Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Sleeping Unicorns

She wanted to sink into the city. There is a sort of transparency here, a luminosity; the trees are gray, as blank as doves, and alight. They are bony and balding, their little snippets of red and orange hair hanging by tips. Roads seem to sparkle in the dim fog. Now the mornings are like weak coffee, dark and without substance.

Driving through the night with him, she thought that the car ride mustn't end, not here. The fall is too glamorous, the landscape too greedy for souls, the wind far too quick and the car interior far too heavy.

Fall brings all sorts of little memories to call. The smell of leaves ushers in visions of blanket tents, the dawn of early runs in the prime of high school days. Everywhere the world is calm and in hiding, idle thoughts the only live beings in this dying world. But yet, it is pleasant; there is a joy in this season.

She wants to watch this movie. Badly. For some reason it seems seasonal and appropriate. There are unicorns and fond times of mothers baking fall treats, and ponderings of where the wild things are.

In her mind she's still 12. Fall makes it so.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Pretty Women, Dandy Gentlemen. Home for awhile. Pie.

The girl's limping, but it's not so terrible.

She turned her ankle in a Cross Country race and got to ride in a silly little golf cart. It's only a little sprain--a wee, tiny one. She never thought that she'd miss running a race so badly. It was a hard thing. But life is full of all sorts of hard things, and lessons can be learned if one is true and wise.


This brings about a decision for thinking on. Shall she continue to run, or be swept away to the city?

She's home now, too, for a little while. Nothing so much has changed; it doesn't smell like fall here. Winter came prematurely. She likes the smell better in her apartment in the south-land. She also misses her prince.

She's also decided that dear Edward Scissorhands must be a very sad and lonely fellow indeed. His story made her eyes sting with salt and think of crystalline walks on silent winter evenings. And if she should ever have liked an old-man actor, she would choose Vincent Price. At least he likes cookies.

Oh, do smell that?

The house is beginning to come alive! The musty corners are fretting and retreating; mother has made pumpkin pie. Tonight there is also noodles and sauce, bread and faux sausages. Little by little the sun creeps away and the pumpkin-orange decorative lights turn on. The branches outside are shivering, shirking.

There is a coziness here, one not present in the girl's apartment. There is a serenity, a monotony. Instead of the old man that lives upstairs and goes to work at 5am, there are cats mewing and an early-rising father. The latter are far quieter and a little more sympathetic to sleeping ears.

She has missed the simple, heavy joy of returning home. She shan't get used to it for long. Tomorrow she will be whisked away again in a silver car. Home, never change.


If there ever was a constant in one's life, it must be in this house, she thought. It must be here, tucked in the far north-land, in a wash-out suburbia with sidings the color of dishwater.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Arrival. Thoughts in words and pictures. Songs to hum to. Dandelions.

There has been an awful lot of business lately, and the girl has not been able to write here in ever so long.

There is an apartment, too, finally, full of cobwebby corners and dusty mornings. The lamps here shine dimly at night. It is almost sad.


The girl goes to school again, too. It is a wonderful time, full of insides, outsides, and upside-downs. Dear things were missed over the summertime. There is an air of intellectualism about the school grounds. The girl feels in a bubble, little bits of knowledge buzzing about her like bumble bees.

Memories nip at one's toes here a little bit like the coming fall. Sometimes it is unnerving. The girl is reflective, pondering the exploitation of happiness, the doubt of humanity. There have been realizations and little happy moments, flashes of contentment and solace, prickly little heartaches, and truths and perceptions.

Human emotion is a lovely little riddle.

She is beginning to believe in an overall sense of being, a mentality for the positive, but permeable to the negative.

But she believes in beauty. Oh, there is infinity in beauty!

There are such wonderful little things to be had in this world, savory little moments to ponder and allow. There was a glimmer of serenity in the crunch of the leaves on the sidewalk. There is solace in the smell of burning candles and the far-off thrum of opera music. There is softness in Sunday mornings, when there is no need to get up early, and one is content to waste the day away giggling over nonsensical things.

