October 2005 Archives

I know that some of you are writers and you love to toy with words. I too have my moments, but usually writing is torture. I mean, unless it's something I'm really passionate about or is a really great story to tell, I just hate doing it. And I avoid it. And I just... well, hate it.

My college professors will tell you of all the devious methods I have used to get out of writing papers. I'd make models of things, give presentations, make artwork, make a movie -- ANYTHING to avoid writing yet another blasted paper where I regurgitate information gathered from various sources. And, when it's done being handed in and graded, it gets tossed aside or filed because who really wants to read old term papers? They do not take on a life of their own and live and breathe outside of your course. That makes them seem so meaningless and time wasting to me. I'd so much rather make something of value and worth beyond the class.

Very often my non-writing projects would take more time that a paper would have, but at least then I didn't have to sign my soul over to the lack-of-creativity-gosh-this-is-so-incredibly-boring-to-read-even-more-boring-to-write son of satan. I'd at least have fun doing the other stuff and my time would at least be directed to something more meaningful.

I've been trying to write this stupid paper comparing the Aztec view of the Spanish Conquest with the Spanish view. I know all the info about it and could talk to you about it at length. But... to have to write it down... BLECH! Can't I just make a blasted sculpture showing a cross section of the massacre at the fiesta of Huitzilopochtli??? That would be so sweet. I haven't had a project that required fake blood in quite some time....

But no, a paper it is. Sigh. Sigh again. And, a long drawn out SIGH.

Better get writing....

Every now and then I look down at my hands and go, "Ahhh!" Reason is, my mom and I have the SAME EXACT HANDS. Seriously, it's spooky how much they look alike. Sometimes, when I look down, my brain actually thinks they ARE my mom's hands for a moment. Yeah... I know... REALLY CREEPY!

I forgot to write about a little trip Josh and I took about a month ago. A bunch of leaders from our church's jr. high staff went to a beach house in the Pajaro Dunes. As you can see, it's a really beautiful place. We hung out, had some spiritual training sessons from Mark.

Anyway, good times abounded and it only confirmed to me my desire to live next to something wild. I don't care whether it's an ocean, a river, a mountain, a forest... I just want to live by one of them. Like, have it pretty much in my back yard. Being at the dunes, I kept looking out at the beach thinking that all I needed was a horse and a surfboard and I could just waste my days away there and be totally cool with that. I suppose that I kind of live by something wild, I mean, the ugliest tree in the world is right in my front yard. That's like living next to the largest ball of dryer lint or the biggest sculpture of a cow or something like that. *sigh* I guess I'll just be content with what I have for now....

Well, due to my illness, I've been out of volleyball for TWO WHOLE WEEKS. My doctor said I couldn't do anything that might cause an asthma attack because my lungs were being stupid. I had to take steriods and just finished taking the end of them today. I definitely feel much better today, even though I've been breathing harder.

We lost our games tonight, but they were close. The team we played is undefeated and our two games were 13-15 and 11-15, so I'd say we did pretty well! We were playing 6-2 and I was setting tonight. I think I did pretty well. There were a couple of times where I manuvered myself around the court stupid and wasn't able to get to balls, but now I'm better at reading my teammates and knowing where to be.

I only missed one serve because it barely went out of bounds. Grrr... I'm glad I'm a much more consistent server!

Anyhoo, even though we lost, I had lots of fun! It's so much fun playing volleyball... I just love it.

Maybe I'll get to go surfing on Saturday if I get lots of homework done on Friday! One of my buddies said the surf has been perfect the last week or so and should continue on to this weekend. Glassy sea, fresh air, sweet waves. Nice.

No, I'm not going to post a picture with this entry. The rebellious, shocking side of me wanted to. But the tactful, tasteful side of me censored that side. I know, you can thank me when you see me next.

So, today I was at the grocery store. I finally had all of my food and was standing in line waiting to check out. Then, the pains started. I was in decision mode -- do I see if I can get through the line and get home? Do I see if I can get through the line and then search for a bathroom? I shifted my weight to the other foot, then back again, counting the forty-something items the woman in front of me had. Then, the gurgling started.

