I do not feel ashamed for not writing here more often. I am ashamed for not loving rightly, for not caring completely, and for not being able to be all that I can and should be to the people who have - for whatever reason - let me into their lives.

Tonight I've realized that life is too short to make good on all my best intentions. 6 Billion people (and growing daily) is too many lives I'll never meet or have a chance to impact, much less be impacted by. Yet my meager 400 friends on Facebook is mostly made up of people that could be forgotten without loss to them or myself. What does it really mean, all this social pomp and circumstance?

The only things that make sense are my Bible, my Nalgene, and my backpacking gear. And even these don't always work right. Sometimes my Bible doesn't make sense the first, third, or fifteenth time reading a passage. I can't always put my tent up in the dark without my headlamp on. And there are times when I can't get that funky smell out of my Nalg or find something long enough to scrape the gunk out of the bottom.

I think the best part is that in writing this I am somehow revealing my addiction to the sense of connectedness that the internet and blogosphere falsely give. In writing and posting this here and now I reject the contentment of journaling and reach out instead for comments and subscriptions. Sad.

how sad that all of us are social amputees - utterly incapable of caring for one another in person because of our own handicaps. incapable of loving. incapable of doing what is necessary to be human. and I am one of these.

I am not proposing some absurd measure of social truncation, eliminating my facebook profile and deleting all the phone numbers in my cell that I haven't called in the last six months. But I vow to not live in fear. To not live in a state of fear that if I reveal my own inadequacies I will be rejected and abandoned. To not live with walls and masks. To live, instead, with a sacrificial love that stains my hands and blisters my feet, removing myself from the picture and pushing others up towards the heavens. To live a love that gives others the freedom to reveal their own inadequacies and know that I will not reject or abandon them.

(after reading this I feel like this is the type of post a thirteen year old ignorant child would write)

oh melodrama.

Today was a good day because I started it with an unplanned but perfectly executed, intuitively designed exodus from the parapace of the top bunk. Allow me to explain...

Yesterday my roommate from 612 and I moved into 614, thus creating the venerable !626!

In the creation of !626! we bunked our beds three high, placing the third bunk, mine own as it were, closest to the ceiling. While in the bed, the occupant, primarily myself, is less than a foot from the ceiling. In addition to the ceiling, on one half of the bed there is a ceiling mounted box with two florescent bulbs within. This places one's headest extremely close to the ceiling and it's fixtures.

All this to say, removing one's self from this vaulted resting place in the wee morning hours of post-slumber cognitive haze is challenging, if not down right dangerous.

Today was a good day because I started it with an unplanned but perfectly executed, intuitively designed exodus from the parapace of the top bunk.

This evening I was approached by a graduating print media student needing to interview me for an article in the student newspaper as part of her senior project. She gave me a list of questions and, after emailing her the answers I realized that her questions solved my blogger's block. Although this is lengthy, this is my thoughts on art.


Q: - How did yo first get involved in art?
A: "Honestly, my life has always been steeped in the fine arts. I started
classical violin at five, playing all through high school individually
and with various local ensembles. I still play on my own for the love
of it's beauty. Regarding visual art, I was mostly self-taught. My
parents always encouraged my love of color and form and enrolled me in
painting classes in the community as we could afford it - oil paint
isn't cheap. "


Q: - How did I learn art?
A:"I first started to learn regularly in middle school (7th grade) under
school teachers. When other kids had to go to summer school for having
flunked class, I took the summer art programs, getting a taste for
oil, watercolor, acrylic, pencil portraiture, graphic design, and
various mediums of sculpture. I was privileged to grow up in a town
that valued arts to the extent that by the time I finished High School
I'd taken more art classes than Math, English, or Science combined.
Most of my learning was facilitated by the teacher I was under at the
time, but as I matured in skill, I had more and more free reign to
create on my own."


Q: - what motivates my artwork?
A: "My artwork is motivated by a fair mix of need (addiction) and desire
to communicate. Having been so thoroughly immersed in art all my life it
is as much of an addiction as anything else and often my first
thoughts of self-expression are found in color. But, beyond the
visceral need, I've found greatest satisfaction knowing that an idea,
emotion, etc. has been clearly communicated to my audience. Like
anything else, this comes in varying degree's and my art is not always
deeply self-revelatory. But more and more I strive to communicate
through my art than simply find gratification in creation."


