When the day comes where I will finally learn to ride a bike—I hope to look like this.
Rural, Rustic, Rigid, Raw. All not synonymous; all synonymous.
Something about this picture makes me sing “I love macarons, I love macarons” in the tune of Tim Burton’s “This is Halloween” song sung throughout Nightmare Before Christmas.
“Guard well your spare moments. They are like uncut diamonds. Discard them and their value will never be known. Improve them and they will become the brightest gems in a useful life.”- Ralph Waldo Emerson
“If love was a beam, you’d be blind in both eyes.
Put your sunglasses on ’cause you’re a deer in the headlights.”- Owl City.
Oy vey. Those are the only words I could muster up about the way this day is looking. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? Today started out as a normal day; I woke up at eight, went to the dentist and back (by which I mean, I used my Phillips Sonicare Toothbrush that really delivers that oral bliss they advertise—or rather, that I advertise for them), then I went to class , now I’m waiting for the professor to come in, I’m still sore from last night’s yoga and to spare you the rest of my oh-so complex day, here I am. And in a couple of hours I will be teaching my first grade class. And in a couple of hours from that I will be tutoring in Hebrew. And in a couple of hours from that I will be going to Yoga To The People downtown by St. Marks. But didn’t I already say “enough about my day?” It just seems like these days are speeding by, with my same old, same old routines. As Conor Oberst would sing “Sunrise, Sunset, swiftly goes the days…”
But despite my daily routines. There always manages something to alter the day. It may have been at 9:14, maybe even 9:15. For a pedantic like myself, I am also surprised I didn’t take extensive notice. But around that time I have hit the internet jackpot. This seems superficial, I know it seemed like I was headed in this I-have-seen-the-light-and-it-was-wonderful type of post. Maybe that will be my next post. Or post after that, or post after that.
To add a meaningful aspect to redeem the above sentences: I used to work at an art gallery on 60th and Central Park West. In which I was given a photography book to study. My views on photography and how special it is was transformed the minute I opened the book. I have found the true meaning of what it meant to be speechless over a picture. Before that, a picture was just worth a thousand words. But a thousand is mere chump words when you find out the beauty of being speechless.The author (of whose name I cannot recall) described the beauty of the picture to be the fact that it will stay eternal in the frame. Even if it was demolished by the hands of human beings or wrecked by natural causes, the story remains forever within the frame.
There were way too many pictures to post, pine, and ponder over. I picked the ones that made me jump around like a jack in the box. Find your own via: capecodcollegiate