Posts
Bananas
The spider is one of my worst fears. They have eight legs and some have a matching set of eyes. They crawl around unaware that they have intruded into your personal space. Bathrooms, airplanes, and hanging out onto of you as you drive int he rain. The most feared ones were the on the Tv. They would rare and exotic but I could always see them coming out form underneath my bed or couch. I would have to flip the channel and think of happy thoughts. It was when I was younger that the discovery channel had a fun special called Wild Nature, cut and deadly critters were shown. Of course then they decided to show the banana spider. I had seen one in D.C. in the the Natural Museum of History. This lead me to believe that spiders lived in bananas causing me fear of the yellow bastards.
I imagined they would living in it, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to come and peel them open, then attacking. They were yellow and hid very well, and have been known to harm banana pickers. I remember my grandma offering one, already peeled but I saw a dark brown spot in cream colored innards thinking it was the spider's poison. Needless to say I refused. It wasn't till years later that I had the courage to actually pick one up and open it. I examined it and realized nothing could actually live in it.
I closed my eyes and took a bit, delicious.
Art All Night
I have never displayed my art work. Al though I call myself an artist I have been always conscious when it comes to my pieces. That is when art all night came along. I have never heard of it but it was free and all you needed to do is display your work, and maybe even get lucky and sell it. Come April 24th I went to Lawerenceville and and dropped off my form and artwork.
It was nothing special just a sketch of a demon qweller in Chinese mythology. He was in ink and held a sword and demon under his arm. It was the face I loved, his wrinkles and nose, and expression all simple and perfect, something new I had learned from the masters.
But was it enough to impress? Come the day of the big show I look around in the adult section, reserved for images with adult materials. Most of them were nice, and a little "Sloppish". Then I wandered into the regular section with my friends who I was excited to show my work. We checked all the panels until in the very end I found it. It was simple, and next to a beautiful landscape appeared amateurish. Something I wasn't expecting.
I knew after seeing it, I needed practice. Thats the purpose of the place, i thought. To show your skill and see where you showed go and if you need more time to develop, that night I went back to the drawing board, ready for next year.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
List of firsts
Jumping of the diving board
eating a banana
eating mashed potatoes
learning to ride a bicycle
what not to say in public gatherings
Learning to read and right again
roller coasters
Breaking the law
Art All Night
eating a banana
eating mashed potatoes
learning to ride a bicycle
what not to say in public gatherings
Learning to read and right again
roller coasters
Breaking the law
Art All Night
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Research exercise/ other
Exercise for class, Deviant human behavior
Ship of Fools
“The End is Coming! Obama is the devil! Christ will return!” These are all signs and phrases that can be found on a few individuals in large public spots. While visiting New York I came to the conclusion that it was their Mecca.In the recent years there has been an increase in the rhetoric. While visiting it was easy to spot them. Some wore special robes, others were just dirty. The best were the ones that dressed up and were polite, they didn’t force the apocalypse down your throat with singing or screaming. The more coherent ones, if possible, hand out pamphlets with a smile while hiding there message inside the writing.
These people don’t really scare me, even though Law and Order is trying hard to get me to.The one thing they really do is bring up questions. The one in mind is, is this normal human behavior? Ive heard about Rome falling and people thinking it was all over, but that was before Facebook and The Daily Show. We have many media formats that can tell us if the end is coming, but what about these public speakers? In the past they were called lunatics after the belief that the full moon changed them into someone else. But this is the modern world, and yes they may have mental problems but what lead them to believe the end was coming?
According to text books there are five different models that could help explain this odd behavior. Biological,Pyschodynamic,Behavioral,Cognitive, and humanistic. The problem with the models is that there is no line that divides "Us from them." It was easy in the past, you just looked up and blamed it on the moon. If they were really annoying you shipped them off to sea, problem solved. Again we are in the modern world and psychology has helped us treat them.
