Seventeen syllables, No. 54

A flash--The palm tree
Reappears after sunset--
A cutout from black.

Seventeen syllables, No. 53

What's so heavy? The
Camera in my pocket
Holds recorded sand.

Ypao-Matapang walkabout

I know, I know, I shouldn't use a sacred word such as "walkabout" to describe such a commonplace walk through two beaches. But then again, the point is that until now it has not been commonplace.

As I was walking back to my vehicle after having snapped some pictures of the beach, I contemplated on why photography is an art. My first reaction was, "Good question." I decided that songwriting is less like writing than it is like picture taking; songwriters don't go to the songs, the songs come to them. Then the songwriter decides whether that song idea, like a certain unposed composition in a picture, is worth writing about. If that happens, then, well, you have a song. ^_^

Then, I realized that we dwellers of this century have actually put photography in a sort of double-standard: we maintain that the camera does not lie, but then turn around and beg and coax it to tell the truth the way we see it.

I told Jesse yesterday that love is a uniquely human construct partly because it draws its justification from another uniquely human construct: the awareness of our own mortality. However, when I was telling this to him, I still did not have it worked out fully. When I was driving around this morning the answer suddenly came to me, and now I can't wait to put it down on some paper.

Thanks for reading.

Song in my head: The Frames, "Pavement Tune".

P.S. Check out some pictures from my walkabout at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/mathwizard/tags/fffff

So it's like chess, but it's in space...

I'm finally putting the finishing touches to my board game, and now I'm trying to get the word out as much as I can, so much so that I'm even telling my students at hte Stairwell about it. It's kind of crazy; this is one of the first side-projects that is finally coming to fruition! I wonder what the public would think of it.

I'm glad I'm getting a lot of hours at work, but there's got to be a point when you say, "Enough." I don't know when that time is.

This year is already turning out to be a turning point of sorts; finally I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know I haven't been digging, but there are times when I can afford to catch my breath. Now if only I can be a lot better with my time... ^_^

Thank you for reading.

Song in my head: Death Cab for Cutie, "I Will Follow You Into the Dark".

Seventeen syllables, No. 52

"How do you know it
Was real?" Sigh, pause. "Because
It hurt when she left."

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. ^_^

Seventeen syllables, No. 51

At the hallway, the
Child chases the rolling coin
A little early.

All right, on to the Winter ones. One more season to go. ^_^

The flow of communication

You know, you would think that I've already learned from my mistakes. Apparently not. I kind of wrote some things that maybe it was not a good idea to say in my email correspondence with one of my dear friends. The question to me was innocent enough: "What about you?" referring to how I am doing romantically.

Maybe I should have just lied and said that I was fine with being single. Maybe. But instead I launched into a tirade that probably should never have happened. I think what I did that day was I complained about the right things but to the wrong person. After all, what power did she have to correct my situation? I should not have relied on her to fix my problems for me. I should always be the one to do that.

So here I am waiting in electronic silence, not really knowing just what effect my words have had on my friend. I hope she sees this and realizes the regret that now accompanies my previous communication. I hope that she understands.

It really shows how little I have learned in the past year. Maybe this year will be better.

In other news, I'm overwhelmed with students at the Stairwell, but I guess that it is favorable that the learning center is seeing a lot of business, not the least in the aspect of my paycheck... ^_^ It will soon need to expand, though... for the sake of all students involved.

Song in my head: James Taylor, "Fire and Rain".

Seventeen syllables, No. 50

One single petal
Lies unswept in the corner
Of the white chapel.

Seventeen syllables, No. 49

Streetlight paints the tree
Yellow above, black beneath;
Excess drips on grass.

Shuteye

Never would I have thought that I would be so tired that I actually feel like I deserve the sleep I'm about to get.

Good night, everyone.

Song in my head: One Republic, "Apologize".