2006-12-18
this berg of ice
I love you this much.
For some things I am subjected to, I blankly think, �that is real Art.� A swift brush stroke when I stand real close to the painting of my dad�s that hangs in our bathroom. Something imaginative and creative that blossoms from the sprout of chaotic, pulsating, beautiful human enigma.
I experience other stuff and think, �that is real Science.� Like when I was walking home westbound today and I watched steam swirl and fade from an exhaust pipe while a car crept down the alley. It�s the feel of all these particles and atoms in everything that exist, whirring and binding in the natural (beautiful) state of it all.
I look at you and I think both, ever so truly. Excuse the pretentiousness. It�s honestly how I think sometimes.
I�m trying to find a synonym for �akimbo.� I�m coming up short.
I don�t like how �My Favorite Things� (a la Sound of Music) is categorized as a Christmas song. It does contain the signature lines:
Snowflakes that fall on my
Nose and eyelashes,
Silver white winters
That melt into spring..
..but still. The bright copper kettles, white satin sashes, and et al. make it more of a perennial favourite.
I�m a little restless. I want to lasso a capricious tornado, and instead of yanking it down, I want it to pick me up with its strong blend of murmuring, lurid winds and swing me all over the place.
I love swinging.
Some days at Carleton, I would walk to the swings and watch the sun bounce like a yo-yo as I pushed up and then gravity pulled me back down. The chains clank as I pressed higher and higher. This is me free. I�m unbounded and swooping.
I�ve been thinking lately that life isn�t so easy. I do not think that I have been over-thinking it. It�s a very important thing to consider, because it�s here, because it�s this. It�s this huge big hulking mass. It visually reminds me of an iceberg because it is so massive, blank, and untouched. Sometimes I drive and I look at the styles of the cars and the way the road curves and how the trees are kept and I think �hrm, so this is how we decided to live it.� It�s so damn weird.
It could have been anything, and this is what it is. And we all seem to follow the same patterns in our lifetime, as if one person long ago figured it out and so we all should just follow suit. We have our innate evolutionary impetus (I could lecture you about that now that I�ve endured first term). But we can do anything. There�s daily proof in the zillion decisions we barely-consciously make.
It�s so ridiculous, how many things you can do with your life, in this time. You can tape a balloon to the ceiling fan, fix a carburetor, sharpen scissors, pull out your eyelashes, guzzle mineral water� whatever the hell you want. How fantastical is that? It makes me antsy whenever I think about it.
I�m sitting here in a box, in front of a box, not on my feet, breathing mindlessly, and unthinkingly pumping blood. What I really want is to share with you that love I feel: the whole damn rapturous m�lange of art and science, and I want to swing reeeeally high, and I want to go beyond the tip of my iceberg. Care to join?
leesah-likes at 8:35 p.m.