A lot has happened over the past few weeks and months.

Expect clarification, as well as daily updates by February ‘09. Seriously.

Taken in Tallahassee, FL:

It rained heavily yesterday, so I decided to take some experimental shots with rain droplets. Everyone loves rain droplets, right?

Maze, by James Jean (http://www.jamesjean.com)

Don’t carve your pumpkins.

I went to carve a pumpkin today, only to come to the conclusion that I prefer pumpkins to have nothing carved into them at all.

I have been moving around a lot lately, as is usual, and school began on the 1st of October. I mean to update this journal much more frequently, so maybe that might happen, so long as I find the discipline.

An attempt at minimalism, via a dragonfly perched upon a dry bush’s branch. Taken in Minnesota.

A cautious deer, deer-ing about in Chapel Hill-ian paths.

98% of the pictures that I took during this session were blurred and utter failures.

I have spent the last few weeks away from home, finding myself in the previously spoken of Chapel Hill and then making my way to Minnesota, the place of my birth. I drove to Minnesota, the twenty-four hour straight journey that it is, and noticed a few things along the way. I did not have access to the internet, so maybe that can serve as a quasi-reasonable excuse for the new month that has passed with no update.

Eastern North Carolina is easily forgotten and nearly incomparable in beauty to the high peaks of the Appalachian Mountains or the open fields of rich Minnesota.

Every state has a different variation of the “bridge ices before road” sign that I am sure you have all seen at one point. In North Carolina, the sign says just what was written above, I think, maybe substituting the word ices with freezes, while it constantly fluctuates from state to state. I have absolutely no suitable memory to cite these fluctuations with the words that each state respectfully uses and for that I apologize, but still, know that they do indeed fluctuate, and I found such variation interesting and a worthy mental note.

I made my return trip under the full moon, and in (I believe this is where I was at the time) West Virginia at some time between 2:00 and 5:00am, my eyes were audience to a very majestic sight, caught completely off guard by the beauty of a foundation made by human hands. It was a fully lit, burning orange factory of sorts which I am still unable to identify. Standing probably thirty-plus stories high and housed upon a few acres of land, lights, so many lights, orange and orange, decorated every inch of the hidden landscape. I only got to view it for maybe four or five seconds before it once again stealthily diminished back into the mountains, but this is enough time for my mind to forever remember this vision.

My life is headed in a good direction; it is in order. Sorry, I have not done much in terms of narrating the voyage between when I withdrew from State to where I am now, but that is because it, truthfully, has not been as eventful or interesting as I believed it would be when I wrote the first entry to this online journal several months ago.

I plan on attending an online university, like I stated in an earlier entry, though the name has now become Western Governors University (http://www.wgu.edu), and with certainty this new part of my life will begin October 1st. Wow, caught off guard again by how little I really have to tell of this. I have already told of my feelings about this, and they have remained. I am extremely optimistic about my decision to capture my college degree through an online medium, and know that this will prove to be a very wise decision.

So, I have pretty much just been waiting for classes to begin. Taking pictures, writing, seeking to discipline myself and stay as healthy as possible. Everything is wonderful, but waiting is boring.

Oh yeah, and I am currently in Florida.

This entry was broken up and bastarded around by travel and laziness on my behalf. But, to make up for it, I promise that over the next few days I will at the very least put some new pictures here that I have taken over the course of my journeys around eastern USA, from Minnesota to Florida and states therewithin.

Maintain faith.

I lack discipline.

–

I would like to begin this entry with a healthy, “what the fuck?”…

Virtual Reality, what the fuck?

When was the last time anyone has heard anything emerge from this field? No, this is not something that I recently thought of due to Randy Pausch’s death, but instead is a thought that I have held within for a few years now and was kindly reminded by his pioneering self (that is what they said) in the field. Obviously, this is where the future of home entertainment, gaming in particular, should be, and so I propose every applicable company out there bite their forearms and get a’crackin’. But I also admit belief that this is obvious to others just as much as it is to me, and that something huge is coming soon. Huge, meaning it will fail horribly and be quickly viewed as outdated. But huge regardless. Don’t let me down, unknown entities! You silly girls, you.

With that said, here is my life, er, my run and a path:

I had the best run of my life today. Based merely on satisfaction, this run simply was FUCKING satisfying. I am currently living at my sister’s home in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, looking after her dog for a couple of weeks while her and her boyfriend are in Maine. Quite simply, I love it here, and will be sad to leave. The source of my love of this place was also the source of the satisfaction that ensued from my run this just-prior-to-evening. It truthfully does not take much for me to express extreme comfort in a place of residence. What does it take? Nature, with a lack of humanity imposing on it.