She has come to believe in herself, to believe in being.
She believes in emotion, sometimes in the beauty of suffering, in artistic expression, in reality, in perception, in phantasmagoria, in inhibitions, in happiness, in choice, in caring, in hurt and anger, in memory, and also in unicorns and caterpillars.

I feel like this song. Floating and transparent, absorbing things, processing, neutral, yet dynamic. It is wonderful how some music comes to one just as needed.

The distant sky, in the noise of the revolving ring of flowers
That day, on the day, the moment that I cross over, I wake up
Sketch the flame in the haze and pursue the girl playing in the street
Someone whose name I don't know appeared on the high ground and its moving

That road seen in a dream and the shadow's voice murmurs
The coming days too, the coming days too, thousands of hours crossing over
The wise man in the darkness is assembling the meanings that were cast aside
On the coastlands, on the coastlands, the invisible flames were made to dance

The high sky, the dyed scarlet day's flamelike cloud patterns
That day, that day, at that time show me the road that was lost
Repeating, the resounding dream, the time of chasing the wind descends
Along the river, along the river, the invisible scarlet flower was spotted

Aah, the mantle goes up in fire from loquacity
Congratulate the one standing up in the abandoned field
Aah, it's peaceful, it's peaceful, the girl's field of vision
Aah, in the strange city the lamp is lit.

Leave this with a sense of beauty, an idea, a thought to stick in the dusty corners of one's mind for a later date. I do not yet know if beauty and happiness are related. I think there is also beauty in sad things, too. Beauty is emotion.

People do not recognize beautiful things anymore. There is too much hurry, too much gazing at watches, too much of this and that. Emotions are far too materially influenced; there is not enough realization to allow the raw.

I think one needs time alone once in a while to appreciate the noise the world makes in the mean time. Silence is sometimes just as gratifying.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Moonbeams and Firefly Havens

Dawn is a treacherous thing. It always seems to come suddenly. The girl far preferred dusk. Why, the day only begins so it may end, she thought. And isn't the ending a fantastic deal indeed? The end begins at three in the afternoon. The windows grow weary from so much light, and the dear sentient sun takes pity upon these flat transparent beings, dimming and departing.


And it is slow, like a damask Victorian funeral processional, that the evening comes to be. The sun flees, a wanton traveling salesman to the day, pettying the wares of presumed warmth and shamefully dressing itself in cloaks of vagabond clouds. The sun is a petty and overrated thing, sometimes. The girl is happy to see it go this eve. Night seems much calmer--and the Princess Moon much more a composed extrovert. The moon does not care for gaudy displays of affection; she floats in her cosmic void as silent as a dove.

She welcomes day's unwanted creatures, too. She is not one to judge.

There are fireflies living in the garden now. The strike their lanterns as soon as free from the sun's maurauding, suspicious glances.


They play around the trellises and hum around the garden-gate. The girl finds them merry things and does wish more to come.


Soon it will be high summer, and the nights will be as sticky as caramel taffy. Slowly one comes accustomed to this, though, as it is far more comfortable being nocturnal than facing the sweltering of the day. The smoke of candles and burning incense is suited better for night anyways, mimicking cobwebs and whisking one away to some gauzy tale out of the Arabian Nights.

The girl has been listening to these three synth songbirds lately. They make her think of summer things, and the season is due for summer-things indeed. Here is a snippet left by a finch for your own viewing:

Best wishes and shining, treasure-like thoughts to reader[s] and dear browsers.

More shall be writ quite soon.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

One Day I Slowly Floated Away

It's too quiet here, she thought to herself, unfolding like a moth from sheets of cream and buttery hue. It's much too quiet. Here, where people wake and work and do the same thing they've done the day before. Here, where the only pronounced change in weather comes predictably with the roulette of the seasons. Here, where if you listen long enough and devoutly enough, you can here that savage scraping of shovels, the grand sifting of time, the removal of ages of memory and woe, working to expose rude and nameless things one has sought to forget.

