28 x 28: February Twenty-Eight

Haha, ah, the elusive twenty-eighth post. I'm going to go ahead and disclaim the fact that yes, the date above this entry will read 2/28/2010, but it is being written on the twelfth of March.

So it's been a couple of weeks and I really don't know what I originally planned to write in this final entry. I know I have a post it note list that I wrote with some ideas for this entry, so we'll go with that. Other than that, I reckon I'll be winging it.

February 28th was my birthday. For me, my birthday is more of a milestone than the New Year. A birthday is kind of like the personal new year. You get to look forward to what the next three hundred and sixty five days of your life will bring while at the same time looking back and taking stock of what happened in the last. When I look back at age twenty-three, I think that if nothing else it was a transitive year. The proverbial arc of the so-called story of my twenty-third year was quite interesting. It began at a relatively middle ground and then, as life tends to do, the floor dropped out. The rest of the year was kind of a roller-coaster of realizations, discoveries, and reacquaintance with myself. It was one of those years I imagine many people have where your perceptions about things are changed from both your experiences and new and radical thoughts. When I look back at how it was to be twenty-three I imagine I won't be too fond of the time spent, but I can pretty honestly say it was well worth it.

That being said, I decided a while ago that twenty-four should be a much more forward-moving year. In this interest, I compiled a list of things I want to accomplish before I turn twenty-five. Some of these things are pretty far reaching and, quite frankly, terrifying. Some of these are pretty easy. All in all, I think most of them are doable in the span of a year. I'll attempt to keep some kind of update going over the course of the year as to which of these tasks I'm working towards, but in an archival sense I am writing them here to have some proof in a year of either my success or failure.

List:

1. Go-Karts. Never done it. I'm a bad human being.
2. Sky dive. Scares the daylights out of me... Can't be that bad.
3. Bungee jump or go to a bungee park. My nerves already tremble.
4. Try out (audition, in the industry) for a play.
5. Learn to play the guitar I have.
5a. Play out somewhere at least once.
6. Travel outside of the country. More and more plausible by the day.
6a. Maybe study abroad in Australia or the UK.
7. Paint a painting.
8. Win something.
9. Take a road trip around the country. Preferably west.
10. Camp at a National Park. Maybe Yellowstone.
11. Write/draw a comic book.
12. Sculpt a statue or statuette. Maybe easy?
13. Get a new computer.
14. Get a new car.
15. Declare a major.
16. Try out a martial art again.
17. Take up my lifelong battle with learning Spanish a little better.

So that's basically the things I really ought to do this year. Life has a funny way of never playing out the way you'd like. A relative recently told me that there is 'life the way you want it to be' and 'life the way it is'. Life is best when you're towing a line halfway between the two. This list is likely the way I want my life to be, and with any luck I'll be as close to it as I can be. That's more or less the most anyone can reasonably ask.

Lastly, here's a picture of me and my good friend Matt arm wrestling. Why? Because this is my blog and I can do what I want! Also, I think it's a neat picture, and if nothing else this article needs a picture.



Note: It may be some time before I get another post up. Waiting to be reasonably inspired enough to put something up. Hopefully before the end of March we'll be in good shape. Stay tuned.

28 x 28: February Twenty-Seven

And so we reach the penultimate entry in what has been a sometimes inspiring, and sometimes daunting assignment. I am not fully sure what my aim was at the beginning of February when I decided it would be a good idea to post some item of worth every day for 28 days. To be completely honest, I suppose I didn't consider the implications and creative devotion it would take to keep a blog without a definitive subject updated for a whole month. While I can say that the first week and half were relatively easy to come up with an inspiring endeavor to share, as days marched on I found myself actually notably distracted throughout my day with the thought of having to produce some kind of content. The most important guideline I have followed when it comes to For Your Inconsiderations has been that I would only post something I saw a thread of merit in. Because of this self-imposed editing, one could easily note the frequency (or lack thereof) of my postings before February 2010. This is to say nothing of the handful of half realized articles I have backlogged that may or may not ever be finished that have never been posted.

For all of the complications that arose though, I admit that I found myself driven to find worthwhile things to post in a way I haven't previously been before. Many of the black and white photo shoots I found myself on were a direct result of my desire to share something of true artistic merit that people could enjoy regardless of their relationship to me. The abstract drawing from early in the process was a completely new adventure for me and I learned a lot. I'm also pretty proud of some of the short form writing I did. The haiku's were a lot of fun, and the stream of consciousness writing experiment was one of the most thematically rewarding things I've ever written.

I also learned a few lessons when I look back at the final product. Due to time constraints and general lack of ideas, 28 x 28 ended up being a lot more of a photoblog than I had intended. On the one hand, this was enjoyable because I've always longed to further explore photography. I hope to continue this exploration more privately in the future. Surely, there are much better photoblogs out there and I told myself when beginning this blog that it would not be a copycat of ideas I had gleaned other places. I also learned from this experiment that I identify myself much more artistically than I previously thought. Most to all of the entries this month have been some kind of creative expression. Writing, art, and photography. I had not completely expected this at the outset of the process, but I am happy nonetheless.