Behind this home begins a path. Parallel to this path continues a disheveled creek. Maintaining one’s course on this path one gradually, but also quite abruptly and in a most welcome sort of way, finds him or herself in a place of wonder. The paradox is key, and creates the feeling of welcome.

One forgets that a creek exists because, well, it is blocked from one’s view. Plus it is disheveled. But it persists, and opens into a miniature lake that will cause one to halt one’s run or cease one’s walk, depending on the haste which with one is moving. The lake marks the awesome finale of the watery territory one will witness on this journey, but trust me… it is okay.

Eventually, one continues beyond this lake and into a wooded threshold. Threshold in that it begins to really become apparent just how far away from unwelcome things one is: an entrance to tranquility. With this tranquility is accompanied the noises of the air, the smell of wet trees, and the taste of a recent storm. It is the point that one realizes that his or her state of mind is influenced by factors other than those of physical aesthetics that one certainly must be in an awesome place. And so it, our path, continues, sometimes branching off into unknown regions, though persisting in identity.

One continues onward through rising and falling terrain and finds him or herself at a stopping point, at least for now. It is a clearing, acutely grand in the unmistakable center of the forest. One just knows when one is at the center of things. The path that one was previously following at this stage meets its end, becoming just another selection amongst three other equally wondrous in potential choices. And so the four intermingle and greet their travelers. And so one must choose to turn around and return to one’s home beyond the smells, beyond the noises, past the stormy tastes, past the lake and creek, and amongst the known and frequented. Or continue.

I ran here; thus the words.

My selection should be obvious. I only just got here yesterday….

–

I’m working on it.

It’s just a flower that was proudly growing in my parents’ back yard.

Part of me believes that there is absolutely nothing special about the subject of this photo. Flowers are the most commonly macro-shotted targets to people with cameras, set to take close-up pictures of teeny things, or at least what I most commonly have witnessed. But then the other part of me comes out in counter of such a statement, making me believe that every flower is unique, and coupled with the individualized approach that every person takes with his or her photography, it only makes sense to be personally comfortable taking “just another” flower picture. Flowers are boring and beautiful; thus, entirely photo worthy.

This may be considered my first “themed” entry to this ever-growing online journal. In quest to add more update regularity to my currently meager journal, I am going to be creating more “themed” types of posts in the time to come.

For this type of entry, “A versus B,” what I will attempt is to consider two or more sides to conflicts, items, ideas, concepts, works, coins, et cetera, though with no goal other than to reach my own personal conclusion and to help others reach their own.

Why not begin with the act of giving critique?

A: Anti-Critique

I do not believe in critiquing.

What is it, after all? Critiquing, as I see it, is to add “remarks of growth” to another’s work. But to what standard are we trying to make another grow? The standards that we consider “standard” are just some things that a general consensus of individuals, or just one certain individual in a  specifically heightened power level, found appealing and decided to dub standard. And, when did art and expression become a standard, after all? Language is just a constant evolution with the current mental level of society, the most direct variations, ie: proper grammar, imitating most nearly to how we, as a population, think. Honestly, we are all just babies who have gotten to grow up as part of a group, and as we aged and “became wiser,” we were just responding to everything that we were presented with throughout our lives. Facial hair makes no indication to one’s intelligence, just that they have had longer of a chance to grasp it than those without.

Critique is utterly useless and a blunt weapon equipped by bigots.

B: Pro-Critique

A contradiction to the above: art evolves because of the influence of its greatest artists. The greatest artists place passion and beauty into their works, and they try to pass that same inspiration to newer and younger individuals in the craft. The best artists have the most influence in their genres of art. Critiquing is necessary to expand one’s own limits as well as the genre as a whole.

Personal Conclusion:

I love receiving critique and frequent opportunities to give it.

By receiving it, one is made aware to alterations to his or her work that one was previously unaware of. Critique allows us all to consider our creations from every angle and multiple perspectives, often resulting in a fine increase of quality works that one creates.

By giving it, I am able to voice my opinion on what a single person may want to consider adding or removing from their work. But when I give critique, I make absolutely sure that the critique which I am giving is my own, and not the beliefs of some odd consensus of genre-standardization.

Stay true to yourself, and remember to create your own identity. Personalize your critique and every body wins.