But oh! she observed. But here, look how the sun shines ever-so quaintly through the window. Regardless of the space and memories, how the sun still persists!

tea party

There was an impromptu tea party outdoors this afternoon. The girl invited her dearest wonderland friends to join. There was a merry chirrup of birds in the trees and the sweet, earthy-sticky smell of grass clippings. The tea was green and minty.

gnome at tea 2

Later on a gnome was kind enough to visit. The girl had a multitude of gnomes that inhabited her backyard.


There was an invitation sent out for Pooker, but he seemed far more interested in bumblebees and leaves and catching sunbeams than tea.


Reynaldo seemed to want to visit, but missed the invitation.

chalk walrus

After tea and goodies, the sidewalk looked due and prime for some artwork. The girl decided to draw her favorite things. There was a walrus and a troll, and also some pudgy birds and dill pickles.

And the girl thought to herself, why must we perceive what is at our immediacy as boring and dull? Why must life be an outlet for discontent? And the decision came to be that day--it does not pay to suffer and pine over the doldrums of life. The situation in question is a neutral stimuli, and what affects being is what is perceived, this being either positive or negative. I dare not write or leer over what is already writ, but I stand to emphasize and proclaim. There is a choice at every crossroads, dearest wonderland friends, and we are made to harbor our own destiny. This does not mean that one is not entitled to emotion or opinion; simply, there is always a choice to be had, we must only allow ourselves the action.

Find wonder in your lives. For every realist there is a dreamer, for every daydream a thought rooted in our perception.

This anecdote stands as a footnote to the greater portion of the entry. Today there was an appointment and a bill to be paid and a surgery announced. There were checks to write and cars to drive. Icky, adult-like things that are tarnished with monotony and media. And my dear friends, I've decided I shall never grow up.

Because make-believe is far too much fun. I will play the role of the adult, but I think I shall ever be a child--the world is simply too wide and splendid to allow otherwise.

Greatest love to my reader[s] and browsers and friends.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

I think I must be a Troll

Oh, hello.

I've come to believe that I am a troll and not a young lady.

I am short and skinny with eyes the color of nature-things, and my hair is lopsided and messy in the mornings. I am rather fond of being nocturnal, and when I neglect showers, I tend to smell funny. I am quite fine with crawling about on my hands and knees. I rather dislike itchy things and spend a good deal of my time thinking very troll-like thoughts--[trolls think about things like birds and peppermints and leaves and dancing troll dances, if you were wondering, dear friends].

I must say, I would be rather content living in the hollow of an old tree and munching on grass and leaves and twigs all my days. I could make friends with the woodland animals and splash in muddy-mud puddles. It all sounds rather nice, doesn't it?

I visited some trollkin a while ago. They lives in a low-lying valley to the south, surrounded by hills and trees and rivers and llama farms.

I met the dear Hans Pipkin, who was kind enough to show me his accordion. There was a troll with a tophat and large feet, and a motherly looking troll as well. There was merriment and dancing, and trollfood and trollcheer. I really, gosh, think I must be a troll.

My dear wonderland friend came with me. I do not think she is a troll. I don't know what she is, rightly, but she is my friend all the same. Aside from visiting trollkin, we explored the shore of a great river. There was rain on the horizon and jovialty in our laughter. The sun was lost and weary amongst the clouds--this was how I felt the whole day. I felt quite fond of being lost in my surroundings, lost in what was life. I was a good deal tired, mind you. But by no means does my weariness imply sadness. Sometimes, when I am so very tired, time seems to move slower. I have some of my most wonderful adventures when I am weary.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Wonderful, Teenie Little Lonesome Adventures

The M 1 Pictures, Images and Photos

I had some lovely little adventures today!

I spent most of my morning cooped up indoors. It was a little chilly, so I didn't mind. I worked on a sculpture project. The project was part of a class final in which we were each given a grab-bag of different materials and told to make something out of only the materials in the bag. I made an abstracted form of a bird.

But ah! That's besides the point!

I came down with a case of the munchies, so I went out for a sub, and then, on a whim, I decided to visit Platteville's own giant letter M!

