Creative Filmmaking: Undercurrent

I think this chapter is an important element that should not be overlooked when making a film. WE know what the story is about and the scenes and all the elements that take place, but it is important to fully understand the message that you want delivered. It is the heart, soul, and lifeline of your piece. To me one of the biggest things you take away from a film is the emotion and the way it made you feel. That is what it is all about, because people forget details but they don'f forget the way things make them feel. Understanding what that is in your piece through developing and re developing is a good way to flush out all the right ideas.

Flash Fictions: Day at the ZOO NEW POV

I can see the top of Luke’s head and his mom in the driver’s seat of the van. I see his brother Jamie as well as we pass by his parking booth job on our way into the zoo. I no longer bounce my head against the roof as Luke gets out with me in hand. Finally I can s t r e t c h out. I have the best view in the whole zoo because no one can quite see over the gates like me, however I am terrified of the atrium. Poor Luke’s grip on me grows weaker as the day goes on and he becomes tired. Tired to the point that he loses his social disciplines and roars at passer bys as if he were one of the crocodiles in the exhibit. There is a lot of bustle as we leave the zoo and Luke’s mom takes a phone call. She answers, Luke lets go, and I go vertical. I see the whole parking lot. Luke stalks his brother Jamie who fell asleep on the job, Jamie’s boss fast approaches, and Luke’s mom frantically searches for him. He closes in…CHOMP!!! He startles him awake just in time as his boss arrives and Luke’s mom briskly grabs his arm. I saw it all as they grow smaller and smaller until my helium runs out…

Flash Fictions: Day at the ZOO

It is the start of the day and 8 year old Luke and his mom are driving to the zoo and they pass by Luke's older brother Jamie who holds a summer job as the parking lot attendant. With balloons in hand Luke gets out of the car with his mom and proceeds to the gates to start he days journey. The day was filled with lions, elephants, and animal exhibitions from every content. Luke's favorite thing of the day was seeing the crocodiles in their un-natural zoo abode. As the day grew Luke's energy shrunk as he became incredibly tired, slightly sunburn, and worn out. Often times when he felt this way he had the tendency to act a little funny or throw out social logic, so naturally he mimicked the predatory characteristics of the crocodile to the un suspecting passer-bys. At the end of this excursion Luke and his mom are on their way back as she receives a phone call. As she briefly searches for her phone in her purse Luke disappears. She franticly searches for him as he is off stalking his prey as if he we're a crocodile himself. With his eyes breaking the plain of car's hoods as if they were water, he has spotted his victim. It is his brother Jamie who is fast asleep at his post. Danger lurks just at the end of the row of cars as Jamie's boss is fast approaching to close the shift. Luke strikes with a big AARRGGHH jolting Jamie out of his slumber. Just in time too as his boss reaches the stand without realizing what he was doing. Luke's mom also sees and grabs his hand escorting him franticly back to the mini van. Luke smile's to himself knowing he just saved the day.

Creative Filmmaking:Creative Environment

I rather enjoyed this section of the book. I believe the environment described in this chapter is one that every artists hopes to have opportunities in. When every member in the crew feels value, appreciated, and that they are contributing, then you have the chance to create pieces that are detailed and original. This creates vision and momentum no matter what you are doing. When individuals feel they are given tasks rather than investing in what they are working on, you can very easily just be dragging on whatever project you have. When or if I am in a position on responsibility I want every voice heard and every opinion or comment taken seriously.

Creative Filmaking: Arguments worth having

I particularly liked this reading. It spoke about healthy dynamics with a team. These lessons are hard to learn and takes people sometimes a life time to learn. It is important to surround your self with people on the same page as you. In my opinion when you make a team of any kind it is best to surround yourself with people who are better than you. This creates a higher "average" and pushes the bar for the whole team rather than one oxen pulling the dead weight. Having a good team is important to collaborate. When one person is stuck on their ideas then you lose the potential for creativity and originality. I loved the part where the book talked about the crews end of the year meeting where everyone writes their top 5 worst and best parts of the year. This opens communication to understand everyones role, challenges, and accomplishments. This is brilliant. I can't tell you how many situations on projects or work positions where no one cares about your challenges no matter how big or small. It is important to stay openminded and communicate.

Return to my place.

