Monday, March 31, 2008
God prefers alternate story forms.
This is Sylvan. No one will play with him because they only see him as monster...
This is how he began life:
I'm actually not sure which one I prefer.
In other news, I spent all of Saturday at a conference on how to make your newspaper stories more interesting by using alternate story forms (charticles!). It's kind of shame I don't write newspaper stories. I was supposed to spend all of today there as well, thus eating up my entire weekend. However, I slept in waaaaaay too late this morning to make it.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The First Day of Spring
My Astronomy lab took a field trip to the Dyer Observatory today. It was pretty amazing. It is a construct South of Nashville's suburbs. with a 24 foot telescope. The guy who runs it assured everyone that it was an awesome place for picnics, so I feel like I may be visiting up there during the warmer months. Speaking of summer, I picked up applications for two different summer jobs this afternoon, both of them in bookstores. Immediately after this Woody texted me to warn me not to get a job in retail. That put a little damper on my summer anticipation.
Also, the poor chap you see above is named Winslow.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Valentine's Day, remember that?
Transcendence through dance
Hello all. Sorry I do not have a picture for you today.
Having participated in MOSAIC myself as a high school senior last year, I decided to sign up to host a visiting student in my room for three nights this weekend. Thursday I met Justin, a prospective student from Florida, at the Student Life Center, and I helped him carry his stuff back to my room. He asked to come to my morning class on Friday, so I introduced him to my astronomy professor. He seems like a pretty cool guy. However, it is right now 4am, and I have no idea where he is sleeping tonight; it is apparently not in a sleeping bag in my room. I'm not sure if this makes me a bad MOSAIC-er. I did sort of abandon him this evening when I went to din-din and I did sort of imply that he wouldn't actually get in trouble if he decided to party somewhere tonight.
Speaking of parties...
I went to a club tonight, which is something I have not done in quite some time. Or possibly ever. At least not a dance-appreciation club. Now when I say "club" I do not mean one of those plywood treehouses with NO GIRLS ALLOWED signs posted beside their non-existent doors. This club highly supported women joining their ranks, often encouraging them to "make some damn noise" in appreciation of the master of ceremony's musical tastes. This club excludes instead people under eighteen and those who do not have driver's licenses.
"Fuel," as this club was called, did not sell gasoline or any automobile related-products, in fact. Nearly all the men, I noticed, used hair products. The light was dim. I could not suppress the urge to dance. At the end of the night, several half-naked men climbed onto the stage to flaunt their pot bellies and blood alcohol content. This means I had a pretty good night. Thank you Beta Chi Theta; in gratitude, I promise that I will stop pronouncing your middle name like "chai."
Having participated in MOSAIC myself as a high school senior last year, I decided to sign up to host a visiting student in my room for three nights this weekend. Thursday I met Justin, a prospective student from Florida, at the Student Life Center, and I helped him carry his stuff back to my room. He asked to come to my morning class on Friday, so I introduced him to my astronomy professor. He seems like a pretty cool guy. However, it is right now 4am, and I have no idea where he is sleeping tonight; it is apparently not in a sleeping bag in my room. I'm not sure if this makes me a bad MOSAIC-er. I did sort of abandon him this evening when I went to din-din and I did sort of imply that he wouldn't actually get in trouble if he decided to party somewhere tonight.
Speaking of parties...
I went to a club tonight, which is something I have not done in quite some time. Or possibly ever. At least not a dance-appreciation club. Now when I say "club" I do not mean one of those plywood treehouses with NO GIRLS ALLOWED signs posted beside their non-existent doors. This club highly supported women joining their ranks, often encouraging them to "make some damn noise" in appreciation of the master of ceremony's musical tastes. This club excludes instead people under eighteen and those who do not have driver's licenses.
"Fuel," as this club was called, did not sell gasoline or any automobile related-products, in fact. Nearly all the men, I noticed, used hair products. The light was dim. I could not suppress the urge to dance. At the end of the night, several half-naked men climbed onto the stage to flaunt their pot bellies and blood alcohol content. This means I had a pretty good night. Thank you Beta Chi Theta; in gratitude, I promise that I will stop pronouncing your middle name like "chai."
Monday, March 3, 2008
Still in Nashville. Even though it's Spring Break
http://www.surelyfunctional.com/pages/08.html
There was once a family with three children who loved tomatoes so much that the mother and the father decided to plant a tomato garden in their backyard. They went to the store and bought a packet of seeds, but when they planted them in the soil, one of the seeds refused to grow. Of course the family did not realize this. All they saw were the tiny green sprouts shooting up from the soil. The one little seed who stayed in his shell was outside of their awareness.
His sprouting brothers would say to him "Why won't you come out? It's much better up here in the light"
"No!" He would cry. "I don't know what's up there, and I'm perfectly fine down here"
So the sun beat down and the tomato plants grew and grew.
The ornery seed soon found that no matter how hard he resisted though, the sunlight somehow drew his stem towards the sky. Hating the light for the monsters it had turned his brothers into, the little seed resorted to eating his own shoot to prevent succumbing to this terrible fate. And it hurt. It hurt him very much, but it was all he knew how to do, so he told himself this pain was all there was. It was worth it, he kept telling himself, because only the weakest plants needed light, and he was going to be strong. There was no alternative.
As the other tomato plants began to blossom they cried out to their little brother. "Seed, please come out. We love you and want to see you, and it hurts us to see you destroy yourself like this." But the seed would have none of this nonsense. He wanted to have fun, and how could a plant have fun by conforming to the lifestyle of all the other plants? He wanted to stay in the soil forever.
Summer came and the tomato plants bore their fruit. The family that planted them made tomato soup and homemade ketchup and salads and sandwiches, and they loved all this food very much. The sprouted plants told their brother how happy the children were and how much care the family gave them by watering their roots, and fertilizing them, and even talking to them occasionally.
"Bah! Children! Family!" Called out the seed. "How do I even know these children even exist! You're all a bunch of fools."
Fall came and the plants still had not given up on their lonesome brother. And he still would not accept their love. But on the eighteenth of October, the tension holding back his shoots and leaves was to much for the little seed to bear. In agony, he did not know where else to turn, but to the sun. And in that first moment when he touched the air, he know he had been wrong all those months. As much as he wanted to deny it and stay in his shell, he had no choice but to obey the transcendent call. And his brothers smiled down on him, and the sun shone his rays on the little sprout as much as on his brothers, but winter was fast approaching.
Though there were no I-told-you-so's, no reproach or condescension of any kind, the tiny sprout shed his only leaf in grief, like a teardrop. He wept for all he had missed spending his life in fear, in isolation, in horrible pain. But there was only love for the little sprout now. A new freedom that fed his soul and made his existence bearable. Only love.
Labels:
fiction,
How I feel,
love,
the universe,
tomatoes
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)