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Textures used "Heaven just before midnight" and "Heavily textured on White" from my new pack.
Bird brushes from Pack 2
i've kept some version of a diary-slash-journal since i was in junior high. on paper, bound in leather, on the computer written in starts and stops on a Word document. even for a while on this blog-ish short lived thing way back when.
last night i was wandering down memory lane and re-reading what i was doing back in October, 2000 or 2004. yesterday, today, a week from now, but seven years ago, 2 years ago. even a few entries from when i was a freshman in high school and those might have been the most fun!
and oh, there are many bits that make me cringe - how utterly dramatic i made everything seem, the prose i thought made me sound so fucking intellectual and like A Real Writer, but instead served as a reminder as to why i shouldn't try loading up every paragraph with as many metaphors as i could, stuffing SAT words in every nook and corner, flowery as fuck sentences that might as well have been ripped out of some bad romance novel all culminated in many entries that looked like poor knockoff Nicholas Sparks meets Bret Easton Ellis tomes - except several thousand times worse.
regardless of the cringe-factor though, is that when i was writing this entry or that entry however many years prior it was just my day to day life. whatever i was fretting about or bored with or enjoying the hell out of, it was just the moments i was living through.
but now? they're The Good Old Days.
just like today and tomorrow and this October will find it's way into being The Good Old Days when I look back on it years from now.
i sort of love that.
Thursday, 18 April, I was leaving work. Minutes before there was a three car accident on Wilson Road just before the I70 Overpass. People were trying to around the scene. As it happens to be my turn the police roll up, right in front of me.
My coworker preparing his lunch in our cafeteria I am trying to carry around my moleskine notebook to capture scenes like this.
Hey guys, just wanted to share another one of my free video tutorials with your guys!
This time its relating to Quickbooks (fun fun fun!!). If you are starting a new business or have to start getting up to speed with your accounting and don't know how, check this video out:
The video is intended for beginners and its free!! so feel free to share it with friends and family... I am sure you know of someone that really needs a push.
Have a great week guys! Have a bunch of tax courses this week so will not be posting as much..
This journal belonging to Joseph Swan is from the Swan Collection of Tyne & Wear Museums, held at the Discovery Museum in Newcastle upon Tyne.
Sir Joseph Wilson Swan was a British Physicist, Chemist and Inventor. Swan lived at Underhill, on Kells Lane North in Low Fell, Gateshead. It was here that he conducted most of his experiments in the large conservatory.
His investigations in electro-chemistry led to the construction of a motor electric meter, an electric fire-damp detector, a miners' electric safety lamp. Most importantly, Swan was also a pioneer in photographic procedures such as carbon printing.
It was Swan's demonstration of the light bulb at a lecture in Newcastle upon Tyne on 18 December 1878, before its later development by the American Thomas Edison that he is most famous for. Swan and Edison later collaborated in their work with the incandescent light bulb in 1883, when they founded the Edison & Swan United Electric Light Company, otherwise known as 'Ediswan.'
Many items held at Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums relating to Joseph Swan offer an amazing insight in to his work as an inventor and his place in the History of Scientific progression. This set offers a small selection from these collections.
This set has been produced in support of the British Science Festival 2013, held in Newcastle upon Tyne. You can find more information on the Festival here
(Copyright) We're happy for you to share these digital images within the spirit of The Commons. Please cite 'Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums' when reusing. Certain restrictions on high quality reproductions and commercial use of the original physical version apply though; if you're unsure please email archives@twmuseums.org.uk
I. Show us an activity you enjoy doing.
#JournalEntry : Before I was born, my mother backpacked across Rajasthan, Haryana, Punjab and Himachal Pradesh. I am grateful to her for instilling in me the desire to open doors, to follow the creek upstream, to turn down windy roads that take too long, to throw pebbles in the river, to value wisdom and experience over conventional - assembly line society. She has taught me a lot of lessons, but one of my favorites is the appreciation for inconvenient places. They do not charge for admission - the snow capped mountains, windy back roads in the country side or a farm house leaning on a hill. All these beautiful things and meandering hours.
