I just arrived home from seeing Propagandhi. Shit was tight. I must have the sweat of a hundred men all over me. There was nothing that wasn't rad about that show.
I have been spending the past days drawing pathetic sketches and striving to come up with something... I really don't know what the fuck it is. It's only been a week or 2 since I have made my switch to majoring in Art, and already I've been introduced to such a multitude of artists, that I am beginning to feel lost. I shouldn't whatsoever, for these should be considered my years of study... but fuck, I am a capable human being. I am fairly attuned to the world around me... I know a little of the current societal conditions, I see the state of human beings everyday around me... I know, if only a minuscule amount, of larger events and problems happening throughout other parts of the world... and for some reason, I sit blank. The sketches aren't blank, but to me are as good as such.
Someone recently told me that I maybe desire to stand out from others and that is why I am so overly-skeptical of what I do,taking more time than necessary to make my work... but after full consideration, I don't think that is true at all. I don't care to boast some pretension, but rather exude something which exists, and compose it in such a way that relates to someone...anyone. And just relate. That is it. I don't care how good or bad. But I don't want to make something that is boring, a knock of, or lacks substance. And it doesn't need some sort of profundity.. I just want it to be true.
Ok. Enough bickering, I'll just try my best.
Halloween in 2 days. I haven't even put a single thought into my plans for the day of celebration. I may head to a Goodwill and see if I can muster up enough thrifted clothes to comprise a Pee-Wee Herman costume. I'd like to, it just depends on how common light gray suits and red bow-ties still are.
I also thought of something I want to do this weekend. I want to walk around with some mix tapes and my head phones and camera, and take photos of this city. I lack so many photos of the place I live in. And not only that, I think it would be a positive influence on gathering ideas for some new art work. Ok good. One day this weekend I am going to get high and take photos of the city. Oh fuck, it is 2 am and I still gotta wake up early and do a lot of Spanish homework before class at noon.
Buenos noche.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Foody food food
I have acquired some new food habits. For instance, the past few years have brought the second coming of my undying love for banana and peanut butter. This is my breakfast at least half of the week. But recently I got wind of maybe putting a whole banana and some peanut butter in a bowl with some oatmeal. Voila! The creamiest, tastiest oatmeal I ever done had.
I've also developed some sort of addiction to coconut water. I can sometimes drink 5 servings in a day. Every time I finish the drink, I feel as if I've been born again.
This passed weekend was Garagefest in Portland. I saw a bunch of bands, but the only one I really cared about and truly shredded were the Strange Boys. Bunch of little shit heads who make the most timeless music. They are incredibly legit. The singer lost some marbles on a noisy solo, and ripped some part of his hand open. Blood was everywhere. He just rubbed the blood up top each cheek, wiped the blood from his guitar pick, and resumed through the rest of the set without really every showing heed to his wound. A bad mother fucker.
Carrion Spring play's tomorrow with some friends bands. Exciting.
I started my first printmaking class yesterday. I am learning etching. This is even more exciting.
Ok, time to go to Spanish class.
I've also developed some sort of addiction to coconut water. I can sometimes drink 5 servings in a day. Every time I finish the drink, I feel as if I've been born again.
This passed weekend was Garagefest in Portland. I saw a bunch of bands, but the only one I really cared about and truly shredded were the Strange Boys. Bunch of little shit heads who make the most timeless music. They are incredibly legit. The singer lost some marbles on a noisy solo, and ripped some part of his hand open. Blood was everywhere. He just rubbed the blood up top each cheek, wiped the blood from his guitar pick, and resumed through the rest of the set without really every showing heed to his wound. A bad mother fucker.
Carrion Spring play's tomorrow with some friends bands. Exciting.
I started my first printmaking class yesterday. I am learning etching. This is even more exciting.
Ok, time to go to Spanish class.
