Fear and Wonder

Stuck between fear and a sense of wonder

Life is lived within this spectrum. I live in this spectrum.
Between the fear of my cold apartment floor and the wonder of a bowl of cereal.
Between the fear of rejection and the wonder of a new love.
Between the fear of the polar vortex and the wonder of an arctic city.

Thoughts

Sometimes to be true to our hearts we must ignore our heads.

Now

I want to go to the forrest.
I want to sleep among wooden giants.
I want to see the stars,
 to see the moon,
 and the planets,

To escape the city, just for a night just for a moment.

Just to get away from the everlasting hum of fluorescent bulbs
 to escape the hard unforgiving concrete that surrounds me
 to inhale and smell the earths soft breath

to finally release the tension
set betwixt my shoulder blades

I want to open my eyes and see stars not concrete

I want to inhale the moon, suck up the sea and lay on the rivers lonely coast
to shed the iron flakes that have settled where sunshine once rose, to awaken to a day on a lawn of freshly borne stones still warm from the womb of the earth

Yet here lay in my bed trapped by 17 floors of pure civilization

Questions that lead to Questions Part I

     So ive been doing this project for a class where I write down all of the questions that come to my mind. Im only a few days in but I already see trends.
     Most of my questions are about every day stuff, what to wear, what to eat, do I really need to bring that to class. But a lot of the rest are reflective questions. That have popped up going through old friends Facebook accounts or categorizing the 6000 photos I recently uploaded. Questions like:
        What happened to us?
        Why haven't we talked in years?
        Where are you now?
         I wonder if you remember the time when we:
                         fell asleep in class on each others shoulders,
                         wore matching denim tuxedos,
                         had a food fight in the kitchen,
                         played dress up with your moms clothes,
                         spent all of our free time building forts and wooden cars,
                         showed me the hand saw you keep under your bed for "emergencies",
                         would sing at the top of our lungs over the radio,
                         went skinny dipping in the pacific in the middle of the day at a public beach,
                         had a piggyback contest on the hills of San Francisco,
                         had our first kiss during media class,
                         painted a mural for class,
                         would race down the hill to the swing set after lunch,
                         thought that this stump was the coolest thing,
                         played with the wooden swords I made us,
                         tried to make our own legos with hot glue,
                         made tons of "money" on Business Day,
                         woke up in your bathtub with tons of people in your house that neither of us knew,
                         got locked in the bathroom together and the janitor had to take the hinges off the door,
                         spent an entire class period using Photo Booth on my computer rather than class,
                         taught "spoons" to the class and played for the entire rest of the day
                         learned what our teachers middle name was,
                         tried to get our favorite substitute to sign our year books,
                         bought a fancy saw to make projects from a book,
                         almost got lost less than a mile a way from my house,
                         walked from my house to yours just because,
                         rode our bikes to Grandpa's house without telling anyone,
                         went on self esteem walks,
                         did crazy makeup and photo shoots,
                         made bad decisions on a field trip to a mormon college.
                         shotguned energy drinks with our teacher,
                         were eating apples and were warned about finding half a worm in it,
                         went wandering around Sac State looking for a party,
                         danced around the music room instead of homework or studying,
                     
                This list is going to get a lot longer, but Ive realized why my work is so nostalgic and spiritual. Because each one of these moments has stuck in me as a moment of love. A moment to be cherished, because it will never be the same. No matter how things turn out in the end if we're lucky we will still have our memories we will still be able to think back on a time where our biggest worry was if thrifty would have my favorite flavor and when the new episode of Star Trek Enterprise was on. We often don't realize the impact simple everyday moment have on us, some of my best work comes from memories of simple things, like ice cream. And even some of the things others think that I would want to forget, Ive come to realize good or bad they happened and as far as I know you can't change the past so why let them consume you why feel guilty why feel regret. Things happen people change but in the moment they seem like good ideas so hold on to that keep the love once felt, the joy in your heart, the tingly feeling on your skin, the wonder that filled your eyes, keep the mist in your hair, and the beauty in the fog. Keep the memories.

The Ends and Beginnings

When I was about three years old I saw a t.v. show that would change my life forever. I was watching a marathon of Mr. Rodgers with my Grandpa. When suddenly the smiley old man with a fondness for puppets and zip up sweaters was replaced by a man with sandy blonde hair and tiny santa-like glasses. It was Rick Steve’s Europe and he was visiting Paris. I remember sitting on my grandpa’s lap with my eyes glued to the screen.

He went to Notre Dame, scaled the steps of Montmarte, walked the Champs-Élysées, went on Le Grande Roue, all of the things you are supposed to do in Paris and few more. But of all the things in Paris it was the Louvre that enchanted me. Its history as a royal palace, its strange pyramid in the courtyard, but most of all Winged Victory. How could something with out a face or arms be so beautiful and so elegantly capture movement. I think my child self resolved that it must have been an unfortunate angel who fell in the path of Medusa and was turned to stone, in my mind there was no way something like that could have been made by a human. In any case this city captured me in such a way that at a very young age I knew that I would go to Paris someday. It was not a mater of if but to me I saw it as something that was going to happen, someday I knew I would be walking the banks of the Seine with Notre Dame on the horizon. Even at the young age of three I would tell people that I was going to Paris, it was just a matter of  time.

