on spirituality, nature/art, crossword discipline, being straightedge

It's Ash Wednesday, when Christians burn last year's Palm Sunday palms and draw a cross on your forehead. And now, I'm sitting in the computer lab wondering if my appearance is being disregarded, considered, or remembered. But at the same time, I'm trying really hard not to have an itch on my brow. I'm not particularly religious. But I think it's important, and there are times when you're walking on a trail and the trees move in a pattern and the grass smells just right and it's a special moment of beauty. That's holy.

Spring break is next week, and I don't really have anything to do for a week, which is a pity. So I wanted to drive to Sand's Point and draw something. I should paint something. The least I can do is bring a watercolor set and get basic line and color down. I just need to do art over break, draw a landscape from life.

Crosswords are like hitting a brick every day. Sometimes you break it, sometimes you know how to break it, sometimes you just can't get a handle on it. But there's always a new brick every day.

I describe myself as 'straightedge', but I don't... there are people who.... there are things that just don't interest me, and they tend to be on the same plane of thought, even though common morals of society give them different values. Like, I don't smoke and my ears aren't pierced. I don't hate people who do things, illegal or not, but as long as they respect my decisions, I can usually respect theirs. If they're not killing themselves slowly.

I love the way people walk. Toes facing inwards, outwards, wide at the knees, one knee a little twisted. It's wonderful.

sketches

I don't keep a regular sketchbook, these exist in what's supposed to be my drawing notebook. The first half are ones drawn last night before I went to bed, around, say, 2am? drowsiness should be apparent. The others were drawn this morning while having breakfast in the cafeteria. Oh, and the sandals were drawn when I realized, during drawing, that I didn't have non-flipflop sandals to drive in this summer (I don't like driving with flipflops).

And sandals guy walked past me after I had his drawing on the page. The last drawing, of me drawing me with hotchocolate, was finished about 40 minutes ago from this post. Overall, a productive morning. I guess.

fishtank.

Weather: Tsunami.


Today starts spring drawer cleaning. At the beginning of every season (alas, we've skipped some) each kid in my family, with help from mom, goes through the drawers to take out clothes that haven't been worn or are too worn. Anything with holes in it, any bad gifts from birthdays and holidays. They all get sorted into bags and donated.


Writing this entry is also procrastination.


Listening to Plastic Beach, getting stuck on Superfast Jellyfish. Gorillaz reminds me that I'can listen to rap without imploding.


I've been looking up Pratt housing, and I'm able to keep fish.

baked french toast

I still need to make a new Reading blog. I have been reading every night, and I've been marking up the everything. It's only Wednesday, but by Friday I need to have finished whatever chapter of Lord of the Rings: tTT ends closest to pg. 60, finish at least to pg. 100 of The Tombs of Atuan (Earthsea's sequel), and have the first chapter of the Stac book done.

By the end of break, I want to be 150 pgs into LotR: tTT, halfway into the next book of the Earthsea series, and I want to finish the next 2 chapters of the French flying book.

Baked french toast. A delicious recipe that I want to play around with. Because, in a perfect world, syrup is unnecessary for a lasagna-like slab of french toast.

It's still snowing.

reed-making

I've been putting this off for 6 months, but I had a lot of time today.

Bassoon reeds. Get 5 blanks done by Wednesday. You start from actual reed, and you cut it down to size, add wires, add string, use pliers, hot water, hot wax, and nail-polish. After I make the blanks, I have to trim them down slowly and carefully into playable reeds. Then, I play them, and fix them more until the reed is perfect.

And I'm making a list for the next time I have to do this, and when I eventually lose the book.

This is after shaping, marking the wires, putting on 2 out of 3 wires, before putting on the string, and after shaping. See that big crack down the middle? From the middle to the bottom, especially around the lower wire. That's not supposed to be there. Fixed with nail polish.

The reed itself next to an existing blank, and its marks. The string wrapping. An almost-finished blank. And the string, nail polish, knife, and slide-rule that was used.

I really really want to hear from colleges.

Merry Christmas Eve.

During the snowstorm, George tried to eat everything. Then he got tired.


I haven't touched my computer in a few days, and I'm not suffering withdrawal. I think I'm going to cut my computer time in half and read more. I have to finish Treasure Island, finish Lord of the Rings, read the 5th Ranger's Apprentice book, read Storm Thief again, read more art books, read philosophies, read some biology theory books from the library, steal the AP Lit book list. Start my own classical education.


Man Ray and Marcel Duchamp. I love it. I love the intellectual art, the art that doesn't have extreme emotional attachments. It's like an illustration of an idea. I loved most of all the painting with clouds and shapes in the 6 primary and secondary colors. It was textbook perfect.


Shostagigi was amazing, people. Everyone thought about their gift, we spent the whole time laughing, and Luke got his gift (that was the nicest wrapping ever). The hats and codpieces were amazing, so you guys have to do it next year.


This is the Penguin-Viking hat from Shostagigi, and its plans. I like the way it came out, and I don't expect to be sitting on a shelf for years. Don't feel bad throwing it out.
The hat is based on a Barbute, a type of helmet used in Italy in the 16th century. It was also used in the Lord of the Rings movies as the standard for the Gondor armor.

I love the model for the planned hat. It was a Holden Caufield hat, shaped like a penguin.

Howjufeelin? HOT HOT HOT! Howjufeelin? HOT HOT HOT!
Spent the morning shoveling and running after the giant dog (snow is a food group, with sticks and plastic)
I was a little sad that I couldn't hear every sound my feet made on the snow.


I was reminded of an old idea. In X-Men, all the characters have cool powers. Shooting laser beams, telepathy, telekinesis, weather goddess, prehensile tail. What about all the mutants out there with crappy powers. The best crappy power I can come up with: being able to digest plastics. On a Bio level, an enzyme mutation that can digest them. He'd have a desk job and a family and be scared. That's more of the reality of mutations, they don't have to be cool.


Avatar rant will be edited in later.

the sky is falling the sky is falling.

There's been so much thunder and lightning this summer over on the east coast. It comes in from the Great Lakes and picks up wind from the Appalachians and the heat causes lightning which causes thunder. I can't see thunder. I don't see where it's coming from, there's only a bright flash and a boom, like the sky is on fire. Maybe scarier than earthquakes, but I've never experienced one.

Julie&Julia was nice. I sorta wish I had some great time-consuming ambition that challenges my being. I guess I do.

as a note, I have been offered a date to next year's prom. unless some strange changes occur, I may well go to prom with my less-than-straight friend. I don't know if that last resort is a step up from my brother. I have other things to worry about.

Buying a bookshelf from a phone number in the paper. a 3-shelver for $25 is pretty good, but I still have to see it. It will hold some of my fiction collection.

Once upon a time there was a silly little girl in a plaid dress looking for any old silly little boy. A silly little boy came along and they became friends until he wanted to find a silly little girl in a striped dress. But of course, the silly little girl in the striped dress is already holding hands with a silly little boy of her own. So the silly little girl in plaid says to herself, plaid is only made of stripes, and I am just as fine as that silly little girl in stripes. No one is holding my hand. And no one is holding the hand of the silly little boy. Why should we not hold hands, for a little while?

Of course, social predicaments are more complex than that.