Through it all, 28 x 28 has done a few things for me moving forward. First, I have found myself with a drive to seek out new and interesting things to share specifically in the interest of sharing them. I am hopeful that this motivation will stay as strong as it has been without the impetus of the obligations of posting once a day. Second, I find myself inspired to go out and see the world in a greater capacity than I have considered before. I use 'see the world' as literally as I can here. I am at a point in my life that the opportunity to explore the planet is much easier to fathom than it would be even five years from now. Lastly, this little experiment has bolstered a feeling in me to want to create things of meaning that others have at least a passing interest in seeing. The extent to which all of these things last in my consciousness is debatable, but right now as a retrospective I feel like they are semi-permanent revelations.

In conclusion, 28 x 28 ended up being a much more personal experience than I could have predicted. I both further explored my comfort zone while trying my best to take timid steps outside of it. Would I do something like this again? No, probably not. I think day Eighteen is the most solid and damning proof that this kind of process will eventually wear you out. Have I mentioned how embarrassed and sorry I am for Day Eighteen, yet? Still, in subsequent passings of time I hope to one day look back at 28 x 28 as an indication of how I attempted something worthwhile, discovered I am a student of many things and perhaps a master of none, and appreciate whatever output I was able to achieve in my endeavor.

Stay tuned for one more post tomorrow which is going to be more of a personal look forward as well as a retrospective on the last year.

28 x 28: February Twenty-Six

Life Between the Earth and Sky

My Sentiments Exactly

28 x 28: February Twenty-Five

Review: Shutter Island

Shutter Island is a movie that, for the most part, will likely subvert expectations. Thanks in large part to tonally misleading trailers, the preconceived notions about the film undoubtedly lead to confusion. Shutter Island is the story of Agent Teddy Daniels and his partner Chuck Aule as they take on a case concerning a patient who has gone missing on a maximum security penitentiary for the criminally insane. Apparently, the woman in question vanished from her highly guarded cell leaving not even a trace of the particulars of her escape. Soon, Teddy finds himself losing his own grip on sanity as the island slowly begins to peal away and a saturating air of paranoia settles upon everything.

From the trailers, one would be inclined to think that Shutter Island is somewhere in the horror/suspense category of film. The truth of the matter is that the film is more an exploration of the human psyche under insurmountable stresses and how one reacts in such situations. Right from the opening scenes, it is clear that all is not as it seems and the proceedings lend themselves to this theory very well. Obviously there is a greater underlying mystery at play here, and the biggest grievance I have heard spoken about this particular film is that it is too easy to figure it out early in the proceedings. I believe that director Martin Scorsese never intends for the truth of things to obfuscated, and in fact discovering the cards being dealt only adds to the cinematic effect he is aiming to achieve. The real focus of this film is not the inevitable twist ending as it is in many other films of this nature. Instead, the film is better viewed from a more personal angle. Without saying too much more, the movie is easier to appreciate as a window into perceptions and realities when the mind is introduced to severe stresses.

From a filmmaking point of view, this is clearly not Scorsese's most masterful work, but to think that it was intended to be would be wrong. On a purely technical angle, Shutter Island is a sharp film. From set design to cinematography, the film oozes the proper trappings for the overall tone of the film. Things are chaotic and claustrophobic, shaky and dark when they are needed to be. It would seem that instead of reaching for thrilling cinematic heights, Shutter Island is content to be an adventurous experiment in interesting story-telling. The performances of the actors in this film are all fairly solid. Clearly though this is a one man show. Leonardo DiCaprio is almost the sole focus of the entire film and the director wisely chooses to never take the camera of his main character. DiCaprio's Boston accented character is getting a little old by this point, but that is due more to overexposure in many recent films than any mistake on the actor's part. By telling the story from a very close and personal examination of one man though, the overall plot of the film is only enhanced in ways that won't fully make sense until the movie is over.

In the end, Shutter Island is a decent film. Many film goers, myself included, may have to take a moment to readjust their expectations early into the movie, but this can be chalked up to ineffective trailers. Shutter Island is a story distinctly about the human mind versus the human mind. It asks the questions of what precisely constitutes absolute reality, and who can you trust when you feel like you can't trust yourself? If you're worried about a strong horror element or moments of extreme suspense, Shutter Island will ease those fears. Instead, the movie is content to toil in the fog of mistrust and deceptions. This is a film good for superb aesthetic immersion as well as a decently entertaining plotline that may be more cerebral than audiences were lead to believe.

28 x 28: February Twenty-Four

Waterfalls Don't Freeze

Walking in Old Footsteps

The Sun Lit Up the Whole Sidewalk

The Sign Said No Trespassing

No One Sits Here in the Winter

Like a Thousand Crooked Fingers Calling Me In

Chain Link Winter

Before the Sun is Up in this Neighborhood

28 x 28: February Twenty-Three

Short story. Guess where I got the inspiration?