The thing that scares me the most is those who go undiagnosed. Could those people Ive seen just avoided being diagnosed and become worse. The reason I'm a attracted to odd human behavior is that I can see it any where. Those bums, and protesters, and Apocalypse spewers all seem to be an extreme and a sever case of what ever they have. Ive met many people that can fall between crazy and sane but I have never actually met a healthy sane person. It makes me think that politics, religion, war, and everything in our everyday lives is just an attempt at sanity. Its scary to think that with any little social or emotional problem we could all go crazy, but we can always blame it on Obama.
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Writing exercise, find something that no one pays attention too. Shoes hanging from a telephone wire, trash on the street, or something a little more complex. Person walking in traffic, squirrel chasing another squirrel, people waiting fora bus. Examine, study, understand, and maybe if possible become it?
Insanity/madness/Lunatics the crazies. People we dismiss on the street
I can slowly feel it. Its like a drift of voices when walking in a city. You can hear everything people say and the noises from the street. All of it you can control because you know what they are. But there are some noises, some feelings that come over you that penetrate you. You don’t know where they come from or what made them but you know they come from the direction of the streets. They are unwanted and unwelcomed. I imagine this is how madness slowly begins. You begin fine but then as life goes on you are given circumstances less favorable. You deal with them knowing that they are unfair and their origins are of a nature created by intentions not understood. You fight it, you try to keep your sanity while you push through it but the mind becomes irrational with the poison slowly spreading. It becomes exhausting but knowing you haven’t succumbed to it makes you keep going. Then there are the temptations. You see the crazies on the street and you seem them in the news. You wonder what its like to live with a life unquestioned, one where everything you do is just done and no rational is needed. Is it freedom? Nothing to worry about but nothing is yours, no home, or food, but freedom from thought. How long till the madness consumed them and they surrendered. Is it worth it, by then you wont even care, should we just surrender? Or is sanity worth fighting for? What do we win form keeping our sanity? What do we gain form letting everything go?
Ship of Fools
“The End is Coming! Obama is the devil! Christ will return!” These are all signs and phrases that can be found on a few individuals in large public spots. While visiting New York I came to the conclusion that it was their Mecca.In the recent years there has been an increase in the rhetoric. While visiting it was easy to spot them. Some wore special robes, others were just dirty. The best were the ones that dressed up and were polite, they didn’t force the apocalypse down your throat with singing or screaming. The more coherent ones, if possible, hand out pamphlets with a smile while hiding there message inside the writing.
These people don’t really scare me, even though Law and Order is trying hard to get me to.The one thing they really do is bring up questions. The one in mind is, is this normal human behavior? Ive heard about Rome falling and people thinking it was all over, but that was before Facebook and The Daily Show. We have many media formats that can tell us if the end is coming, but what about these public speakers? In the past they were called lunatics after the belief that the full moon changed them into someone else. But this is the modern world, and yes they may have mental problems but what lead them to believe the end was coming?
According to text books there are five different models that could help explain this odd behavior. Biological,Pyschodynamic,Behavioral,Cognitive, and humanistic. The problem with the models is that there is no line that divides "Us from them." It was easy in the past, you just looked up and blamed it on the moon. If they were really annoying you shipped them off to sea, problem solved. Again we are in the modern world and psychology has helped us treat them.
The thing that scares me the most is those who go undiagnosed. Could those people Ive seen just avoided being diagnosed and become worse. The reason I'm a attracted to odd human behavior is that I can see it any where. Those bums, and protesters, and Apocalypse spewers all seem to be an extreme and a sever case of what ever they have. Ive met many people that can fall between crazy and sane but I have never actually met a healthy sane person. It makes me think that politics, religion, war, and everything in our everyday lives is just an attempt at sanity. Its scary to think that with any little social or emotional problem we could all go crazy, but we can always blame it on Obama.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Writing exercise, find something that no one pays attention too. Shoes hanging from a telephone wire, trash on the street, or something a little more complex. Person walking in traffic, squirrel chasing another squirrel, people waiting fora bus. Examine, study, understand, and maybe if possible become it?
