In this life I've been burning after more
You're everything that's fair in love and war
I seem to have momentarily lost the desire to blog, though it comes easy enough when I begin. Desire to do anything else, for that matter, is fleeting, as I've reached a point where everything is so time-consuming that I attempt to bury myself in some cultural element, or conversation... I want out of this machine, it doesn't feel like freedom.
I realized I hadn't posted in a couple of days. I didn't mention one of the most interesting parts of Saturday - the fact that I spent some time painting by an open window with white, natural light streaming in. Light has become a commodity to me. I painted for a while in complete silence, nobody else was working on the weekend. Then I switched to piping some Switchfoot... Reality has become a commodity, in the words of the Colbert Report today. True. But then, who believes in absolute truth anymore? Certainly very few of my Art History peers.
Don't believe that there's nothing that's true
Don't believe in this modern machine, spinning out in circles.
These kind of thoughts come from spending hours in a confusing textbook containing confusing and sometimes circular theories, which for lack of a more expressive and intellectual word, are bullshit. Pardon my artspeak. For me, defining culture without the base of believing in absolutes, without beliving in an underlying factor of more than mere humanity is useless, foolish, missing the entire picture. I find these things tiring. Also, my midterm this morning in my first third year Art History class was horrifying. Who would have known that matching questions could be quite so indecipherable, and worth 50%? I passed, sure. But if I did well it's a miracle.
Sunday morning I went to Church with Ricki, we were unfortunately late for their worship service, as I love the worship band at LHPA - they did end off with my current favourite worship song ever. The speaker talked about how we as Christians always expect others to understand. But they're blind. Can you expect a blind person to walk across a bandstage without tripping over anything and hit the snare on the drum set? No way. But you still expect the bound and blind and lied-to to understand life sometimes, and that's just unrealistic. Art History has taught me this on a higher plane than ever before. Art History, and some recent life events.
Today in Bible Study as I sipped my Jugo Juice we discussed Joseph - God was with him through the highs and lows and prepared him specifically for the job that he had to do. I identify. After this we had an IV Exec meeting talking about our cool plans for the rest of the semester. And then I went and lounged and watched some TV - including about an hour of Back to the Future III. My favourite of the triplicate.
After that ended I went to dance, where we workshopped the Tango - worked on the Promenade, Tango rocks, Corté, Flair promenade (Butterfly)... The Butterfly is AWESOME and I wish I could just do it over and over. No dance for two weeks, *sigh*
Then after that Crystal picked me up and I went to my first annual meeting as a member of my church. It was kind of funny, I was thinking about things I am a "member" of. I am a member of IVCF and the Gamer's Club. I am a member of the University student body. I am a member of Living Hope, of the Mennonite Bretheren denomination (technically anyway), and the body of Christ generally. I've thought about becoming a member of the Conservative party but never took the time to actually do it yet... I am a member of the middle class. I am a member of my family. I hold memberships at various stores - Blockbuster and Rogers' Video and Addition Elle and Penningtons and Westgate Books and McNally Robinson, to cover videos and clothes and bookstores. Membership is an interesting way to define one's life I suppose. It sheds light on many things.
Then I came home, had a few hour long conversation with my Mom and Aunt and two rye toast and roast beef sandwiches with a bit of mayo. It's excellent roast beef.
Sleep calls. Decisions made over the course of the last two weeks mean that I will be skipping the official class field trip to the Mendel, since Art Galleries just aren't meant to handle 45 students attempting to categorize art. I shudder at the thought of it. Art Galleries should be lonely, or experienced with one or two insightful, but not artistic friends. They make you see again without the art-think haze. My Aunt is serving this purpose on Friday, and galleries are great places to have Aunt time for me. Thus I don't awaken until 9:30 tomorrow. I am looking forward to getting at least a mostly decent sleep.