some free verse

empty days / what it looks like here

leaves still wilted
haven't grown enough to stand alone.
the wind, the flowers of the trees,
soft pink petals for the grass.
when it rains they don't grow anymore.

teas not that filled
watered down flavor, sugar and spice.
coffees too potent,
conscious and anxious all at once.
music wanes me from wasting away,
head resting on the table.
haven't grown enough to stand alone.

windy days
still hate what I do,
"Its not me" I used to say.
What will ever make it change?
Not sure whats living,
what needs help. what is dying,
or won't stop changing.
I'm either as far-gone as I think I am,
or i just don't know any better.

leaves not grown yet,
the green, the white,
flowers by my hands and feet.
when it rains they don't grow anymore.

epiphanies, and art

I had an epiphany today, while washing walls in my school's teaching center, beside the worship arts department. i tend to have epiphanies in the most random places... mostly in the shower.

epihpany, in a holistic sense, is finally seeing how the small parts of some insight relate to the whole. in this case, the epiphany relates to art (i'm sure the definition has much more depth. thus is life. look it up).

the epiphany happened while i was listening to Keane, and the lyrics reminded me of an art project i finished, last month, filled with random lyrics that i didn't write. i don't feel like the project captured the heart of what i am, because most of the styles i used were not unique to me. they were more styles of books, and authors, that i like. I'll try and explain more.

the last year of my life has been my renaissance. I've spent a lot of time trying to learn about art, and trying to figure out who i am. I've spent a lot of time thinking about art, theorizing, brainstorming, and assuming trying to get a grasp of what art is, at the heart. though, on a side note, i spent a lot of the year feeling very lost.

So, i realized today that my art is not my own yet. if there is a line between inspiration, and imitation i have crossed it many times. there are some artists that are inspired by works of art, so they try and adapt a bit of the style to their own art. then there are artists who flat out copy the exact style, and make art that is a lesser version of a greater artist's turmoil. well, yeah, i feel like I've been too much like the latter in the past 3 months.

I've spent a lot of time using artistic methods like lower casing all my letters. which, as any blogger would know, is not intentional. its something that comes as a result of typing into a small letter box with little or no formatting. this is not my style when i write by hand. its just not me, so why should it be part of why i do my art?

this is a new chapter for me, i think. trying to make my own style of writing, rather than trying to make cheap stylistic copies of other writers. what my own style looks like, i don't know. the nature of an art piece is that it is never fully explained. and the heart of the artist is to never stay the same, but to stay in a process of change. and, to keep re-fining the style with which they create.

I think, what life most reminds me of is art. art is something which is created, for us to breathe the words back to ourselves, replay the images, in wonder and ecstasy.

And, i think that the world of art is drawn with lines to divide profound concepts. if there are connections to be made in art, there must be separate things to connect. there are lines between inspiration, integration, pain, joy... and we have to recognize how these things work, separately, if we are to know how they work together.

One of the elements of art is to make connections, to tie things together. another thing about art, I've realized, is that it tries to reveal beautiful things to those who can't recognize them. and, I've been trying to figure out how to do that for quite a while now.

... and, I'm still trying.

-------------------------------------

...nothing i say makes sense to me,
something i can't fix.
the lights not bright enough, so I'm
stuck trying to make sense of the dark.
I'm trying to do something i don't know how to do,
never sure what I'm supposed to find...

...and the cost was so much more

i've been meaning to sit down, and actually attempt to write something decent. something of flow, contemplation, and thoughtful conclusion. unfortunately, work and the social lives of others have kept me too busy. for the past week i have been vacuuming floors, washing windows, and mopping walls in a girls dorm. a job that allows hours of deep thinking, and solitude. and i've been watching movies with friends. some of which are full and rich, others, which will remain unnamed, only serve to confuse.

so, maybe tomorrow i'll pour myself a cup of chai, sit in the quiet of my living room with a blanket, trying to hear the rain on my roof. then, i'll try and pour out some thing i've had in my head for the past couple days, insights of artistic value i feel the world should share.

until then, i've had this song stuck in my head at work, for the past three days;

heaven bend to take my hand
nowhere left to turn
i'm lost to those i thought were friends
to everyone i know
oh they turned their heads embarrassed
pretend that they don't see
but it's one missed step
you'll slip before you know it
and there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

we all begin with good intent
love was raw and young
we believed that we could change ourselves
the past could be undone
but we carry on our backs the burden
time always reveals
the lonely light of morning
the wound that would not heal
it's the bitter taste of losing everything
that I have held so dear.

- sarah mclachlan, fallen

oh, man. i love this song.

literature, love, and ethics

i found a stack of books while cleaning today. i was told they were going to be tossed, so i thought i was might as well take them.

so, now i'm wrestling with whether to keep them, or whether to track down the original owner and give them back. the principals from my ethical reasoning class are coming back to haunt me.

beside me, as i'm typing this, are commentaries, mere christrianty, the message, and a tale of three kings. one of these days i'll have to start reading some of the books i'm collecting.

speaking of books, "stranger than fiction" is my new favorite love movie. oh man. i love how the movie speaks to the heart of stories. and it makes me feel like my life is a story, that i can only walk through.

i think that where the story goes is not something the character should try and control, or worry about. also, i've been thinking a lot about love. well, thats pretty much all i ever think about, but that is something for another day (work has me busy all of a sudden. what a strange concept).

if i ever get this into my head, i might start "living" my life. or, i might just start playing guitar again.

-----------------------------------

update, i found the girl that the books belong to. so i gave them back.

ethics- 1 adam- 0

let down, and hanging around

i spent about 7 hours yesterday, trying to finish my writing project. i am now completely burned out, and feeling rather crappy.

i think i either a) put too much effort in b) tryed to hard or c) aimed to impress when i should have been focusing on art for the sake of creativity.

and i lost sleep over it. grrr. never again.

on a side note, i can now say that i have hugged tony funk. ha. how many people can say that? the story: me, heather, michelle, and dan (people i know but you don't) watched a choir of singers (lead my mr. funk) sing canadian folk songs... good times.