Q: - Why do you do art?
A: "I do art because I care too much about the silk blossom. The
down-to-earth, the practical, the functional, can be done by a robot.
But I have a heart that feels deeply and is restless until I've shared
my love with someone else. "


Q: - What is is like to be a student artist?
A: "Difficult at times, but mostly we fly under the radar. Often my
frustrations are internal and reactionary against the black and white
formality of institute life. There is, at most, an unspoken oppression
of art. And, at the very least, and unspoken concession to it's
symbiosis for the soul. While musical self-expression is accepted and
encouraged, the visual and performing arts are neglected. It's
difficult to come out of your shell when you don't know if your art is
appreciated or not. The worst I've experienced is casual mockery and a
theological eyebrow raise or two. I consider myself relatively
unscathed. Of course, even though it was never spoken aloud, these
reactions from students and/or faculty have raised doubt for me as to
the legitimacy of art for a Christian. Suffice it to say, I'm still
keeping my pencils sharp and paint on the ready.

As a student of theology at Moody, though, being an artist has given
me new grounds to explore. Traditional church art is usually only a
stone's throw from images of the cross and rarely engages the other
themes of scripture. Being here with the skills of an artist already,
though, gives me inspiration for the creation of new pieces that do
deal with the messed up characters of the Bible and not just
the manger scene. "


Q: - What kind of artwork do these people do?
A: " Student artists here at Moody range from photographers of all styles
to painters, sculptors, and musicians. Although 278 is specifically
geared towards the visual arts, musicians too have the capacity for
artistry. Most sculptors, like myself, are severely limited due to
space constraints and the financial burden of stone, metal, clay, etc.
My first love is sculpture, but while here at Moody I've delved more
into graphic design, clothing graphics, etc. "


Q: - What are your plans for the future? What opportunities have been afforded?
A:"I'll always do art. It's too deeply ingrained in me to do anything
else. But that's the beauty of it. An artist, however messy,
unorganized, or unkempt (and I know these are all stereotypes) is more
than a paintbrush. Just as it is impossible for an banker to only be a
banker at work and not handle his own money wisely, so it is
impossible for a painter to only have a love for his canvas. A
painter's lover for his canvas is a refection of his love for all of
the world around him, and just as his puts care into every brush
stroke, so he cares for all of life's minutiae. An artist is never
just a painter, sculptor, dancer, or musician - he is an artist of
life.

Sorry, you've dipped into my inkwells of philosophy with your questions.

After school, where ever I land, I'd like to get some equipment for
myself to continue my wheel thrown pottery. I'll always be an artist;
the forms may change, but I'll always remain the same. Since being
here at Moody I've delved deeper into my writing or prose and poetry.
This too is the arts in me.

I'll probably never be commissioned as an artist, and that's O.K. I
don't do it for money."

Q: - How can other students get an experience of student artwork?
A: "well, for starts, students can do art themselves. Every Thursday
night we get together on Fitz three for open studio or workshops -
posted on our Facebook group 278. Besides that, the display in the
corner of the fellowship hall on ASC II is student art regularly
themed and rotated out. In addition to the display in Joe's, there is
student artwork displayed in the Library, and occasionally on Fitz
two. Also, in the spring 278 has a large art show on ASC II featuring
all student artists who submit their work."

This week I've been fighting off my usual college fall depression. It's taken a fresh angle at my heart this year. Usually the most of my life is in such a state of disarray that it's easy to be discouraged about my successfulness at life. But this year, my assignments are done, I'm getting decent grades, and while 4.0 I'll never be, I have a pretty good buffer against that attack.

No, this year, this fall, my heart is not here, because it desires to be near another. Usually my heart is just beating to a different rhythm than school and the city. But this time, it's found another heart to beat with, but is separated from it by miles and miles.

A prof said in class today that young adults who are finding their desires for intimate relationships met in a healthy way are more likely to be motivated to do well at school. That may be true. But right now, I'm only motivated to be done and be with her.

But I guess it could be worse. I might not have found her at all.

I am broken.

(From True by The Frames)
I've played the saint
The saint that I ain't
Now all the hurt
Is here again... here again

-----


But grace abounds. And it hurts. It hurts to be scrubbed clean by grace, even though I need it, and even though I'm glad in the end, I'll still carry scabs and scars.

What hurts the most this time is knowing my actions effected others. Effected them passively, but still, even though they don't know it, I know it. And that breaks a rule I've had for myself for years. I don't hurt my friends, those I love; I don't hurt people. It goes against everything I believe.

Anyways. You have to fail to succeed.


Success ought to be on the horizon.