I welcome you on my journey to 'Dev Bhoomi' Himachal Pradesh - Gods Own Land. In January and February of 2015 I backpacked across the state of Himachal Pradesh. It has been an eye opening experience. It combines two of my most favorite activities - Traveling and Photography!
I have shared excerpts from my Travel Journal for each image.
I completed the 55 days journey in Rs. 7230/- ONLY.
#IncredibleIndia
Pope Benedict XVI's first encyclical "Deus Caritas Est" is a magnificent message quite timely in our age. I suggest everyone (as in everyone, Catholic or non-Catholic, as the essential message of the document is universal) to read it. This blog entry features my notes, quotations from reviews from the first part of the encyclical. One of the most endearing images quoted by the Holy Father in the document was that of Jacob's Ladder and how it represents the relationship between eros, an ascending love, brought into fruition in agape, an oblative descending love. It's amazing how Jacob's Ladder also mirrors the ultimate manifestation of God's love: Jesus. Link to encyclical here: Deus Caritas Est
My mother was telling tonight of the sounds she used to hear summer nights when she was young and lived on the Virginia Road-the lowing of cows, or cackling of geese, or the beating of a drum as far off as Hildreth's, but above all Joe Merriam whistling to his team, for he was an admirable whistler. Says she used to get up at midnight and go and sit on the doorstep when all in the house were asleep, and she could hear nothing in the world but the ticking of the clock in the house behind her."
#JournalEntry : There is a reason we hike to the tops of mountains. We want to see. Why? Because something in us wants to know the shape and body of the land from above. It answers a big question being asked all the time just behind our minds. Maybe it was millions of years of wanting to know who or what was coming for us. Maybe it cheaply fulfills the dream of flight, a strange dream, almost a memory, implanted in us all from a past we never had. So far as we knew.
Prompt: "Take the leap"
It's the last entry! Thanks again, Dawn, for bringing us through the month with your excellent prompts!
Notes on my readings on articles based on Senge's work on the 5th discipline and other related topics on Living System theories and Learning Organizations. It's quite interesting to note how most organizations (and individuals) resist change and refuse to learn when this is necessary to cope up with the rapidly changing environment. The need for this is heightened especially today when the circumstances surrounding us have grown exponentially.
Thursday, 18 April, I was leaving work. Minutes before there was a three car accident on Wilson Road just before the I-70 Overpass. People were trying to around the scene. As it happens to be my turn the police roll up, right in front of me.
In this journal entry I discuss my newfound sobriety (as of last month) and my ambivalence about it (which led to a brief slip, although I reclaimed my sobriety rather quickly afterward). I also describe what it's like to have to use the tapering method to get sober, since--believe it or not--no detox facility (at least in this area) accepts anyone with an active eating disorder.
#JournalEntry : I know we are taught otherwise \, but believe me when I say: there are places you can dream about for your whole life, build up to impossible greatness.. and then you finally get there and somehow the place is better. You may have had other disappointments, but some destinations shock the smallness of the human mind. They have haunting broad shoulders and size that even your youngest imagination couldn't fathom. Our heats can't hold the bigness of the earth.
Welcome to Kasol.
#JournalEntry : When the light is almost gone, or just arriving, everything in the world becomes beautiful. A forest at sunset is a golden painting, a timeless museum of art. The light is telling us that a day is over and it is now slipping into memory and becoming sweet. Or as a sunrise, the day is new and full of any good thing. I want to stop for sunsets. I want to see atleast one sunrise a week. I'm only on this planet once.
#JournalEntry:
Train your eye.
To spot a strong branched tree to hang your hammock on.
To spot an overgrown path to a secret forest trail.
To spot a reward friend, someone who takes winning, because they are not easily impressed, and the work pays off.
To see that being annoyed at people is because you hate being inconvenienced in your private ambition.
To see that investing in sleeping outside with a fire and friends will pay a much higher dividend than some wall-street stock in a company you don't care.
I've said too much.