The M is on a hill about five miles from the edge of town. You can see it from miles around--even from Iowa and Illinois! It's made of white rock and is maintained yearly at the Miner's Ball, which takes place in the fall of every year. The 'M' stands for 'mining', which is the historic labor force behind the city of Platteville.

I parked my truck at the food of the hill and proceeded to climb up the long flight of stairs to the top.

It was warm and sunny when I reached the crown of the hill. The view was ever so beautiful! The day was clear, and I could see the town, farm fields, and university tower below. I took a walk around the hilltop, and discovered a series of paths I had not discovered before! They spidered about the trees and underbrush. I came to a little clearing with a picnic table. I stopped to sit a while and admire the scenery. The birds were singing--it was so unusual! I still can't get used to this warm, cheerful weather!

I happened upon another narrow path that took me down the furthest side of the hill. This path was especially unique, as the limestone sheets that poked from the turf seemed to form a sort of natural staircase. I imagined that before the main wooden staircase was constructed, perhaps the miners of old walked to the top of the hill upon this path.

After a while of adventuring, I decided it was time to go home.

Truly a lovely mini-adventure, no?

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

And Incredibly Busy, Bumble-Bee Day

Over at The Princess Portal, May 5th is International Princess Day. Schema of the stereotypical 'princess' conjures images of pampering--of lofty castles, knights in armor, pouffy dresses, and cakes and pastries. However, the 'challenge' for this month [Skye, who holds the blog, sets a challenge monthly for her dear readers] was to write about Princess Day from a rather different standpoint, a standpoint as lofty as the castles in our imaginations. Essentially, we are to write about our own experiences of today, May 5th, but in doing so, also consider how 'awake' we were for today. To many, May 5th may just be an ordinary day, with an ordinary morning, afternoon, and evening. There is something hostile about the ordinary. In essence what I'm trying to say is that being 'awake' entails everything but the ordinary. When you are 'awake', you percieve yourself as being 'just right'. At once the world is a fascinating, wonderful, new place--a feast of the senses and a delight to be had.

My May 5th was incredibly, incredibly busy.

I woke up at 5:40 and went to the gym. By 7am I was in the art building, painting. I had class all day from 8am-7pm, and somehow managed to fit in three separate meetings within all this time.

My May 5th was busy, but in reflection, I am so pleased that it was. I felt giddy with everything I had to do--like a hummingbird with too many flowers to pollinate. Today I ran into so many people and had so many fun encounters.

I had a lovely lunch with friends--alfredo noodles and garlic rolls!

I sang in painting class and the professor told me to be quiet.

I had a meeting for Cross Country next year and was pleased to catch up with many old friends.

I cuddled with my boyfriend and got to relax for a small while before dinner--with cookies!

I met with one of my favorite professors and had a jolly conversation about bagels and homework.

I went on a wonderful run to one of the local parks.

the best part of today?

The end. Right now. Right now as I sit here, typing this all up. My body and mind seem to have split in two. I am incredibly tired, but happily so. Today was the busiest day I've had in ever so long. However, to many, the idea of a 'good' day often entails doing absolutely nothing. I beg to differ, sirs and madams. Revel in the business, the grand pace that life hurls at you every day. Appreciate the small things for what they are--the first bits of sunlight over the horizon as you commute to work, the blooming of the coming summer flowers, the way the grass smells, the way the bumblebees plop about the leaves, spending time with those you're fond of. Essentially, being.

Happy May 5th, everyone.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Small, Magical, Summerlike Things


Today it is ever so rainy and wet. But it is so very green as well; I saw the worms on the sidewalk and heard birds in the trees. It smells like summer. The last little bit of frost is gone from the grounds and flowers are growing. Daffodils come first; I think they always do.

Summer makes me think of lovely things, like chalk on sidewalks, long walks at night, stars and coffee, frisbee, campfire songs, lollipops and popsicles, sprinklers, and warm, muggy evenings that never seem to end.

I think there is something beautiful to be had in every season, but I'd like to think summer is my favorite season of all. I enjoy its laziness, its relaxed nature. I shall be working and commuting this summer, but all in all, should have a bit extra time.

