September 9, 2013

Here, I Feel at Home.

Its been ages and ages, I know. But yet, here I am, and here you are. Let the show commence.

Sometimes I think that every conscious being wishes at one time or another that they could be somebody that they're not. As soon as the thought has been completed, I recognize my error, and instead admit that this is not merely an assumption but a fact.

However, this concept raises an important question. Why do we tend to focus on what we're not, and what we can never be, rather than strive to become the extraordinary person we are capable of becoming?

Each individual contains within them a special kind of potential. This potential could be the power to orchestrate world change, to conduct the symphonic peace of a century, to lead the nations to greatness. All we have to do is find a way to access said potential. Then again, perhaps its less like blindly groping for a switch in the dark and much more like sculpting a masterpiece. What you will become is already there. You must simply remove the undesirable pieces and allow your creation to take the shape and form of intrinsic beauty.

Once again I was all geared up to talk about one thing today on Blogger, but changed my mind as I began to write. Funny, isn't it? how writing seems to have a mind of its own? I wanted to talk about the symbolism behind the peacock tattoo I've recently decided I'm going to commit to someday getting. Instead, however, as I'm writing this the sound of thunder is cracking like gunshots outside. Bring in a downpour of Oregon rain and reoccurring flashes of incredulous lightning, and you've got the recipe for a perfect storm.

The rain doesn't bother me much. In fact, I rather like the rain."Sometimes I forget from which I was born: my mother or the rain. The embrace of both remind me of home." I wrote that little aside a while back when walking home from school in the rain. The air was bitter cold and frozen fresh, I was soaked to the bone, shivering like death, and yet I felt more alive than ever before.

As a teenager, I used to mentally adhere to the belief that happiness was ice cream in the rain. In middle school my younger sister and I would walk to the local dollar store with our petty handful of quarters a piece and buy cheap frozen treats wrapped in damp paper. Our family life had a lot of struggles and conflict then; our lives were confusing, messy. But as long as we could walk home together with chocolate snacks as the sky gave way to a light sprinkle and often then heavy sheets of biting rain, and we could still retain the ability to laugh, I knew we'd be alright.

So far, I haven't been proven wrong.

***

If you're one of my fabulously appreciated and much loved 1,700+ followers on Twitter, you may be familiar with the artwork pictured below.

Quite by accident, the Purple Peacock I was commissioned to draw by a good friend of mine has quickly became one of my best-loved mixed media works. I have gotten so many lovely comments from friends, family, fans and supporters who love, love love my peacock drawing! I can't tell you how much the response really just inspired and encouraged me to persevere and keep doing what I'm doing. After all, I must be doing something right.

I've always loved the elegant beauty of a peacock, and have several strange and somewhat fascinating accounts of peacock-esque events to recount, peculiarly enough. One  story in particular comes to mind...

My freshman year of college (only a handful of months ago really, although it seems much, much longer), I took a remedial type math class known by the majority of the general student population and the professors as "shop math."

There were only three other females in the class beside myself, and of the couple dozen males, all seemed to be in either their early 20's or else late 50's. The older gentlemen were going back to school to gain degrees in Mechanics or similar studies, so they could pursue their hobbies as a career. The younger men were also mechanics, weldars, or engineers; they often came to class in overalls and work boots, and their faces were never completely clean, as though they had just come from shop class and had forgotten to wipe the grease from their cheekbones. More often or not, that was likely the case, which was how the class had gotten its street cred. It was a requirement to pass this class in order to get degrees in their areas of interest.

 I, on the other hand, had failed the math exam badly, and instead of paying to retake the test I settled for taking one of the lowest level math classes the school had to offer.

Now, by no means were any of these students dumb. And my lord, were these some of the hardest working people I've ever seen in my life. It wasn't like in high school; these boys were here to learn, and learn it well. They not only wanted to pass, they needed to pass. If they wanted to spend the rest of their life doing what they loved, they were going to have to know how to do this math. And so, learn it they did.

One of the young men, whether being flirtatious or friendly I could never quite tell, spoke to me every now and then. Once it was about the campaign mode in Call of Duty: Black Ops, another time about my Star Wars handbag. On other occasions, however, he commented on my bright, flashy, "peacock" earrings.

Now, these earrings were fluorescent orange, tear drop shaped hoops with fish hook backs.

And I remember he told me (In a strong Hispanic accent) that he liked my earrings essentially because they reminded him of home. Back home there were peacocks all around the town where he used to live, just as common a sight as anything. And the earrings reminded him of the pattern on a male peacock's tail feathers.

For one reason or another, this conversation stuck with me.

I was tempted to not even post this blog entry as I neared its finish, simply because so many other exciting developments have taken place over the last couple of days. The things I felt worth sharing when this entry was started seems like water under the bridge now, so to speak, but 'll leave it as it is. Instead, we'll have the rare situation where more than one blog entry is posted within a day. I wonder how that'll work out...?
Yours truly, Krystal Dawn




Facebook: Krystal Dawn
Twitter: KrystalDawnArt
DeviantART: kekei94

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