Insanity/madness/Lunatics the crazies. People we dismiss on the street
I can slowly feel it. Its like a drift of voices when walking in a city. You can hear everything people say and the noises from the street. All of it you can control because you know what they are. But there are some noises, some feelings that come over you that penetrate you. You don’t know where they come from or what made them but you know they come from the direction of the streets. They are unwanted and unwelcomed. I imagine this is how madness slowly begins. You begin fine but then as life goes on you are given circumstances less favorable. You deal with them knowing that they are unfair and their origins are of a nature created by intentions not understood. You fight it, you try to keep your sanity while you push through it but the mind becomes irrational with the poison slowly spreading. It becomes exhausting but knowing you haven’t succumbed to it makes you keep going. Then there are the temptations. You see the crazies on the street and you seem them in the news. You wonder what its like to live with a life unquestioned, one where everything you do is just done and no rational is needed. Is it freedom? Nothing to worry about but nothing is yours, no home, or food, but freedom from thought. How long till the madness consumed them and they surrendered. Is it worth it, by then you wont even care, should we just surrender? Or is sanity worth fighting for? What do we win form keeping our sanity? What do we gain form letting everything go?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Writers week
Man walks into bar-ouch!
Stroy 2
Man walks into a bar and sits at the furthest stool, away from others. He orders a drink, "PBR," and realizes its only 2:00 pm. His wife again doesn't want to hear his troubles at work and seeks refuge on the corner bar where his daughter once held his hand to cross the street.
"So what brings you in here?" the bartender says. Hal realizes theres only one person sitting in the bar.
"Just trying to get away from the wife and lookin fora job."
"O ya lots of people have been looking for it at the bottom of a glass lately, damn rescission." Hal wants to tell him about how he lost his job three years ago, how his daughter is absent form his life, how his wife who was once sweet is know bitter no thanks to him.
"Yup, damn rescission," was his only reply. He didnt want to get into it with the bartender. He had enough about talking about. Now he sits looking at the yellow blur of his reflection in a glass. An answer so oblivious but frighting, like a congested cross walk with a familiar face on the other side. He just wish, and was afraid to admit, something that he could never tell his wife, that he needed someone to help him cross.
Story 3
Man walks into a bar in a crowded Saturday night. After a few drinks he sits with his Friends and they talk about there childhood. He watches the entrance every time someone walks in. In bars and restaurants his eye will wonder like it has ADD but his mind could care less. Its late and a Priest walks in, he sits down at a booth in front of him and his friends. No one pays attention. Then Micheal Jackson walks in and is waved by the priest, an hour later Ronald MacDonald walks in and takes a seat with them. Mike, freaked out, has to get up and excuse himself to the bathroom, scared of what he has just witnessed. He texts his friend who is oblivious or could not see them...
Kim Chinquee
750 words, that’s all it takes to right a flash fiction piece. Kim Chinquee made it sound easy, a two page story that will keep the reader’s attention. If only it were that easy, for a writing student it seems impossible. A story may be two pages but there is always to little or too much. What is that makes a good flash fiction piece? Chinquee told the audience of her background and the trial and error stage as a writer. How she and her editor would go over her stories and be honest at its power as a piece of fiction. For a writer that would be great but as a student the idea of your work always under the microscope is daunting. But I always remember.
When I was younger the writing world seemed dull and boring.My dis-enchantment began in school of all places. Books where assigned in remedial classes, never finished and chapters skipped since many could not finish or pay attention. When asked to be moved up so that I could be challenged I was denied, for reasons still unknown. Books and writing seemed to sound the same and even amateur, I was slowly turning into one of my fellow pupils. Then I looked around. Air ports, Barnes and Nobles, and any library have books come in and out. They were never read and never discussed something I would fear if I choose to become a writer. Writing then seemed more like a doomed hobby in the modern world of electronics. I did have ideas, and I was creative but to place words on paper felt pointless like they would slide right of the sheet.
