Sunday, March 02, 2008

It occurred somewhere between 7:30am and 8:45am. I awoke and by the time the afternoon had arrived, a family party was in effect at my relative's house. My parents and aunts and uncles were going to leave for the airport to catch their P.I. flight. On the news, headlines were being made: across the globe on the dark side of the planet, the moon had filled to a deep, blood red. Cities were filled with growing chaos, fears of the end of days were rife. Everyone in the house was filled with the same feeling of dread. I asked my mom, "Are you guys still going to get on that flight?" She answered with a familiar annoyance, yet serious aggravation, "I don't know, ask your Dad." I find him, and immediately take him into the car and leave, saying, "I have to find out if this is for real." We drive several hours out of town, to a spot near the coast that I once saw. The sun was setting on the western coast, it's dusk glow bathing the foothilled horizon. I could vaguely make out the sudden appearance of buildings that dotted the hills, the mysterious translucence both awe-inspiring and creepy. Where did these buildings come from? There was nothing out here. I turn into the quiet lake that I once promised myself to come to for self-reflection. A lonely church next to a lonely lake. We step out, and I inspect the grounds. What was I looking for? I knew He did not live in this house anymore. There was nothing here for me. I started walking away, and another man appeared out of the woods outside the grounds. "Are you waiting here, too? Patience, child." He sounded vaguely like Christopher Walken and looked strikingly like what paintings depict of Thomas Jefferson. This event startled me, but the next moments would continue to stretch my consciousness. An old classmate appears next to me, looks down and grins. More lost, familiar faces come from the path beyond my car. Along with them, hundreds of people begin to congregate in the clearing next to the lake. Many sit down and converse, continuing where they must have once left off. I follow suit and sit down. I can only marvel at the scenery and crowd. The mysterious buildings in the distance shimmer a soothing blue in contrast to the darkening sky. I spot one face that shouldn't be there. Someone dead and gone from my past. Once I realized that, another shock came. Flanking me on both sides were Jaime and Ryan. They both sat down. I felt relief, but still an overwhelming amount of dumbfoundedness. How can this be? Is this it, Heaven has come to Earth? Those ghostly buildings must be for the last chosen. This is the Rapture. Did I escape the Wrath of God? What about everyone else? I could not help but break down and cry, my hands covering my eyes, the tears so warm and salty as they fell from my eyes. I could see each single drop hit the dirt, and I could only focus on the certain reality of those tears and nothing of my friends and the others around me. Ryan and Jaime picked me up, and proceeded to show me to the church. The inside of the church was a resort. Anything you could want to do was all infinitely and maddeningly housed within the house of the Lord. Yoga, crafts, buffets, tumbling, spas, libraries, anything. Everyone looked so content and blissful. I couldn't bear the thought of the end of the world, and could only leave as quickly as I came into the building. As I left the church, I fell to my knees, screaming at myself, God, and the world. Ryan and Jaime were quick to comfort me as I continued to break down. Jaime first said one thing that decimated the rest of my reality on the spot, "It's okay now, I know I've been gone a while, but now we'll be kickin it for the rest of eternity."
"You've been gone???"
Ryan added, "Yeah, don't you remember? He died two years ago..."
I was fully delusional. As it sank in, I replied, "I must have been living my life so deluded... All this time, I always thought we had been hanging out with Jaime, too... Are you dead, too?"
"Since when?"

And then I woke up. The dream was so real. I could feel, see, hear every real moment. I had never experienced lucidity like this. The entire event was wholly believable to me. My parents were in fact leaving on a plane this same day. Maybe this concocted scenario had something to do with the conversations about God that I had with Van the day prior. Or the subconscious fears of the end of days at 2012. Or perhaps it has to do with the people who are leaving my life for extended periods of time, a form of surreal separation anxiety. I'm sure my recent experience of witnessing a partial lunar eclipse unseated some kind of hidden cosmic paranoia. The craziest part of this dream was that it was completely in the first person perspective. Usually, my dreams flow between first and third, in a fairly cinematic way. This time it was jarring, visceral even. I just hope this isn't some kind of portent.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

The Score.

I'm the only one that ever reads this. The expected outcome is at least 30 minutes wasted perusing the inferred states of my mind over the years as verified by the backlog of entries. Oh well.

This is tentatively (and officially declared) the last year of undergraduate schooling in my life. Before the calendars change over to 2009, I will have commenced and finally liberated myself of nearly two decades of American academic institutions. However, this spring semester will be the most ball-grinding, protracted experience I'll ever have. Six classes, nineteen units. Medieval Art, Italian, sculpture, printmaking studio, art of china/japan, and an independent study. It's all there, ready for me to demolish: expectations, conventions, sanity. On top of that, a commission for a mural painting in the client's house. My greatest apprehensions and fears lie in the independant study and the art history courses. Last semester, I cruised through sixteen units/five classes, with par performance in the ethnicities and art history classes. AND I was blazed most of the time. Who would've thought the sweet chiba would actually do the opposite and keep my head above water, eh?

Okay, so, this is the score:

-a 10 page paper + several written assignments and tests for ART 105
-another 10 pager and exams for ART 117B
-in class sculpture works (although it is implied that we'll need to work on our pieces outside of ASL as well)
-about 11 prints for ART 145 (a combination of serigraphy, intaglio/engraving, and relief prints)
-six 80" drawings of a sequential narrative (Destiny/Soul) with a 36+ page graphic novella in support (file:\mk. II-CZ
-11x4' mural painting

You ready?