explosion prevention

i was flipping through my senior year book a few days ago and saw this poem, written by one of my sister's friends. i think i appreciate it now more than i did in 1998. (i honestly don't know if the formatting was due to the eccentricity of the writer or the ineptitude of the yearbook staff. considering the parties involved, it could really be either option)

for those who express doubts about the ambiguity of the

word

i am filled with extreme apprehension

for i am

afraid of insincerity

and uneasy at the concept of a self-proclaimed artist

however

"artist"

he sits on his bed and cries through his pen

he screams with furious flurries of notes

(unfake)

he does these things

not because he wants to

or because he needs points on an assignment,

he does them because he has to

or he will explode

"artist"

by joshua clausen

the passion of jeff

my original project idea fell through.
but my new idea means a lot more to me.
and i'm working with channeled energy for the next few weeks.
there's a fire in me.

sometimes there is love.

sometimes there is art.

short oscar thoughts

why we fall in love

 

somehow, the oscars are tomorrow and i haven't had the time to finish my post on that.

but my dear little mac mini seems to have had some sort of computer stroke, in that seemingly minor issues it's having may be signs of more serious trouble. it's ability to load web pages seems to have recently eroded away. thankfully my apple care is still valid. hopefully that'll cover whatever's going on here.

so i'll finish things up briefly here while i'm in the lab, avoiding writing shaders in slim.

i'm hoping terrence mallick will win for best director tomorrow. that's a long shot and i'm really not sure what the general pulse is on that one.

and while we all know that i think the tree of life is the best movie of the year decade, we also all know that it's too esoteric to have a chance at winning. thankfully, not only is the artist an acceptable substitute, it seems to have been building up momentum throughout the awards season.

the only other contender seems to be hugo and ima be quite upset if that wins (still baffled at the amount of praise that one's garnered). but i think people like the artist because it's black and white and silent, so they can feel like they're choosing something "different" or "artistic" yet it's also delightfully accessible to a wide audience (once they give it a chance.)

my wants:
best director: mallick
best picture: the tree of life or the artist

my predictions:
best director: either michel hazanavicius (for the artist) or woody allen
best picture: the artist

left hand, right hand

i feel like i'm sparring with my left hand these days.

Christmas and commerce

we took a family trip down to minneapolis and spent the evening at the mall of america, colloquially known as the mega mall. even since it opened some 15+ years ago, i've always liked going there, even if i'm never really sure what i want to do once i get inside. the magic store there started my short-lived interest in being a magician (i can still do a few tricks) and my best friend got banned from there for running up the down escalator in high school. the "camp snoopy" amusement park in the middle of the mall has been redone with nickelodeon characters; i could justify having fun on charlie brown's log flume, but dora the explorer is definitely out of my age range. still, there was a pirate "walk the plank" four-story ropes course that looked pretty dang fun.

from a step back, the mall is, in essence, the epitome of middle-class american commercialism, and it's interesting to look at the stores--ranging from megalith's like macy's and nordstroms to niche stores, such as "bead-niks" or the store that sold only butterfly knickknacks and lasted only a year--to the people who populate these stores. and i'm not saying this in some cynical, "glad i'm not them" way; i love it. i dig the energy of the mall. i like seeing all the people, the exciting high school kids flirting, the dad and kids waiting outside the shoe store for the unseen mom shopping inside.

in a hotel room, typing on my lappy, listening to mumford and sons {*} while my dad's reading a book on his phone and my mom's on her ipad, asking me when i'll update my blog. my vacation continues.