I wonder if they talk to spacemen. I ask myself that every morning when I get the paper. Across the street is a huge concrete building. There's nothing special about it. No windows, a few pipes either going in or coming out, and a pretty plain steel door in the front. I guess if there was one thing I could say strikes me about the whole thing is the huge metal spire sticking out of the roof. It's easily taller than anything else in our little town and exceptionally more bizarre. At night the red lights all over it blink on and off. No one ever leaves that I've ever seen, but every morning when I stumble out my front door to grab the news three men in really nice suits show up and walk single-file through the door. I don't really know if they're the same three guys every day. Nondescript is the best word I can think for them. Either way I've never seen them leave for the day either. To be honest, the whole thing doesn't really bother me anymore. Sure in our otherwise normal little suburban town the building across the street is basically an eyesore, but no one has ever had a legitimate problem that wasn't aesthetic. Still, as I sit at my average little breakfast table and look out the window into my quaint backyard to watch the sun peak over the trees, I can't help but muse. Our town is far enough in the middle of nowhere that a radio tower doesn't make a lot of sense. But maybe it's not a radio tower. Maybe it's something else. Maybe they're collecting information on everyone in the town for the government and beaming all that info back to whoever they report to. Perhaps they're doing some kind of diabolical research that will either help save humanity or utterly destroy us all. I think about this all throughout breakfast, but the moment I finish my toast it couldn't be further from my mind. I take a shower and I put on my work uniform and feed my dog. On my way out the front door to hop in my car, I always manage to steal a glance across the street. One day I'm going to go knock on that door, and when I do I can only think of one thing that would interest me enough to ask: "Do you guys talk to spacemen?"

28 x 28: February Twenty-Two

Scraping the absolute bottom of this picture barrel. Apologies again, but today was insanely hectic. Tomorrow; new content!!

I Wonder if they Talk to Spacemen

28 x 28: February Twenty-One

I have a big test tomorrow so I am doing a special edition 'B-sides' version of yesterdays photos. Essentially these are the pictures that I liked, but didn't like enough to share yesterday.

Nighttime Stroll

Mo's Crossing

Just Another Street to Nowhere

28 x 28: February Twenty

So I had a very successful photo experience tonight, and I tried to employ some of the ideas of the art exhibit I saw and subsequently wrote about last night. By this I mean I tried to get people in these pictures just going about their business. For the most part I got some interesting pictures and I am posting up the best ones here for all to see. Some of these work really well as color images, but keeping in line with winter and the thematic throughline I've been presenting here during this month I've decided to show only the black and white images.

As an awesome side note, I am super happy with the last picture in this series (Classy Motion Blur) and even though I just said something completely different; I am including both black and white and color versions.

Angry Lady in a Crosswalk

You Don't Say

Safety First Then Teamwork

Not Quite Through the Looking Glass

Difference of Direction

Classy Motion Blur (Color)

Classy Motion Blur (Black and White)

28 x 28: February Nineteen

"They weren't pictures of people. They were pictures of the way I felt." -- Ted Croner

Sometimes life throws such oddly resonant and serendipitous moments at you that you don't even see them coming. Tonight I had the pleasure of attending the Milwaukee Art Museum's Street Seen exhibit. This was a special event with (loud) music, drinks, food, and various other activities throughout the art museum. It's a regular event called MAM: After Dark. To say the least, it was a fairly schizophrenic affair filled with tons of people and not a particularly clear notion on what it was one should be doing. From an interesting if not bizarre interpretive dance group to craft tables with no discernible purpose, one wouldn't be blamed for finding it hard to find the tone of the night. The sheer amount of people present in a relatively small space and the fact that we arrived slightly later to the venue than normal only exacerbated the calamity. Of course, if one were to just relax and take a step back, it's quite easy to see that the most logical thing to do in an art museum is view art. This was my first visit to the Milwaukee Art Museum, so I was not entirely sure what to expect in terms of what I would see. Part of me has always assumed that art museums are just places where oddities and simplistic renderings get passed off for a lot more than they actually happen to be. I tried my best to keep this notion in check as we decided to see the centerpiece attraction for tonight's event: Street Seen.

Street Seen is a collection of photographs from six different photographers showcasing various pieces demonstrating city life and culture during the years following the Second World War. Photography is one of those art forms that I find it hard to denote any one photograph as art. By dint of what it is, I feel like the classification of such work falls squarely into a subjective category. Regardless, I viewed the exhibit with as open a mind as I am able, and I must say I was quite taken aback. While every four or five pictures simply seemed to me to be pleasant accidents touted as much more, there were some every now and then that struck me as simply amazing. I suppose I should clarify that 'pleasant accident' can both be a good thing and a bad thing. Photography is capturing a moment the way you're seeing or experiencing it, and because moments are fleeting most of the best pictures that will ever be captured will be accidental. The very same photos I was so astonished by were most likely also completely random; a cosmic conflux of elements all coming together at once with a lucky human being aware enough to snap a shutter at the right moment. Happy enough to be wrong about the content of an art museum (for the most part), I plodded along silently critiquing or envying each photo until I came upon the works of one Ted Croner.

The photographs of Ted Croner and the accompanying information about the photographer gripped me in a way I had not expected -- which is to say this is the resonance and serendipity I was speaking about at the beginning of this writing. Ted Croner, upon returning from the War, dedicated himself to being a photographer and took up shop in the heart of the country; New York City. Enrolled at a famous photography institute of the time (a name which escapes me at the moment), it wasn't until one night when Croner borrowed a specific camera (twin reflex, I think) and set out to take a few shots at a diner that he discovered his photographic 'voice'. Upon this discovery Croner commented that he wasn't just capturing people doing things, he was capturing how he felt. I've quoted the exact line at the top of this posting, but those of you who have read this blog for some amount of time may remember that my own view of the world and taking pictures of it is something freakishly similar to Ted Croner. It wasn't until I further discovered that the photographer also relished the post production aspects of his craft that I was very nearly floored. Apparently Croner was a huge fan of experimental manipulation techniques during the development of his work. Altering shadow darkness, exposing negatives longer, double printing negative on the same sheet -- Ted Croner was essentially doing exactly what I was DECADES before I ever thought of the idea. Needless to say, his photographs were the absolute highlight of the entire night for me. Here was a person who not only lived in an era that I personally find exponentially more visually entertaining, but he was much more skillfully and confidently capturing images that I so far only dream to aspire to.

