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| "If I run, I'll just become like all the faking lights,So let the thunders take me under and break my legs tonight"
-Lovedrug
Power is a strange thing. Authority is a strange thing. It seems authority and power should not exist. Justice is difficult for me to understand. I look up to people who are merciful, and give to others what they do not deserve. Justice does not fall into that category. Is justice a good thing? Or even necessary?
I recently watched "Lars and the Real Girl", a story about a semi-mentally-ill man with a painful past who obtains a sex doll and thinks she is a real person. The world could use a good dose of the hope and love portrayed in that movie. Thank God for unrealistic hope.
I want to paint again.
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| Sometimes it is easy to forgetthat happiness is a choice.
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| Classroom ObservationsToday in art class I started to set up my stuff when I heard, "Slide your ass over."
I look up and see two of my fellow classmates, a black haired woman and a blonde haired woman in their thirties who come together.
"Yeah, sure." I move over. We proceed to set up our paintings and begin the critique. In walks Mr. Fifty Year Old Bachelor (no normal guy that old does art classes if he isn't an artist, so he must've been a bachelor).
"You can prop your painting here," my teacher instructs.
"I don't want to show my painting next to all these! You guys told me you hadn't painted before!" he admonished the rest of us.
"Is that it?" my teacher points to the canvas under his arm.
"Oh you want to see this? Here." He holds up the blank canvas. "Amazing isn't it?"
"Haha," my teacher laughs.
He puts down his stuff and puts his real painting behind a garbage can. We finish the critique and start painting.
"She sets up the worst still lifes I've ever seen!" The black haired woman reports to me.
"Man mine's horrible," Garbage Man mutters.
I stifle laughter and keep painting. Soon my attention is distracted by "Ow, ow, ow!" I look over and see the black haired woman with her finger stuck in can of turpentine.
"What did you do?" asks the blonde.
"Ahhhow!" black haired woman jiggles her leg.
"Oh, here." The blonde pulls out a paint spatula and tries to pry the woman's finger out.
"Aaaggh!!" The woman spits through gritted teeth, bobbing her head up and down. Blonde's eyebrows knit in determination as she takes a deeper plunge with the spatula.
"OW, OW, OW!" Finally the black haired woman's finger comes out with a final whimper. A little while later the woman turns to me, nervous system back in balance, and asks my name.
"Oh, Jesse," I say.
"Oh." We paint.
"So... What do you do?"
What do I do? Well, I'm painting now? "Um. You mean for fun?"
"No, what do you do for life?"
"OH." Realization dawns. "I'm in highschool."
"You are?" she sounds mildly suprised.
"Yep."
"Where do you go to school?"
"Um, I'm homeschooled."
"Oh. What grade?"
"11th."
"Oh." We paint some more.
"So are you super religous then?" she continues.
"Uuuum." I'm not quite sure what to say.
"Would you call yourself a christian?"
"Um. Sorta." You can't just say yes or no to these things!
"Sort of?" the woman inquires.
"Well, I don't like the stereotype that comes with that."
"How'd you get to talking about that?!" the blonde pipes up.
"Well," replied black haired woman. "If we're gonna talk, might as well talk about something interesting."
"I don't like the dogmatic stereotype that implies," I try to explain myself.
"Dogmatic? Homeschool teaches good vocabulary." She says.
We paint.
"What are you gonna do after you graduate?" she asks.
"Um. Probably go to college."
"Oh. Do you know where?"
"Nope."
"Do you know what you're gonna study?"
"Yeah... Art and writing." I tell her.
"Oh... I hope you like being poor."
I laugh.
"Being poor sucks," she lets me know.
"Do you have any pets?" she continues.
"Pets? Yeah, I have a dog."
"Oh, what kind?"
"Golden retriever."
"Oh, I live right next to a golden retriever rescue." she informs me.
"Oh. Do you like pets?"
"I have four dogs and three cats."
"She loves pets," blondie confirms, in case I thought the owning seven pets part was a fib.
"So..." The black haired woman continues. "Since you're homeschooled, do ever like... miss having chics around?"
"No, girls homeschool too." I assure her.
"So do you ever find it hard to study. 'Cause you're sitting there and there she is across the kitchen table?"
I laugh. "Um. No." I remain unsure of quite what to say.
Garbage man glares at his painting and grumbles something that I'm pretty sure started with "sh".
"Ugh." black haired woman frowns at her painting. "This is horrible! This music isn't helping!" The radio squawked out some 80's cacophony of heavy metal guitar and Rocket Man vocals.
"Oh my God!" the woman exclaims, looking at blondie's painting. "That's amazing. How does she do it? Oh my God!" she shakes her head at me. "Oh... Maybe I shouldn't say that, he's religious." she informs blondie.
"I hate this!" Garbage Man complains.
The End.
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| "and it’s never quite what it seems"
"There was a silly damn bird called a Phoenix back before Christ: every few hundred years he built a pyre and burned himself up. He must have been first cousin to Man." - Ray Braybury, Farenheit 451.
"She said, The last highway is only
As far away as you are from yourself
And no matter just how bad it gets
It does no good to blame somebody else" - OTR
Oil painting for art class:
Watched Juno on Sunday. It was nice to watch a movie that was uplifting without being cheesy.
I'm gonna go to an Over the Rhine concert next month. Finally, I get to see them.
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