C'est Une Belle Journée: February 2009

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

One down, many more to go!

Last weekend I finally took a trip to the Getty Center. It has been one of those things that has been on my “to do list”, but has always seemed to get pushed back to the bottom of the list and ignored. I am taking an Art History class in school and our teacher assigned us a museum assignment, which is to go to a museum, pick a work from an artist we’ve been studying and sit in front of it, in person, and write about it. Leave it to a school assignment to force me to fulfill some of my life aspirations… how embarrassing. Anyway, the trip to the museum was a blast. I thought it would be fun to take someone with me so I asked my step-mother Katherine. She is amazing. She’s a very intelligent person and is someone who finds enjoyment and beauty in the world around her; I knew she would like and appreciate the arts there. Upon asking her one Sunday evening at my parent’s house, my dad’s ears perked up overhearing our conversation. “I want to go too”, he said with a little pique in his voice. One of my eyebrows shot up, “really?” I honestly didn’t know that my rock and roll listening, car loving, beer drinking father would be into standing around in an art gallery contemplating the brushstrokes of a Rembrandt, but apparently, I was wrong. So we all went. I was glad to have my dad there though; he contributed some different and interesting views to art I had never thought of myself and I was glad to have his comic relief in the somewhat stiff atmosphere. We walked around for a while staring in awe at the all of the Renaissance and Baroque period art works. However, only one thing was on my mind; I was on my search to find… The One. That one painting that would blindside me with its exquisite beauty and complexity and yell out to me, “WRITE!” I eventually stumbled across

such a painting shortly into the first building. It is called The Entombment by Peter Paul Rubens. It is a pretty graphic painting of Christ being put to rest in a tomb by his loved ones. If I were to have come into this museum before my life as an Art History 1B student, I probably would have given this work a quick glance and thought…meh. However, with my keen and educated eye, I now possess the ability to appreciate the work the artist put in to his…um…work (too many “work”s). I honestly did have a really great time. Later, we ate dinner at Clancy’s were my brother works and …Dum…Dum…Dum, I ordered fish, a food I’ve vowed to boycott after being forced to eat fish sticks all throughout my childhood. I’m not going to lie, it was tasty. All in all, it was a pretty good day spent with people I love. Next on the list for me to do, sky diving. I’ll have to do this one all on my own though….they don’t offer any classes at school, I've already checked.

...a story from a sunrise

When I was five years of age I went to visit my mother for the first time. Well, technically, it wasn’t the first time. My two older brothers and I lived with both our parents before our mom left. I was only one then, so that summer it was like getting to meet her for the very first time. The anticipation was huge for all three of us though. It was hard for us, as a five, a six and a seven year-old, to process what it meant to have a real mom out there who was our own. Our dad packed us in the car and we began our three day journey from Washington State to central California. In our excitement we began asking dad questions about our mom. We wanted to know everything there was to know about our her: who she was and what she looked like and if she loved us, and if she did love us why did she have to leave us. Our dad had never really talked about our mom before that car ride. He went still for a couple moments, perhaps pondering if he wanted to play our game. He broke the silence finally and looked over at us with heavy eyes. He said that our mom was like the wind. “The wind is born wild and free”, he said. “It changes direction often, and most of the time it is impossible to hold on to.” He reached over and touched my cheek affectionately and said he could see a little of her in each of us, in our faces and personalities. We quickly looked at each other to give a quick inspection of as if to gain more understanding. Eventually, dad became annoyed with our questioning and forbade further inquiry for the rest of the trip. In his own words, this period of time in the car was called “heaven.” We took turns, however, giving dad neck rubs to get him to relax in hopes he would answer a couple more or our wonderings.

The car ride felt like it was never going to end. On the second day our dad announced that we all had crossed the border into California which made me certain our whole trip would be spent inside of a car, leaving us absolutly no time to spend with our mom. California was nice though. The sun continually poured down its warming rays and the air smelled like sweet, flowery perfume. I tried to enjoy myself the best I could in the car. I had the window rolled down with my hand extended out, angled up just a little, riding it through the warm wind. I watched things pass by as the car traveled steadily down the highway. Houses became fewer and fewer with trees and hills taking their place. Soon farms came into view with their big windmills and black and white cattle. Some farms had lines of crops that made unique designs staring at it from fixed points as it went by. After a while, I would get bored looking at countryside and simply would observe the road. It was mesmerizing. I could never figure out if the lines on the road were painted on unevenly, wobbling back and forth at high speeds, or it was my dad’s poor steering. In any case, staring at the road set me into a kind of trance. My mind carried me away to a place where I was alone with my thoughts...

In my mind’s eye I see myself sitting alone in a quiet meadow. All around me there are rolling hills freckled with colorful flowers. I stand up slowly and searched around to see if anyone is close by. There is no one. “Hello! Is there anyone there?” I shout. I wait for a response but no sound comes back to me, not even my echo. Worry begins to set in. So, I begin to walk. I walk for a short while until I get to a large hilltop. Looking downward I see small body of water surrounded by a group of golden trees. Instinctively, I head down towards the heartof it. I weave my way through the trees letting my hands rub against their white trunks, they feel dry and smooth. Birds and other critters play in the branches above my head. I continue to move towards the center. At last the trees give way to a clearing and there in front of me, in the middle of everything, is a silvery pool of water. Brilliant beams of sunlight poke through the amber colored canopy in a luminous display over the pool. ...To Be Continued

C'est Une Belle Journée

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

One down, many more to go!

C'est Une Belle Journee

My Story...

...a story from a sunrise

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