I suppose the point of all of this rambling on and on about finding a kindred spirit in a medium I am growing progressively more fond of is that sometimes it's nice to know that something you believe in is not only shared, but respected. In one fell swoop, the photographs of Ted Croner at once stoked an inspirational fire that has not been so driven in quite a while and also bolstered my personal confidence in my approach to the art form. Life can be a surprising journey from time to time, and it's little moments like the one tonight that can draw the focus on something much bigger you were never aware of. It's hard to accurately describe the kind of feeling such a moment creates, but it's one worth writing about and it's one that I would encourage everyone to go out and find.

Also, I have to again apologize for yesterday's entry. Yikes. Nine more days!

28 x 28: February Eighteen

I don't even know... Sometimes you gotta just cut the chord. My apologies in advance dear viewers. Maybe it'll be insightful to just see something I've done that I personally think is just dreadful. I'd say enjoy, but it would likely ring hollow. This one's gonna have a descriptive title.

What Giving Up Looks Like

Fingers crossed on tomorrow. I wanna say this one is kinda of a byproduct of what I get for attempting a post a day.

28 x 28: February Seventeen

Snow Place to Walk

28 x 28: February Sixteen

Today is Fat Tuesday or, for those of us with a French inclination, Mardi Gras. It is a day of excess before the traditional fasting of the Lenten season. Mardi Gras is celebrated in a wealth of ways in a wealth of different cultures, but no matter the venue the basics remain the same; indulgence before practised reservation. But why do we have such an excessive day? As I previously stated, today is the final celebration before the beginning of Lent. Lent is a religious holiday wherein we are encouraged to fast or at the very least abstain much as it is believed Jesus Christ did for forty days and nights before the beginning of his public ministry. During this time it is said Christ endured temptations from Satan who constantly sought to corrupt his righteous path. Beyond the religious implications, it is interesting that we are encouraged during this time to give up something in our lives that we would otherwise find difficult to live without. Instead of the ominous temptation of something like Satan, we find ourselves reflexively challenged. Indeed during this time of fasting should we choose to partake, our only temptation comes from within. In this same vein of thinking it is easy to see the merit in such an exercise. Given the self-imposed limitations, Lent is a time that we can really subjectively measure ourselves. Obviously a fast or self-imposed span of restraint can be initiated at any given time during the year. Still, Lent is a universally cogent time of year that, if nothing else, has one hell of a send off before its start. I personally do not know if I will be testing myself this year, but I would encourage everyone to seriously consider the opportunity to grow and discover the depths of your control. To set a goal and to overcome it with only yourself as a judge can be an extremely rewarding experience. Best of all, you never know exactly how you will surprise yourself. In a world where you are relatively and increasingly comfortable with yourself, it can be extremely satisfying to discover that you can still learn new things about just how far your willpower can stretch. So here's to Mardi Gras! May we all indulge ourselves and wake tomorrow with wider bellies and the resolve to attempt something nobly daunting.

I am forecasting an influx of more visual media in the coming days. While I enjoy musing on various subjects, the task is proving more and more forced under the constraints of the whole 28 x 28 thing.

28 x 28: February Fifteen

'the blazing sun sets
red skies part and reveal it
a beautiful end'

'i hear calm silence
my ears listen for a sound
such serenity'

'so much beauty here
i want to share it with them
this image of mine'

'spaceman on the moon
looking into the night sky
do you see the cow?'

'o, magical clown
how terrifying you are
no one likes your jokes'

28 x 28: February Fourteen

Today is a day notable to many on one of two extreme stances. At one end of this vast and uncompromising spectrum is a group of people who believe that the idea of a holiday based around romantic gift giving and celebration for the sake of it is inherently stupid. On the other end lies a group who are excited merely by the prospect of a chance to appreciate the love of another in a way that exemplifies feelings felt throughout the year in a more forward manner. So the question becomes then what exactly Valentine's Day entails? More importantly, what is so special about this love thing that it should get a day of reflection?

To begin, I think that at it's core Valentine's Day is supposed to be a day where we feel thankful and appreciative of someone special in our life who makes us feel less alone and brings us some degree of happiness be it little or profound. Of course, like many holidays the purpose and message of the holiday is so perverted by the world around us that it would not be a stretch to think that the day has been morphed fundamentally from its original intention. Nowadays it could be argued that Valentine's Day is a cheap excuse to buy candy and flowers in an attempt to save face with someone you care about. It's kind of a double standard wherein even if you genuinely care about someone, you are essentially forced to re-emphasize that bond for the sake of keeping up appearances. I find myself of a more optimistic mindset when it comes to this most fluffy of holidays. Instead of basking in cynicism, it would benefit everyone to embrace what the core of February 14th is all about. We should all be lucky enough to appreciate the day and analyze the people around us who care enough to enrich our lives in some way or another. Surely the stigmas surrounding any largely industrialized holiday remain intact, but perception is key to any event in life. A day is what we make it, and Valentine's is no exception assuming you are not jaded enough to notice.