Sketchbook orchid - I went crazy today and joined a bunch of "One-A-Day" groups on flickr. Now there is no backing away - I have to do a publishable sketch every day. Here is today's. Yesterdays were the "Daffodil Bed" and the "Rhododendron Fountain". There are so many great artists in these groups doing so much fine work! Hopefully I will get good, useful critique and useable tips for improving my techniques. One thing I have to do soon is make a new sketchbook sized a little bit smaller to fit my scanner bed!
I really don't drink brewed coffee, so the only coffee pot I have is old and stone ugly. But my TEAPOTS are spectacular. I have a lovely collection of all shapes, sizes, materials and ages. Here are just three - a Chinese Yxing clay pot, a hand-thrown, Japanese stoneware pot that was a gift from one of my ex-students, and a bright red pot-bellied pot from the Star Store in Langley. I didn't have any Camellia Sinensis (tea) leaves, but I did have Camellia leaves from the garden, so they had to stand in.
EDM #8 - Draw a Coffee Pot
I was sharing the other day about my travels in Rome, and when I started talking about St. Peter's Basilica and its history (it was unavoidable to talk about Matthew 16:18, which was written underneath the dome), I was asked about the who the rock Jesus was referring to. Here are my notes on the topic.
#JournalEntry : Anticipation and excitement collide in the moments before sunrise, hoping that the light will transform the landscape. It doesn't always work out the way you hope, but rarely is it not worth the early wake up call.
#JournalEntry : Seasons are natures way of reminding us that life is lived in chapters. It is not a run on sentence fenced in to one topic. They tell us : enjoy this and all the metaphors it gives you, but hold it all with an open hand, because the last frost will come, and you won't know it was the last, and every sleeping tree will wake up when you aren't looking. There will be a last time you tell your grandmother you love her. Maybe you'll know it, maybe you won't. There will be a last time you hold your child in your arms, before they are too big. Seasons are our best metaphor for the rules of living.
Journal Entry, 1978
Courtesy of Keith Haring Foundation
Keith Haring: 1978–1982, on display from March 16 to July 8, 2012 in the Morris A. and Meyer Schapiro Wing of the Brooklyn Museum, was the first large-scale exhibition to explore the early career of the artist. Curated by Raphaela Platow, the exhibition includes 155 works on paper, numerous experimental videos, and over 150 archival objects, including rarely seen sketchbooks, journals, exhibition flyers, posters, subway drawings, and documentary photographs.
Keith Haring (May 4, 1958 – February 16, 1990), a Pennsylvania native, moved to New York in 1978 and with his trademark creations across a variety of media, quickly made his mark in the thriving alternative art community that was developing outside the gallery and museum system. Haring was known for his subway graffiti, but instead of painting subway cars with spraypaint, he mostly drew with white chalk on the black paper pasted on unused advertising spaces. His distinctive style became widely known by those who never knew his identity. In his later years, he took on a more activist role, contributing works to hospitals and charities. In 1989, after being diagnosed with AIDS, he founded the Keith Haring Foundation, which supports organizations involved in AIDS education and outreach.
The Brooklyn Museum, sitting at the border of Prospect Heights and Crown Heights near Prospect Park, is the second largest art museum in New York City. Opened in 1897 under the leadership of Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences president John B. Woodward, the 560,000-square foot, Beaux-Arts building houses a permanent collection including more than one-and-a-half million objects, from ancient Egyptian masterpieces to contemporary art.
#JournalEntry : The most common question I get about my trip is "Why are you doing this?" They usually think I crave adventure and hated my job, or rejected capitalism or the hustle. But no its not that.
It is because of two ideas that I have read. One was from Malcolm Gladwell's book "Outliers". He studied what makes people extraordinary. Like Bill Gates, The Beatles,etc. He came up with the catchy theory : 10,000 hours. If you do something for 10,000 hours, you will become an expert in that thing. That seemed to be a common denominator in the subjects of Gladwell's book. Ofcourse it's a catchy theory and probably not entirely true, but it certainly got me thinking: What would my 10,000 hours be? What would I dedicate myself to?