Friday, October 16, 2009
It's only one in the a.m. this very early Friday morning. Half-asleep, I winced awake and my heart thumped erratic. I've been putting off a lot of important work, ignoring it with excuses. It's easy to excuse these things when you can harmlessly lay the blame on others, and other things. The repetition becomes habitual. The further you tilt your head back, the faster it goes down, and the faster you'll forget about it.
I've let some things dig it's way inside of me. I usually keep a strong defense directly above my feet below. But lately I've wandered ill-postured to places where time can blindly burn, and when you finally end up back where you wanted to be, the ashes blow across the floor and into the growing piles of the room's corners.
The days I've been spending in large classrooms for a few hours, a few days a week, may feel good and momentarily full-filling, but I know if I really had that time with a good head on that day's shoulders, I could truly learn something. I'm lost, and I wait for anyone of these people to tell me I'm finally there.
But it never happens, because I know it's impossible to trust the direction someone else.
I dropped my major in International Development Studies, and declared I am going to just continue towards a Bachelors degree in Fine Arts. I plan on painting, but I am very open to any medium and any method. Someone from the head of the art department spoke with me earlier today... or rather, yesterday afternoon. When I asked him how it is I shall learn painting and how I'll study art at PSU, he explained that 'it's not so much the instruction, but that it's the exploration and experimentation which the environment is meant for.' His answer was far more fumbled than that, and sometimes I even doubted his explanations of the program... but in all, realized I will have far more freedom as a student in the Art program than I will in any other academic program. I am hoping this goes for both inside and outside of the school.
My suddenly impetuous decision may be possibly outrageous, but really is the only justifiable endeavor I can confidently muster. There are myriad reasons as to why I made this transfer, but I care not to expand on them.
So the future seems a bit clearer for me now, clearer at least than it did as of no more than a day ago. I think studying the world and the societies with governments and classes and families and populations and religions and sects and economies and currencies and problems and infrastructures and policies and markets and industries and institutions and agreements and barriers and jails and corporations and civilizations and movements and disasters and the rest of it all.. I think studying it all is very important. And I believe someday I'll have done some part, some kind of positive contribution. The part will be little, so little that it will disappear no sooner than all who may have known me have as well disappeared. But it will be beautiful, if not anything but for me.
All of those things aforementioned are taught by a teacher, whom of which are well-learned from other, more well-written people. They are explained, discussed, compared, contrasted, and tested on.
I know where to look for all of this information. I can easily expose myself to plenty of it everyday, be it some form of literature... or in the least, a kind of morning alarm clock to wake up to as I lay staring at the slanted ceiling above my bed for an hour. That's the same length of Democracy Now!, which I haven't listened to in almost a month.
I still have a couple of more years in this university, and I'll graduate with some Bachelor's degree, and I'll face the music, and I'll accept the even more monstrous lending that'll inevitably turn into a life-long debt, and it will then be the defeat which becomes my means to gain the credentials to be a... a teacher, is the most I can fathom. A simple Point A to Point B model. Point A marks right now, this very second, where all of my options stand and all of dreams continue to keep me focused, and Point B is the final moment I know it's over and I submit to a job which I must apply for and plan on keeping for a few decades, because I will then have no other choice.
It's the course most of us take. I too as well, though I'm still stubborn. I'm apprehensive, and quite frankly, scared shitless of the whole she-bang.
I've still got a Mom and a Dad whom I've fortunately got time to make proud. I've got a brother and some close friends whom I can turn to, and I've got myself to look after.
The days have been flashing by like a thumb flipping the pages of a lame book. I need to get better at remembering that.
I need to force the bones of any and all girls out of my head. I only seem to get myself either caught up, or caught up in trouble. I can't bother myself with something as gargantuan as romance, at least not until it finally trips me without warning, and I go headfirst into the thing. I'm sure it will knock me out... and well, when I wake up, I'll deal with it then... maybe then it'll finally work.