This all brings me to the very subject, or at least the intent of, the holiday: love. Love is a complex and layered word that can mean a plethora of things. Love can signify anything from a deep and sincere caring about another person, to one of the most profound and driving forces any one human being can encounter in their natural lives. Love is an emotion and an entity that can at once move humans to acts of great compassion to acts of unbelievable greed all in the name of something that completes everyone on a very primal level. Love is a force of nature, and by simply being such a thing defies the constraints of logic and rationality. Love can make us say and do things we never thought possible both good and bad. As much as we all would like to rationalize and confine how and why we love; no one's judgment is free of the wonderful and terribly powerful influence that brings us all to act uncouth.

It is upon this sentiment that I wish everyone who reads this to appreciate whatever it is in your life today worthy of your love. If you are lucky enough to have someone special in your life who would go above and beyond the regular call of human connections to make you feel better than yourself, embrace it and champion it. Love as a force of nature is by definition unpredictable. No one among us can know its path, and sometimes in the grand ebb and flow of time all we have is but a moment together. Valentine's Day is about seizing that proverbial moment and punctuating it with a statement that in this specific moment, someone meant something to you that transcended the everyday and made you feel as close to whole as humanity is meant to feel. These sentiments can be felt in many complex and multifaceted ways both moving and imperceptible. The point of it all is that Valentine's celebrates the overwhelming and civilization altering powers of love and the profundity of these forces we can't control and which without we could not survive.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone, and may your moment today be one for the ages that reminds you why the other 364 days in a year are worth doing together.

28 x 28: February Thirteen

Today I have a daring tale of choosing the darker of two paths and the possible and actual repercussions of doing so. The scenario involved a night of Roller Derby and my trek to meet up with my friends. Before I could convene though, three things needed to be achieved. First, I needed to put gas in my car to make the semi-long drive to the venue. Simple enough. Second, I needed to get cash in order to pay for my ticket into the show. Third, I needed to stop at a Walgreens to get some gum and a delicious pomegranate water.

I knew the night was going well when I stopped for gas and realized that I had a Shell Gas card procured through work for my good performance. This amounted to $25 dollars of free gasoline which made the first financial knock of the evening obsolete. As an aside here, one should know that I am inexplicably superstitious. I examine little happenings like this as good fortune and tally it up on an ever tipping scale of my life. So, long story short, I was putting this happening in the win column. With a smile on my face, I drove into the night with the radio blasting some choice tunes. As I drove it occurred to me that both the second and third tasks could be easily combined in a nigh-Herculean display of ingenuity. Walgreens, the bastion of convenience for Americans everywhere, allows free cash back withdrawals with a purchase. How fortune smiles upon the wise! Minutes later I found myself in what would turn out to be both a moment of triumph and the catalyst for what would become an impenetrable clusterfuck (technical term).

With my items swiped and the cashier lazily announcing my total for payment, I slid my card and navigated the simple menus to allow for $20 dollars cash back. As I gathered up my plastic bag and reached out my hand to receive both my receipt and cash back, the fates writhed their twisted fingers together in an opera of malevolent malcontent that would trigger the gears of karma against me. Papers in hand I took a step towards the door. I double-taked. In my hand I spied usual items: A receipt and a bill... Wait, two bills? Surely this must be two ten dollar bills masquerading for my desired twenty dollar return. On second glance my weary eyes confirmed the ugly truth -- I was in possession of not one, but two glorious twenty dollar bills; a 100% PROFIT! Immediately my mouth opened to speak. The air rose up my throat, the words racing to escape my teeth. And then a truncated stifle. In what amounted to a moment in time I decided my own fortunes. Looking towards the door and continuing my exit, I folded both receipt and ill-gotten bills and placed them firmly in my pocket. I emerged into the crisp chill of the night.

I did it! I was free! Frantically I searched my mind. The suspicion of any moment yielding a panicked clerk dashing out the front doors to correct her mistake lingered. I stole looks left and right like some kind of criminal fresh from the heist. Hastily I jumped in my car and checked the rear view mirror. The coast was clear. Starting the engine I quickly dug the fruits of my decision from my jeans and surmised the glory of my escapade. As examiner and judge of my own fortunes, I for the second time accounted this happening as an example of favorable outcomes. With newly doubled funds in hand, my otherwise cost prohibitive night was now open to whatever boundless monetary possibilities it could muster. A wry smile on my face, I accelerated into the night and onwards to my destination. Somewhere a cunning mischief began its trickery with me as its target.

I would be remiss if I did not make mention of the fact that while I was indeed happy with the treasure of my actions, a certain modicum of doubt and despair began to seep its way into my waking mind. Primarily, I was guilty of a moral omission. It would have been easy to simply correct the clerk on her honest mistake and solve the problem. In reality I knew as well as many that the repercussions for an unaccounted for $20 dollars in a corporation as large as Walgreens would go most likely ignored. But yet a knowing sadness dug in that I had chosen the less righteous path and in turn betrayed on some level the credibility I had placed on my own scruples. As a secondary concern, I had been raised subconsciously to always expect the 'other shoe to drop'. In essence, when things look good and you get comfortable, never be surprised when something awful arrives to knock you down. Deep down I noted that perhaps this moment of good luck would clear the way for a torrent of badness later in the night. So much so was this thought prevalent in my head that I spoke of it to my friends once I joined them.

