Do you have those nights where you add up all the events of your day and, no matter how many good things happened, no matter how hard you try, things just don't sum to a possitive? And all you can do is just ride it out until sunrise, when the slate can be wiped clean again. A day is not measured by the hours you laugh, but by the moments you cry. The bad, if ever it has the chance, will outweigh the good.
It should have been a great day, though. That's what gets me. I spend all day at school just chillin' with friends, a near perfect day for me. There had to be a chink in this chain of enjoyment.
It's small, trifling really. To say it sounds like nothing at all, but what outright ruined my day was my destroyed pot. It was so good! I poured my time, effort and heart into that piece and for what? An underglazed lid?! I worked so hard, so goddamned hard on that thing, getting the sides smooth, gettting the lid to not jiggle around, and keeping it moist over Spring Break (a fate not easilly achieved).
But fate has this way of saying, "Fuck you," when you least expect it. There are two reasons why a piece explodes in the kiln: air pockets and moisture. Now, I neaded that clay meticulously, so air pockets were in no way an issue. So, some kid who should have never been putting the pieces into the kiln in the first place placed mine in there before it could totally become bone-dry, and now all I have of my days of hard work is a lid. Ms. Laudenback was incredibly appoligetic about it all, because she'd become fond of the piece as well. Apparently, I'm pretty good at this pottery thing. I find faults in nearly everything I do. I'm never satisfied with myself, but I was legititmently proud of this piece. Naturally, then, it was utterly destroyed. Well, universe, I hope you're quite satisfied with yourself.
It should have been a great day, though. That's what gets me. I spend all day at school just chillin' with friends, a near perfect day for me. There had to be a chink in this chain of enjoyment.
It's small, trifling really. To say it sounds like nothing at all, but what outright ruined my day was my destroyed pot. It was so good! I poured my time, effort and heart into that piece and for what? An underglazed lid?! I worked so hard, so goddamned hard on that thing, getting the sides smooth, gettting the lid to not jiggle around, and keeping it moist over Spring Break (a fate not easilly achieved).
But fate has this way of saying, "Fuck you," when you least expect it. There are two reasons why a piece explodes in the kiln: air pockets and moisture. Now, I neaded that clay meticulously, so air pockets were in no way an issue. So, some kid who should have never been putting the pieces into the kiln in the first place placed mine in there before it could totally become bone-dry, and now all I have of my days of hard work is a lid. Ms. Laudenback was incredibly appoligetic about it all, because she'd become fond of the piece as well. Apparently, I'm pretty good at this pottery thing. I find faults in nearly everything I do. I'm never satisfied with myself, but I was legititmently proud of this piece. Naturally, then, it was utterly destroyed. Well, universe, I hope you're quite satisfied with yourself.
Yea or nay?
In response to Scott's post about secrets, here's a few of mine that I'm sick of caring for:
- I can't take a shower in places that aren't my home. If I do, it's only because it's absolutely nessesary.
- I'm happiest when I'm alone.
- I envy the willpower of anorexics.
- I play with my hair on the shower walls.
- I'm a germophobe, especially in the shower.
- I really, really want to run away. I even have the destination planned out.
- My virginity is questionable.
- I give in to racist stereotypes, even though I know it's wrong.
- I spend a great deal of time in a Mary-Sueish fantasy world.
- I'm a habitual liar.
- Because of the chemo and radiation, if I want to have kids, I have to have them by my mid-20's.
- I'm scared I've done all my living before I could really appreciate it.
- How I view things depends on what music I'm listening to.
- I love a place far more than I've ever loved a person.
- I'm not entirely sure of my sexuality.
Symphony needs to go on more trips. That was a blast. I love how the buses inadvertently split into quiet and loud groups. I was able to avoid Lori for once in the trip and get some peace and quiet, more or less.
And, wow, is Eastern Oregon amazing! I could move there in an instant. I forgot we had canyons. Canyons! Damn my forgetfulness, as I did not have a camera. Seeing that part of Oregon was like a little teaser, to remind me of the upcoming road trip. That area's wasted, though, if you don't have the Eagles and the Spirit soundtrack, because that particular music was written for such places.
And, wow, is Eastern Oregon amazing! I could move there in an instant. I forgot we had canyons. Canyons! Damn my forgetfulness, as I did not have a camera. Seeing that part of Oregon was like a little teaser, to remind me of the upcoming road trip. That area's wasted, though, if you don't have the Eagles and the Spirit soundtrack, because that particular music was written for such places.
There are known knows, then there are known unknowns...
4 Comments Published by Elentine on Tuesday, April 10, 2007 at 12:16 AM.
I've noticed my posts have become horrifyingly vain as of late (to say nothing of infrequent). That's not to say I haven't pursued the unknown. It's just, my profound ideas are like big bubbles. I can chase them through the fields as long as I wish, but as soon as I go to catch it, it bursts. Sure, I can catch the smaller ones, but it's the big bubbles I'm after. While I sit on my bed, looking at the stars, I chase trains of thought so profound and deep, they kinda surprise me. I reach conclusions that make life lighter. Of course, they burst as soon as I go to write them down.
I've thought about tape recording these thoughts rather than write them down, but most rides last for the briefest of moments, like little thoughtgasms. A second or two of light and clarity, then back to the unknown. The unknown's a lovely place to be, though. Anything's possible. Things we think are beyond the realm of possibility one century are done in the next. Laws are only relative to the times.
How then can we discount anything? The greatest revelation we can come to is the revelation that we know nothing. What I find humorous is that one of the greatest debates, science vs. religion, is about how to know the unknown. It's all just quite silly. They are two sides of the same lollypop. If the two sides would just stop arguing with eachother, they'd come to find just how similar they really are, and who knows, maybe this vast, seemingly infinite realm of the unkown would grow just a little bit smaller. Of course, the more we know, the more we realize we don't know, and that's really all that life and reality is: a great, big silver question mark.
I've thought about tape recording these thoughts rather than write them down, but most rides last for the briefest of moments, like little thoughtgasms. A second or two of light and clarity, then back to the unknown. The unknown's a lovely place to be, though. Anything's possible. Things we think are beyond the realm of possibility one century are done in the next. Laws are only relative to the times.
How then can we discount anything? The greatest revelation we can come to is the revelation that we know nothing. What I find humorous is that one of the greatest debates, science vs. religion, is about how to know the unknown. It's all just quite silly. They are two sides of the same lollypop. If the two sides would just stop arguing with eachother, they'd come to find just how similar they really are, and who knows, maybe this vast, seemingly infinite realm of the unkown would grow just a little bit smaller. Of course, the more we know, the more we realize we don't know, and that's really all that life and reality is: a great, big silver question mark.
