A Beautiful Man

I woke up this morning, went to church, sat and listened, like any normal Sunday. I decided that today was such a beautiful day, that I would go to the park behind my apartment, sit by the lake, and tan and do homework for a bit. I always think I will be able to get work done, but in reality I never do. I didn't really tan either. Oh well. I was sitting on one of the park benches next to the lake, and about... 150 meters from me was a man, in the shadows, sitting at a table, looking out across the lake. Actually, I think it is more of a pond, but whatever... body of water. Occasionally, this man would get up from the table, and walk over to the park bench closer to the body of water. Sitting. Waiting. Then he'd get back up and walk back to the table. It was a little bit bizarre to me. As I was reading one of my assigned articles, the man approached me, asking me for a piece of paper. Willingly, I tore a page out of my sketch book and handed it to him. He walked back to his table, staring at the piece of paper. I was curious as to what he'd do with the page.

He was an older man, maybe in his 60s, fully dressed in long black slacks, and a red-maroon collared shirt, on what may be one of the hottest weeks we've had this summer. His hair was loosely gel-ed back, white with remnants of his former hair color, and sort of dark brown, or black. His square face was dark, wrinkled, and freckle-covered, as if he spent many days of his youth in the sun. He seemed tired, as if he'd been working most of his life. His teeth were yellow, not-well kept. Jagged, and misaligned. By the way he looked and talked, you could tell he wasn't a native to America, but his he spoke English amazingly well. His accent hidden well enough that you couldn't tell what nationality he was.

I watched him, with an occasional glance. My eyes going from him, to the water, back to him. At first he was hunched over, I thought maybe he was writing something on the paper. Eventually I looked at him, and he had manage to get the white piece of sketch paper onto a twig, and it was standing upwards on the table. It looked like a restaurant flag, that signals which tables are reserved for guests. After about 30 minutes after that, he continued pacing between the table and the bench, until finally he left, passing me by and thanking me for the paper.

As he left, I made up my mind to go see what it was that he did with the paper. About 15 minutes after he left, I got up, packed my things, and walked over to his table. As I approached, the paper was indeed attached to a stick, about 18 inches high, stuck between two tables so that it was standing straight up. The paper was near the top of the stick, but at the very top was a symbol all too common on Sunday mornings. The top of the stick was shaped as a cross. A small cross, but a cross.

This event, just struck me as beautiful. I stood there at his table for a good 20 minutes, staring at his artwork... his creation. Looking at it, and then back at the water. Wondering what he must've been thinking. What in his life would compel this man to create such a simple, yet beautiful thing in the middle of a park. I wish that I could've talked to him about it. I know that is strange, but part of me just wishes I knew what he was thinking. We didn't exchange more than 2 sentences to each other, but want an impact he has made on my day.

His exterior would make any person second guess him, but he was indeed a beautiful man.

Random Fact 003

I watch DVD commentaries on my free time so that I learn tricks about filming. I find it fascinating.

Wall-Walkers & Imaginary Creatures*

*From Studio Art 101W assignment

It’s …

Like looking at a different world…

… a world of contradictions…

Where there are humans walking on walls, both inside rooms and along side buildings. These wall-walkers are seemingly

defying gravity

and are creating a rift between reality and fantasy.

It’s a-m-a-z-ing…

In one place… inside a white walled room, there are figures dressed in black that are dancing on the walls, and from these figures a shadow is cast onto the whiteness of the walls. Here… in this room… in the absence of white, which is black… the absence of black, which is white… each are mutually exclusive, but together they exist in a strange marriage that produces two worlds. Dual worlds in which the dancers exist in one, and their shadows in another.

Some shadows are darker than others, some are lighter. The shadows move faster or s l o w e r than the dancer, and their shapes are skewed out of proportion. They slowly appear, then disappear… sometimes there are multiple shadows for every dancer…sometimes there are no shadows at all… sometimes they appear below the dancer, and sometimes they appear above the dancer. These shadows resemble creatures… Monsters rather… that exists in a plane of existence different to our own. The shadows of the dancer's legs and arms become the antennas and tentacles of the creature… and they are flat, and translucent creatures, with no physical details... at least none visible to our eye. No distinguishable nose, mouth, eyes, or ears. They are untouchable, unsmellable, unconversable, but their shape is visible to our eyes. When you try to touch them, your hand will pass through them with ease as if they were not there... when you smell them, all you would be smelling is the freshness of the air... and when you converse with them... well, you will be dubbed crazy for talking to a wall...

It’s creepy…

In another place… outside, in the fog… a figure slowly stands up on the roof of a building, barely visible. He is about to perform an amazing feat, like watching a magic trick without knowing it is a trick.

