Carbon Copy

Misc.

So I haven't written in a while, and I think its because I'm falling into the trap of thinking that it has to be good and thoughtful or at least thought-provoking. I've had lots of ideas, but none of them really seem to pan out and get past the idea part. For instance, I've recognized the melancholy of a wilting trumpet in music and how it makes my heart strings resonate. Or the humor in a buddha figure reclining like some kind of odalisque. I like how in the summer, the front of Old Main feels like a school abroad because the only students are international ones. And yesterday, my roommates and I went for a drive to look at the houses on the hill. The view was a Cezanne painting, all blues and greens in geometric shapes, but the houses were all columns and fancy doors, brickwork and fountains in the frontyard (I think fountains only belong in the backyard.) But then we pulled off the side of the road to look at horses in pasture. That was more appropriate to the cloudy sky. A colt was leaping about, and we were leaning on the fence, three girls in polarfleece, the Jetta engine still running, ready for a quick escape.