I sit here in my place. As I return it seems as if I recognize everyone but no one can remember me. This time I am not welcome. All the energy and determination of the plants have faded with their color. There are very slight remnants of green, or any life in the matter, left for anyone passing by to see. The loss of leaves in tree has left all that it protected now more vulnerable to the elements. Cold and freezing temperatures is now a regular in the daily life of this ravine. The only feeling I can relate this to is a scene in movie that takes place in the waiting room of a hospital. In this waiting room there is a sense of no hope because everyone has already lost. Even the dirt on the side of the hill seems trampled and unsettled. Once a place of life my observation spot is now filled with lifeless place holders waiting for the seasons to come where everyone will return. 

Moments in Photographs

            A couple is sitting on the couch. The girl sits holding a gold necklace with a key looped in it that she had just been given. It was a rather nice gift but it lacked one thing, and that was innocence. The truth was that the guy only cared about himself and what he wanted. This was more than obvious in his actions and the way he treated her.

            The sun takes it time to rise over the horizon. The day hasn't begun yet but the night is far from over. She was supposed to be on her way home after a long night with her boyfriend when she passed an exit sign for the beach. There was too much on her mind to even try sleeping so the thought of sharing her feelings with the dawn sounded like a great idea. Sitting on the sandy shore watching the sun rise she cannot get out of her head the way he had treated her. A tear runs down her face as thinks about how in an abusive way he'd make her feel special for a moment and then use her for selfish attention.

            Now in silence after some time of contemplation she turns to her left and sees an old boat stranded on the sand. Once free roaming the sea it now has met its fate and lies helpless. She can see her self in the boat…helpless. Her stomach turns as her the tears grow and cannot be contained by her eyes.

She looks up at the stars still lingering in the morning sky. It hits her that they remain there all throughout the day and it’s not until the darkest times that they shine the brightest. She can now feel a growing courage inside of her that she has locked up for years. There is not any man or circumstance that can hold her back. She slowly stands up with a great determination in her eyes. She begins to run strait for the ocean. In full sprint she begins ripping the necklace he gave her off of her neck and throwing it into the air. The sun reflects into hundreds of fragments as it spins motionless suspended in the air. Her feet one by one break the plane of the water where the waves meet an end to their long journey to shore. As the necklace hits the ground you can seethe girl out of focus in the distance diving head first into the simmering morning sea.

Creative filmaking: Plenty of Rope

From the reading it is important to understand each individuals role in the film making process. We often times are visionaries and want to see the very thing that we imagined. However this can be limiting because we are really missing out on the opportunity to collaborate. The book says that the best directors are the ones who give you "plenty of rope" to work with. This breeds creative leeway. By collaborating we lose ourselves and our vision becomes greater than what we can imagine. With the right preparation and creative leeway true originality and authentic productions can be more be the result.

Basement Dwellers: Places hated as a kid

I am in line again. Just as predicted I can smell the same thing that I do every week. I can't really describe what that is exactly but it is some mixture of old people's perfume, moth balls, and vaseline mixed with stagnant gravy. You see, my parents drag me to this small town cafeteria every sunday after church. We stand in a long line where brick and and aged mortar keep us in file on the right and the troths of food line paralleled on the left. There is a yellow florescent glow lighting the atmosphere. It is then reflected by the serving utensils and the bars guarding the prized food to the eager generations. To top it off the workers serving the food seem to resemble parole workers who are covered in tattoos, hair nets and are just 'serving their time'. You can hear a chatter of noise just behind and slightly to the left of my family and I where the victors that survive the line go and take their food to the open seating. As I hide behind whatever I can from the embarrassment of anyone who might recognize me I realize that today, I am far from a victor. I am a prisoner of war and one day I will tell stories of this epic battle.

Clipping file

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/15/nyregion/15artists.html

Santa Fe Opera

Reading Creative Filmmaking

I love the thought that creative freedom comes from structured discipline. It makes total sense and other wise we would all be one of those crazy artists who has zero structure, goals, or discipline and lives under an interstate somewhere.
Hanif Kureishi, "I think ideas come when they know you're  going to be sitting there waiting for them. Out of the chaos of the rest of my life, I have to create space and time to write."
The book states that the film makers in the chapter capture the parodox of diligent dreaminess, focused play. We are all artists and we are all creative in a sense. It is really up to us how to harness that and what kind of barriers we put in the way. To me this chapter is saying that our creativity is a muscle. It is something that needs constant attention and daily routines for it to live to it's max. Other wise it is there but pale weak and hidden behind a metaphorical turtle neck sweater.

