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Wouldn't it be a lovely headline on a New York Times?

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If Art becomes Art when it is agreed upon that it is Art, than why do people even bother arguing against it?
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I don't know what I'm doing here. It's been years since I regularly updated and yet I sometimes STILL find myself writing LJ entries in my head when something exciting or overwhelming or just plain weird occurs. I miss it in the way that I sometimes miss high school. Its all part of the same past.

Speaking of the past, my Mom's friend who travels around the world for research recently told me this story about a tribe she studied in Africa. They are a people that live wholly in the present; even their language excludes most, if not all, words that even suggest the past or present. She said that they are some of the happiest people she has ever met. Because they are focused on the present they have nothing to worry about. During the summer they live outdoors and sleep on the ground and during the winter they build platforms with tents. However, once and awhile, she explained, a platform will collapse, (because of the lack of time actually spent planning/building these platforms), and YET, when it falls, everyone laughs hysterically. They get up and join their friends in the other tents until the next day when they rebuild it. I've looked all over the internet for something on them and I've been unsuccessful, sadly, but I'd love to know more/meet these people!

It kind of ties into something we've been discussing in my art history class. Every language has a different amount of words per meaning. In comparison to the African tribe, the English language seems to have an abundance of terms about the past and future, like I mentioned above. Therefore we're more likely to worry about them. As confusing as it sounds, the French only have one word for both conscience and consciousness, resulting in a fusion of the concepts. In addition, the Eskimos have a lot more words for snow, while the Arabs have many more for horses. Even the words for the spectrum of colors differs from language to language (we have 5 in English, but in Rhodesia they have 4 and in Liberia only TWO). Essentially, different languages influence the way that those language-speakers think and see the world!

I find that it would be hard to ever fully understand the concepts of another culture without having actually grown-up within it. I suppose you could learn the language and try to immerse yourself within the society, but I feel as if you could literally get lost in translation! Some argue that language produces almost the entirety of our conventions, and I'm finding it hard deciding whether or not I agree. If by language, they mean every single informal language of a society than perhaps they are right, but otherwise I think there is more to one's environment that affects their being.
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I dunno how many of you still use LJ, but just wanted to let you know that I started a new blog about my internship/job. rsfcamera is the name!
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Wisdom Teeth are For Lovers

edit: by NAt

Current Mood:
Wisdom Teeth
Current Music:
Wisdom Teeth
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I had a dream that men all had magical powers and could have whatever they wanted whenever, but women didn't have those powers.
I was living in an apartment with hardwood floors, and I was painting on a canvas. I didn't know what I was painting. Every once and awhlle, big gusts of wind would blow through the apartment and I'd have to hold onto my painting. I looked out the window, and this wind was coming from a big black hole at the end of the street which had arisen because of the unnatural order of things. THere wasn't supposed to be magic, so a black hole arrived and started sucking things in. lolol.
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The final stretch. This is it.


This is even more intense than when I finished watching the third and last Lord of the Rings movie for the first time. We're at the end of it all. Or the beginning. Whichever way you choose to look at it.


It's thrilling, and sad, and bitter, and exciting, and fun, and busy, and weird. We're really graduating. In a few weeks I'll be crying as they call my name to take the walk and collect my diploma. Hopefully, Dr. G won't turn into a giant demon-snake, like when Buffy graduated. Sunshine would be nice.



We've done so much together over the past four years. I mean, all these memories keep flashing through my head. No more will we be able to terrorize the English Resource room, gossip with Mr. Flinn during lunch, or even get down on our knees so that random strangers will drive us up to our cars in the pit.



I mean, I remember 9th grade: Hodes' class. Squirming out of getting a detention with Saz. 10th grade: It was pouring visciously out, and Nat and I dashed out of the art class and into the rain, catching puddles with our bare feet. 11th grade: Liza and Laoretti bitching it out everyday. And now. This year. We all grew up over the summer, whether we were in France or our friend's hot tubs. We've made new friends, and I've become even closer to Saz, Nat, Liza, Rose, everyone. It's so wonderful.



I want every bit of the future to be a surprise, starting with this summer. Get readyyy.
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lala graduation apartments brookside chapped lips relay for life meeting scholarships college film usb wire partyy bacardi psych surveys lightbooth wallflowers concert summer sun lalalalalalla i could talk about everything or nothing or both at the samee time but...
what are you thinking about right now?


Holiday Hill, Prom, camping all weekend, parade, Senior skip day, Hammonasset...
they were all fun. What can I say, they're supposed to be. Facebook is destroying my livejournal. Everyone knows what I did because they can just look at my photos. I must dig deeper. Photos are so superficial.



Damn. I don't want to dig deeper....I don't have a shovel.
So...I will just talk about something I didn't photograh.



Saz and I sat in the back of my car and drank milkshakes today. We talk about college too much.
We visited our magical cove in the woods. There's this trickling waterfall and a pool of unmoving water. It's the most magical place I know. Everytime we get close to it we always forget where it is. It's clean enough to swim in. :)




I feel dumb writing in here now. WHat is this. I don't want to graduate.
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I am listening to Wilco. Someone posted this of Jeff. I keep staring at it and staring at it but it reminds me of someone and I can't figure out who.

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My mom dumped her boyfriend the night of prom. DOESN'T THAT JUST SOUND LIKE MY MOM? hahahaha

ps. i was going through my parents yearbooks and my dad got voted BEST DRESSED LOL

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I made myself a snack plate made in heaven.



Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
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