"This is a blackmarket reformation..."
I have changed so much since i last gave considerable attention to this place, it's strange to think back on. I have come some-what full-circle; addressing whoever it is who escapes their life in my own for the duration of my expounding--not to have some bizarre connotation applied to the escape. The concept and reason behind a public journal happened to play acrossed my mind there for a second. Maybe it is for you now, too. Afterall, this is personal at this point, isn't it?
Enough of that. I was saying that i had come full-circle, and it is simply in the temporal sense that i am going into my next year of "higher education." It feels exciting, as i am moving into an on-campus apartment with friends from church, i am going to be out of Orlando, and i get to start some new campus projects that i have had festering in my brain for the past three months and look forward to allowing to burst forth upon my fellow students at UNF. It feels reticent, as i shall be leaving a crew of new friends, i am looking at a semester of all lectures save one art class, and i shall miss the spontaneity of the summer.
"...never understood my undeveloped story
But it makes sense to me, you make sense to me..."
After describing my ambitions for the year as some kind of sore, i suppose it would be anticlimactic to not go further and illustrate them. The first is simply being a servant to my fellow scholars: i see far too many surfboards "fixed" by duct tape. I aim to offer to fix anyone's board for free. The supplies are cheap, so my greatest commitment is time--something that i feel is more than worth it given that i will be going insane if i do not have a project to work on with my hands amidst this semester of gordon rules and lecture halls. The second idea is doing an open art house in our apartment at least once a week. Anything goes, drawing, painting, writing, singing, playing, dancing, it is all creative expression, and it will all be welcome. Fire hazards are planned, anticipated, and encouraged. Third is playing bass for my church, pretty straight-forward (well, now that i have a new bass after the last got stolen...). Fourth is possibly serving as a lab-tech for printmaking. Too many students need the extra time on the press, and i am pretty sure that a lot of the techs from last year graduated, so it will be short-handed as-is. It also means that i shall never have to worry about getting enough time in the lab...
"...And innocence derailed
Savage the poison
Unhurried compass east..."
Is it possible for nostalgia to root itself firmly into your mind after only a year? I truly hope not. I hate nostalgia. I think that it may play a role in not wanting to go back yet. Of course, if it is nostalgia, then yet will never come to pass.
"...Dreams come clever
Hearts now severed
Difference of forever
And I am lost there..."
The utterly cliche intermittent use of song lyrics all comes from a selection of anberlin songs, because i am in an anberlin kind of mood. The first is from "We Dreamt in Heist," the next is from "The Undeveloped Story," followed by a selection from "Glass To The Arson" (capitalized as shown in itunes...), nearly last are lines from "Naive Orleans," and finally will be from "Glass To The Arson" again.
I hope that all is well for the collective "you," and if not, feel free to drop me a line, then we can transform it to the special, personal, private "you!" Of course i may consider talking to you even if you are not in some form of pain
"...And we are the arsons
who start all of your fires, burning
Burning your city down."