It was afternoons like that one spent at my grandparents house watching PBS shows, building blanket forts, making dolls out of socks with my grandma, or racing my sister to the lone swing that hung from the largest Pecan tree this side off the Pecos river. That I miss the most from my childhood. I spent so much time with my grandparents by the time I was in kindergarden I had picked up a little bit of their Texas accent.

I remember one day during the dreaded reading group time, which I hated because I already knew how to read, this ornery little kid called me out for saying y’all in front of the whole class. It was incidents like this that made me dislike the people at my school, I enjoyed learning, I just was not so hot on all the kids there, I continued to visit my Papa and Grandma every day and I further retreated into their love. The children in my class thought it was silly that I was going on trip “someday” they were very set on making me feel that I was very odd. At that age I didn’t know anything else that I might want as a grown up, I just knew that someday I would go to Paris.

After school and during vacations and summer I stayed with my grandparents while both my parents worked.  My sister and I would do puzzles with my grandparents, help them in their acre with raking and cleaning up after their fruit trees an garden. In the mornings when my mom would drop us off I would help my grandpa. I would go into his room and help him button his shirt, put shaving cream on his face, help him shave and get his dentures for him from their glass.  Then we would sit down for breakfast. By that time my grandma and my sister would have ate already and would be in the yard working, but Papa and I would always spend our mornings together.

My Papa kept needing more and more help from me in the mornings, eventually I wasn’t enough help for him. I knew that he had cancer, but at the age of seven I just thought It was something that all old people got. First my dad and I had to make all theses ramps for him and his walker which was decorated with every sticker I could get my hands on. Then It was a shower chair and a wheel chair. Next was a hospital bed, then meals in bed, oxygen and a nurse. One day my dad came to pick me up from school early, I thought it was for my sisters Open House but he took me to my Grandparents house where my sister and my Aunt Sherry and my Grandma were and they told me he was gone. I remember going into his room but all I remember seeing are his skinny long feet touching the foot of his bed, his closet open reveling the classic Members Only jacket he always wore, and the owl wind chime that hung from a corner of his room. I remember feeling really sad and crying for hour

When my grandma passed away my junior year of high school, the woman who took care of me as a little kid, the woman who taught me to sew the woman who kept my papa’s memories alive by telling his stories through her tears, and so many other things.  Ironically my grandmas passing allowed me to complete the one thing I had always known, that I needed to go to Paris. She left me enough money to fund me to go on a class exchange program to France for a month.

   Its funny how things end up how our beginning tie our end, how falling in love with an idea in an orange chair can land you swimming in the Mediterranean sea with the taste of salt tingling your skin and the sun illuminating your oldest dream. I was so so sad when she passed,  I still am, but at least now there is a hope that  somehow they will find each other in the heaven they so deeply believed in.

Time, Food and Stuff

Its November, NOVEMBER!
     Time just seems to have flown away so quickly. I feel like a few weeks ago I was back in Cali on a road trip with my bffl. But in reality its been almost a year.
     Im finally going home next month for the first time in a year. I am so excited. I get to see my parents my family my friends and my dog! Its only for two weeks, but I still get to go home. I love Chicago and traveling and art and all but a year is a long time especially when you are only 19. I finally booked my flight and scheduled it all so everything is set now I just wait for the semester to end.
     There's so much I've missed in the past year and so much I miss. I missed graduations, birthdays, holidays, parties, parades, shows. Im more concerned about what miss though.
     Like In-and-Out I have been craving some since last November, when I went home for Christmas last year I didn't go and I really just want a burger and fries for less than $20.
     And Costco, samples, samples, samples all fo free! Bulk, buying things in bulk, like almonds and toilet paper, and chicken I miss shopping in bulk if I could here I would only have to go shopping once a semester! I can also get film put on CD for like $2, this why I refuse to go and get it done at Walgreens for $15
     Hagens, its a Sacramento staple and its darn good!
     Leatherby's, I sadly found out is actually a chain, but i still miss devouring banana splits in less than 10 min with my dad.
     All the thrift stores. Theres probably more in chicago than in Sacramento, back home there all just a few blocks away on one street!
     Raku firings! My high school ceramics teacher lets alum come and fire, but the open flame is a "fire hazard" so theres no raku at SAIC Id have to go to Hyde park or Lil street and take a class if I wanted to do that.
     Of course almost everything I miss is food related.....
I also miss adventures with my friends, walking to the river with my family and going off trail and almost getting lost, giving tummy rubs to Mr. Noodles brother, Mr Noodles! Being snuggled by my kitties, laughing at my parents playing Just Dance, Singing on Guitar Hero with my sister... and lots of other stuff.
     Im ready for thanksgiving break with my sister in Chicago, and im really ready for Christmas with my family in Sacramento.

