You Guessed It, I Have No Clue What I am Talking About...

Wow, no new posts for two whole months, I should be ashamed of myself. Where did I let the time go? Some substantial firsts have occurred recently and plenty of inspiration has been around regarding writing topics, but I suppose, with so much to do, and so little time, I let my pen down for a spell. Good news, I'm back, at least for now, to write some more rambling non-sense. What could I droll on about? The beauty of the feminine? Nope, I talk about that already too much. The wonder of my friendly circle of relations? Again, a negative, my compliments are being repeated into redundancy at the moment. The way in which our world constantly gobbles up future hopes and dreams before their coming of age, nah, too depressing. Well, there is always football (the real kind that is), but not too much to say there, it kicks ass and everyone should love it. Hmmm, what do I got to work with here?

Scotland, where I was born and will always have close to me at heart. Edinburgh, crown prince of capitals, inspirer of minds, bringer of passion. Music, our link to the heavenly, releaser of stress, reliever of pain, granter of happiness. Love, the never tiring drug that propels all of us forward through barriers invincible in our minds. What must I say to get through to this? I know that I will be there, when I must, things will fall into place. My will dictates that I am the friend to which welcoming airs are felt. These are all aspects in my minds' eye. Thoughts and hopes that I wish to share with those nearest to me. FUN, I WANT TO HAVE FUN. Is that too much for a person to ask. Good times, good conversation, good food and of course good drink, begets good company and of course good times. Where DID all the time go to? We used to have it in abundance, be bored even with the heaps of it that we had in our laps, lazily eyeing while waiting for the next swimming pool to open or rental to be returned. Visits to the library, since when have they happened again?!!?! Young at heart is where I want to be, yearning for a warm touch, waiting here for you, while in my mind racing closer to you. Maybe, that is where the end shall be, but always, hoping for that one, last fateful breath of forgiving ecstasy.

We are all holding hands

It pays to smile, not in green-backs fresh from the mint, but in something more lasting than that, a simple pleasure beyond a chemical process raising our bodies into an animated state, a knowing that today, tomorrow and yesterday are as forgiving now as they will be at any other time and that in the end the race is long, but only with yourself. So, what do we do about it? Simply put, our best, at every moment we can muster the strength to push through the dull grey monotony of our surroundings another victory awaits our efforts, a recollection of child-hood dreams and our connection to the larger human family that we all belong to. For in the end we are not alone, we are not doomed and we are most certainly not lost helplessly in darkness. When you open your eyes in the morning do you not see the sun? With its warm glow pulsing through our skin how can we not get up, move forward and take part in the journey awaiting us. Whatever we will discover there will always be more to experience; bringing us closer to ourselves, each other and the divine. Smile. Love. Happy.

"Projecting Identity"

Sometimes we are lucky enough to witness a remarkable piece of artistry before it has become familiarized with the general public. In these instances we feel privy to a special bond with the responsible artist, an almost instantaneous friendship wherein we have recognized their great skill and are sharing in on the as-of-yet secret wonder they have created. Of course these feelings are almost always temporary, as the art travels to the mainstream our simple adoration becomes more and more commonplace, left with no space from which to argue any form of privilege or special benficiance. As this occurrs we dreamily recall the past where our praise was not only guaranteed to reach the author, but also to be taken relatively heavily by their egoes and even probably given a response. This state is never as good as we try to remember it, but we hold fast until the next big thing comes along to claim our attention all over again.

The above described phenomenon happens in all mediums of art and is a constant subject of critics from all fields (I can personally remember several heated discussions from high school where a persons' early adoption of certain rock bands could make or break their social reputation). Lately I was most fortunate in not only being party to a group of people appreciative of a new creative force (at least new to rest of the world), but also to have witnessed this person develop as an artist over the last six years that I have known them. The experience is one for which I will be forever grateful.

"Projecting Identity" is the name of the show to which I am referring to and the painter's name is Jess Cross.

For more information (and to see more of Jess' art) please visit the two websites listed below.

jesscross.com
qbixart.com

Note: The painting above is titled My Name is Andrea and measures 30 x 40 inches. All of Jess' work in the show "Projecting Identity" are oil paintings on canvas.

People are Strangers, Strangers are Strange...

