Dios Dias

Short quickie today, just to recap the weekend:

Helped Brent move into his new house on Saturday. It rained all weekend, and I got some stuff done around the house. I'm not sure how many more boxes full of junk I can walk out to the garbage before our living space is 'livable'. It really makes me appreciate all the more the human condition that causes a myriad assortment of debris to congregate around them in big piles.

Speaking of phenomenons of the human condition, we were watching a football game at the Mojo Lounge the other night, and I complained that something psychological prevents me from watching a play in its entirety.

I demonstrate by concentrating on the television: I watch the players line up, the ball is snapped, guys go running, and...... someone at a nearby table drops a glass, and I glance over to see what happened. Sure enough, by the time I look back, the play is over.

I'm getting help for this disability. My friend is taking me through remedial football-- an online Javaclient game called Blood Bowl. It's good for me. I'm learning about passes and I can now tell you what a lineman does.

Okay, it's coffee time. More later.

The Hypno-Hand is Raised

So today's post is about my insecurity about talking too much in class. I'm worried that I'm quickly becoming "that guy" in two of my classes, the one who raises his hand to respond to every question. In addition to that, I find myself asking questions of the teachers when I don't understand something. And then there's all the great jokes I have to tell. Basically, I think I need to work on 'holding back' in these situations.

Granted, talking worked fine in my last three Spanish classes. We were all talkers, but we also worked hard. They were classes with character, it was interesting and fun to show up.

That may be what I'm missing right now. New quarters always bug me because you have to wait for the adjustment period. Right now no one feels comfortable in class, so no one talks. I talk because I've gotten used to it. I rarely stop talking-- just ask my wife. First thing in the morning, if she gets up with me at the same time, it's a curiosity-driven monologue avalanche--- as if I was just born as a full-grown man with the ability to talk, and there's a lot of catching up to do.

As an exercise I'm thinking I should record some of my vocalizations and play them back later on, if anything just to try and scare myself into keeping quiet some of the time.

En El Recinto

I drove to school this morning before sunrise. I'm trying to wrap my head around how this will be a daily phenomenon in the weeks to come: my car flitting down an empty street to merge with the sea of wet metal that is the morning commute; casting desperate glances to the eastern horizon for any sign that the sun will rise.

Light did come, in a manner of speaking, painting everything in different shades of gray. It's 9:45 now, and it's feasible that the sun is out there somewhere because I don't need a lantern to see where I'm walking. But today is notably overcast.

Yes, a whole paragraph to tell you in the most colorful way that it's cloudy.

Class details: Math 150 is in a building called 209 W. 18th ave. I'm guessing they couldn't agree on a name for the building, because it's surrounded by a campus where everything is named after this dean or that provost. The auditorium was stifling hot, and surprisingly packed as early as 30 minutes before the class actually started. (first day jitters?) But they've really got us packed in there. There is no room for claustrophobia in this place, though deodorant is appreciated.

Learning stinks.

Carving Out An Existence

So you may be wondering where I've been these past few weeks. Honestly, I've been home most of the time, but much of my energy has been spent burrowing new pathways through this proverbial molehill in order to carry on my existence. Here's a list of favorite places that I've colonized, in no particular order:

Studio Corner- All the raw materials, tools, and works-in-progress that had once been scattered throughout our old apartment have been squeezed into a corner of our bedroom. While the prospect of 'down-sizing' was initially a horrid and dire thought, this new operation is pretty slick in that it forces me to clean up (or finish) the current project before I can take off on some new tangent. That's good for everybody.

The Backyard - My secret grotto; a place I love to work on things for the privacy and the giant trees that loom overhead. There's an electric outlet right beside the porch swing, where I've already spent many hours with my hot glue gun.

The Park - I need to post some photos of this place. It's what I'd consider to be Reynoldsburg's best-kept secret: acres and acres of empty parkland that seems to go forever. On my forays into this grassy plain behind the house, the most surprising thing is the lack of people. I'm not sure where else you could go in Central Ohio and find yourself so utterly apart from other human beings. It's wonderful. I did see a man walking a dog once, but they were mere specks in the distance that quickly faded into the horizon. Despite the 'forgotten' nature of this park, someone keeps all that grass mowed on a weekly basis; green blades shorn with the care you'd find on a golf course. I hope it stays this way for a long time.

So getting to today's photos, this is my first ever attempt at sculpting a model from scratch, and then casting it. What you see in both pictures is merely a copy of the original. This prospect of creating my own unique sculptures and having the ability to produce them enmass is a singular accomplish. I'm looking forward to following it up--- the only problem is time, as autumn quarter starts tomorrow.

What a Horrible Night...

It's my little bro-in-law's birthday tomorrow, and I thought it would be cool to make him a painting. The theme is "What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse," which if you recognize the reference give yourself a cookie. I heard him repeat the above phrase the other night while we were both standing in the kitchen and I had a moment of getting clubbing gently in the face with the nostalgic reference from the beloved childhood video game, Castlevania 2: Simon's Quest.

My brother-in-law apparently did not understand the relevance of the phrase as I had, and a line of questioning revealed that it's the name of a song by a band called The Black Dahlia Murder. Weird how these nods to our childhood influences are digested by the next generation, who may not even catch the reference. But it still enters into their vocabulary all the same, and is assigned new meaning.

This cryptic easter egg solidified something between us, and I decided that it'd make a cool painting theme. This morning I went to work, dragging all the paint and brushes that survived the move onto the back porch. I'm not sure I've painted outside before, but I am impressed by the level of shade and comfort afforded by my wife's family's backyard. (may have to continue the painting trend out there)