Conscience Break

Ah, glorious spring break! While I am eternally grateful for not being in school, I still can’t relax as the pressures to finish projects and my portfolio are in lieu of an inebriated week of warm weather and breast exposure. Four years of school and not once have I been afforded the opportunity to have gone wild, but that just might not a part of my constitution, although I do wish there were a few more drinks in me this week. Instead I will settle for a rambling blog post to kill some time and clear my head.

Numerous thought things have been running through my mind during this pseudo holiday. It may just be symptomatic of being kept to myself but, I’ve dwelt on how quite a bit of the things I get passionate about are relatively obscure compared to the people around me. Like, have you ever got the feeling of your heart race and a shiver raises the hair on the back of your neck while looking at an typeface’s character set? Typography is as most art and objects of beauty; appreciation can always be from the surface, but infatuation is deeply intimate and can require an separate education just to know what you’re looking at. I even caught myself skipping class to go sit in the library and read a textbook on design and type. Or what about vintage futuristic concept art? Pulp comics? Old nudie magazines and listening to lounge exotica music (not because I particularly like the music, but because of the culture that surrounds it)? Yes, I have come to love many inexplainable things and I couldn’t tell you why.

I will err to say it is not being esoteric that draws me to such strange things but the ideas that result from the experience. And as I try to write about this conscious dialog with I constantly have with myself about why I do the things I do, I feel a disconnect.. too analytical.. This compulsion to think about such topics is only proof that I have been away from the things I love for too long, whether they are tangible or not. These are the kind thoughts that plague me during breaks and the quiet hours of the night.

And if this was a LiveJournal my mood would be “pensive”..

School has taken its toll and now breaks are spent working and worrying about tomorrow. I can only wish I was one to moon young women from a beach house balcony with a solo cup in hand. But all I really need is for someone to occasionally say, “yeah I love that too,” just to remind me of the things I really care about. But I needed worry. Break is almost over and the misery will begin again.

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