Instant Story: October Warnings

Driving down the highway I looked down and noticed the gaslight was on and that my car was just about to run out of gas. I pulled into the first gas station that could. I was lucky because I just passed a sign that said the next services were 100 miles away as there is not much when you are in the middle of nowhere New Mexico. This gas station was very strange. It was dimly lit and there was no one around. There was a very eerie feeling lingering in the cold air. Sitting in the empty lot of the gas station with my heater blowing at full blast my senses were all of a sudden heightened when out of nowhere a man riding a horse came trotting through the station. I stared with my mouth open at this bizarre event. With out stopping he turned his head giving me a look that I might be the one out of place, and then seamlessly disappeared back into to the black void where the station’s fluorescents couldn’t reach. A little shaken up and nervous I just sat there. My mom’s voice still played in my head driving my motivation to keep going, “Don’t waste your time with any men now, because you are going to meet your soul mate in Mexico!” Ok I thought…I have to keep going. As I stepped out to fill my car up with gas I noticed a small piece of paper taped to the pump and on it was a handwritten messaged that stated to pay inside only. I gasped as I turned and noticed an even creepier tin building that served as the location of operation for this so called business. It seemed as the flickering low porch light warned me to turn and run or to continue my journey on foot. I have no choice at this point. I take my time to approach the door. As I enter and slowly open the rusted tin door I become even more confused. This is not even a store. I’m not even sure what type of building this is at this point. It is rather large and very open inside. It is about two stories tall and you can see where the two sides of the tin roof meet at the top. On the left side where the second floor should be there is a row of framed broken windows that reveal the moon that provides the ambient light to see the definitions of this interior. There is a dirt floor and it seems almost like a garage or a place for cars to drive in. On the right side there are a few rooms and a rusted metal stair case to reach the other rooms on the second floor that overlook the opening I have found myself standing in. Seriously where am I? Just then from one room on the right I hear what sounds like a coffee pot brewing. A vague desk lamp shines from this door less room illuminating my steps. The smell of coffee instantly brings me back to my childhood. For this moment I feel warm and comforted as I reminisce of all the times I sat and drank coffee with loved ones in familiar locations that I hold dear. However, this false reality lasted only for a second due to the fact that my current location resembled anything but those familiar secure memories. I knew that I was far from safe. I proceeded to make my way to that room and…nothing. There was no one there but a pot of coffee and old mine surveying papers that lay out on the desk and scatter the floor in piles on each side of the wall. There was no sign of who was in here or when, as everything seemed dated beyond generations of my recollection. DING DING DING DING!!! This sound that alarmingly pierced the eerie silence with out pauses in-between could be nothing other than a doorbell. With my throat now in my stomach I took the few steps towards and then answered the door to this building where I was just previously the only occupant. As I pull open the rigid tin door I notice what seems to be a middle-aged woman. I quickly surveyed what stood before me. She resembled a stereotypical librarian with ratty hair in a makeshift bun where pieces of hair made their own decisions. She wore an old grey sweater covered in cat hair and thick brown panty hose under a plain brown skirt with loafer esc dress shoes. “Yes?” I asked. “The nest!” she screamed! I replied, “What nest?” “That one!” as she then pointed to an old abandoned bird’s nest in the corner of the overhang over the dimly lit gas pumps. She continued, “The birds, the poor birds!” With my heart racing out of my chest I stared at her very confused wondering what the hell she was talking about. A loud clank in the back of the building quickly stole my attention to identify the source of the noise. Nothing… I turned back to the lady and…nothing. As quickly as she showed up she was gone again. I took a deep breath as I stood in the threshold of this tin location that I so randomly stumbled upon.  A cool breeze rushed passed my face and chilled my cheeks on this cool fall October evening. Scared and feeling more isolated and trapped than I ever have in my entire life I closed my eyes. Fear and anxiety filled my insides while the brisk fall atmosphere surrounded me on the outside. I wished that I was anywhere in the world except for that deserted gas station in the middle of nowhere. This deep rumbling began to grow louder and louder and…

