Foundations of Spiderwebs

I want to become one of the skyscrapers, to become a building that engulfs its bricks and steel, its wood and glass, eating up each one until they become absorbed within my mass. I want to break out of the ground, to feel soil and concrete around my base and to push upwards, parallel with the other skyscrapers. I want to grow taller, to feel the hands of men upon me, giving them blisters and callouses as they build. I want to bite the clouds, to feel them on my tongue while I look down at the world, so far away. I want my name to last forever.

Rand posed the idea that movement equals life. To stop, to stagnate, is to die. By that theory, I must be exuberant with life as I continue this tri-weekly commute that does become, in a way, addicting. Though I love my days off, relaxing at Volan, a local coffee shop owned by a friend, and chatting with the multitude of regulars seeking caffeine and connection, I begin to feel a restless agitation in my limbs that is only sated by this journey north. The train seems less like a caterpillar of cattle cars and more like a transporter of anticipation. The passengers buzz with kinetic energy waiting to be released in their destinations while participating in a sort of transient community. We all buy the tickets, walk the platforms, ride the trains.

Once in the city, I am alive with overstimulation. The tall buildings hold reminders of man's achievement while the pedestrians suggest endless possibilities. You can be and become anybody in this city. There is also a specific promise that waits for me in this city that my home town can no longer fulfill, a forward progression. Though I do my homework in Asbury, continuing productivity, my school is in the village and within its walls teach the great minds who will help to educate, shape, and inspire me into a closer definition of the person I am to become. That is not to say that I am not yet defined, nor that I will be fully defined once I graduate, but merely that I will be at such a greater place after so much intellectual feeding. Already, only one month into classes, I am so absorbed into my courses, all of which are amazing, that I want to write and create more than I have in a while. 

A Thought:  I've been thinking a lot about the creative process lately, specifically in terms of where creation originates from. There's an obvious answer - you imagine something and then create it. But what about other means? For example, I'm in love with the idea of sculpting, particularly with metal and found objects. However, I have no idea of what to create or how. Can art come from accident? If I play with materials, construct something through trial and error rather than forethought, can it still become art? Or is it merely something aesthetic, as the end product lacks an initial concept? This I have no answer to, but it is something I've been puzzling over.

A Find:  I put a deposit on a bike Saturday for the city. Over at Second Life Bikes in Asbury, my boyfriend's little brother, who volunteers there, helped me pick out an awesome, old japanese, gold and grungy beauty of a bike that he's going to work on and fix up for me. So exciting! I will not, however, be riding her in the city. Only in Brooklyn. Inner city riding terrifies me too much, as everyone on wheels is crazy in the city (cars and bikes alike). I'll have to think up a name for my new beauty.