The rest of this story is largely perception. To some, many of the things that I now chalk up to bad luck may seem circumstantial -- that I was looking for bad things to herald as the cracking whip of justice. For instance, upon arriving at the venue for the Derby and joining with my group, the moment I sat down in my folding lawn chair was no sooner the exact moment the legs beneath chose to snap and fold the chair into disrepair. Minor though it may be, the inconvenience to my viewing pleasure was palpable. The rest of the night, to save what are most likely trivial and nonessential details, followed similar suit converging on one complete and disrupting encounter with unforetold dealings with thoughts and emotions I was unable to process properly and left me shell-shocked.

So perhaps I have misconstrued the entire night and assigned blame to events that otherwise I would take no notice. Maybe though the situation was, if not cosmically influenced, inexorably lead through reactions and events both subtle and discreet to bring me squarely to a moment in time that I distinctly associated with a self-fulfilled punishment for my inability to do the right thing. Fate is so often dismissed as the shackles of weaker minds deferring to powers greater than they to explain away the things that happen to us all. Perhaps there is truth in this, and perhaps fate is more devious an animal that resides in our darkest minds and manifests itself in our lives in ways we are only minutely aware on any perceptible level. If we are the product of our actions, then perhaps that product is not so simply displayed as the sum of objective events.

28 x 28: February Twelve

'I walk under a lightpost and the bulb burns out. I'm ten years old and I'm terrified because I know I'm going to die. There's no one in the room and yet she's right next to me. My feet are cold but the blanket is too warm. I think about the last five years. Thoughts race through my head now; almost too fast to make sense. I look at the alarm clock. I think about tomorrow and I wonder. I can see things in front of me and I can't reach them. I'm just ahead of the dark, too afraid to turn around. I have a bad dream so I draw the pillow over my head. I step outside my head and everything is so small. I feel claustrophobic. I see my reflection and my hair is not right. Three things morph together and gnaw at my brain. I'm tired but my eyes don't close. I worry about unforeseen things. I'm afraid to do anything. I accept the way things are. The spoon should be in the sink and someone should read that book. I breathe. I feel nothing. Thoughts pull, the ground gives out. I look out my window. Everything is so small. I want to matter so much so that it makes me cry. I contemplate things I know I can't; the scenarios play out. I'm screaming inside but I can't open my mouth. I'm powerless and I'm afraid to do anything. There's someone in the room and she's gone. I close my eyes and I'm okay. I'm ten years old and I'm terrified because I know I'm going to die. I walk under a lightpost and the bulb burns out.'

Ok, I don't know where this came from, but sometimes when an idea pops in your head you have to get it down. I don't know what to think of this. It kind of freaks me out. I think this is a ghost story, but not in the way that I think. I feel like I didn't even write this, except that I did. Is it scary?

28 x 28: February Eleven

If life is like a dream, and we asleep
Then how can anything be real or deep?
I struggle alone with these thoughts sometimes,
And I hope for reality to keep.

But sometimes it's hard to accept the facts,
And it's easier asleep on our backs.
Eventually though we must awake.

Life is living.

28 x 28: February Ten

Ok, so looks like we're running with the black and white experiment. I can't decide if the black and white is accenting the cold, deadliness of winter or if it's just super presumptious. If I keep going out and snapping stuff, I'll try to vary up my locations. Problem is, it's really cold out most nights and I don't like being out any longer than twenty minutes at a stretch.

Lights Go Up Like Everything Does

Stars Burn Bright

Rails on a River of Snow

28 x 28: February Nine

There's some snow falling today... Just a little bit. Also, I think I may be on a black and white kick.

Snowfall Stoicism

28 x 28: February Eight

YMCA Sociology

About half a month ago, I finally cracked and signed up for my local YMCA. The nice thing about the Y I've chosen to go to is that it's not only located very close to my apartment downtown, but it's attached to my place of work. This means that either after work and before class, or after class late at night I can easily get in a quick workout. Since I've more or less been going every day for the last two and a half weeks, I let my mind muse a little while I was running tonight.

In today's world, it's hard not to be a little cynical. It would be false to think that many of the interactions we have with people both stranger and familiar are not motivated by self-gain. How often do you find yourself walking down the street these days and exchanging friendly greetings with passers-by? Granted, that kind of behavior in today's society is just as likely to get you branded a lonely, desperate lunatic as it is a kindly citizen of the world. Still, the point stands. The world for better or worse in most cursory encounters is a tad on the guarded side, if not sometimes hostile. With that in mind, I was a little stunned to observe that in a gym setting most people are far more inclined to be cordial if not downright nice. People hold doors, respectfully yield machines, make an effort to help others out, and sometimes even start up a casual conversation. It's an odd thing, to a certain degree, and I imagine it has a lot to do with the idea of a gym in the first place. A gym finds a large group of strangers all gathered in one building under a common purpose; doing silly things to get or stay in shape. The fact that everyone is united under a common ideal is the easy part. A singular purpose can be one of the most unifying forces in human society. The real lynch pin of the oddity though can be found in the second action: doing silly things.