So that’s the last time I smoke a “chooty” before zumba class. Apparently I passed out and hit my head on the floor during the aerobic workout. Isn’t that the craziest trip? Said my unintelligent co-worker as I gazed upon her with disbelief… 

Evocative Object: Big Muff

He lives on an audio world of electronics where Analogue rules with seniority and digital gangs come and go and grow with strength as time passes. His tattered metal and scratched surface reveal authenticity of its existence. You can see the years of experience on the road and in bars and venues all over the country just based off of his exterior. With all the circuits, digital boards, and multi purpose devices, Big Muff lives for one purpose. He has one goal and objective. When people are watching he has to be the loudest around. With rich saw waves of processed audio reaching new decibel levels with each progression everyone stops. The crowd goes silent and listen with eager anticipation. Then all at once they erupt with applause and this is where Big Muff lives. Today he is king, today he is heard, and today people tip their hat in respect to the legend.

Monika Bravo exhibition

She says in a description of her work that it is a seduction and illusion where introspection of the exchange in conditions where the mind goes from one reality to the next. Specifically the installment on natural phenomenon's, I get. Very strong sense of introspection. There are several parts to the loop of natural events that take place on two symetrical screens. Each image is altered in a way to simulate a painting and joined with that is an etherial soundtrack with no clear defining points. I feel this is the process of the human mind and phsycy. We have more going on than we realize and it's very hard to eatablish what it is exactly. We have two parallel sides of our brain often working against each other creating a natural phenomenon. Just like the exhibit it is impossible to focus on both at the same time but neither one can be ignored either. At times they are to similar subjects with similar pallets and terain but never line up in exact sync. I believe we all have an inner battle of what we want to do be and express that contrasts with what we define as responsibility. You can clearly see in individuals which "animal" they feed more. Though these images are easy to make out they still live in an etherial world where no borders end points or clear definitions exist.

A side note- in class Tom made the comment that he didn't think it was art because she manipulated other peoples material. So that means we've been misguided and need to inform everyone out there that anyone who is an "Editor" specifically in film, is not an artist *according to Tom...

Dream Journal : Gas Light

A man and women are driving in a car late at night. All of a sudden they run out of gas on the side of the road. That is all the man can remember because it is a dream. That next day the man and his wife are talking in reality in their living room in the evening. It is very dimly lit and out of nowhere they get into an argument. Once the tension reaches its climax and the girl starts to cry he stops and realizes that the dream was an emotional foreshadowing to the events of that evening. They were going full speed for so long that metaphorically they eventually ran out of gas and hit an emotional wall. Now he knows and proceeds to comfort her.

Altered States

Evocative Personal Object

This is a vintage analogue overdrive guitar effects pedal. It is no longer working but sits as decor on my desk. To me however, it is more than an artistic piece of metal. It is a symbol of the importance of music in my life and the journey of where it has taken me.

Readings

I love the idea of Inquiry. It says in the book that "Intuition may be nothing more than the first thing that comes to mind." But it is important to look at this through the lens of Inquiry. Everything in the creative process is a balance and a rhythm. I believe we have the best ideas within us but it is the over-processing thoughts that creatively "stop us up" and we just need to learn to let go. Im my own experience my greatest ideas just came to me and then were expanded upon from there.

Just as similar in the reading from "what is is" I believe that the over-processing comes from the fear of failure or the reputation to hold up as an artist. We tend to define ourselves by what we create and peoples reaction to it. This is very natural. We have a desire to be evaluated and thought highly of amongst our peers. If we do not get past this, we may stay in mediocracy for the rest of our lives.

Observation: Evocative Object

It just lies there. It is very sad and abused. Almost like an exotic animal in captivity. This feather is not from around here but yet it is bound to ever fly again. It longs for the air. To be weightless in gravity joined by all its brothers and sisters from the same core joined in unison to defy the impossible. Tattered on the edges, rough down the center, and bound by artistic metal and decor at the bottom, it is now a prisoner. No longer free in the open. You can still see its beauty beyond the scars and bruises. This thing of foreign desire, now a mere pet in every sense. Will  there ever be liberation or has the destiny of wilting away by mere fashion been set forever. Whatever the case, life lives within. WIld lives within the captivity, within the chains. However short the life of the feather it will die in honor for it has seen places we will never go. Who knows the sites it has seen. The mountains of Kilimanjaro, the tops of the redwood trees, or the sands of the desert, we may never know. But the memory will always live on within each strand of colored fiber within its being.