And my answer was writing. That realization changed my life. I knew I had to get busy about the business of my calling.
Then I read a quote, often attributed to Benjamin Franklin, "Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing."
#JournalEntry : The she began to breathe, and live, and every moment took her to a place where goodbyes were hard to come by. She was in love, but not in love with someone or something, she was in love with her life. And for the first time, in a very long time, everything was inspiring.
#JournalEntry :I want to taste and glory in each day and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of non feeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think; to think and live; to live and learn; this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.
#JournalEntry : When we unzipped the door of our tent in Tosh Valley, this was our view.
I live for the moment when you gently wake up and hear your friends outside the tent, already brewing the coffee, restarting the fire, rubbing their cold hard hands together fast and blowing in their clasped fingers. The morning coffee, talks, with our jackets and beanies and the only things we really talk about are the cold, the coffee, and the fire... These are the things powerful enough to draw me from the warmth of my sleeping bag.
I joined a group on Flickr that challenges its members to create something "Every Day in May". Day one's challenge prompt was to paint/draw "Something Bubbly". Day Two was to portray "Your Favorite Sound". On day three we were to depict "Something That Gives You Joy". Wow! Turns out I could combine three days together in one little vignette sketch. I referenced a photo of my nephew's new baby, drew in some bubbles, imagined her laughing at them and pretty much had it all in a very quick little painting for my sketch journal. -- Blog "Color and Lines" http//www.judinyerges.com
Buddhist Monastery. Tibetan prayer flags fluttering in the wind.
#JournalEntry :To me there are few things more beautiful than colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind- sometimes waving gently, sometimes raging; a dance of shadow and light. There is perhaps no simpler way to create good merit in this troubled world of ours than to put prayer flags up for the benefit of other living beings.
Prayer flags are not just pretty pieces of colored cloth with funny writing on them. The ancient Buddhist prayers, mantras and powerful symbols displayed on them produce a spiritual vibration that is activated and carried by the wind across the
countryside.
All beings that are touched by the wind are uplifted and a little
happier. The silent prayers are blessings spoken on the breath of nature. Just as a drop of water can permeate the ocean, prayers dissolved in the wind extend to fill all of space.
one that would more clearly tie in with what follows, but it probably would have resulted in flickr's "protective screen" coming down over my photostream. So, this will have to do.
I woke up in the wee hours the other night, which is rarely if ever a good thing, and especially bad if the subject invading your consciousness is something like the recent shooting and killing spree in a Tennessee church.
At first, I seemed to be just focusing on the horror of it, trying to imagine the nearly unimaginable scene. But then, as it tends to go when you can't get something like that out of mind, when you can't retreat back into comforting sleep, free association took over. A "what-if" occurred to me. In this incident, one of the parishioners was hailed as a hero, deservedly so, because he put himself in front of the shooter and took a fatal gunshot himself, in so doing saving others. I wondered about another scenario, an unlikely one, but possible. What if one of the parishioners had been carrying a handgun and was able to use it to dispatch the shooter, thereby minimizing death and injury. Would the hypothetical person be similarly labeled a hero? Presumably, but ...
Then another thought kicked in, one involving memories from 40 or 50 years ago. I recalled seeing the movie "Dragnet" when I was 10 or 12 years old. It was based on the popular TV cops-and-crooks drama of the same name. The movie opened with a scene in which some guy gets killed by an assailant using a shotgun as the murder weapon. That scene is followed by one in which "Joe Friday" and another detective are describing -- in their usual flat, emotionless voices -- how the killing apparently occurred. They discuss among other things the nature of the victim's fatal injuries. I don't remember much if anything else about the movie, but those details were, obviously, seared into my young mind.
Then, a few years later, when I was about 19, I had decided I was destined to be a newspaperman. I was taking an introductory journalism course at the university. One of the "real world" experiences which students were given was a field trip to police headquarters in downtown Minneapolis. This was one of the basic places with which a general assignment reporter would need to be familiar. It would be one of the primary sources where the newsman or -woman would gather grist for the news mill on a daily basis.