Now, I am not at all trying to posit that working out to stay in shape is a bad or even weird thing. Instead, in the most basic sense of it, the actions involved in exercising are downright strange when you take a step back. Running in circles for miles? Lifting heavy metal objects over your head over and over? Riding a stationary bike for hours at a time? Watching yourself stretch in a variety of poses in front of a wall-sized mirror? All of these things are fairly common, but if you were to take away all sense of leisure in an average human life these things would be absurd. In the Darwinian sense, exercise is hard to classify. On the one hand, exercise enables you to be a more fit and therefore more desirable candidate for natural selection. On the other, running around in a loop for three miles serves absolutely no purpose in furthering the survival of your day or the propagating of your life. It is because society as a whole has evolved to a point where the option to exercise has become a commodity as opposed to a necessity that something like a gym even exists. This is where the argument comes back around. Essentially, in this day and age, going to the gym is a choice. No one's forcing you to go and do 20 crunches, just like no one is forcing you to eat 4000 calories of delicious candy a day.

The concept of choice is crucial in my understanding of the unity that happens in a gym. Everyone there has chosen to come and do the silly things needed to exercise otherwise neglected aspects of the body. Now, because these acts require an individual to not only do said silly action, but forces them to be vulnerable in doing so to a wide selection of people that really causes the togetherness. No one likes to feel singled out for being different. As stressed and important as it is to embrace your own individuality, on a fundamental level humans strive to be uniform. This fear of being mocked further drives what would otherwise be disparate groups of people into a necessary homogeneous unification. And so we have people who would otherwise pass just as soon as look at you suddenly holding doors for you, or asking you how a machine works. Just like that the group has a reason to be civilized to one another again.

On top of everything else, going to the gym breeds a certain kind of communal desire. Working out at a gym, particularly running on a track for a few miles, can be one of the most isolating things a person can do. Such exercise depends almost entirely on the personal drive of the individual. This is also most likely what makes it so hard for so many when it comes to getting some exercise. At the end of the day, the only person you have to deal with is yourself. So as is natural in almost all human experience, we reach out for that connection with others. Our desire to no longer be isolated causes us to actively include others in ways that would not happen under different stimuli. Running with a partner, having someone spot you while you lift, even silently competing with another gym patron to push your own limits are all tantamount to a deeper and baser human instinct to group.

In the end, the gym is a very interesting societal happening to observe. On the surface it may seem like common sense to be civil to a fellow human being, but in a heightened and logically unusual situation such as this the subtleties are so much more profound. The gym is kind of like the new age version of nomads migrating for a lifestyle or hunters working as a group. It all starts with a choice and is shaped by things so intrinsic to being alive as a human being that were we to not stop and ponder, we would likely miss entirely.

28 x 28: February Seven

I hate to do this, but tonight I am short on time. I promise that I will do a much more substantial post tomorrow night. Something either really deep and thought-provoking, or something emotionally and artistically stirring, Or just something mildly amusing.

This is actually a picture that's over a year old, but it's literally the only worthwhile picture on my computer that's never been posted here before.

28 x 28: February Six

Winter's Lonely Avenues

28 x 28: February Five

Today I'm going to keep it simple and write up a review for what I consider to be one of the best single hours of television to ever air.

Review: Angel: Not Fade Away

'Not Fade Away' is the series finale of the TV show Angel. I believe it aired all the way back in 2003, and it was the perfect culmination off all the character beats, plotlines, and tonal throughlines that had been used throughout the length of the show's five seasons. The basic premise of the show is actually kind of silly at first glance. Angel was a character from another TV series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who spun off into his own show following the third season of its progenitor. Angel is a vampire who is burdened with a soul which makes him distinctly feel the moral weight of all of the countless people he had killed in his hundreds of years of life. In an attempt to earn redemption he moves to LA and decides to protect the weak and preyed upon. Angel was never a show that soared to new heights on the basis of its premise alone. Through the strong characterization of each member of Angel's group to the often times allegorical nature of many of the episodes, Angel made itself important by hooking the viewer on a very connective level.

Season Five saw the biggest change of status quo to the entire premise. In this season, Angel and company are offered and accept the ownership of the LA branch of a hellish (literally) law firm; Wolfram & Hart. This is an interesting choice considering that for the previous four years, the cast of the show fought tooth and nail against the corporation and its inherent embodiment of evil. The whole hook for the entirety of season five was the question of whether or not these crusaders for good could survive in what amounts to the belly of the beast.

The season saw many interesting moral choices along the way. From having to protect otherwise vile clients in the interest of keeping the delicate balances from swaying to sometimes turning a blind eye to lesser evils, it was clear throughout the course of the season that Angel and friends were fighting a losing war and perhaps losing their moral compass along the way. In the penultimate episodes leading to the series finale, Angel himself seems to be taking a darker trend. He's killed a friend or two, joined an organization that is basically the reality-based proxy for Hell on Earth, and shown an increasing disinterest in the thoughts and well-being of his friends. In the beginning of 'Not Fade Away', Angel makes his play and reveals to his friends that he has not been doing all of these dark things for naught. Instead, it is his plan to kill every member of the Black Thorn organization and destroy Wolfram & Hart's grip of power in this dimension. It's a risky move, but right from the get-go the stakes are made abundantly clear to the audience. At its most basic, this is Angel and his crew versus the greatest evil threats in existence to achieve what is tantamount to spitting in the collective faces of gods.

