Saturday, December 4, 2010

Life is grand

Yes, it really is.

Today I went with Dearest Love to photograph an event.
Our friend is a professional ballroom dancer and owns a dance studio where he teaches lessons and choreographs dances for other instructors.
Today was their winter showcase, and it is always a beautiful event.
Like a recital, for grown-ups!
So, we sit with our big fancy cameras and click-snap-click at every twirl and turn and dip.
It is quite fun, if not a little hard on the neck.
So, there sits my long lanky darling, reviewing the 1,000+ pictures we took, while I sit here writing.
This makes me very happy.
We got some great shots.
And I'm thinking of ways I can use mine for my final project in digital art class...
So many great, overlapping finall projects this semester!!
I'm going to use my latest html assignment to EASILY build a website/portfolio for my digital art class; I'm going to use pictures from my digital art class to make my chapbook pretty for my English final project; aaaaaand, photos from today's "work" for digital art final project.
Oh, I'm a wicked mulit-purposer, baby!

Ok, so here's a little exercise we did in class yesterday, for English (Creative Writing).
We were each supposed to select one line from a poem we had been assigned, and then use each word from that line to start a sentence in a little non-fiction piece, with the assigned title of, "These are the Holidays."
Mine didn't really turn out to be as non-fictional as it should have/could have been, but I like some of the lines that I ended up with.

My line to build from:
"Age, time and the vices of this century?"
from the poem "Question Mark" by Gevorg Emin.

These Are the Holidays

Age comes to mean so much more, and so much less over time. Time passes at the speed of life, sometimes a blur of chaotic but joyful occasions, sometimes a jumble of not-enough-time and too-much-to-do. And we come together at the holidays, with expectations and anxiety; for some, the holidays are best when seen in the rearview mirror, or through the rose-colored glasses of hindsight. The memories better than the experience. Vices flare up, like tempers when under the pressure of travel and close quarters and long-undiagnosed, broad-reaching dysfunction. Of mice and men, best laid plans are often trampled under foot when extended families congregate. This is why some dread holidays. Century after century, traditions change and evolve, and maybe someday Darwin’s discovery will allow us to celebrate without the scars.