When I Dream
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
What's my age again?
Tomorrow, I turn 23. It's not an intimidating number, but as usual I'm daunted by it. Birthdays have never been my favorite thing, but I find myself more and more depressed by them as it feels more like another wasted year. My life goals are many and varied, and my attempts at meeting them seem pitiful at best.
So here's to a new year. Maybe this will be the one where I wake up from this listless dream and become the person I want to be.
So here's to a new year. Maybe this will be the one where I wake up from this listless dream and become the person I want to be.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Someday.
So many dreams never sought after, so many unfulfilled promises made to others, to myself. I don't know why I do this to myself.
Learn not to be afraid.
Someday I'll figure it out. But I feel like I'm running out of somedays.
Learn not to be afraid.
Someday I'll figure it out. But I feel like I'm running out of somedays.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Another Photo Blog
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Recycled Beauty
How is it that the world is so full of fantastic majesty and beauty, in nature as well as in art and architecture, in humanity and the animal kingdom, and yet it seems as if we have run out of new ways to express that. It seems to me that this era is a hard time to be an artist, because it's impossible not to feel as if you're recycling someone else's art, someone else's beauty.
It simultaneously seems that all my thoughts have been thought before me, and that no one has ever thought the things I think, the way I think them.
They say the human mind is limitless.... I wonder how long it will be before we find new ways to express beauty, or if we will just continue copying the generations before us. Kendall's humanities teacher last year started the class with the statement, "Art is Dead". When he first told me that, I thought his teacher was crazy, but the more I ponder it the more true I find it. Hopefully, I'm wrong.
It simultaneously seems that all my thoughts have been thought before me, and that no one has ever thought the things I think, the way I think them.
They say the human mind is limitless.... I wonder how long it will be before we find new ways to express beauty, or if we will just continue copying the generations before us. Kendall's humanities teacher last year started the class with the statement, "Art is Dead". When he first told me that, I thought his teacher was crazy, but the more I ponder it the more true I find it. Hopefully, I'm wrong.
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