Perhaps because I was personally late to the party, knowing this was the last episode of the series ever went a long way to offering a sort of no-holds, anything-can-happen sensibility during this last hour of television. Characters make asides that they will likely not survive the encounters and even if they did, the ensuing backlash from their devilish benefactors would likely be enough to destroy them. Of course, being a TV show one would assume that this is all pomp and circumstance, but this would be forgetting that this is a show created by Joss Whedon who if nothing else is famous for his glass half empty attitude towards narrative. The episode unravels slowly at first, showing each long standing member of the cast enjoying what could be their final days on Earth. From there the pace accelerates and never misses a beat as each stage of the literal and figurative finale rolls on. Before long we are witness to satisfying coups at the hands of many of our heroes, and at least one amazingly well done scene of death and defeat. This very scene is almost enough to elevate in my mind the finale to seldom resonating heights. Superbly well acted and richly emotionally rewarding for long-time viewers of the show, I would not be lying in saying that it is one of a few very rare television moments strong enough to elicit a genuinely sorrowful response from me.

Finally in the end Angel and what remains of his crew convene in an alleyway we learn is just a few blocks shy of a location integral to the series. Rain is pouring and it turns out not as many as one would think have returned from the trials of the night. Worse still, we learn another long-standing cast member is mortally wounded as has mere moments left to live. It's in these final few moments, when an army of countless demons is charging down on our vastly outnumbered heroes, that we realize the episode and indeed the show have literally minutes to close up. In one of the finest examples of not holding the viewer's hands, Angel ends with its heroes basically facing inevitable death and things looking bleak to say the best. As the evil armies finally close in on the main characters, we get the sense that Angel has his friends and that they will go out like they came in; fighting for something better. With that and a nicely exaggerated sword-slashing noise, the show and the series end.

Angel was a decent show with lots of rewarding pay-offs and callbacks throughout that rewarded viewers for long time allegiance. 'Not Fade Away' stands as one of the finest finales in TV history because it pulls no punches, and unlike The Sopranos it leaves you satisfied not knowing what will happen to the characters you've spent half a decade invested in. This is owed largely in part to the fact that the ending is so pitch perfect in terms of character actions and the consequences of those actions that the viewer never feels cheated. Would I prefer if there were more story to go onto afterwards? Of course. The point is that the way the show ended not only settles many of the themes and plots of the entire series, but lets the viewer's imagination race with the possibilities. Even if you never watched a single episode of the series, 'Not Fade Away' is one of those few TV episodes that you should sate your curiosity on if ever you get the chance. Far and away, hands-down this is the best final episode to a TV series ever. And that's likely saying something.

28 x 28: February Four

Another drawing, not abstract. Not every day's gonna be a home run?

New Twist on an Old Favorite

28 x 28: February Three

Today I thought I'd try my hand at some writing. Comics and my own thoughts, mixed with a good couple of hours of the first season of Lost, inspired this. Felt like there should be a non-visual distraction today.

A Hero's Tale.

You're in a room and the door across from you is shaking violently. It won't last very much longer and sooner or later the hinges are going to give way. You've never really been afraid of what it is on the other side, but at this moment you're filled with a very certain sense of inevitable dread. Your entire life you always thought that you were different; that you were special. You took comfort in the fact that no matter what happened you'd not only rise to the occasion, but in the end triumph. Valiantly you took on every challenge and you walked away with your pride and your sense of self-worth as bolstered as ever. As time dragged on you began to define yourself with your own assessment of just how unique you felt. Then one day something calls into question everything you ever thought and you realize the world very well may have left you behind. You weren't protected by how special you thought you were; you were hiding behind it. You became anemic and the very thing that made you strong actually made you more vulnerable than you ever perceived. Foolishly you scrambled to make sense of your life and your flaws. With no reference point, you struggled to know who you were. Arrogantly you sought to present yourself with new challenges, new opportunities to remind yourself and everyone why it was you were so special. It dawns on you now, trapped in this room, that no one really ever thought you were special. So proud of your every move, you ignored how others reacted. Their air of annoyance; their ever growing sense of apathy. You're in a room and the door across from you is splintering on the edges and you begin to suspect that perhaps not only were you never special -- maybe you were more ordinary than everyone around you. Boring. Dread becomes fear. Fear becomes terror. You restrain yourself and screw up your courage. It feels hollow in your chest like nothing you've ever done mattered. But you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you're better than you think. You've never really known, never been tested. The door is rattling loose; it won't last very much longer. You stand and you feebly brace your resolve. The door opens.

28 x 28: February Two

Cutting it close... Never done abstract before, and I may never do it again. Credit to a last minute photoshop save.

This Is What It Feels Like Here

28 x 28: February One

28 x 28 is my attempt to post at least one piece of new content every day of February leading up to the 28th, which also just so happens to be my birthday. Some days I imagine the postings will be very tiny. Maybe a quick snapshot, maybe a drawing, maybe a poem or review of some kind. Either way, each day if I am successful there should be something new to see on this very site.

To start is a picture of one of my favorite views of downtown from the lower East Side. I don't know why it is particularly. Maybe it's because of the geometry of the cathedral and the buildings behind it and how they overlap. It's nice and snowy tonight, but not too cold to prohibit a quick walk.

Skyrising Cascade in Snowfall