S l o w l y he stands and walks to the edge of the roof, and with no fear at all, he allows his feet to take him off the edge of the roof, and onto the walls of the building. He walks facing the floor, parallel to it. To the bystanders on the ground, his body is barely visible, still lost in the thickness of the fog… but slowly he emerges from the fog, like a zombie in a horror movie, sneaking upon its victim. He proceeds down the side of the building, slowly as if not to lose his footing, despite the fact he is held up by a harness and rope. The fog around him blocks the light, so it appears as if he has no shadow, which makes this feat seem more unbelievable. It looks as if he is gliding down the wall, not really walking on it. It’s as if he is floating… like a ghost hovering on the wall. The bystanders stare up, towards the figure… the ghost-like figure… the man… unsure what to think. Just like in horror movies, where the victim stands around waiting to die, the bystanders stand at the bottom, looking up, staring… pointing… wondering

“What is going on?”

... surreal.

Hiking: Newport Coast to Ridge Park

Yesterday was kind of, way cool. I woke up at 8, ate breakfast, and decided to go hiking. I left around 9:15 ish, and got to the trail head at 9:30 and started. I got off to a good pace, and walked along "No Name Trail" for 4 (ish) miles to get from the Ridge Park trail head to the Newport Coast end. I was fine and dandy at that point, The trail was mostly made up of steady up and down hills. The dirt was pretty loose which made it a little more challenging.

Coming back from Newport Coast to Ridge Park, that was a completely different journey. I decided to take the lower trail which winds through the mountain portion, so basically all you see are plants, and dirt, and the blazing sun. I ended up going from the "No Name Trail" down to another trail that I can't remember the name of... then up "Slow and Easy", then another trail, until I finally ended up back at the trail head. According to the map it'd be shorter, and I didn't think it went down hill that much. I was most definitely wrong. It took me about 6 miles to make my way through steep inclines and slopes to get back to my car, and I was ready to about die in the end. Literally.

It was fun though. Just being out in the sun. Excercising, and taking pictures. I got pretty badly sunburned though. I forgot to put my sunscreen in my bag after I put it on in the car, so pretty much the last 6 miles of my hike I was unprotected from the sun. Let's just say I'm pretty red on the upper body, and it hurts to lift my arms over my head. I'll manage though. As long as I don't start peeling I think I will be happy.

The ocean view was pretty amazing. I really wanted to walk to the ocean, but I think if I did, I wouldn't have made it back to my car. It was really nice there, I admire the mountain bikers there. They are hardcore. I could never do that. Props to them.

Random Fact 002

(I am trying to do this often...)

I like to workout in extreme weathers. So either I like running when it is raining, or when it is blistering hot outside. Anything inbetween is just a little bit boring... Kinda stupid really.

Irked

So move-out is done and gone with... pretty much. Arroyo Vista still has to move out the last of the HAs, but They are pretty much all out, and tomorrow the summer kids move-in. Fun stuff.

I think this time of year irks me. ALOT, because kids are so fracking useless. They complain about not being able to move their shit on their own, so they need friends or their parents to help. and parents are of no help. One set of parents came in mad because their daughter had to move her stuff from one house in AV to another by herself later this week, and couldn't understand why she couldn't just move into the more permanent house asap (just FYI, they came in on move-out... custodial needs to clean still and all, DUH!)

I guess I just have a hard time seeing people so... helpless. At the end of my first year, I packed my car, by myself, and drove up to norcal at 9am. At the end of my second year, I not only packed my stuff up by myself, and moved it into my car, I then checked myself out of middle earth, worked a 5 hour shift, and then had to move all my stuff into Ambrose THE SAME FRACKING DAY, and then I had to go out and buy furniture for my place that evening and the next day. So people should stop their fracking complaining, and deal with it. I guess it just pisses me off that America is such a lazy nation and that its kids don't know the difference between having a good life, and a bad life. Life isn't eff-ed up. Not if you are getting a college education, and have a place to live. You even have a computer so you can complain about how eff-ed up your life is. Be eff-ing grateful. Arg.

We have it good. So why are we so helpless? Why?

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Due to anger issues, I am not really communicating to certain people. I have deactivated my facebook for the time being, and can pretty much only be contacted via e-mail or twitter.

Random Fact 001

I like to eat popcorn similar to the way a frog eats a fly. Not that throw a popcorn in the air and catch it, but I will have the bowl in front of my face, and use my tongue to grab it. This way my fingers don't get oily. I only do this is I'm not sharing... don't worry.