Hester is a good ol' gal.
(If you haven't been paying attention, Hester is this blog. You may ask, "Why is Hester female when you are so overwhelmingly masculine?" Such questions are really superfluous. One might be better rewarded by asking why all unicorns are hollow. Seriously, folks, roll with me)
Ehemm. Hester is a good ol' gal. She is here for me when others are simply ready to hit the mute button. Truth is, sometimes I have tendency to drone on about this or that. My didgeridoo wishes it could drone so long and so well. Many people just aren't ready for the blast of atomic intellect that oft flies fast and loose from these lips. And, really, that's okay.
On my walk this morning (and really in my subsequent shower) I was thinking of a terrifying fact. I wondered the fate of our dear creativity. Is it gone? If not, is it dying? Has it run off with other forgotten rebels like Jim Workethic? Florence Compassion? Bob Tolerance? I am unsure.
Let me back up a bit. As I was walking this morning, and really on most mornings, I am generally accompanied by several neighbors as we all meander around in the only cool air we are likely to have and rejoice that we have been granted another day. We do not speak, save the cursory "G'Morning" and we rarely look at each other. Alas, this is not my point. Each person has a right to that constitutional, as for many of us it provides catharsis. Nay, my example shall be far more specific.
The lady walking up ahead of me for several blocks seemed to have a very unfortunate deformity in which her right arm jagged upward at a severe angle and seemed glued to her ear. How awful, I thought. My friend Ray was born with only one arm and I know the struggles he has had because of it. Still, it's very courageous of her to be out like this. Why, we could all learn something from her spirit and her dedication to be seen as a regular person. Damned inspiring, this one. I wish my students could muster just one ounce of the gumption that - wait now... what's this? Oh. Sound Effect: Deflating balloon. She's talking on her fucking cell phone? At 5:30? On a beautiful walk?
My brother has a hypothesis that might fit here. He believes that many people (and in his particularly vehement rants, sorority girls) are incapable of being alone. Not necessarily afraid of the feeling of loneliness... just... incapable. They don't know what to do with themselves.
I saw The Incredible Hulk this past weekend. It's great. It's totally action packed and full of great puns - the whole nine. It also does every single bit of thinking for you. Which is AWESOME! Or, is it? On my drive home from seeing the movie alone (ALONE), I remembered back to my childhood and the old Hulk television serious with Bill Bixby and Lou Ferigno. (Sp?) It was f**king horrible. The editing was lousy, the plots were laughable, the effects were ludicrous. However.... I did not know that at the time. These revelations have come but recently with the injection of over-stimulated frontal lobe and an over-priced MFA. As a child, that show was as incredible as the Hulk's moniker implies.
Let's get on with it. There was a time, not so long ago, when we all had to imagine things. The old Hulk t.v. show was awesome because my imagination was raging (much like the Colorado river used to rage, before we built those monsterous dams to stifle her - Side Rant). My imagination was steroid for the lame effects and terrible writing. Now, with this and many other new movies, anything can be shown to us. Right there for our little orbs to soak up. And sure, there are benefits to that. It does make things a damn sight more interesting. Sometimes. But as I thought about this all, I really started to worry. Maybe today's generation, and those to come, don't know how to imagine anymore. Do they daydream? Do they work up silly scenarios for nothing more than amusement? Can they?
If a middle-aged woman can't enhance her walking experience solely with the thoughts her head can whip up, can our kids?
CUE GIANT SOAPBOX
Seriously. These days, we have absolutely ZERO time to teach. And what's more... if it's not on the test, it is simply not important. I have heard those words VERBATIM. That's scary. We are so busy trying to save our own asses that we are leaving theirs completely bare. And when we do take the time to really dig in and buck the system, it's all about logic and critical thought. The arts are typically considered to be fillers. And if you ask an administrator, they'll give you the standard response, sure. They know all the right things to say. "The Arts are very important." Ask them, though, if they know why. I could rant for a decade about this, but I will not. Instead, I'll let Ken Robinson do it. He's WAAAY better at it anyway. So, take some time and watch this.
That picture up there represents my feelings on the matter. That's what I saw on my walk.
We live in profoundly cynical world, and sometimes we just need beauty and imagination for the sake of beauty and imagination. I saw a homeless man once as I drove home after a particularly awful day at Compass. He was on his knees and he had is arms raised to the sky. I immediately tuned my brain to scenarios of misery. Of mental illness and the way we don't care and push people aside. How awful a life that man leads, I thought. What a miserable f**king wretch. I arrived home shortly thereafter and as I turned away from my car, my eyes were really opened. The sun was setting and painting the sky with infinite hope. Colors upon colors upon the salvation of humankind blending perfectly with the Earth. I could hear the collective groan of universal release. I was one with everything and still so small. Really... It was fresh panties.
I judged that man too soon. I had complicated my lives. We all complicate our lives. We don't see what's around us. And if I'm speaking out of turn and you DO... then help someone else to see it too.>
Goddamn the batteries,
Jed
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