Whilst visiting the Grandmother in Houston last month:
(Grandma on the phone with mom)
Mom: (high pitched loud mutterings on the other end of the phone)
Grandma: Oh yes, very nice! We're just visiting!
(I walk by her in my new york booty shorts)
Grandma: She's got New York written on her butt. I should tell her to change it to Tex-ass!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The Old Man and The Tree
There are so many things on my mind...
I moved into my first post-college apartment. It's a small one-bedroom with a huge balcony. The best part? It's positioned in the back of an older, enchanting, woodsy apartment complex. I plan to paint the walls, stick glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, lights on the porch, perhaps a plant. Being that it's labor day weekend I have an extra day off, I am consciously deluding myself into believing I can accomplish all my plans and errands in a two day holiday break. Plans, plans, plans...
Meanwhile, I am wondering how to pursue writing and art. Both writing and art is a process that takes time and passion to pursue. How exactly can I pursue these pleasures with the few pockets of free time that this sour, unforgiving economy grants me? When I think back to the most stressful periods of my life (last semester of college perhaps?) I realize that no matter how pressed for time I was, everything I needed to accomplish somehow got done. What a relief right? Mmmm, not so much. The days I spent fretful and consumed in my research were also the days that I was mindless to the simplest and truest pleasures of life itself.
A few weeks ago I took a different road to work and now I stand confused. As I drove along the bush-ridden side roads I caught a passing glimpse of a large emerald majestic tree. In that short serendipitous moment I was astonished by all of its glory. The big old tree held up all those branches of life that extended so far and wide. The weight of the branches landed on my mind much like the weight of an airplane becomes strikingly apparent when you're 15,000 ft in the air. How did the tree hold up all this life? It doesn't seem like a burden to the tree. In fact... the size and strength of the tree is what becomes astonishing in light of its majesty and jade beauty. It's no fragile creature admired for its shortcomings and docility. As I drove forth, I began to see a similarity between the character of that tree and the lines on the face of an old man. Now the question I've battled all my life- how do I avoid this hectic, 21st century lifestyle- seems unimportant, insignificant. Perhaps it really isn't about what you do... but how you do it? Or... perhaps it's not really about "doing" at all since "do" itself implies a choice. Isn't life just life (regardless of if you are apathetic, compliant, counter-intuitive, rebellious, artistic)?
I could go on but... All these shades of green have got me feeling a little jaded.
I moved into my first post-college apartment. It's a small one-bedroom with a huge balcony. The best part? It's positioned in the back of an older, enchanting, woodsy apartment complex. I plan to paint the walls, stick glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, lights on the porch, perhaps a plant. Being that it's labor day weekend I have an extra day off, I am consciously deluding myself into believing I can accomplish all my plans and errands in a two day holiday break. Plans, plans, plans...
Meanwhile, I am wondering how to pursue writing and art. Both writing and art is a process that takes time and passion to pursue. How exactly can I pursue these pleasures with the few pockets of free time that this sour, unforgiving economy grants me? When I think back to the most stressful periods of my life (last semester of college perhaps?) I realize that no matter how pressed for time I was, everything I needed to accomplish somehow got done. What a relief right? Mmmm, not so much. The days I spent fretful and consumed in my research were also the days that I was mindless to the simplest and truest pleasures of life itself.
A few weeks ago I took a different road to work and now I stand confused. As I drove along the bush-ridden side roads I caught a passing glimpse of a large emerald majestic tree. In that short serendipitous moment I was astonished by all of its glory. The big old tree held up all those branches of life that extended so far and wide. The weight of the branches landed on my mind much like the weight of an airplane becomes strikingly apparent when you're 15,000 ft in the air. How did the tree hold up all this life? It doesn't seem like a burden to the tree. In fact... the size and strength of the tree is what becomes astonishing in light of its majesty and jade beauty. It's no fragile creature admired for its shortcomings and docility. As I drove forth, I began to see a similarity between the character of that tree and the lines on the face of an old man. Now the question I've battled all my life- how do I avoid this hectic, 21st century lifestyle- seems unimportant, insignificant. Perhaps it really isn't about what you do... but how you do it? Or... perhaps it's not really about "doing" at all since "do" itself implies a choice. Isn't life just life (regardless of if you are apathetic, compliant, counter-intuitive, rebellious, artistic)?
I could go on but... All these shades of green have got me feeling a little jaded.
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