Clipping File:Work Life

This is a topic that hits a little close to home. Often times creative types, especially those working in time consuming motion positions,  are often taken advantage of. This phrase was literally printed and put on the door to our office in my last job, " Possible can be done immediately. We're already working on the impossible. But please allow 48 hours for miracles. " This is because people in these positions are often given very small windows for the most difficult of projects. These individuals are more than often overlooked and something needs to be done about it. This article posted on "Motionographer" goes much deeper into this subject.



http://motionographer.com/2011/10/03/worklife-from-the-comments/

Dream Journal Entry

A few nights ago I had a dream that I vividly remembered. I was driving full speed in a vehicle that did not belong to me and then something happened. Then next thing I remembered was that I looked down and noticed the gas light was on. Just then it suddenly ran out of gas and came to a sudden halt.
That is all that I remembered, but I knew that it had a deeper meaning as so many of my dreams tend to do. That next day I ended getting in an argument with my wife. We had both been going full speed for so long that we literally ran out of gas and hit an emotional wall. It was destined to happen at any point and my dream was a clear signal that the event was about to take place.

Observation(myplace): The Salute

Here we are again. I sit amongst old friends and after moments reminiscing over the past few weeks we are caught up again. The ravine still here, still flourishing for the time being. We can find the same rhythms of life in every season. The ups and down come in the most unexpected moments. After a few grimly cold weekends the plants hold on. Today is another victory of the battle in the war that they are slowly losing. To me they are soldiers. They have fought brave and strong, have loved and laughed, but hope is slowly fading. Limbs are missing and color is fading as the day is coming to a close. Loved and dear ones wait on the other side. There their legacy will be reunited and will live on in the next generation. As I start to leave I give them a quick glance signifying my respect and admiration for how hard they have fought to live and to love. This could be a last look, or a salute and farewell for I know not which enemy lies just around the corner.

Observation:Character

I wanted to write about my neighbor who I am very intrigued by. His nam is Demetri and he's a Russian painter who speaks with broken English. If you saw him you would think he was a homeless person based off of his appearance. His hair is always a ratted mess and sticks out on both sides of his massive bald spot. He wears tattered outdated clothing that is always tagged with spots of paint. He is however a nice guy. He just always seems a little odd and is randomly wandering around the complex. He is an abstract painter that is inspired by nature so he is always just standing in a random natural location just starring for hours. It's quite comical. Also you can see in his house and he has hardly any furniture but just white walls and stacks and stacks of his paintings leaning up against the wall with a giant easel stealing all the attention in the middle of the living room.

Observation: Scenerio

A friend of mine visited me the other day and told me about an encounter he had on the way here. He had stopped in Las Vegas, NM because his alternator went out. He realized it when he had trouble starting his car at a random gas station in the middle of nowhere New Mexico on the interstate. The gas station was very low lit and sort of erie. All of a sudden out of nowhere a man came from behind him riding a horse in the middle of the night. He just trotted through the gas station and disappeared into the darkness. This seemed like such a random/awkward/comical moment.

Creative Film Making: Doing The Research

We have been learning the importance of finding personal connection to the things we work on. This chapter in Creative Film Making also show the significance of the proper research per project. It is a way to trigger our inspiration of detail and broaden our sense of connection with it no matter what it is. To me this is obvious, If you are going to write or portray details about any particular subject, you should know what you are talking about.

Clipping file: Synth Barrier

Being a musician myself I am always intrigued by the mentality and perception of musicians from themselves and others. To me it is a very diverse yet easily typecast sub group. One issue that is often highly overlooked is sexism within music. Especially in what seems to be a male driven profession if you will. Here is a link to an article from the New York Times discussing this matter but more specifically "Women and Synthesizers.


http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/09/arts/music/female-artists-with-a-penchant-for-synth-sounds.html

Green Team Project: Asterix

"Turn"