I've made myself a little list of things to do this summer:

  • Go camping.
  • Paint a picture.
  • Read some books.
  • Have some tea parties.
  • Chalk up some sidewalks
  • Go rollerblading.
  • Sew.
  • Play my trumpet more.
  • Go for midnight walks/runs.
  • Blow bubbles.
  • Make a blanket tent on the patio.
  • Learn how to bellydance.
  • Go to a concert.
  • Spend some quality time at an all-night diner.
There's something about doing 'nothing' that seems busy as well. I could paint or sew or go for a run and still do absolutely 'nothing'. I think 'nothing' implies spontaneity, an act done regardless of deadline, with no limits or setbacks in mind. Nothing is essentially something, but at the same time, that very something is nothing. I am very fond of nothingness, I think. I am feeling quite whimsical.

Have a wonderful evening.

"I shall make myself a wonderful tent and decorate it with holiday lights.
I'm going to write out some invites and send them to the furthest of kingdoms
and invite all the powdered, stiff ladies
And we'll have ourselves a tea party to head off the season."

Friday, April 24, 2009

Symphonies in Springtime

Last night I had the opportunity to attend a wonderful Symphony Orchestra concert. It was one of the most wonderful happenings of this week, in fact--and granted, it has been quite an adventurous week! The concert theme was "Great Firsts in a Genre", so selections were made based on a composer's 'big break' into the composing arts. This included work from von Weber, Wagner, and Bernstein among others. There were overtures from operas and musicals, and even the Montagues vs Capulets theme from the ballet Romeo and Juliet.

I've always had a secret desire to play in a symphony. Yes, I've played in a concert band, but I don't think it's quite the same. A symphony has a greater variety of instruments--strings, odd woodwinds, various brass, etc.

I came a little early to the event, so I could hear the various ensembles warming up and tuning. The great discord left my chest throbbing. In that moment, in a great sweep of sound, of plucking strings and singing valves, I felt myself tear up. I missed playing with a group so very, very much. I've decided to pick up my trumpet again seriously this coming summer. Not to mention, with a place all my own, I'll be able to play without bothering anyone in near proximity. I may consider joining a musical group once in my time here at school, since I miss it so sincerely. My only gripe is the issue of time. There doesn't seem to be enough hours in a day to squeeze in all that I'd like to squeeze in. I'd love to do so many things on campus, but one can only take so many credits, run so many miles, and sing so many lines in a day!

I'm going to go look for some sheet music. :)

Friday, April 17, 2009

Old Father William

Curiouser and Curiouser!

I found myself awake last night, eyes pinned towards the window, watching the evening unfold, contemplating things. The night was incredibly beautiful; the streetlights and stars emitted eerie lights, repercussions of a day that once was an warning of a coming dawn.

I do sincerely love the night. I was once a nocturnal creature; last night carried warm memories of diners that never close and walks under the glossy spectacle of stars.

I thought about things, oh so many wonderful and frightening and trivial things. Mind you, unimportant things. Temporary things. Things one can build a whole life, a whole existence on--in other words, a bunch of cumulative, menial, unimportant tasks that are expounded and dissected by the human race in such brutality that they add up to something that is, indeed, important and meaningful.

We are all too frequently told to spend more money, to 'live laugh and love' more. There is a mediated sense of fulfillment and happiness we meet every time we listen to the radio or turn on the television. Why has happiness become so distorted? It's as if society is addicted to happiness and unwilling to accept otherwise, so constantly, we are bent on exploring that through music and production. And in this mediated process, happiness itself has become overlooked. We have succeeded in assimilating ourselves to the masses, shutting our mouths, ears, and eyes only to settle for something that is ephemeral and material.

Let's consider some Lewis Carrol:

"You are old, Father William," the young man said
"And your hair has become very white.
Yet you incessantly stand on your head;
Do you think, at your age, that is right?"

"In my youth," Father William replied to his son,
"I feared I might injure the brain.
But, now that I'm perfectly sure I have none
Why, I do it again and again!"
-From Lewis Carrol's Alice in Wonderland

Silly Father William! How he stands on his head and somersaults out the door, despite his age!

