...not changing to just anything, but rather the artist. You control your art, your captivating curio, to display what you'd like it to. It's a teleporter to another world, because justby looking at it, it cannot be scientifically explained, or logically even. But...it's just right.
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I have decided that I want to continue my participation in Amnesty International and DO change. I don't want to promote it, or try to change the world, i want to actually be the change. After leading it in senior year of high school, I wanted to conitnue it so badly in freshmen year, but the amount of time and energy I had was minimum.
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I really want to dance, to feel the rhythm of the music...and to have it carry me away....
Latin ballroom, hiphop, jazz, ballet, any. I would LOVE to do the tango. And, on an unrelated note, JADAKISS! WOW! haha, it's been so long since I've heard him on a track in which he's not just repeating one line! Loved him back then, and still do =]
And of course, lil wayne.
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| I plucked a blade of grass from the ground while walking to class and realized how perfect it looked. The lines all converged to one point at the tip of the blade, and the blade itself was shaped ideally for the curvature of the lines. The green shimmered in the sunlight, its sheen even more appealing. I then went on to a small rock, and saw how amazing everything looked, though if magnified it would probably pass for a cataclysm of stars and meteorites. The rock was rubbish from construction- however, it was beautiful. Little pieces of concrete, red concrete, were mixed in with the white, glistening marble. I kept both of these and walked with them to class, realizing then that I was already 20 minutes late.
I saw some lightning recently back at home and remembered my second trip to Ocean City about two years ago. The sky was set ablaze, milliseconds at a time, striking each corner of the earth with magnificent strands of pink fire. The grandiose tree-branched structure made it presence known by whipping the air. The blitzkrieg had started, a tempestuous sky against the majestic yet shy lightning, as it blazed through the clouds and blackness, but only showing itself long enough to be glanced upon. It was the very first time that I had seen lightning that was pink, lightning that stretched far beyond the sky and the horizon. It seemed to almost reach the car, but it never did.
Nature always has something amazing to offer...
And so do people.
On another note, I wonder how strong the coronal mass ejections would have to be in order to completely cut off all systems of satellite readings. I kind of want to see a geomagnetic storm...
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| On the way home from the grocery store on Thanksgiving, I looked up to the sky and saw a strip of a rainbow. The length, or lack thereof, reminded me of a paintbrush, God's paintbrush stroking the sky. And the only place multicolored paint that comes out perfectly will exist is in Heaven. Luminous wonders.
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| I came home yesterday after 3 weeks of college. As soon as I heard the first vibration of the string on my violin, I was drawn into a trance. I must have stood there in front of the music stand for about 2 hours the first night I got back. And not surprisingly, the next night, tonight, I banged away at the keys on the piano. I had waited so long to hear the strums of music, the addicting melodies of Romeo and Juliet and Titanic. As soon as I strummed an E on my guitar, I felt...
just right.
music..my haven.
I wish I had a portable piano. I have to find one on campus. I might even bring my violin later on.
I realized that this is one of my favorite places to dump some thoughts, the more intense ones would be privatized. No one really reads this, and the people who do are closer friends, even those who live far or those who i know through friends.
I've been thinking of project ideas, but I'd need a camera first. With my financial obligations and shortage, I'd have to wait. But, perhaps I could paint it, or sketch it. That would be quite a challenge, sketching falling snow, capturing the intense gleam of freshly layered flakes. Worth the shot, completely worth it. And snow on campus, how romantic.
As for my musical excavations, I have now put them on hold...hopefully not for long. I've put them on hold, shelved them until I can find that piano on campus.
And as for vanity, that will have to wait.
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| Trust me, it's not just Hallmark. It's a good business, selling cards on the go for those who forgot to write a card or just don't have the time. Messages such as "Hope your marriage goes well!", or "I love you!" printed on laced paper in very fancy font, coupled with a nice, fancy picture of a pretty rose or an enlarged wedding ring, thrive in the money making industry. I realized how much I did not want to give one to my two teachers, both whom I greatly respect and appreciate. Giving them a handwritten/drawn card would mean so much more-however, I decided not to because the quality of my drawings would be a little more childish. With teachers and those in the professional world, it's different. However, to friends, to loved ones, to family, I think a card with thought, not money and a frantic rush to the local CVS and scribbling a short few sentences on the bottom, would fare much better- to me, at least.
Now, I will go stuff my store-bought card into an envelope.
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