art office #1

I think it's going to be 8 a.m. all morning. That's when I got here and I feel like that was just a minute ago. It's almost ten though. I guess that's fine with me. But man am I tired. Never go to Bored.com . Never. No matter how bored you are. Actually, I change my mind. Go to it. Look around. It's idiotic. It will make you never want to admit you're bored again. If your life ever gets to the point where there is absolutely nothing, nothing at all, to do other than read "dhow to annoy people" then please, be my guest. But oh my Lord, America, go pick up some trash or take a walk outside. My brief encounter with bored.com has both caused me to lose faith in my generation and changed my life.

Grey, White, Gold, and Blue

Let's go back to friday when my iPod decided to freeze. I had just began my road trip to Dallas (and when I say "just began" I mean it. I hadn't even left campus) and I eagerly pressed play so I could hear mewithoutYou serenade me through my car's speakers. Nope. iPod decided that today was her off day. I was pissed. I hadn't prepared for this so the only CDs in my car were the same four I had been listening to all semester. Or so I thought... I was happy to find that I had my Sigur Ros CDs tucked in a pocket somewhere. So there I was, 7:30 a.m. driving on the windy roads of East Texas through fog that enchanted the distance with mystery. Grey. The men from Iceland were telling me stories with their sounds.
Driving is by far my favorite thing to do. I want to be a truck driver someday.

Spending time with friends from back home, from high school, is surreal. None of us have changed but all of our situations have. I love them all very much and I miss them. We all still argue and dog on each other constantly. This is only entertaining the first day. I can only stand hearing "F--k" used in every sentence for so long. By time Sunday came I was ready to come home to Nac. There seems to be less f-ing going on here and that suits me.


Here's some things I experienced this weekend: (in no particular order because my mind doesn't work that way)

sleeping on a couch: I found this to be quite comfortable. The cushions felt like a Tempur-Pedic bed. Maybe that was just because it was 4 a.m...
eating: I feel like this is all I did. We ate everything from McD's to Olive Garden and from Cafe Brazil to P.F. Chang's. Never at a normal time, either. I ate so much at Olive G that my stomach felt as if I had swallowed a mid-sized boulder.
driving on tangled city highways: whether I was driving or in the back seat staring out the window like a five-year old, I enjoyed this too. We went back and forth between Denton and Dallas (little D and big D) several times.
bluegrassing: we saw the Hackensaw Boys in the famous Granada Theater. I found out I looooove the atmosphere of concerts and old bars. and I like bluegrass. don't hate.
being disgusted: the Northpark Mall is recidulous. It was packed. It had crazy expensive stores. So many stores. So much money. We are such a spoiled, materialistic nation.
being inspired: in the midst of this mall I found a breathtaking sight. In the Starbucks that was thankfully tucked away in a hidden corner, a woman with long, thick white hair in a white shirt sat in the white light of the window. White. She had her eyes closed in some kind of trance. Creepily enough, I was carrying around my camera because of a photo assignment I had to get done. As peacefully as I could I asked her if she would mind me taking her picture. She looked at me slowly with a thin smile. She quietly asked me if I was an art student and I told her yes, I was. She mumbled something about her going to art school herself and then asked me if she could go back to sleep. Well yes, you can, I told her. I got a few shots of her just sitting there. I hope they come out well.
smoking: Most of my friends smoke. Smoke doesn't bother me, I actually like the smell of it. I let them do it in my car and they thought that was amazing for some reason... haha. I basically encouraged them to do it so I could get some pictures of the smoke as some form of movement for that darn project.
being pissed: I don't want to get into the story. In a nutshell: some of the guys act like jerks and then I act like a jerk. I am not a jerk. I have been callused.

Now for Sunday. I drove home around sunset, my favorite time of day. The lighting was gorgeous. Gold. And that caused the shadows to be elegant. Blue. I skipped the loop at one point and took the business route through a town. I decided to stop and take pictures when I saw this. I didn't want to regret not stopping...

Overall: great weekend. glad to leave. glad to come back. Only two more weeks until spring break! Wow.

Skrew You, Webster

I've decided to post random pictures that I've taken. Why? Because I can. I got no other reason other than that. So, this picture... I took it on the look-out floor of a modern art museum in San Francisco. This man in the picture I found to be very peculiar. I mean, he's got a purse. And bad posture. That and that equal peculiar in my book. (who coined that phrase "in my book"? I don't have a book.) Anyhoo, I like it. The reflection is interesting, the room is odd, and the view is real. Great stuff.

I'm not going to class tomorrow. Why? Because I don't want to. I got no other reason other than that. Just kidding, I'm not that much of a jerk to have that as my reason for everything. The truth is that I had an irresponsible day today. I didn't do any homework (namely my three rolls of film I should have shot yesterday). So basically, astronomy is extremely skippable and photography I haven't skipped yet. I'll just get my photos in this weekend when I'm in Dallas. It's more interesting there anyway.

