I’ve been getting through the long days at work by thinking of last month’s vacation to Michigan. These photos were from our self-guided tour of the Icebreaker Ship Museum. It was in operation up until a few years ago and has a long history of service in the area. I have a few more photo sets from vacation and the last looks of the summer garden.
I am preparing to move some plants inside and plant a few cold weather crops. I am already planning for next year’s layout and I can’t wait to start crafting, writing and cooking this winter. I guess you could say I am exhausted and exhilarated in the same breath. Maybe it’s turning twenty-six, or the year, two-thousand-and-fucking-twelve! I feel motivated to get things rolling, get on with being that interesting artist I so desired to be in my tweens and teens.
I feel accomplished at being an amateur photographer (having only took one class in high school because my university’s art department was full of a bunch of noninclusive ninnies!) I scored an entry-level general art class and graphic design at least but would have loved to take book binding, jewelery, ceramics, painting, drawing… it’s a wonder I didn’t go into art rather than my first and only choice, English (creative writing emphasis)
I was taught by a few amazing professors, published authors and incredible people so I am happy with the education I was able to scrape out of a failing university. Don’t believe me? Last year many classes and majors were cut all while the university builds unsightly student housing, cuts nothing from the major sports and remodels the president’s quarters (the president who ran our school into the ground and is now choosing to retire!)
As you can see I have many things on my mind these days. I wake early nearly everyday to catch a bus to the next town over. It’s strange hopping a city bus with other working, minority and elderly passengers. The differences between those who ride the bus and those who don’t and the types of people and places in each town are clearly discernible on those contemplative days.
I want to start using the talents affirmed in me by the likes of Vince Gotera, Grant Tracey and Dr. Jesse Swan. I need to build this portfolio and start making a living using the skills I love. I love making sandwiches and I love joking around with the fun people that work with me and I would do it for as long as they would have me but I also want to do something more.
I want to feel what it’s like to hear my own music coming out of the speakers, my poem on the lips of some young idealist or romantic, my novel keeping some adolescent storylover awake until all hours of the night. I want to make a wedding cake. I want to sail on another ship. I want to play the lead, even just once.
I want to listen to the rest of that song. That song I always stop before it’s done. The song that causes too much pain because I tie a song to nearly every memory, or at least, a memory to every song.
I need to live life because time won’t allow any of this to last forever. Not this machine. Not the record of this thought. Not the light of this day (in fact, I think the sun has set already) No, not even the air in the lungs of this human. This human you’ve probably never met. You might never meet.
And still… You are here…