It was an early day in Autumn. A young bird sits in its nest warmed by the finely constructed walls of its interior. There was a sense in the air that  the weather was just about to take a turn for the worst. Though the storm wasn't there yet, the anticipation was. The trees were uneasily still. The bright yellow leaves of aspens freshly changed from the summer green lay still and motionless. Everything for the moment is fine except for the fact that the young bird sits alone. The fear of the storm is drowned by the fear of being trapped in a perch of imprisonment. A stir of leaves raise some noise just beyond the the curve in the path that lie underneath the tree. The emotions in the young bird reached a new height and just then something changed. As it turned its head from side to side a new perspective was stirred. There has been some sort of change over time. There is an unexpected strength within its wings and it knew what it had to do. The little bird stepped to the edge of the nest, lifted both wings, and took the biggest breath of its life for it realized that security laid beyond this next risk. Then the bird leaped, because it knew…it was it's turn to fly. 

Ideation:Clustering

Cluster brainstorming for the short story "Turn."

the frontier of friendship

As I sit and try to get myself going with a warm cup of legal stimulants I notice several familiar faces. These faces are not familiar to myself but to one another. Though I cannot hear what they are saying it seems that they are joining in on a familiar melody. Not in the literal sense, but there are shared rhythms, patterns and harmonies to this bond that dates decades upon one another. Three friends, in what seems to be their late sixties, sit and share a coffee. I believe this ritual to date long before the reign of circular green mermaid logos when the frontier of roasted beans lived in the booths of the local diners. Whatever the venue, the coffee is not the objective but rather the medium for their relationship to flourish. There is a sense of unconditional trust and happiness. I can feel the positive vibes reach me from where I sit in the corner by the window, and I don't want to let go of them. I want to carry them with me and ration them out with every afternoon of friendship shared over a cup of coffee until I am as old as they are.

Observation: Autumns Bloom

Today the ravine welcomes me back as a familiar guest. This time the sun is setting while the goodnight chirps of the birds in the tree sets the atmosphere for all that gather near. The deep red and purple hues in the sky eagerly chase the sun behind the mountains and ushers in a cool blanket of darkness to tuck in all the plants and rocks into their place of rest for the evening. All the little weeds surrounding me have sprouted a final bloom of flowers for the season. Each one similar with bright yellow pedals all facing the same direction facing the sun. It seems each one is waving goodnight to their beloved daylight as the gentle breeze causes each one to sway slightly. Today is Autumns Bloom, a rhythmic antonym to life.

Convex reactions

Recently while taking a shower getting ready for the day, I noticed water slowing dripping from the bottom of the shower head. For that moment my focus came upon the drop about to fall and it seemed that everything else slowly shifted out of focus. That drip had my full attention as I could see the convex reflection of everything around me. I watched as it slowly accumulated until it could no longer be contained and then proceeded to drip. Right then I had a thought and I felt connected to that meaningless mass of water for that second. It was a symbol of emotions and everything inside of me or any other person. What is it that is within everyone of us that slowly accumulates until it cannot be contained? What is it that inspires us, makes us mad, or is something that we cannot simply keep within? I have had a lot of this kind of thought lately and am in the pursuit of finding out exactly what that is.

Birth and death of a day

Observation: The Watchman

Today I sit in my natural observation spot. It's nothing fancy but a small ravine where the sides of a small hill meet together at spot in the middle. There a juvenile tree fills the vertical space. I sit here feeling all around me. A sense of cold is coming. I can feel clues of it in the cool dry air that meets my face, as well as the cool cushion of dirt underneath the weight of my body. Today is different from the other occasional times I've been here. I feel an anticipation and a slight worry. Today there is life here. There is a monochromatic palette of green with occasional highlights of yellow and sparse shadows of brown. All the color, life, and plants are patiently waiting for whats to come and are holding on to every breath that they can. Soon all saturation will be lost for a period of rest before next year's cycle. The tree seems to be the watchman relaying the news of whats coming to all that lay below it. He communicates by setting the tempo of noise. At certain points it is heightened and the message is carried in a chatter by all the bushes and plants along the hillside. For those who do not have the advantage to see, the tree scatters light into thousands of tiny rays. This code lets them know that for now they are safe, for now there is life, and that no more worry shall come out of today. Today will take care of itself and tomorrow they will stand again.

