rude_ruca

I can never keep dismal, down and out journals up for long...

...I don't have much time for these updates it seems. I feel like a neglegent mother. I don't keep up with you folks enough, and for that I appologize. However, we can blame this misgiving on the MASSIVE amount of work that I have been doing not only for my art store job, but also school work. Also, on my day off, thursdays, I will be volunteering to work with kids at the local Y in the afternoon. Guess I really had no idea that the enormity of the work load would be bogging me down. But hey, it builds character, right?

Anyway, I don't want to come off as complaining about school. That is the last thing I should be belly-aching about. In fact, School work and being in it and being on campus makes me super happy! Seriously, I feel like I am finally DOING something with my life. The last five years of my life have consisted of nothing but me floundering around, trying to find some purpose or meaning. So, finally, when I got off of my high horse, which was actually tied to the caboose of the philosophical party train, and got back to school, I felt the swift wind of motivation sweep my soul. In fact, it's been a howling wind that has been harbored in my very being for a couple of months now. Every morning, upon slamming my hand down on the alarm clock, the motivation sounds off. It tells me to keep my head straight and nose clean and quickly I sort through the days duties before stomping off to the parking lot that is I-270. I really shouldn't even begin to complain about gridloocked traffic either (though it is the bane of my existance in that it is costing me in the hundereds for gas every month). When I am sitting there, I have SO much time to think, sometimes worry, but mostly think. There is no thinking allowed at my house. I live in a very LOUD house hold. You'd think it's members were deaf. I am sure the neighbors not only know each and every one of our pants sizes, as well as bank account balances and probably even social security numbers. I hope that when I assume the living alone status next summer, I can keep a quiet household. I have never understood the need to shout out VERY personal information up three floors of stairs of a house that is within arm's reach of the neighbor on either side while half if not all of the house's windows are wide open. It's beyond me, but it sure makes for great story telling...

Anyway, folks, hope this will suffice for the time being. As promised, you all are seeing a more 'upbeat update' from the Ruca. (appologies for SOME tinges of negativity, though....)

**Wrote the following tonight. I felt it was rather rediculous to write two entries in one day, so here goes....please read, and feel free to insert your feet in my ass afterwards. Seriously, do not be coy or modest in critisizing me! After all, a lil masachism never hurt anybody (hardy har har, no pun intended, I swear!)** -

Did you know that we are living in the dark ages? Neither did I. Just as the folks enduring the "real" or "original" era, I'd not have known this fact until a discussion -and sadly enough, not a debate- ensued in my music appriciation class tonight. More specifically, I feel that the artistic well is running dry. Frankly, I am bored with art at the moment. We are looking at the same regurgitated ideals in every "new"-millenial- piece of art we see. The fact that art pans such a broad horizon now can be attributed to Humanity's endearing quality of finding the beauty in just about everything. And, as endearing as this quality is, I think that art needs to be lassoed in. Someone has got to pull back the reigns. There needs to be an original idea, and I don't think society as a whole can achieve that until it is deprived. We need to hit a wall. We really need to BECOME starving artists. Stop spelling everything out for us. Stop throwing the same iris and wild flower laiden hills and nude, bathers, particularly women, at us! Perhaps, though, we are there. Perhaps music, literature and fine arts haev reached a stand still. Perhaps as the ugly head that is censorship on pornography rears it's head at us, a first approach is being made -however wrong it may be. I DO NOT believe censorship is the road to flourishing ideals and creativity, don't get me wrong. However, I believe this will spark a creative rebellion amongst our most artistically inclined.

All of this thought was triggered by my listening to Mozart's Jupiter Symphony. His 41st and final, this symphony was speaking volumes to me as it blarred through my car's speakers. It optimized an Omen. As a writer, artist and appriciator of music, I felt that we as writers, artists and musicians might be seeing art in it's final stages. Have we reached our bounds, I asked myself as the violins and cellos lowered their tone to that of a dismal forecast. Quite Possibly we have.

It is my belief that the last great movement in art's history was the Abstract/Conceptual/Modern art boom of the 50's and 60's. Before that, the introduction of photography and prior to that, impressionism, with some greats sprinkled here and there. The ninties through to today produces large quantities of commercial art, or Bob Ross-esque paintings that are loved by the layman. Does that mean that now, only an artist can appriciate good art? Possibly. Now, among my freinds are some great artists, musicians and writers. I appriciate their approach, their ever evolving ideas and style, unique as they are. But, where is the revolution? Are we waiting for our Renaissance? Yes, I think that intelligent individuals are. I think we are at the begining stages, though. We are the water molecules, buffeting around the levee. Each day, captive are more molecules like us, and soon, hopefully, we will be strong enough to break through our levee of mediocrity!