I wish it would storm

I hope someday that karma is scientifically proven. Partially because I feel a bit nutty for believing in it. But more importantly, I think it could help us human beings behave a bit more pleasantly. But isn't that just all cupcakes and optimism. 

Images from Parker Fitzgerald and source 

                                                                           http://imgfave.com/popular/page:5

Inspirations

It seems like I  discover new photographers that inspire me every week. I only recently acquired a genuine appreciation for this form of art. I guess I used to think that photography was the lazy way to claim artistry hood. You buy an expensive camera and you get to call yourself a magician. What a prick I can be. 
There are so many dimensions of photography that I will never understand. It takes an admirable amount of nurturing and care to take  magnificent photos. Nowadays I am inspired greatly by photographers (and other art as well, acourse). I'm very grateful that images like these exist, and that people who dreamed up these beautiful scenarios exist on the same planet as I do so I can drool over their hard work. Like Tom Robbins (a favorite author of mine) once wrote, "the function of the artist, is to provide what man does not." (Another Roadside Attraction).

 

Photos by David Hamilton and Parker Fitzgerald

Scavenging

I am free. A huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders this weekend. I have more space, energy, and a resurgence of creativity.

 I have been tearing through a Northern American Wildlife book from the 80's. It's outdated, but the art is beautiful. I love the smell of old books. The musk that rises from the sifting pages is like an ancient friend. The book is my mother's; it was passed down to her from my grandmother. Someday I hope I can have the pleasure of calling it mine. I'll snuggle up with a hot mug of tea and heavy blanket and lose myself within its pages. As for now, I am enjoying the the daydreams of running through Northern American terrain. Although I have a bias towards mammals, the dark earthy world of mushrooms is intriguing. I can imagine myself picking through soggy forests with a basket hanging from my arm. Lifting swollen logs and branches, scanning for luminescent gills and spores, and giggling as I admire my collection of ghostly trophies that reek of dirt and Pan. 

I have only ever been on one guided mushroom hunt before. The California coast is a goldmine for these ellusive treasures. Mushrooms can grow year round, but now that it's Fall I am sure that an explosion of toadstools will soon fill the hillsides. I am eagerly awaiting an opportunity to sneak out into the wilderness and claim some for myself.

New rules

Here I am, sitting inside of a noisy hallway. People all around me chattering frantically about the biology midterm we are all about to "fail". My thoughts are scrambled together in my head like a messy breakfast. I tried to study, but my heart's not really in it. I know an honest amount of biology. In fact, I dig it, so I'll be just fine. Instead, I'll write. Here, to be more specific.

I tried this once before, but what came out didn't really feel like me. I was forcing myself into a mold; a cage really. Where my thoughts couldn't flow freely and what should have been treated as a creative outlet became more like work. Stifling work. So this time around I'm changing the rules. No rules. Those are the new rules. I will write in broken fragments. I will swear when I see fit. I want this infinitesimally tiny space on the internet to be mine. Not a fake-me mine. I want it to drip what I am feeling; to reek of what I might be thinking. I want to take a step back and look at it and say, "Yep, that's me," and walk away from it not feeling like a total jerk. I am a convoluted girl sometimes. So that's what I'll work with if need be. Anyways, the chattering is starting to get to me. I'll wrap this up.

No rules. Those are the new rules. I will be as confusing, as imaginative, as lost, or as ugly as I want to be.