Friday morning when I am finally able to leave Nacogdoches for the weekend, I think I'll probably scream out of pure joy (in the security of my own car, of course). I feel so confined in this small, tree enveloped town. I need to break free and drive away from it all! I feel utterly dumb saying that. (that last statement probably should have gone in parentheses but I feel like I've already reached my limit for this blog.) (oh skrew it.)

Tuesday night something amazing happened. (Unlike tonight when rain clouds covered up the lunar eclipse. pissed.) I was driving to Tat 2 Majik (yes, I do realize this is the most absurd establishment to be driving to, but nonetheless, there I went), and the sky was a brilliant display of oranges and pinks and a violet I had never seen before. It was beautiful! The East Texas sky had finally managed to show me something breathtaking. Good job East Texas, good job. There I was driving down South Street, or 59 by that point I think, Coldplay's "Clocks" weaving loudly through my speakers, and my curly head darting from moon-roof to windsheild to passenger's window just trying to get a full gulp of the spectatcular. Mmm. I. Love. Sunsets.

You know how you can't really remember your freshman year of high school? You've forgotten about that first day of class, even though it seemed so scary the night before. You've forgotten what classes you had, or at least you wouldn't be able to recite your schedule off. The people around you were all new and potential best friends. Everything was new. Even the old paint on the wall and that creeky desk in the corner, it was new to you. You didn't have a routine. You didn't have a set group of friends. All was scattered and fleeting, nothing concrete or still true to this day. And that's why you can't remember it.
I can't remember last semester. It was so scattered. Too many details... too many nothings. Way too many new things. It was an adventure, yes, but I feel like those five months went by in three days. Maybe that's why I decided to write again. Oh boo, I'm confusing myself.

My spelling skills have gone down the drain! I am constantly referring to my computer's dictionary. I spelled "screw" wrong earlier. I wrote "skrew." what the eff?

It irks me to catalogue the happenings of my days in here as if it's a diary. I'd rather write how I feel about things. But right now I just don't know how I feel. That sounds immature, but I just feel numb. Or stopped. Incapable.

I had a migrane today. A good old-fashioned, misspelled migraine.

The West Side's Story

It's February. It's night. It's late. I could easily snap my computer up and shut my eyes. Surely I would begin dreaming as soon as my eye lashes came together. It's three a.m. The time on this says differently because technically, I opened this draft then. Then I watched Atonement. -online, illegally. no matter... it was very good. But it's left me in an extremely melancholy mood. That combined with the hour may cause me to reveal things I probably wouldn't if the sun were up.

The sun...
I enjoy light.
The way it plays a song on everything it touches
--and it touches everything,
so everything plays a song.
Sometimes, soft
soft and lonely
grey shadows in corners
barely moving
blurred.
Other times, sharp
sharp and vibrant
the kind that hurts your eyes
makes them tear
Nothing is clear I suppose.

I'll read that tomorrow and wonder what I was thinking.
but secretly think I'm an absolute genius.

Something's been on my mind the past few days. I keep referring back to it. I wouldn't say I'm homesick. That would imply that I miss my bed and my mom's home cooking. That's not true at all. My bed was old. I had had the same matress since I was old enough to leave the crib. And as for the food, well... that's a tad true. Southwest Chicken Casserole. My stomach growls just ...typing it. Southwest ...there, that's what it is. That is what I have been reminded of as of late. I am not used to this Eastern climate. I grew up camping in New Mexico, Colorado, driving across deserts, seeing distant storms miles and miles away. They used to scare me. They were so dark and ominous. And these storms only lasted for a few minutes, but in those minutes God had his thumb on the end of the water hose. That rain would come down so hard it didn't stop at the ground, it bounced right back up. Where I'm from, my nails would break constantly and my skin would get so dry that it cracked and bled. My hair would lay flatter. The sky was always entirely visible. At home, I'd make it a point to notice the sunset every night. I might drive out to the country or just look out my eight bedroom windows, either way, I'd marvel. They were so grand. I'd find myself driving to work and paying too much attention to my rear-view mirror because unfortunately, I had to drive east. In Abilene, I learned to appreciate red dirt that stained my clothes and mesquite trees that twisted in the weirdest ways. Here... it rains so lightly, and for days at a time. I have to trim my nails. The sky is interrupted by trees constantly. I've got no proof that the sun even sets here. I've never seen it take its last breath at the edge of the Earth, not once, not here. Maybe this darkness is just due to the dense forest that's got the sun in a choke-hold until it's time to play tricks on us again. But there I did see it, there I had proof that the sun was tucked safely in the horizon's cushion, and it's there that I miss.

It took me about fifteen years to appreciate where I lived. Maybe fifteen years from now I will love the East as much as I do the West. But I doubt that.

three-thirty a.m.
amber, if you read this, I hope I didn't keep you awake. I tried to type quietly.