New Brushwork Freedom

Before my memory kicked in my family moved to Atlanta. We have lived in the same house and in the same rooms since I have even been able to form memories. Yet, many of my memories differ in the sense that although my location has stayed the same for all of these years, my surroundings have existed dynamically. I am specifically referring to the walls of my home which have seen many different coats of paint over the last twenty years.
Although not professional painters, my entire family has put much work into creating our home’s colored walls, especially my mom. I want to focus on describing my room and those of my younger brother and older sister as they depict her work the best. She did most of the design and dirty work for our rooms which all resemble a different setting that we chose when we were only kids. My room resembles that of a boy’s dream to be an astronaut. A combination of deep blue and light blue fills the room as a rocket blasts off from one wall and the sun shines from the other. Shadowing these images on the ceiling lie many stars and a few planets which were painstakingly placed one by one from ladder-top and have somehow survived for this long. My brother’s room resembles a jungle in which a boy dreamed himself to be Tarzan. His main wall depicts an enormous tree vivid with life as all animals of the jungle from a giraffe to a rhinoceros surround its stretching trunk which climbs off the wall and onto the ceiling above. It creates a canopy of dense green that emulates that of the deep forest where the sky cannot be seen for the trees above. Downstairs my sister’s room is that of a young girl asphyxiated with a garden and nature. Brightly colored hummingbirds exist all along the white picket fence that extends its way around her room. Flowers and ivy laden, it creates a barrier giving the feeling of a garden along with white fluffy clouds above to complete the ensemble.

Our rooms are those that most children only dream of. Yes every child may have a room of their own, but we were able to choose the theme of ours and it is all thanks to the artistic creativity of my mom. Even reminiscing about her painting the walls I was astonished at the love and attention to detail that was poured into every brushstroke. For this I believe I will continue this practice. I will paint every room of my home in the future to the likings of its dwellers with no exception. Not only will this provide me with ultimate freedom, but also with ultimate satisfaction as my home becomes a unique one built upon love, happiness, and freedom of expression.
Originally published Apr 2nd, 2010

Kush revamped

I was never allowed growing up to have a pet. Sure I had fish and my brother had a gerbil, but I mean a real pet, not just a novelty one. I wanted the relationship involved with having a domesticated animal and I always gave attention to the cats and dogs of my friends due to the lack of my own. Needless to say, when my brother brought home Kush I was overjoyed at the future prospect of watching him grow and enjoying his company.

Our black Bombay looks just like many thousands of other cats, yet his personality is what makes him irreplaceable. Although some find him rambunctious, I know he is just overwhelmingly playful. With his sharp claws he stalks the house waiting for opportunities to wield his natural weapons in effort to satiate his instincts. Often I imagine his perspective and feel as though he thinks himself a lion in the jungle and we are his pseudo-prey. Prowling the screened porch’s columned railings he seeks only to escape (as all house cats do) and although at times successful, it is plain to see that he has no idea what looms outside of his boundaries as he will quickly return or hide only feet from the house. This is mainly our fault because we spoil him. Having been our only true pet, every member of the family has their own affectionate way of showing him love. I personally pet him while he eats and yes I am aware that this is a very strange habit for a cat to have, but it’s the only time he will allow me to. My brother will pick him up and cradle him as if he was a child; and being the one who saved him from the streets it seems fitting. I still remember when he brought Kush home he was so little that he could fit outstretched in the palm of my hand (not to sound cliché). My mom and dad often will sit in front of the television at night before bed and he will crawl up into one of their laps and lay there to stay warm. They spoil him by rubbing him while he lays there and sleepily dozes off for awhile. My sister’s way of indulging him, are his cat treats that he loves so much. He is a glutton and will always do anything for a treat no matter what mood he is in, but soon after may return to his boisterous ways. His endless ability to liven up our home is something I hope to hold on to for a long time as he brings vivacity to our family in ways I never thought possible. I wish to continue enjoying his presence and companionship throughout the rest of his lifetime as we all grow older every day.
Originally published Mar 19th, 2010