I left the line in search of the restroom. Finally, I found one in the back corner of the store and parked my cart next to it. The door was locked because someone was in there. I jiggled the handle excitedly, hoping that whoever was in there wasn't going through what I was about to. Luckily, that woman left quickly and I made my way in. I was miserable.

But that's not the worst part. When I finally got out after some time -- feeling much better by the way -- my cart was gone! Apparently I'd been in there for too long and some store workers thought the cart was abandoned. I paused and muttered some choice words to myself, then sighed and started my grocery shopping all over again. Good times. Yeah... good times.

After my art history class today, I sat on a bench outside to check my e-mail and enjoy the beautiful day. As I struggled to get onto the stupidly-put-together wifi connection at SJSU, a crazy dude came up to me. This is how the conversation went:

CrazyDude: Excuse me, do you know the time?

Me: It's 5:58.

CrazyDude: Do you know George Bush?

Me: I know who he is, yes.

CrazyDude: I just talked to him. I talked to him three times today on a cordless phone. Magaggllalagglhghhhh.

Me: Oh.

CrazyDude: He's going to be the new president of Washington Bank! He's the president of our country and now he'll also be the president of -- maggglglglhhhalalahahllahlaghalh -- Washington Bank!

Me: *realize dude is crazy, let him stand there and talk while I continue to check my e-mail*

CrazyDude: Washington Bank! Magggggglaglglglghhhaaa. *twitch, twitch* I want to ggggglglgjgjgmgmaaaaggglglgll. *twitch, twitch* Don't you think that Bush should bank and gglgllalksjsjshhaaaaaaa... *saunters off and attempts to speak to others... but they just ignore him as well.*

Well, I've been "reading" the Narnia books lately. I already finished The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and am now part way through The Magician's Nephew. Man, they're even better than I remember them to be from when I read them in 3rd-5th grade.

But, besides that, I have been seeing lots of contrasts between the children in them and the children I see in real life. When considering them both, I believe that I was more of a Narnia kid. I find that many kids today have their lives micromanaged by their parents, are given things to use for entertainment, and are generally cut off from the concept of entertaining themselves. Sometimes I'll say that we're going to work on a drawing, or read part of a story... and there's always some kid that groans that it's "boooooorrrrrrrriiiiiing!!!" Since when is that boring? I mean, if I told my students we were going to stare at a spot on the wall for the whole period, then they are more entitled to their groaning. But no, something like drawing or reading... boring?

No, I was a Narnia kid. I grew up on a farm. We owned a few board games, but rarely played them. We did have an Atari, but could only play it on rainy days or other approved times (although I was never really into it). Besides that, our job as children was to think, consider, dream, and explore. I spent most of my childhood in the woods climbing trees, building forts, and concocting very expansive stories with my brothers about me being a princess in disguise and them being roving minstrels and the world being attacked by evil and how we were the only three to protect it! We'd make up stories and dream and grow. And we'd read books and build stuff and consider the world to be much large than us... and adventure to be lived.

I used to ride my horse out to a field in the middle of the woods that, yes, had a stream going through it. I'd lay by the stream in the sunlight and read while my horse ate grass. Eventually, the sun would start to go down and I'd hear my dad whistle from the house meaning that it was time to come in and help with chores. I went on so many adventures from that place, it was almost spiritual.

When I tell kids today that I did this, very often they and their parents respond in ways I wouldn't have expected. The kids tell me that it sounds boring to spend a summer afternoon doing that. And the parents mumble something about how my parents should have monitored me more closely because I could have gotten hurt.

But, when I read C.S. Lewis, I know that there is someone out there who lived and dream a wide-eyed, open, adventure of a childhood. And, my life is still like that. If becoming "mature" or becoming an "adult" means abandoning this sense of adventure and connection to creativity, then don't think I'll ever grow up. I'm quite satisfied in my Narnia.

Ever feel like life is a never-ending game of catch up? It's like, I just finish all this crap and then realize that there's a whole steaming pile over there now too. I got a ton done on Saturday, but by Sunday I was completely fried and could not concentrate on anything. Now, today, my art classes were acting wacky so it took a fair amount of my energy to get kids to focus. That wore me out, and I still have class then more homework when I get home. When will it end?