Hollywoodland

     I watch so much TV.
Not even good TV, just TV for TVs sake. Just to watch something and get lost in another world and forget about things. Lately I've been watching a lot of "emotional dramas with a strong female lead" that's netflix for ya, they uber genreize everything you watch. They always end up being about women who go through a dramatic change, and almost always end up falling in love with someone who snaps them out of it. And there's almost always at least a good chunk of the movie is set in California. Why do people think its the place to fall in love?
     I don't know why I'm even asking this question. I know why, its something in the air there something every one who has ever spent a good deal of time there has felt but couldn't quite explain. Something in the way it always smells like flowers even in January, something about the way the sunshine there radiates deep into your soul, where the sun everywhere else just warms your skin. Every thing just seems richer there, more intense. I understand now why so many people want to move there, and why so many people do.
     California is the land of people from somewhere else. Many people who live there have moved from another state or even another country, its not like Ohio, the people who live there are there because they want to be not because they have no way out. I guess that's why people want to watch movies about it, so they can escape there if its just for ninety minutes.
If you cant tell I think I'm getting a little homesick.

Escape

     I like walks. I like the wind in my hair, the feeling of the ground under my thin flip flops, the noise they make as I wander, the feeling of the outdoors, and the freedom to go any where.
     When my family moved to our current home in Sacramento we were excited to be closer to the bike trail. "We will go every weekend now its so close," we said. "We can even bike to the lake," we said.
But the thinking of going biking all the time is very different from actually doing it. We constantly ran into excuses. "My bike has no air in it." we said. "It's too hot" we said. "We're too busy," we said. "I don't even have a bike," I said.

     As much as we originally said we would go biking, it just never happened. Then on my 16th Birthday my friend came over, we wanted something to do, but we didn't have a car, and Sacramento isn't exactly known for its public transportation. So we resolved to for a walk to curb our restlessness.    
     As we reached the bike trail, the sounds of the city faded away. Long gone were the sounds of cars whizzing by on the pavement. Lost were the sounds of kids and their dogs. We left the scent of freshly cut grass and boiling asphalt behind. We had barely walked half a mile and the only trace of humans was the bike path and the neat yellow line running down its belly.
      Along the trail we saw wild flowers bursting through the grassy meadows, dear grazing and pausing to see who was passing through their emerald lands. We heard the calls and chirps of finches, crows and magpies, working a symphony with the ra-ta-ta-tap of woodpeckers and the constant wushing of the river.
     As we reached the river we were greeted by the uneven and smooth stones under our feet, the cold tickle of the water under our toes, the smell of fresh earth in our nostrils, and the sight of this beautiful oasis tucked into the outskirts of suburbia.
     Since then my family and I have made the short trek to the river many times. During the summer its our weekend ritual to walk down to see the sunset, and feel the cool breeze as we escape from the heat of Sacramento.
     This summer is different. I decided to spend it in Chicago to continue my studies, and I am working for SAIC as a Summer Resident Educator. (its like being an RA, but for the high school students who are studying here for the summer) So i've been missing the escape the river had always brought me.

     Chicago is a much bigger city than Sac and also boasts its own river, but it is surrounded by concrete and even had its flow reversed in the 1900's because it was polluting Lake Michigan. I crave the escape the calming summer sunsets the river brought, the escape from noise and people. In Chicago its hard to get away from city life. The beach is fake, its sand imported, it lacks a tide, and the people who visit it take no regard for others so its littered with every thing from wrappers, to broken liquor bottles and even clothes. Its noisy with seagull calls, car honks, and police sirens. The shores of the beaches provide no escape for me.

     The only place that brings me peace is a gated park just north of Navy Pier, Olive Park.
 -Its named for a Chicago native Milton L. Olive III, who served in the Army during Vietnam. He gave his life for his fellow soldiers when he threw himself over an enemy grenade he was posthumously awarded a Medal of Honor and a Purple Heart.-

      Its such a peaceful place, the tree lined main path reminds me of the bike trail back home. The cool breeze from the lake washes over you and takes the sticky humidity of the city away. Deeper in the park is a fountain long drained of its water, providing a gathering place for water after summer showers. Its here that reminds me most of home. I sit on the edge of the fountain with my toes in a puddle, leaning backwards to lay my body on the dewey grass that surrounds it. If I close my eyes and put on my headphones, I can forget everything on my mind. I can ignore the noise of the city. I can escape the smell of warm sewage and sweaty tourists. I can leave the taste of dirty air behind. I can forget all my worries, and my homesickness for my river path. I can forget how much I miss my parents, and my dog. I can forget all things I have to do, to remember whats important, and for a moment I am back home sitting on the edge of my river with my toes in the water my body on the grass, and my head in the clouds.