Friday, June 25, 2010

a metaphor for something, I think

She pulls herself up. There is that vague moment, during which she is not certain whether the meager strength of her arms will suspend her long enough to throw her weight onto the horizontal ledge. She propels herself forward and lands in a heap in the sand, which in its collected and gathered grains, exudes a welcome warmth. The wind sweeps it across the vast planes of rock that she now faces. She squints and tries to make out the sun, which is shrouded in cloud and dust.
She is tired. So tired, that she contemplates taking a small nap, curling up on her side on the stone, with the wind prodding at her back. Her body aches from the climb and her mind just wants to turn off for a while, having been dominated by thoughts of the ascent for what has stretched like forever.
Now that she is here, though, she is not quite sure what to do. She could pick a direction, and hope not to stumble over the accident. She could look for a safe place to sleep or camp. She could look for a water. She looks down at the sand, which is spread lightly over the rock at her feet. She nudges a divot into it with the toe of her shoe. She could stand here and write her name if she wanted.
She turns her head up again, to face the wind. Time spent too long trying to make decisions. She would walk, without much caring about course or motive. Maybe she would find something she needed. Maybe she wouldn't. It mattered only that she walked, not what course she chose or her motive for doing so.
Hours pass or maybe minutes. Maybe she can't tell anymore, or doesn't want to. But eventually she sees the man. He is standing, not walking, just standing. Waiting perhaps. She walks toward him and joins him in his vigil. They don't talk. They don't say poignant things. They don't fall in love. Or realize sudden truths about one another. They merely stand, in each other's presence.
And they wait.

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

Pressing


I decided to do some flower pressing about two days ago. We don't really have a garden. More a collection of little sproutings in terracotta pots. But we have two roses, and a hellebore (that's the one at the top left) and that's good enough for me.



I used this press, which I made last summer. Sean helped me, because I'm frightened of power tools, but it came out quite nicely. It's a nice size at about 4 by 6 inches. It's all fancy and varnished too.

Okay. I'm a little proud.





I think these are going to turn out nicely. They're really lovely to use when I'm designing the front of my binders in the fall, for school, or on cards. They're very old fashioned feeling.

I picked up two new albums on Saturday (which was insane, by the way, three events going on simultaneously, and a cello rehearsal to get to. Glad that is over.). One of them is the new Imogen Heap album, Ellipse. I wasn't really understanding why I wasn't all over this before. She is one of my favorite artists of all time. I'm glad now though, because I have the entire summer to digest this thoroughly wonderful music. I especially like 2-1 and Tidal.

The other album is by Bruno Coulais, the soundtrack to the Secret of Kells, a movie I went and saw on Wednesday. It was fantastic. It was animated, and really a piece of art. I find it interesting that the last animated movie I said that about was Coraline and Bruno Coulais did the soundtrack to that as well. Trending anyone? Anyway, it's delightful, though maybe one of those things you want to put on when embarking on a long project, because the album should really stand together as one big song. It's wonderful stuff.

Though I miss school, I feel excited. I have an abundance of projects suddenly, that I want to finish, and outings that I have planned. It's going to be a good summer, I think.

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Indulgent


I like getting new things. Who doesn't? But I especially like it when all of my purchases fit together and reassure me of my aesthetic. The book pictured is "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, as prescribed by my English Teacher for the honors assignment. I like it. It's heady stuff, and it's rather frustrating because no one ends up happy, ever, but it's well written. It's highly descriptive.
This is my school's last week of school, and I haven't quite come to terms with that yet. I mean, I'll still be busy, what with work and my impending cello recital, but it going to be weird not seeing everyone everyday. And who knows when I'll see any of the seniors? It's kind of sad, even though I'm very happy for them.
At least it hasn't been sunny. I hate the sun. It's so showy and exasperating. No one ever gives the rain any credit for being beautiful and making everything green. Ridiculous.