Then I read Random Family for college. A thick book, with a black hard cover making it look time consuming. It wasn't till I read it that I became hooked. It wasn't hard to understand, it didn't need a teacher to point out all the metaphors and genius of the writer. No students raising there hand and making fun of the situation rather than trying to understand it. It was there, point blank, and simple. Adrain LeBlanc had taught what countless other teachers had failed, writing can be simple, beautiful and most of all full filling.
Stroy 2
Man walks into a bar and sits at the furthest stool, away from others. He orders a drink, "PBR," and realizes its only 2:00 pm. His wife again doesn't want to hear his troubles at work and seeks refuge on the corner bar where his daughter once held his hand to cross the street.
"So what brings you in here?" the bartender says. Hal realizes theres only one person sitting in the bar.
"Just trying to get away from the wife and lookin fora job."
"O ya lots of people have been looking for it at the bottom of a glass lately, damn rescission." Hal wants to tell him about how he lost his job three years ago, how his daughter is absent form his life, how his wife who was once sweet is know bitter no thanks to him.
"Yup, damn rescission," was his only reply. He didnt want to get into it with the bartender. He had enough about talking about. Now he sits looking at the yellow blur of his reflection in a glass. An answer so oblivious but frighting, like a congested cross walk with a familiar face on the other side. He just wish, and was afraid to admit, something that he could never tell his wife, that he needed someone to help him cross.
Story 3
Man walks into a bar in a crowded Saturday night. After a few drinks he sits with his Friends and they talk about there childhood. He watches the entrance every time someone walks in. In bars and restaurants his eye will wonder like it has ADD but his mind could care less. Its late and a Priest walks in, he sits down at a booth in front of him and his friends. No one pays attention. Then Micheal Jackson walks in and is waved by the priest, an hour later Ronald MacDonald walks in and takes a seat with them. Mike, freaked out, has to get up and excuse himself to the bathroom, scared of what he has just witnessed. He texts his friend who is oblivious or could not see them...
Kim Chinquee
750 words, that’s all it takes to right a flash fiction piece. Kim Chinquee made it sound easy, a two page story that will keep the reader’s attention. If only it were that easy, for a writing student it seems impossible. A story may be two pages but there is always to little or too much. What is that makes a good flash fiction piece? Chinquee told the audience of her background and the trial and error stage as a writer. How she and her editor would go over her stories and be honest at its power as a piece of fiction. For a writer that would be great but as a student the idea of your work always under the microscope is daunting. But I always remember.
When I was younger the writing world seemed dull and boring.My dis-enchantment began in school of all places. Books where assigned in remedial classes, never finished and chapters skipped since many could not finish or pay attention. When asked to be moved up so that I could be challenged I was denied, for reasons still unknown. Books and writing seemed to sound the same and even amateur, I was slowly turning into one of my fellow pupils. Then I looked around. Air ports, Barnes and Nobles, and any library have books come in and out. They were never read and never discussed something I would fear if I choose to become a writer. Writing then seemed more like a doomed hobby in the modern world of electronics. I did have ideas, and I was creative but to place words on paper felt pointless like they would slide right of the sheet.
Then I read Random Family for college. A thick book, with a black hard cover making it look time consuming. It wasn't till I read it that I became hooked. It wasn't hard to understand, it didn't need a teacher to point out all the metaphors and genius of the writer. No students raising there hand and making fun of the situation rather than trying to understand it. It was there, point blank, and simple. Adrain LeBlanc had taught what countless other teachers had failed, writing can be simple, beautiful and most of all full filling.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
master of lego
Summer can get boring, very boring, so much that cleaning is an actual distraction and not a chore. I woke ready to watch tv and do nothing else until my mother hollered at from the second floor to clean the garage. I didn’t want to move but I was sure my eyes were frying and my IQ had gone down from watching to much Mad TV. Cleaning then became a good distraction.