Lakeside Revisited

Unlike most days where I visit my neighborhood lake and see vibrant colors gleaming off of its surface and ripples indicative of fish, today the lake is different. A thick, opaque sheet of blue ice covers the whole of it and the movements I am so accustomed to have ceased. The water is motionless and resembles frosted glass. I see no fish stirring, hear no sound of insects buzzing, but I do feel the icy wind blowing steadily across the lake surface. However, I have just arrived and have yet to realize that “It’s all a matter of keeping my eyes open.” In my mind I know that the fish have not left the lake and that the water beneath is still in motion yet because of the thick sheet of ice I feel I have been left blinded. “If I can’t see these minutiae, I still try to keep my eyes open” because I don’t know just what clues to look for in this weather to spot the evidence that life remains. I often think that just like this sheet of ice that blocks us from seeing below “we miss a great deal because we perceive only things on our own scale.” For example, how does the view of the fish differ from ours? On their scale the ice blocks sunlight, their source of warmth, and is most likely vexing, yet to us the ice is fun and deceivingly beautiful allowing us to forget how treacherous it can be if we were to fall in and join our fishy friends. “Still, a great deal of light falls on everything” and I would have to guess that they find ways to keep warm under the ice. I actually venture briefly onto the ice (near the shore of course) to see how thick it is and astoundingly, especially for Georgia, the ice is over two inches thick! It is astounding to think that water has so many forms. “I reel in confusion; I don’t understand what I see.” How does this moving water freeze? When I recall past years I have seen frozen waterfalls but I never understood how water plummeting through the air could freeze in place. It of course must freeze gradually with some parts freezing before others and blocking the moving water ever so steadily until at last every droplet freezes. “I had been a bell my whole life and, and never knew it until that moment I was lifted and struck.” Realizations are strange things. How can they exist? For a person to experience a realization the sums of the whole must have always been there, and therefore, that person actually learned nothing and yet feels as if a great hidden truth has been revealed. “…sense impressions of one-celled animals are not edited for the brain: ‘This is philosophically interesting in a rather mournful way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.’” I agree with Annie Dillard and too feel that a way to remove our brain’s filters must be removed. As a realist this is one ultimate goal I always keep in mind, see the world as it truly is, not as you want it to be.
Originally published Jan 18th, 2010

Hypertext Flags

What is this thing anyway?

Americans all view the same flag yet digest and interpret it in a different way. I view the flag as a malleable symbol through which every individual protected under it is allowed to interpret it in their own manner. If the flag meant only peace or only justice, the individuals that make up this country would not be so diverse and unique; America would never have stood for the opportunistic land that it has come to be known as. However the flag, like many symbols, would mean nothing to anyone if it did not stand for this country, its people, and its opportunities.

            September 11^th was a day that no American alive will ever forget. None shall fail to remember the day when the most powerful country in the world was penetrated by a small group of organized men whom shattered our overbearing confidence. Despite their desires however, we rose to their animosity and chose to become stronger by setting aside trifling differences which we had with one another and strongly rising up together as a phoenix from the ashes of the world trade centers. We all stood together as every citizen of this country took hold of a flag and waved it with fiery eyes of patriotism. As Donald and Christine McQuade put it, the flag became “ubiquitous “ (579) as it could be seen flying from rooftops, hanging out windows, standing upon newly erected flagpoles, worn on clothes, draped upon animals, stuck out from vehicles, and branded onto stamps as the wave of patriotism spread across our wounded nation. America’s sense of pride and more importantly what our flag means had been attacked with every intention of bringing us down, yet instead they were forever strengthened.

            So what is this flag really? I believe it to be the embodiment of over two hundred years of never surrendering to those who wish to stifle freedom; never giving an inch of room to those intolerant and allowing individuals’ rights to reign supreme everywhere within the borders of our great country. The flag is “pregnant with expressive content…” (Brennan 588) as Justice William J. Brennan Jr. puts it and does not have the capacity to stand for only one belief or to protect only one group. It fully covers the views of all who make up the country it belongs to and that is precisely what the flag means to me. I love this country because I can say and do as I please as long as I follow the simple rule of not infringing on the rights of others. Having lived in this country my entire lifetime I cannot even imagine the lives of those who are oppressed or the pain they must suffer on a daily basis because they are forced into beliefs that are not theirs. To be forced into another’s code against one’s desire is truly a punishment and a torture that I could not endure. That is why I am proud to live in this country that I live in. I am proud to be able to say that my flag stands for something greater than nation or property or opportunity for wealth. My flag stands for freedom of expression and belief; undervalued privileges with more worth than can be put into words. As Anne Fadiman quotes in her writing “the flag is constant in expressing beliefs Americans share, beliefs in law and peace and that freedom which sustains the human spirit” (qtd. In Fadiman 584) and I feel the same and hope that the flag will remain an evolving part of our country so that those who come after me will be able to view it in the same light as I do today. I can only wish that the flag stays intact as it is so that future generations will be able to live under its protective cloak as I do and be guaranteed the same rights that many in our world only dream of having.

WC: 662

Works Cited

Brennan, Justice William Jr. “Majority Opinion of the U.S. Supreme Court in Texas v Johnson (1989).” Seeing and Writing 3. Ed. Christine McQuade and Donald McQuade. Boston, New York: Bedford / St. Martin’s, 2006. 599-589.

Fadiman, Anne. “A Piece of Cotton.” Seeing and Writing 3. Ed. Christine McQuade and Donald McQuade Boston, New York: Bedford/ St. Martin’s, 2006. 580-585.

McQuade, Christine and Donald cQuade. Seeing and Writing 3. Boston, New York: Bedford/ St. Martin’s, 2006.