Do you see the difference between Father William and his son?

Father William revels in experience, regardless of what his son thinks. I think there's some latent meaning in Carrol's little ditty. Who cares what others think? Regardless of what is 'considered' right, why do we listen to authority and media instead of doing as we inwardly think?

I write this,

for the conformity of happiness nowadays.

Revel in your experiences, in those fantastical things that made you so very happy before time and space were even objects of consideration, before we cared about how we acted and dressed and spoke. There is beauty and happiness all around us, and yes, these things are not things to be sought or bought--these things are as they are. There is beauty and happiness in nature, in others, in everyday life, in oversimplified little things that we so often take for granted.

Thanks, Father William, I am going to go stand on my head!

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Empty Apartments: 1

The school year is almost done, and I'll be moving into my new apartment very soon. I admit I have been very anxious about moving, but in a positive way. I have had a bit of trouble living in the dorms, and finally, I have things to look forward to when I'll be living on my own--little luxuries I took for
coffee Pictures, Images and Photos

Early morning coffee, right at my fingertips, and a coffee shop right down the road!

My very own bed! I miss having a space to sleep all my own. It's so difficult to conform to other's sleeping and waking habits, so this should be a peaceful transition.

Cooking! Yes, now off-campus, I'll be fending for myself as of food. I can see this as a good thing and a bad thing. For one, I'll be forced to cook for myself. But the off set? I am a cross country runner with a huge schedule and an even huger appetite! I need to work hard to keep my nutritional needs in tact. This also means my food should be 100% vegan, ie, without animal products. Again, a bit of a challenge, but there's a lovely vegan food market just down the street, so I'll probably be a usual there!

Music time! Oh, yeah! We're talking techno time! I love dressing up in silly clothes and dancing around my house--and now I have an apartment for all my shinanigans!

Time to myself. I'll be living alone, so this should come in plenty. Granted I'm interacting with people all day long, and it's nice to have some down time.

Time for others. I don't need to play to anyone else's [except my landlord's!] rules anymore, and I can invite over who I please! PS2 and coffee party, anyone? Guests from back home also have a free place to stay if they plan on visiting, and myself and my boyfriend can have some time to ourselves as well.

What are some other advantages of living on one's own?

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Persepolis: A Visual Approach

Persepolis Pictures, Images and Photos
Last evening I had the honor of watching a very interesting film, Persepolis.

In the following I am going to attempt an analytical approach at explaining certain aspects of the film--and keep in mind this is all completely subjective--moreover centralized to the visual display of the film.

Persepolis: the centrality of ancient Persia, which more or less translates to modern-day Iran. Amidst the booming Westernization and modernization of the Europeon-implemented Shah in the 1970s, the movie Persepholis follows the harrowing narrative of a young girl, Marjan. Marjan's life encompasses not only the fall of the Shah, but the Iraq/Iran Revolution and various other political turmoils.

Why then, Persepolis? The allusion to ancient Persia conjures images of sultans and tigers and ornate doorways and sprawling, spired palaces. The movie counterpart, Persepolis, contains little reference to the once-ancient Persia visually, but moreover metaphorically. The film is animated, which all at once conveys simplicity and complexity. The expression is simple, conveying basal human emotion, while the environment is multifaceted, multi-layered, and at times, incredibly ornate, nearly a puppet show of reality. Besides the geographical significance, this multi-lateral animation certainly makes allusions to ancient Persia. Marjan's own fantasies and off-color tanjents throughout the course of the film are incredibly ornate. The film itself is a tale of the past, and whenever the young Marjan finds herself encompassed in daydreams, the notion of 'past experiences within daydreams' are made eminent by the rollicking, puppet-show like animation. In this sense, Marjan's inner thoughts are more representative of an ancient Persian design scheme, whilst the 'real past events', colored in stark black and white throughout the film, depict what we generally percieve of modern-day Iran, that is, the purdah-practicing women, the blank stone walls of mosques, etc.