Face value, threat level, what do these items have in common and how do they relate to one another? These are questions that are surprisingly with us much of the time whether we are aware of them are not. For example, were one to enter a store and discuss a purchase with a sales-person several thoughts would likely be running through our heads:

What a horrible day at work, I really must do something to "take care" of that annoying new manager, what was it that he said he was allergic to again? Oh crap, is that person checking me out, what a day not to shave, wait, I'm not wearing a skirt, just relax and breathe, posture, don't forget your posture, thank you mom for insisting on all that proper shit when I was younger. Right, ok, so what was I doing here again, oh yeah, buying something, let's see, what is this guy blathering on about, do I really need a product protection plan for a bottle of shampoo, I mean what's the worst that can happen, I might actually use the whole thing up, heaven forbid, besides he's sporting a crew cut smoother than my rear end, what can he really know about hair products, heck maybe he did buy this shampoo and it made his hair fall out forcing him into this pathetic attempt to force the same fate into all the customers who come here, damn it, I'm doing it again, I really need to stop thinking too much, why can't I be more like Jayne?

Now to be truthful, there could be a good deal less or even a good deal more firing through our syntaxes during such a stimulating experience, and for sure there would definately have been some random word blurps such as, "ugly, fat, skinny, hot, cold, sex, sex, fuck, sex, sex, boring, boring, LOST, I, AM, LOST" (and repeat), but two constants would have remained true. On the one hand we would have similarly questioned our first impressions of our surroundings, judging what should and shouldn't be taken for its "face value". Well, that is if judge can be the word for instantly dismissing anything resembling intuition so we could resort to the oh, so much ever more reliable practice of trusting our inner "Targ-ets" and forgetting anything resembling human warmth in our final decision making process. While on the other, not so often used, and unfairingly implied inferior partner-hand, we would be obssesed with making sure that nothing immediately around us challenged our fragile self-conceptions, and if one were to observe any objectionable material we would quickly begin ingoring it, competing with it, maligning it and trying to sleep with it all at the same time.

What a busy scenario, almost as aimless as my writing and certainly longer-lasting, such behavior can numb us completely to anything worth feeling and drive us mad for longing for easier, simpler days when we were blind to our parents' crazed scramble for the money to take care of us and could be made happy by the soothing push of a power button. The blissful somnambulism of it all! What I would give for that power button now.

Hmmmmm

Smiling at a stranger can make their day, maybe even their week, who knows, it can even change their life. I know for me a smile helps, but a heap load of money can go even further. Though it is true that there are some things that you can do without money, and even quite a few that no amount of money can guarantee, in our world today we can not survive very long without its presence in our wallets. Thankfully we go through some experiences that leave us with qualities nothing can strip away from us, not even a severe absence of coinage. However, I would be lying if I said there is nothing I want that involves money. Honestly there are quite a few things that being financially comfortable would really help me with, a new car and my own piece of property being some of the key ones. What I know now is that I have the means to realistically realize these goals and it is quite an exciting revelation. I do realize that there is a ways to go and some things I want to work on about myself, but simply knowing I am so much closer now makes everything all the easier to deal with. So, for right now, I am smiling and I hope you can too.

Urgent News Bulletin

The reports of my death have been extremely exaggerated. I am back, and though I am may not pack as big a punch as the Dark Knight returning, I do now come fully equipped with a B.A. in history and a minor in literature. I know some stuff and beware, I may actually write about it. Good fortune to you in this new year and prepare for amazingly new ways from yours truly to bore and excite you simulataneously while attempting to impart obscure history lessons on the Scottish Renaissance (available on request at any time by the way). If you are lucky I might even avoid talking about something veary close to my heart (two words, which thereby constitute a hint: Mr. Pointy*)! Oh, and one more thing, though the world may every day seem like it is hurtling closer to the end times, remember this: happiness is not a fish you can catch, but it is something you can eat with the whole family, and it tastes good with chips, the British kind of course. Enjoy!

*Disclaimer: In order to avoid any confusion I want to make it perfectly clear that I was in no way referring to a portion of the male anatomy. Indeed, the truth is very far from that Freudian first impression, "Mr. Pointy" was actually the name Buffy the Vampire Slayer gave to her favorite stake, which was used for a single purpose, killing vampires, duh.