2 a.m. now. The few whiskies I drank earlier at my brother's show have ran clear through and rendered me exhausted. I still have time to get 6 full hours of sleep, wake up, and convince the Petition Board of PSU to accept my proposal of switching classes in the middle of the fall term. Necesito todo del suerte puedo conseguir.
xo
I've let some things dig it's way inside of me. I usually keep a strong defense directly above my feet below. But lately I've wandered ill-postured to places where time can blindly burn, and when you finally end up back where you wanted to be, the ashes blow across the floor and into the growing piles of the room's corners.
The days I've been spending in large classrooms for a few hours, a few days a week, may feel good and momentarily full-filling, but I know if I really had that time with a good head on that day's shoulders, I could truly learn something. I'm lost, and I wait for anyone of these people to tell me I'm finally there.
But it never happens, because I know it's impossible to trust the direction someone else.
I dropped my major in International Development Studies, and declared I am going to just continue towards a Bachelors degree in Fine Arts. I plan on painting, but I am very open to any medium and any method. Someone from the head of the art department spoke with me earlier today... or rather, yesterday afternoon. When I asked him how it is I shall learn painting and how I'll study art at PSU, he explained that 'it's not so much the instruction, but that it's the exploration and experimentation which the environment is meant for.' His answer was far more fumbled than that, and sometimes I even doubted his explanations of the program... but in all, realized I will have far more freedom as a student in the Art program than I will in any other academic program. I am hoping this goes for both inside and outside of the school.
My suddenly impetuous decision may be possibly outrageous, but really is the only justifiable endeavor I can confidently muster. There are myriad reasons as to why I made this transfer, but I care not to expand on them.
So the future seems a bit clearer for me now, clearer at least than it did as of no more than a day ago. I think studying the world and the societies with governments and classes and families and populations and religions and sects and economies and currencies and problems and infrastructures and policies and markets and industries and institutions and agreements and barriers and jails and corporations and civilizations and movements and disasters and the rest of it all.. I think studying it all is very important. And I believe someday I'll have done some part, some kind of positive contribution. The part will be little, so little that it will disappear no sooner than all who may have known me have as well disappeared. But it will be beautiful, if not anything but for me.
All of those things aforementioned are taught by a teacher, whom of which are well-learned from other, more well-written people. They are explained, discussed, compared, contrasted, and tested on.
I know where to look for all of this information. I can easily expose myself to plenty of it everyday, be it some form of literature... or in the least, a kind of morning alarm clock to wake up to as I lay staring at the slanted ceiling above my bed for an hour. That's the same length of Democracy Now!, which I haven't listened to in almost a month.
I still have a couple of more years in this university, and I'll graduate with some Bachelor's degree, and I'll face the music, and I'll accept the even more monstrous lending that'll inevitably turn into a life-long debt, and it will then be the defeat which becomes my means to gain the credentials to be a... a teacher, is the most I can fathom. A simple Point A to Point B model. Point A marks right now, this very second, where all of my options stand and all of dreams continue to keep me focused, and Point B is the final moment I know it's over and I submit to a job which I must apply for and plan on keeping for a few decades, because I will then have no other choice.
It's the course most of us take. I too as well, though I'm still stubborn. I'm apprehensive, and quite frankly, scared shitless of the whole she-bang.
I've still got a Mom and a Dad whom I've fortunately got time to make proud. I've got a brother and some close friends whom I can turn to, and I've got myself to look after.
The days have been flashing by like a thumb flipping the pages of a lame book. I need to get better at remembering that.
I need to force the bones of any and all girls out of my head. I only seem to get myself either caught up, or caught up in trouble. I can't bother myself with something as gargantuan as romance, at least not until it finally trips me without warning, and I go headfirst into the thing. I'm sure it will knock me out... and well, when I wake up, I'll deal with it then... maybe then it'll finally work.
2 a.m. now. The few whiskies I drank earlier at my brother's show have ran clear through and rendered me exhausted. I still have time to get 6 full hours of sleep, wake up, and convince the Petition Board of PSU to accept my proposal of switching classes in the middle of the fall term. Necesito todo del suerte puedo conseguir.
xo
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