I was lucky the smell of exhaust had left the garage after my father had gone to work or else I would just give up. The closets were in the back of the garage and had only two lights. This is one part of the house I didn’t want to think of. It had spiders, luggage, drawers, old Halloween decorations, paint, gardening supplies, and everything we didn’t need but didn’t want to throw away. While moving the luggage out I saw a few large plastic bins filled with toys. I had always thought my mom donated all my toys but I was nostalgic seeing them.
Tucked away in the corner were four large transparent plastic containers. I could see the mosaic of colors the Lego’s as I pulled them out. I finished cleaning, and left the four containers out. When done I was done I brought one upstairs to see what condition they were in. Opening up the container was like opening up a time capsule, remembering all the colors and creativity that they had provided. I remembered then that maybe that’s what made the summer so boring. It wasn’t that there wasn’t anything to do, but a les creative drive. I had used it all up for school and now I was exhausted.
I played around with some of the pieces but then decided to do something I had never thought, use all the thousands of pieces in one creation. I grabbed the largest platform and begun to build. My mom and dad would peek into my room and think maybe I had lost it. I didn’t care I kept working. I was lucky at the time I was taking an architecture course which gave lots of inspiration. I would make hypostyle courts, which led up to the tower and Spanish Andalusian style windows, and at the top a block terrace with a Chinese roof to make for good composition.
I had enjoyed so much that when I ran out I didn’t know what to do. I had some pieces left over and decided to see what else I could make.
I was lucky the smell of exhaust had left the garage after my father had gone to work or else I would just give up. The closets were in the back of the garage and had only two lights. This is one part of the house I didn’t want to think of. It had spiders, luggage, drawers, old Halloween decorations, paint, gardening supplies, and everything we didn’t need but didn’t want to throw away. While moving the luggage out I saw a few large plastic bins filled with toys. I had always thought my mom donated all my toys but I was nostalgic seeing them.
Tucked away in the corner were four large transparent plastic containers. I could see the mosaic of colors the Lego’s as I pulled them out. I finished cleaning, and left the four containers out. When done I was done I brought one upstairs to see what condition they were in. Opening up the container was like opening up a time capsule, remembering all the colors and creativity that they had provided. I remembered then that maybe that’s what made the summer so boring. It wasn’t that there wasn’t anything to do, but a les creative drive. I had used it all up for school and now I was exhausted.
I played around with some of the pieces but then decided to do something I had never thought, use all the thousands of pieces in one creation. I grabbed the largest platform and begun to build. My mom and dad would peek into my room and think maybe I had lost it. I didn’t care I kept working. I was lucky at the time I was taking an architecture course which gave lots of inspiration. I would make hypostyle courts, which led up to the tower and Spanish Andalusian style windows, and at the top a block terrace with a Chinese roof to make for good composition.
I had enjoyed so much that when I ran out I didn’t know what to do. I had some pieces left over and decided to see what else I could make.
master of...
Ignacio Lopez
Master of…
Abstract lego making
Fantasy design making
Good excuses
My thoughts
Planing
Day dreaming
Directions
At fondue
Videogames
Shoveling
Master of…
Abstract lego making
Fantasy design making
Good excuses
My thoughts
Planing
Day dreaming
Directions
At fondue
Videogames
Shoveling
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Encyclopedia Pick
J, by Michelle
I have to pick this entry because it sticks closer to Amy's book Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. Each entry tells a little about her without going into much detail. She shows through action, and tells through what little detail she offers us, together they create a picture of the writer.
I have to pick this entry because it sticks closer to Amy's book Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. Each entry tells a little about her without going into much detail. She shows through action, and tells through what little detail she offers us, together they create a picture of the writer.
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