22

Wanderlust: the profound feeling that within the soul, there exists a compass that constantly tugs at the very foundations of the being, pulling the body in whichever direction the winds happen to blow on that given day.
I first realized that this was a part of me during my teenage years...can anybody say Road Trip? Oddly enough, the colossal cross-country venture that was taken was not even my idea; I ended up being the fourth tag-a-long in a small silver car with three other girls. Well, two girls and one woman - the little Honda Civic was crammed with my best friend, her sister, their mother, and yours truly. I remember my heart pounding as we left our town in the early morning, and then the sinking disappointment creeping in as we drove nonstop through the the seemingly endless stretch from north Florida through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana. Little did I know that the interstate in the southeastern United States rarely reveals any wonders besides spectacular views, an occasional road kill, and Waffle House signs at every exit. Texas became more promising - it was entertaining counting the Texan flags that scattered the towns, and seeing the sparkling city of Dallas from a distance at night seemed downright cosmic. We grazed the corner of New Mexico, and then finally reached our first destination (Colorado), after over thirty hours of driving. To be continued.
Wanderlust is not a conscious choice; it is in innate part of a being, but the choice to act upon it or to stomp it out is up to the person who carries it. It is an unpredictable phenomenon that can rise and fall like the tides on the shore. There are times when it seems to ebb away, and times when it comes crashing back full force.

21

There is a ballet
In which the dancers
Are planets and stars
Spinning unrelentingly

And we observe them
In wonder and awe
Wondering what could sustain
Such marvel and persistence

Can we not
Imbue such beauty
In a world of consciousness
And gifted will

But the stars have withstood
The test of time
And we forget
That we are only temporary

20

In response the person I heard today putting down her friend who is dreaming of becoming a music teacher (because it is a "low-level and intellectually-unchallenging life-style...he can reach higher than that!")...
Please please PLEASE be aware, it takes an INSANE amount of courage and hard work to become a person who is dedicated to the arts, and is in no way easy or a "stupid career path!!" Art/Music students (the dedicated ones, at least) are just as hard working as the students in any other major, and I'd even go out on a limb and say that in most cases they are even more so. Where else will you find people staying awake to work for over 72 hours straight, living off of coffee and sleeping on campus (ok, besides you engineer guys...)? In most cases, artists/musicians/actors don't even have much straight-forward direction to follow (like textbooks to read and write papers on, or tests to study for and pass) - they're relying on pure creativity, improvisation, and self-motivation to produce at their highest possible level (which is tough when you're usually starving, lol!)...it takes an enormous amount of determination. Anyone who's aware of the real world right now and has a brain (left OR right sided ;) ) realizes that the job market isn't exactly inspiring - it definitely takes some extra guts to pursue an art-related career when the country is cutting back on any liberal spending. There's a growing number of people in the Arts in Medicine program who make children feel better and suddenly become talkative on a daily basis, after doctors give them all sorts of medications that don't relieve their pain and stress. I firmly believe that if magic's real, it exists in art. And if anything, I also think that every artist/musician I've met was just as happy as anyone else around them, if not more so! :) This has probably been my first and only FaceBook rant (yeey!), but I feel like it needed to be said!
Also, backupz!: http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424052702304402104579149060054918936?mod=trending_now_1

19

It seems incredible that for all that human beings have evolved into, we lack a real and full ability to feel each other.

18

Road trippin' with my two favorite allies
Fully loaded we got snacks and supplies...

Suave, cool, and confident.

It's time to leave this town
It's time to steal away

Ryan's sharp jawline was accentuated by his blonde 9 o clock shadow, maintained flawlessly to look playful, but not messy.

Let's go get lost
Anywhere in the U.S.A.

His body swayed into the song, which had been practiced for an unknown count of times to reach this level of perfection.

Let's go get lost
Let's go get lost

I wondered if his mind could possibly wander anywhere else besides solely on what he's playing and singing while he's so engaged in a performance. I wondered what it would feel like to be touched by his hands, and what it would be like to talk aimlessly with him in bed until the early morning hours, what his silhouette looks like as he sleeps.

Blue you sit so pretty
West of the one
Sparkles light with yellow icing
Just a mirror for the sun
Just a mirror for the sun
Just a mirror for the sun

The overhead light in the room exploded into full brightness, and our eyes met. We smiled to each other. It was a moment that begged acknowledgement of the slow and sure passage of time and seemed clearly to say, "You are both moving on."

These Smiling eyes are just a mirror for...

The connection between us was just too contrived, which in most cases will happen after meeting a stranger who you have exchanged messages with over several weeks. Fascination will always stubbornly rebut force. But I became aware of the lost lovers of his past that he must also be struggling to move on from, and I missed Austin.

17

For privacy purposes, his name is Thomas. Thomas is a two year old boy who is brought to the fitness center's Kid's Club at least twice a week by his mother. On most mornings, he stays with us for around an hour while his mom goes off and gets sweaty doing different strenuous workouts. The first time I saw Thomas toddle into the room, I noticed the multitude of light bruises on his forehead and his pudgy arms and legs. We quickly learned where he earned his ugly trophies from: Thomas is a thrill-seeking toddler who never fails to find the most impossible ways to injure himself (although fortunately never seriously of life-threateningly). These accidents can range from him toppling over backwards while trying to lift himself up onto the knee-height table in the middle of the room to him rolling off of the beanbag that he managed to triumphantly scale, as if the soft fabric were the jutting rocks of Mount Everest. My favorite incident, although I prefer it only because of the story that it created and not because of the moment itself, was when we turned to find him struggling head-down and feet kicking towards the ceiling in another baby's carrier that he had tipped over. To him, the carrier must have presented the mouth of a cavernous cave just begging to be explored. My co-worker managed to grab his legs in one hand and pry him from the carrier before anything terrible happened. Immediately afterwards we watched in awe as he crawled off into the sunset in search of his next adventure, not a baby tear shed.
Several attendants in the Kid's Club are apprehensive about Thomas's behavior and choose to leave him in "The Car": a baby bouncer that provides a safe confinement for troublesome babies. However, I am a supporter of Thomas's risky life-style. I believe that as long as he is supervised, he is building within himself the confidence and self-assurance that many *adults* lack. With every fall he is learning just how far he can push himself, and with every tumble he is discovering just what he needs to change the next time he endeavors to run from one side of the room to the other. We are watching the birth of a world leader, an Olympic athlete, a Grammy-winning artist, or whatever he is ambitious enough to achieve in the future.

16

Gabriel McQueen was an inveterate wanderer of the Coney Island board walk and amusement park. He is perhaps the most conspicuous phenomenon in the park between the carousels and coasters. Not one of the freaks, weirdos, carnies, or any of the local aberrations would be able to offer even a little insight into his peculiar lifestyle. Most people notice his intriguing device before they actually take him in: a plastic Five-Star folder that has been covered with mirrors, held on by duct tape. He holds this aloft as a deacon would the Cross, and it in fact appears to lead him by some ethereal force. He positions the mirrored folder to reflect the sunlight, which creates little Tinker Bells that dart from one place to another ahead of him. The other prominent oddity about Gabriel is his choice of attire and his overall appearance. His mullet may or may not be a wig leftover from the 80s Hair Metal era. He most often wears a Kool-aid red T shirt with a weight lifting belt strapped around his waist, and blue jeans no matter how hot the day.