Again, I now only remember one part of the visit and tour. I recall we were taken to the jail, specifically the booking desk. The guys on duty there -- jailers, cops or whatever -- seemed to enjoy, even relish, having young and impressionable visitors like us. As one part of their "show and tell" routine, they pulled out from under the counter a folder with an assortment of pictures and handed them to us for examination. They were crime scene photos, showing people who had been murdered in various ways, including being killed with a shotgun. Again, images were seared into my mind and have never gone away.
It was around that time, too, that Truman Capote's In Cold Blood came out and became an overnight best seller. I read it, or perhaps most of it anyway, and remember one other journalism student talking about it enthusiastically. Capote's work was all about conveying reality -- the reality of things which ordinary people never experience firsthand -- on a level at which they had never before been conveyed.
Those three things were enough. I've never had any further interest in intentionally exposing myself to media accounts or media images of horrific violence.
So, what do those memories have to do with the church shooting spree? First, a reminder of something that's probably so obvious as to not require calling attention to. The church shooting is just the latest in a depressingly long list of similar or related incidents: the "I'm so mad and I'm going to get even" form of rampage. They seem to go on without end. In fact, it would be highly naive to think that waves of public revulsion, which surface predictibly after each such incident, would result in an end to the carnage. Some observers, in fact, think the publicity, the shock value and revulsion are fuel that tends to keep the string of horrific acts coming. There is a certain plausibility to that line of reasoning.
I wondered, though, about the potential value of having more of our young and impressionable minds exposed to powerful, searing stimuli such as I was exposed to in younger years. Sure, they see lots of violence already, thanks to many of the highly popular nightly TV dramas involving cops, investigators and criminals. But I mean exposing them in a more controlled manner. If done right, could there perhaps be some lifelong benefit, perhaps analogous to being vaccinated against smallpox, measles and other vicious diseases? Such vaccination, after all, involves being exposed to a mild form of the disease in order to build up immunity to the full-blown disease. It seems like there ought to be at least some form of parallel here. But I'm only speculating of course.
I do know that there's a great deal of wisdom in the central message of that old Rodgers and Hammerstein song from "South Pacific."
You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!
Yes, another long-winded journal entry! This one is about responsibility and my own personal relationship to it.
#JournalEntry : I read that when Tolstoy was young he wrote in his journal "I am 24 years old and I have still done nothing .. I am sure it's not for nothing that I have been struggling with all my doubts and passions for the past eight years. But what am I destined for? Only time will tell."
Reading Tolstoy's nervous twenty-four-year-old words comforted me in a way, because his Lamentations showed a sense of understanding at the alchemy of time and experience, distilling itself towards a manifested purpose. Our teenage years and our twenties are perhaps the part of cooking where all the ingredients are tossed into the bowl. And the whisk of our mind is mixing them up, baking them in doubt and reason and questioning the love and laughter, friendship and misery, sliding them into the oven of time .. And what is made is US! With this knowledge, it seems so funny for each ingredient year to be a point of crisis. When we are in the year of chopping the tomatoes we cry 'I am only a few stupid tomatoes, I am nothing!' We have no patience for the process in the kitchen.
H2Om (water - Om)... I recently completed my Watsu 1 course and I must say it was a truly fulfilling experience. Not only have I been wanting to learn this for personal and professional (as a physical therapist) development, but I have always been passionate about the esoteric nature of Watsu, how it is possible to reach levels of consciousness and sensitivity through water not only as a receiver but as a giver. This is a follow-up on my previous "Poetry in Water" entry.
#JournalEntry : Remember who you were as a child? Good. Keep in touch with that childhood. It is loads of fun!
#JournalEntry : Photography isn't only about pressing a shutter, but its about a deeper beauty inside a picture. Its like an open line of communication that's open to anyone who wants to listen. I love when people can be a part of that open line. There is something about seeing another person in a picture, there's a connection. You can relate to another human, you can see the boldness of humanity and yet understand what a fragile creation we are. That's why I take portraits to show that inner deeper beauty inside people.