Let Go

This blog is the product of my Ideation class in school. We have been learning how to just let go of our predisposed judgments of ourselves and just "create". It is this childlike mentality that has really helped me the most. As a kid we just did whatever we wanted without an awkward feeling attached to it. If we wanted to play…we played, if we wanted to dance…we danced, if we wanted to draw…we drew, etc. While watching different videos or reading different texts it has become very obvious to me how much we in a sense "grade" ourselves on everything we do. We are so self analytical! This is the wall that I have been climbing over. This is the obstacle that I am still overcoming. The good news is that I have already felt tremendous progress in this area. The first time that I told myself "there is no wrong answer" and surprised myself with what I came up with, was very liberating. I feel this is the central connection to all other creativity. It is the freedom to let go and see where you land. In this you can truly find your voice and connect yourself to what inspires you.

"LOL"

I am a person who laughs. I think laughing is one of the best things for an individual. Making people laugh is something that I really enjoy to do. From a light smile to a full out "LOL", I am a fan of it all. However, this sometimes can be a problem for me. Not in the sense of how to make people laugh but rather isolating that act by itself in social situations. The problem is that it is easier to crack a joke or be funny rather than have a serious conversation. One that is deep or meaningful anyways. It is my default social scapegoat. I have been better about it lately but I think just as important as laughing is for us, it is equally important to have real meaningful connections with other people. Other wise we will walk the thin ice bridge of relational interactions with one another. This is something I will continue to be very conscious of.

DIssecting an Orange

To me the most notable observation about the orange was its visual presentation. It was broken down into a series of "packages" While each package stimulated different senses, each one also was completely individual carrying out a unique role to fulfill its position in the body of an orange. In this sense it was a "community." It also had characteristics of a russian doll set in the way each package contained numerous smaller packages. The smallest that could been seen by the naked eye was an individual popsicle like sack filled with a small juice content. What looked like hundreds of these made up a single orange slice enclosed by a membrane, or package if you will. While containing several more layers, the largest was the outer peel who's main responsibility was to protect and safe guard all that lie underneath.

In addition: How are we similar to the orange? In what way can we be broken down into parts by our different traits or characteristics that make up our 'content' to carry individual roles to make us who we are as a whole?

Turtle vs Rabbit (A second encounter)

(One mellow day in the forrest, the two acquaintances run into one another again.)

Rabbit: Well...isn't this a fine day there turtle?

Turtle:  Oh not you again...Look I told you there is no way we are going to do this another time.

Rabbit: Oh come on turtle, don't get your shell in a ruffle! Besides, I'm not even in the mood to race.

Turtle:  By the looks of it, you haven't raced in a while have you? Judging by all those extra pounds and all. You look one carrot shy of a...never-mind...

Rabbit: Say speaking of, you wouldn't happen to have an extra carrot on you would ya?

Turtle:  Nahh, I don't touch the stuff. Never a need for it.

Rabbit: Come on turtle don't hold out on me! I NEED a carrot!!

Turtle: Woah easy, calm down. I told you I do not have any nor have I ever. You remember our last encounter don't you?

Rabbit: Hey don't go there! You cheated anyways!

Turtle:  Yeah, Uh huh me cheated, a turtle, cheated...

Rabbit: Well then it was rigged or something!

Turtle:  I remember it clear as day.... You came up to me and starting picking on me and calling me names and bragging about how great you were. Then you had the nerve to challenge ME to a race! Next thing I remember, we were well into it and you were so hopped on legumes that you passed out right on the trail. And you told everyone that you were so far ahead that you took a "nap".. Haha yeah right! With the right authorities present you would have been arrested with an H.W.I. For hopping while ingesting...

Rabbit: You shut your turtle trap! I've had enough of you!

Turtle: Yeah well heres an idea. Why don't you race your furry tail the hell out of here! Good riddance!

(The End)

I Am From

I am from the small town kitchen
from rural grocery stores and boxed food.
I am from the long and narrow house
with the two acres on the south.
I am from the last patch of grass without stickers
the one mulberry tree
who's long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I am from hard work and sports encouragers
from Michael and Eileen.
I am from sunday's lunch and the leftovers to follow
and from prayers unseen.

I'm from wash your hands and to be good
and today is going to be a good day son.
I'm from where all have trucks but me.
I'm from Carlsbad and places unknown
Somewhere maybe in the south and enchilada pie as well?
From building things from nothing with my brother
where dirt and land was our medium.
Where all our tee-ball pictures
are still stuck on the same fridge
that I can still remember.