Art

So here I sit in Art Class. Probably not the best place to be blogging, but hey! I can multi-task. This class is nothing like what I expected. I thought we might learn how to draw faces or animals, or maybe make clay pots or something. I've never had an art class, so I certainly wasn't expecting this. We each have our own artist that we're studying (mine is Thomas Kinkade) and then we have to teach the class about that artist and his art. And we do formal analysis' on the art. I didn't know that was possible. Sure I knew you could look deep into a picture to find a deeper meaning, but this is.....well.... crazy. It's like there's a hidden meaning in every little line that the artist puts on the canvas. It all represents something. I haven't yet decided whether I think we're digging too deep or not. But I'm leaning more to the too deep side. I mean, we're comparing each element in a painting to the notes of a song. It's pretty intense.

Ya know, I actually might be pretty narrow minded when it comes to art. I don't mind analyzing these cool paintings, but when it comes to abstract art...... no. A tiny red dot does not represent an ancient war of vikings. I know that's a little extreme, but that's what it feels like to me. It just makes no sense and I don't really see it as art. *gasp of horror* I will actually doodle abstract art in marker when I'm bored sometimes, making lots of lines like a spider web then color in some of the shapes with different colors. Sometimes it looks really cool, but I don't see it as art. It's just random doodlings of boredom. Sometimes I'll do symbols, too. But they actually mean something (I made a new alphabet out of symbols for my book). The thing is, I still don't view it as art. It's just doodlings that I can sometimes connect into my writing. Nothing special that will sell for millions, yet it's just the same as those famous red dot paintings.

Maybe I'm being too critical. Like I said, I'm kind of narrow minded in art. Some abstract art I do find interesting, but I see no "deeper meaning" in it other than what the artist might have been feeling when he made it (which is what we analyze, but to the extreme. We try to make every little speck represent some kind of emotion). And I still wouldn't buy a dot or scribbles for thousands of dollars when I could just as easily have my nephew do it and have that actually mean something to me.

That was probably a little harsh, so I'll give the artists some credit to make up for it. Art actually does take a lot of strategy and talent. I never would have thought about adding implied lines or complementary colors. It takes a lot of thought, patience, and knowledge. Kudos for the artists (even if I don't like them).

The End

The shrieking of tires. The crushing of metal. The shattering of glass. It all echoed in her ears. The flash of headlights. The scarlet of blood. The blackness. It all flooded her mind.

Now she lay in empty silence, pinned under the crushed metal and broken glass. She heard no sound from the others. They were dead. She could feel nothing. Her body had become numb from so much pain. Her vision was foggy. All she could see were dark, fuzzy outlines. Her head was swimming. She could barely concentrate on anything.

Yet amid the detachment, she knew. She knew all that blood was hers and she had lost too much of it. She knew she was trapped under the car with no way out. She knew help wouldn't come; there was nobody to call. She knew her fate was the same as the others' had been. She knew she was going to die.

She slipped her eyes shut, ready to let go. Her ears picked up on the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, and the distant scent of rushing water filled her nose. Cold tears slid down her cheeks and mixed with the smeared blood on her face. This was it. This was her ending.

Growing Up

I've never liked the idea of growing up. When I was little, I always wanted Peter Pan to come and take me away to Neverland. Of course that didn't happen and now I'm less than a year away from being an adult. I have now accepted, but not gotten use to, the idea of becoming an adult, hopefully a responsible one. And actually, one of my dreams is to be a stay-at-home mom. As much as I hated the idea of growing up, I've wanted that for as long as I can remember. Probably because my mom stayed home as I was growing up. She did work as a cosmetologist, but her salon was in our basement so she never left the house and was always there when we needed her.

But probably the thing that scares me the most about growing up is drifting away from my friends. You've known these people for a long time. You see each other almost every day for fall, winter, and spring. And now you'll all be going off to different colleges, and if you're lucky you can see each other a few times over Christmas break. You've just frown so close, even to the ones you haven't know as long. That's going to be the hardest for me. Especially with Jeans. We have been best friends since first grade. That's over 11 years!!! And after we graduate, we'll be split up. It's going to be so hard. She has always been there for me and I for her. I know that I'll make new friends and I can still stay somewhat in touch with my old friends. But that's still a cruel blow that I really don't want to face.

But what can you do? You can't stop time. You can't go back. You can't leave some things out. You have to face reality and take what life hands you. All of it. I only hope that I can deal with it in a way that lets me come out on top. I've done pretty good in that thus far, but we'll see....

No Longer A Blonde

I am no longer a blonde. Well, in hair color that is. I have recently discovered that dying your hair does not change whether you're a true blonde or not. Yes, I am still a true blonde. At first it was just the little things that anyone could end up doing and my family would tease me that the hair dye wasn't working. I just thought to myself, "I'll prove them wrong. I'm not that blonde." Well, I proved something. I proved them right.

I went to the SUU Health Camp this week and it was a blast. I made several new friends and two really good friends: Alicia and Kiersta. It was lunch break and Kiersta finished her food way before anyone else, so she went to wait for us in the lobby. When Alicia and I got done we went to join her.