Aside from the allusions to ancient Persia present in the title and context of the story, there are various other aspects of animation and visual presentation that make reference to outside [both related and nonrelated] sources. Again, as a discretionary note, this is all my personal observation and interpretation. Consider, for a moment, the foreground animation of the movie, that is, the moving, interacting characters. The entirety of the film is black and white, and likewise, the entirety takes place in the past. Naturally this conveys the notion of time change effectively. The animation style itself draws inspiration from the past. I am incredibly reminded of Sidd Hoefs books and Felix the Cat! However, the backgrounds are unmistakably modern, either blocked out in a heavy shade of black or etched with what gives the impression of charcoal.

This is going to sound a little disjointed in comparison to the rest of what I've already written, but I'll say it anyways--if you're going to watch this film, make sure you have a bit of background on the historic events surrounding the course of the movie. I went into this move completely naiive. Reservations are made for naiive audiences, thank goodness, in the emotional and personal journey of the main character, but it takes a while to catch on to the tumultuous events that cause such emotional and personal storylines to emerge.

In all, a very enjoyable film that I'm sure to watch again if I get the chance. If not for the pure 'artsiness' of this French masterpiece, watch it for the love, the loss, and the profoundly graphic storyline [regardless of being a cartoon, it is incredibly potent in nature]. Also, remember that Persepolis also comes in graphic novel form!

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Romance Novels and Spring Flowers

I received a parcel of romance novels from a friend for my birthday--my birthday is this weekend, and since I live a grand 4.5 hours away from any of my very close friends, she was kind enough to visit and present me with an early birthday gift. The gift itself was nothing short of lovely. I admit I am a sap for romances. She also presented me with some iced tea as well, of which I'm sure I'll enjoy.

But in receiving these novels, I happened upon an interesting thought;

What is love?

I love something that stops at the last page of a novel, or something that continues onward, forever, incessantly.

I took a walk this morning amongst the hills and trees beyond the borders of campus. It was cold, but the birds sang regardless. Shoots of plants were beginning to peek from between the sodden layer of dead turf and leaves. There was snow in the air, but these poor flowers, and these shrill, beautiful birds, went on with their lives as if the cold was not an object. And what could they have done against the wind? What say had they in the turning of the world and the steely embrace of time? Nothing. They may whisper amongst themselves. They grow through the sleet and hale. They sing though wind robs their throats of audible tones.

spring Pictures, Images and Photos


Life is just as breezy and unpredictable as the weather. Sometimes we shrink, sometimes we shine.

I am grateful for this, for it is not in calm times that we appreciate those we love, but when things are turbulent, do we appreciate those happy instances all the more.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Debut: The Girl in Apartment Eight

Hello, all!
I suppose this is a debut blog, and I might as well give a little description before I go any further.

I began this blog for several simple reasons. First, I am coming to a great transition point in my life, that is, I shall shortly be moving into an apartment of my own.

I am a college student at the University of Wisconsin-Platteville, majoring in Art Education and running for the cross country team. I am currently a freshman moving into my sophomore year, and the basis for this quick transfer to an apartment has to do with the fact that my university is expanding at an alarming rate. Much of the campus has been renovated, but the residence halls remain in tact. Thus, many of the sophomores are seeking release forms, given that there will not be enough room for the incoming freshman populace. I have recently obtained a release form, and have found myself an apartment. I shall be living alone in the apartment--it is quite small and cozy, with one bedroom and a combo kitchen and living room. I do not need much; I adore small spaces. The rent is cheap and it is close to campus and a lovely little coffee shop.

Given that this is such catalystic event, I thought it reasonable to begin a blog chronicling my adventures and experiences living out on my own. I have an inbred knack of getting into both fortunate and unfortunate adventures every day...!

Secondly, I sought to begin a blog on the basis of forcing myself to journal daily [or as much as I can!] I feel it very theraputic to write down my thoughts, and I think a blog is a great opportunity to write down my thoughts and hone my writing skills.

Things are a tad scarce around here as of now, but as time goes onward, I shall be posting more and more, and hopefully, things will take flight.

Much love,