I don't know why I'm in a blogging mood, but I kind of am.
So I guess I'll update a bit.

Those who check my blog probably already know that I've been in Chicago this past week. If you don't know why I was there, I was recording vocals for music that will be released for your ears to hear sometime this month. Be sure to check out www.myspace.com/afterlifecomplex for further updates. (Pictures below are of Ryan, the guy I was staying with, hopefully he doesn't mind me sticking them in my blog)

I should also mention that I got to spend a couple days with my mom in Chicago. My mom met Ryan her first night there and apparently wishes she could adopt him. Haha. She was there for her documentary "Nobody Knows" (correct title?) so I decided to extend my stay. She had various conferences to attend, but we managed to check out the Art Institute, which was a lovely experience. I had hoped to find more pieces that really captivated me, and with more time there I probably would have. However, I did discover something about myself and how I view art.


When people stand in awe of a painting that conveys no real emotion or passion I become confused. How do their eyes work when viewing the piece? What connection are they making? Is it the colors, the way the artist stroked his brush on the canvas, the shapes, the event, the history of the painting? As far as the history is concerned, I am absolutely intrigued by it. But in order for me to be drawn to a piece of artwork, I have to make a connection, and I have to sense some sort of passion. There is the artist who paints a girl standing in a field, and then there is the artist who paints a girl who is not just standing in a field but who is passionately concerned about something beyond that field. Even colors alone can convey passion. I am also drawn to symmetry, but there has to be something more to its simplicity for me to take it in. I making sense? Sense. That is what I like.. to sense realness.. real feeling or real question.. I like to sense pure originality that conveys individuality.

Anyway, I got back in Utah last night. Had some inconvenient things happen with my work situation and am on the lookout for something new. I was feeling artistic this morning and made a completely new resume, now all I have to do is find someone who will be impressed. I hate that, how in the work-world you can't always just "be" but have to go out of your way to impress. And I don't mean impressing someone by being professional, but the fakeness is what bothers me. When someone is one person in setting A (work) and a completely different person in setting B (home). It's just funny how people view strangers so differently depending on how they meet them. I'm thinking of particular situations, so this thought won't come out clearly unless I continue explaining, which I'm in no mood to do. My blogging mood is suddenly something of the past, because I'd rather write with pen and paper in a more poetic form than continuing to write sentences.