Now, I don't know what idiot had the brilliant idea of using a dark color carpet with dark lines randomly placed on it, but I think he did it just for laughs. There's a single stair that leads down into the lobby, and you really don't notice it unless you're looking for it because of that stupid carpet.

I was walking beside Alicia and was about half a step behind her. I suddenly saw her stumble and I turned my head to look at her to make sure she's alright while wondering, "Why in the world did she stumble?" My question was quickly answered as I not only stumbled, but completely biffed it off that stupid stair. Kiersta told me later that it looked really funny because she saw Alicia stumble and then I completely go down right next to her.

So I landed on my knees and I just sat there, sort of stunned. Everyone was looking at me like they thought I was hurt, or I was going to run out of the room crying with embarrassment. But once I realized what happened, I started laughing. I wasn't hurt or embarrassed at all. I just thought that it was so funny that I would actually be brought to my knees by a stupid little stair. When everyone saw that I was ok, they all started laughing with me. A couple guys even came and asked me if I was alright and helped me up. But I actually couldn't stand up for a long time because I was laughing so hard. Alicia had to sit down by me because she was laughing really hard, too.

So obviously the hair dye didn't work. But that's alright. That was probably one of my favorite memories of camp.

Sinking Feeling

That awful sinking feeling. It starts in the very pit of your stomach as a sort of tugging. It spreads and becomes a twisting sensation, causing your stomach to lurch. Your insides become tight and wrenched. It quickly spreads up the front of your ribcage and fills your whole chest. Your chest is constricted and breathing becomes very difficult. It feels as though something has enclosed your heart and is steadily squeezing it. Your mind doesn't want to believe it and goes into denial. But that gut feeling knows it's true and knows it's coming. A fiery sensation runs up the back of your neck and your head becomes hot, causing your jaw to clench and your eyes to become hard. The same fire blazes throughout the rest of your body and every muscle tightens. You're rigid and tense, not wanting to believe what you're about to hear, yet knowing there's no avoiding it. Hot head, constricted chest, and lurching stomach, you wait. Your eyes focus on nothing, but absorb everything. All of your senses sharpen, but are tuned to nothing in particular. You don't move independently, but nor do you shy away from any touch. You simply are at this point. Just waiting. Fighting and waiting. There is nothing else that you can do.

Letting Go

Absence makes the heart grow fonder,

Or is it more forgetful?

These simple words will strike me

And often pierce my soul.

I wonder if they are really true

And if there's a way to stop it.

Or must I learn to just let go

And see that it is fit?

Change is always coming,

And though I may not agree,

It is a chance to make things better,

It often strengthens me.

But am I strong enough for this test?

To be left here all alone?

Will it give me a humble heart?

Or will it only change it to stone?

This is what I've been called for

And though I may not know,

I will always be given strength,

If needed, to let go.

Letting go's not easy,

But it helps to have a friend.

One you know you can always trust,

Who will stick by you to the end.

Terror at the Mall

I was just watching the TV and there was a story called Terror at the Mall. It's about this guy who was targeting women with young children who drove black SUVs at the mall. He would then kidnap them from the parking lot, handcuff them, restrain them with plastic ties, put blackened swimming goggles over their eyes, take them to an ATM to get money, and then shoot them at point blank. The police would later find them in the back of the SUV back at the mall parking lot.

The interesting thing is, one of his victims was released, they think because she didn't put up a fight; she did everything she was told to do. The other two mothers, however were killed, and they both put up a fight. One of them was actually trying to protect her child. The last victim had actually broken the handcuffs she was put in trying to protect her seven year old daughter.

I think it's sick that anyone would even think about killing a mother and her child, especially shooting them at point blank range. The thing that kind of worries me though, is that I'm a fighter. I always have been, particularly when it comes to defending someone else. So just realized that if I were ever to be kidnapped, I would probably be killed because I wouldn't comply, especially if there was someone kidnapped with me. That's probably a bad thing that I'm so spiteful and stubborn, but I don't believe in letting the "bad guys" get off easy. If I were going to go, I would try and take them with me.

Never Falter

Tick.... tock.... tick.... tock.... The clicks are louder than they ought to be and seem far too drawn out. The silence presses in, thick and heavy, seeming to be a sound all on it's own. Thoughts drift slowly. Some are of happy things, creating a sense of giddiness. But most are not so happy. They fill the silence with anxiety, regret.... fear. The feeling of being alone at such a time brings pain.

Crickets join the ticking to created a song of reflection.

Nothing can be seen except what was done. The feeling of heat and tightness. The exhilaration of closeness and danger. It can easily blind the feint hearted. It can so easily overcome the weak....

The crickets are silent and the ticking now quick. The silence no longer presses; it is light and inviting. The thoughts are now racing, bringing hope. They fill the silence with desire; the desire to change, to become stronger. It is possible. To replace the heat with laughter; the tightness with openness; the closeness with freedom and breathing; and the danger with ease and relaxation. It's not too late to change, to overcome the fear. To stay in control. It can be done. I will stay strong near danger.... never falter.