Mind-Bending Oranges

Whew! What a day. Wednesdays are always my craziest days. When I first considered becoming a citizen of Blog Land, I had a fantasy of producing a brilliant blog which would offer interesting and mind-bending articles and thoughts which would result in equally stimulating conversations via the comments. I've woken up. Seems I don't actually have any particularly mind-bending thoughts, nor do i have the time to look up fascinating articles. I'm actually sort of okay with this though, because I'd much rather just use the blog as a forum for my sometimes mildly interesting thoughts and my feelings on the topics that are important and interesting to me, not what i think will be interesting to everyone else. hopefully the two will occasionally collide and I will end up connecting on some level with like-minded people. But, even if not it's still very therapeutic.

Back to my day. The one day a week I actually wake up early. Apparently, this is an indication of my brilliance (see Ezzie's thoughts on sleep). Of course, this means that I'm falling asleep on my feet by 2pm. Still, the day is redeemed by virtue of it being painting day. It's the one day a week I get to stare at a canvas for an hour and a half with pallet and brush in hand. I occasionally paint as well;) Seriously, it's almost as good as coffee.

At the moment, the focus of my art is an orange. I have spent the last two weeks painting oranges and I'm not even close to finishing the second one. I've found it to be a lesson in observation, patience, and focus. Painting has actually taught me a lot so far besides which colors make the shadow and which the shine of an orange.

1.It's okay to erase something I've worked hard on and start from scratch.

2.It's okay to just stand and look for a while.

3.It's the process and not the finished product that's important.

4.I'm never really finished; it can always be improved.

In addition, I've learned how to relax and stop being so hard on myself. Yes, it has taken me over three hours to paint an orange, and I'm not done yet, but my fifth attempt at the orange was much better than the first, and my tenth will be better than my fifth. The orange may never be a finished product, but, at this rate by the time I finish the class I'll be a lot closer to being one.

Coffee Heaven

They just opened a new Starbucks on Rockaway Turnpike, and here's the kicker: IT'S A DRIVE- THROUGH! I am officially in coffee heaven :)

Change of View

The view outside my window is very different from the one I had this morning. The sky is a clear blue and the clouds fluffy and dispersed (my favorite kind). What a contrast to the cold, dreary, and dark picture I woke up to not so long ago. What a difference a few hours (and a cup of coffee) make! Before, I was seriously considering quitting my wednesday morning job (again). Since getting up, though, I've managed to convince myself to keep it, and just go to sleep earlier tuesday night. Yeah, right.

It's always amazed me how little things like the weather or a simple comment from another person (or a cup of coffee) can alter my mood to such a degree.

Thoughts on Iraq (Or Lack Thereof)

I hate open-ended questions. I like my books, movies, and soul searching to resemble pretty little boxes, all sealed up and tied with a pink bow. I understand that the concept of signed, sealed, and delivered soul searching is something of an oxymoron, but hey, a body can dream.

Not that I don't soul search. In fact, my problem with open-ended questions stems directly from my inability to rest until I've come to some sort of conclusion. This, as you may imagine, is exhausting if there is none to be found. As a self-diagnosed obsessive compulsive over-thinker, I find my American Studies class to be something of a challenge. You see, my professor, unlike myself, loves open-ended questions. He's forever posing them and staging hours long class discussions around them, all of course with no actual conclusions.


His latest question I find slightly more disturbing than the previous ones. He asked us whether we thought much about the war in Iraq, and if we did, did we feel very strongly about it either way. When the overwhelming response was one of apathy, he asked us to consider the consequences of being able to completely ignore a war being fought by our own country in which our fellow country-men and women are dying on a daily basis.

And so I foreword this question on to you. Why are we able to go about our daily lives as if nothing is happening. What makes this war different from WWII and the like where the war was really felt. Is our current ability to choose whether we involve ourselves or not a progression or a regression? I'd love to hear what you think about the matter.

Words, Words, Words

Here I sit. In the dark. The incessent glow from the computer screen is probably giving me some sort of cancer, and I have a million and half things to do before tomorrow, none of which will get done unless I actually get up and do them. Yet, here I sit. Such is the power of expression. Such is the power of communication. I'm reminded of why I became an English major despite it being one of the most useless degrees in the world(as a fellow student of mine so kindly pointed out to me recently). The ability to take words and mold and manipulate them to our heart's content is what elevates us above the other creatures. It is our gift, and that is possibly why this opportunity to put into words my thoughts and feelings creates a rush of excitement much like an unopened present would. The possiblities are endless. There is a down side. The very nature of language necessitates that much of what remains, at present, flowing swiftly through my mind and heart will never make it out. If it does, the odds that it will be accurately and completely expressed are not good. Such are man's limitations. But, I will not dwell on what I cannot change. Instead, I will continue to rejoice in the opportunity to articulate what can be conveyed and work on finding alternative means of dealing with what can't.