GERM - AND A HEFTY DOSE OF ME

here, i must be trying to explain something, like i'm about attemp in this post.
though this is a much less-gross version of me, and today i'm doing it with a gross cold.
(um, and even though that photo/memory feels like a year ago, it was in 2005. FIVE years past. What?)

OK... ladies and gentlemen, (or is there just one gentleman-Kurt-in my audience?)
prepare yourselves for the rambling me:

I have goobered eyes and my nose is housing a persistent drip
which means endless "almost-then-finally sneezes,"
and of course when they drip out of the nose, it is endless Kleenex.
Every third word I speak jumps to a raspy whimper as if I'm a boy in puberty,
my nostrils and lips are fighting for the title of "most chapped"
(though my tiny tube of Blistex helps to alleviate that battle).
Provo's worst air in the nation is not helping.
The pain is gone after just an hour of wake, but I'm still a gross mess for others all day.


i.e. CLASS where I need to be so I can get started on finishing this school thing.

Oh, and I caught another germ—also, not a good one to catch during school:
I want to be a mom. And I just want to do projects and go exploring.
And I want to do projects with kids. And worse, I want to blog about it.
I have no kids and I'm already aspiring to that 'Mom Blog' ladder?

I blame Jordan for posting this, which I saw on my slow work day on Friday.
I spent nearly all afternoon scrolling and scrolling through this Rebecca's weblog.
I started going backward, until Aug 2008, then decided best to read chronologically...
but only made it to Mar 2007. I still have nearly a year to learn about what she does!
Oddly, I felt like I could relate to so much when really I probably can't. But I was hooked.

And then I found out about this mama, and Katy, as always, and the links just kept going...
but, blogs aside, the monsters played a role in my fixation and fascination
and awakening of what has probably always been an urge in me. (Mom?)
I just want to make stuff. Oh man, and the Bryners last night fed my budding craving
with all their book-paper pom pom strings and bitty, stuffed owls and Shrinky Dinks
(Tallia was appalled we hadn't ever heard of them. Have you?) and sticky iron-on-paper for fabric pillows, and the ReadyMade book from their library or the "Modern Kid Craft/Design Book" they bought? (It teaches about Paul Rand and Charles and Ray Eames and then gives cheap awesome versions of the inspired designers for kidlets.
Ouch! I cry: I want to create stuff!

And yes, create a little human too. I always have, of course, but this week I had my first
"pregnant dream" (does anyone have those?) and it was a long dream and I was at some clinic next to a pro football field. I had to wait in the room while my family and Ben watched the game next door. For some reason that was the normal routine. The sad part is I was scared for the pain! Why? I boast a high pain threshold and sure, birthing beats all, but it was a dream.

Well, anyway this isn't a pregnant announcement. (Despite that our first day back in class,
Adrian led a string of jokes that I was, in fact, making such an announcement.)
I have always admitted that I'm scared of that: Mommy-ing while student-ing. No, thanks.

But still. I wish I had the germ of design student and graduation motivation.
And while wishing, I'm doing my best to avoid this germ.
(Skim that link for the F. Scott Fitzgerald quote, the article as a whole is for a long block of time).

Oh, and if you really are still reading, you can be amazed with me that,
appropriately, while my mind is buzzing and buzzing with what I thought was a germ,
Becky sends me the following, where Pearl calls it a curse:

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this:
A human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive.
To them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy,
a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create—
so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings
or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off...
They must create, must pour out creation.
By some strange, unknown, inward urgency
they are not really alive unless they are creating.

-Pearl Buck
US novelist in China (1892 - 1973)

And don't think I'm done yet. I'm sick, mind you. But not sick of typing... even while snotting,
(sorry, Ben, if you want to use my laptop, get some Nu Skin hand sanitizer from the cupboard).
And I have more to connect:

Dieter F. Uchdtorf calls it an inherent wish. O man, I get goosebumps every time:



And Levi said that very address above served an inspiration behind his search of the
"circle of life kinda thing" found within the realm of killing or destroying as part of a creation.
Woosh, there goes a "wholenuther" concept to contemplate. Thanks, Levi for doing it first:
(I designed stuff to advertise his show, sorry I'm only advertising here with one day left. Go see!)


Oh man, and I think that's it. I'm glad for the germ/fixation/obsession/curse/inherent wish.
I don't know what to do with it except pray that I can channel it into my senior portfolio
and BFA Final project and show. Pray for me too?—if you're still here reading. And wow, you must be sick too if you've stuck around. And to think, I'd just be leaving class.