blurbs; appreciating the day.

a journal entry I wrote today at the an elementary school playground
with my friends on a lovely day:

I was soaking up the vitamin D and I was watching the light hitting the mens' faces and teeth, writing blurbs about what I observed. Just blurbs, silly statements to remember what it was I was witnessing today as I wrote for the thoughts of yesterday.

There is no time, no time to miss up the chance of expressing my appreciation for today-- only time to appreciate. There is always time to appreciate. Always things to appreciate.

Swing sets, only dread being that of a sunset, the patting noise the edge of their sneakers make on the soccer ball. Glistening strands of hair falling into the view of my small journal, Shadows like claws on your face, eyes rich with color in the peaks of these shadows. Look at what I'm sitting on, I'm sitting on earth. Not noticing the grass as green, but the ability to soak in so many gorgeous shades of green. Sun rays making it stand out from other days.

Oh and the teeth, I mentioned the light on the teeth. Have you wondered about the smiles? 'Cause I have. So much joy from each one of them, happiness leaking through the spaces imbetween each individual tooth. And the laughter, I can hear the laughter louder than the birds joyous songs-- I know now a grown man can have more fun at a child's playground than a bird can have flying above us all in a seemingly endless sky.

Above us, the birds are above us... but never have we felt so high. Enriched, Enriched in an experience that was waiting to happen. We are feeling the breeze, we are feeling the breeze more than you, birds... And we are feeling it down here, against our warm smile-stained faces.

A beautiful day, a miraculous day...
friendship should be considered a drug on such a day,
a day who's beauty is already so enthralling.

my clay bowl.

Perfection is a lie!

I made a clay bowl out of scraps. I was only supposed to use the scrap clay for practice on the pottery wheel, but when I looked down on what was my very first bowl I thought it to be the most magnificent little clay bowl ever. Until it turned out that the amount of clay I was given wasn't enough to make a decently width-sized standard bowl.

While attempting to make the foot of my bowl, it came to my attention just how thin the clay was and that it wouldn't be able to be a proper and usable bowl. My art teacher looked over at my discontent position when coming to this realization, and then recited to me, "You shouldn't get so attached to your piece, there is always time to try and reach your goal again!"

You are probably wondering what relevance all of this may serve?
How can this be related to something of any sort of significance?

I took my teachers advice towards creating a bowl as advice to a higher extent and I believe that our outlook on things should be that equal to my teachers outlook on creating art. There is no use in stressing over something that isn't useful to us, There is always time to work towards something/try and create something that appeals to us again-- something that is more useful, more practical, and has more purpose to OUR OWN life.

There is no use in wasting our time on someone something that only makes our own life harder. There is no use in making that someone something out to be something that is perfect, because you may find it never was. Maybe you just over-looked the imperfections. Sometimes the smallest little factor can lead to you having unnecessary displeasure. Sometimes... it's best to just move on and find someone something more helpful.

I made a bowl, I worked hard, I thought it was magnificent
but that bowl couldn't hold what I needed it to,
and I shouldn't have gotten so attached
to something that can't help me.

destination: art.

For as long as I can remember, I've been coming home from school feeling as though no matter how much information I've absorbed in all of my classes it is slowly shifting to the back of my mind, hiding there, eventually to be forgotten with no real satisfaction of accomplishment behind it. It wasn't until this year that I realized the change in tone I had towards telling someone about my school day. Much enthusiasm is expressed whilst describing the conclusion of my school day-- my art class. There is always a lengthy conversation about my art class.

It's amazing the acknowledgment I gained of one of the most indescribable feelings in the world-- Having a destination and actually, whole-heartily, enjoying the progression leading towards that destination. Everything in my life that I have been through always started off with me imagining the best possible outcome-- Whether it be with my social life, or things I was trying to accomplish for myself. But never, and I mean never, in my life have I felt as if I'd be content with any outcome I was working towards.

If you were wondering; No... I'm not saying I always take pride in the finished product of everything I create. A lot of the times I feel what I have created was nothing close to the imagery I created in my mind-- The fact is that I DID create something, I DID reach a conclusion, and with minimum stress possible; and these are the facts that make the piece I created appear to be the outcome I wanted from the beginning.

Instead of feeling emotionally drained from my efforts and the process to get something accomplished in a way that suits me, I feel as though my emotion and motive has multiplied and is being portrayed in WHATEVER it is I made. My artwork is the child of my ambitious need to create and complete, and my ambition is always a proud parent.


Art is the only destination I feel I can reach,
the only destination I'm completely focused on reaching,
the only destination I'm always happy to reach.