My only answer is to work hard now and save as much money as I can and then retire early! That would totally rule!!! What if I could retire by the age of 45 and live comfortably after that? Would that be possible? That would be awesome. Then I could travel around and focus on art and ministry and not have lots of other things hanging in the balance all the time.j

Well, gotta go to class now. Sigh.

The above pic was taken from a website surveying the danger of silicosis in American industry in the 30's. Granted, my job is not sending me down in mines or anything. But, I am around lots of clay, which contains silica. So, two years ago, my school installed an air conditioner in my room, which blows air from two different vents, but there is no air intake. Meaning, that it pretty much blows dust all around my room and there is nothing taking it in... except my lungs! This didn't occur to me as being a big deal until I developed asthma last summer and wondered what would trigger asthma in my adulthood. Could it potentially be breathing in dust?

Then I started reading articles about the inhalation of silica. I found that it causes silicosis after extended periods of time. In talking to my doctor today, she said she could not confirm whether or not my asthma was caused by my work environment, although it is a possibility. She said that I did need to be concerned about long-term effects of inhalation, which can cause lovely diseases like Black Lung. Gah!?!

This concerns me more that usual today because I've essentially been having an asthma attack for three days. I had a normal cold for a couple weeks and it drained fluid into my lungs. Because my lungs have been working so hard just to breathe (from the asthma), they have not been able to work the fluid out of my lungs as most healthy people are able to do. So, I had to get put on steriods and codine and inhalers with NO EXERCISE for awhile. Yes, this means no volleyball or surfing! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Turns out that a bad asthma attack could hospitalize me, give me pnemonia, or worse. Whoa. Is this related to inhaling clay in my classroom? I'm not sure. I want to guess that it is, but I have no proof. But, it raises the concern of what the long term ramifications of being around disease-causing inhalents could be.

Only recently have the effects of clay dust & related clay hazards been brought to the surface. Most of them say that it takes 10+ years in a ceramics studio to develop something called "potters rot" of the lungs. Now, there's a pleasant thought! The difficulty with silica is that it is such a fine particle that once it gets in the lungs, it does not leave! So, it builds up over time and... potters rot. Yuck, and also AHHHH!!!

So, I've been researching some filter systems and am hoping to convince my school that, though expensive, MY LUNGS ARE WORTH IT! That, and I don't want to die of a lung disease. That would suck!

Dr. Tsutomu Seimiya, Interference image of a microscopic flow-pattern in draining soap film (15x), 13th place in the Nikon Small World Contest.

Well, I'm officially sick of being sick. This stuffy, achy, muscle-hurty, ickness has got to go. It seems that I only get sick when I have no time to be sick. Isn't that when it always happens? Gah. For the last couple of weeks I've pretty much been limping along trying not to get behind. But, today it all broke loose and I wasn't able to keep pace anymore. I felt so crappy that I didn't go to work and I missed my Art History class. We had a paper due today, and well, it's not done either. I pretty much slept all weekend and today and even had to cancel playing volleyball yesterday and today. I know. *Gasp!* I didn't even go to my volleyball games! Yeah, I'm feeling that crappy.

So, I was thinking about germs and about how they're probably actually quite interesting looking. So, I was googling germs and stuff like that and stumbled upon Nikon's Small World Contest. Wow! Stuff looks cool up close! It's like all colorful and glowing and flowing!

Anyway, it gave me a different perspective of my illness. I imagined these germs living inside of me, all graceful and patterned and vibrantly colored, doing a magical dance with my weak weak white blood cells. The worst part about what I have is that it isn't anything. The doctor just said that I have a "virus" and the only way to get rid of it is "rest and plenty of fluids." Man, I wish I could just take it on in a ninja fight and end this once and for all. *Steph does sweet move a la The Matrix and beckons germs to take her on in battle, the germs cower in fear* Stupid sickness.

Until then, I'll look at pretty germs and try to think better of this stupid thing that's got me down. "Self, I know this sickness hurts and is tiring, but it's aesthetically pleasing. It's God's artwork in your shattered, broken body. There's a metaphor for life in there... somewhere... just focus on it. Focus! The best art expresses human suffering! So suffer! Suffer for the sake of art!!!"