sleepishly contraversial all around awesome

My somnambulistic tendencies helped the composition of my argumentative essay. I'm sure if I could remember it I would think it's awesome. I wish I were asleep right now though. I can't even say I put it off ... the thing was written a week ago and I didn't change it that much. I just got really anxious last week after we turned it in to turnitin.com and suddenly I realized there were little tiny adjustments I could make.

I was reorganizing my folder thingy and came upon a scribbled note to myself a few weeks ago when I had a cold. It says:

Mom's Germs

___________

Uncle Max
Aunt Harriet
Short Snout
Tinkleberg

___________

Does everyone in the whole world have the same germs? asked my youngest.
No, I told him, I think the way germs work is, sometimes a family will share the same kinds of germs, but not everybody has those same germs, or at least in the same combinations.
He then proceeded to name all four germs in my body. Short Snout, Uncle Max, Aunt Harriet, and Tinkleberg.

Adorable! I'm glad I wrote that down.

Here is something sad. The dwarf got knocked over. Somebody did a drive by or something on this dwarf, and Snow White and her friends are mourning his loss. Evidently someone also kidnapped a few because Snow and two dwarves are standing there, the dead one is lying on the pavement with his little pedestal knocked off, and there are supposed to be seven dwarves. The spell checker keeps insisting dwarves is spelled wrong but I think it looks like it sounds. I don't think the dwarf will mind.

Poor things. Anyway I need a better picture! W. said she'd drop my camera battery off today but she hasn't yet.

My cat just jumped up on the closet door. The same door I smashed her foot in last month because I was putting something away in there and didn't realize she was up there when I closed the door. Evidenly she doesn't learn. Or, she can tell  I'll never get that door closed now because the closet contents have pretty much filled up the closet and taken over the living room. Yep. Summer Project #32,987. Any day now.

I think it is strange that people use the word art interchangeably with the word decorations these days. Here is my context. I enjoy reading a blog called Knock Off Wood. A lady made some wall shelves by cutting the ends off of a few wooden pallets (the kind I used to stack merchandise on, and used a pallet jack to move it around the store with) - Truly, if your decor is somewhat rustic, sure, use a pallet to decorate your walls with. What intrigued me was, the photographs of these shelves she made showed two pallet-end shelves on her wall. One had a few books, a bottle of some sort, and a few framed items. "I absolutely love how they look in our master bedroom and is going to make it very easy for me to change out the art."

Doesn't she mean decorative objects? Is that old book really art? Even unofficially? What about the bottle?  If that old bottle is art, then why am I even bothering? If it's mass produced, how can it be art? (I mean, technically, pottery isn't even art, it's a hotly debated craft.) Is it really art just 'cause you say it is? And if not, why not? If so, then why? I'm not sure what I think about that. I struggle with it all the time.

I realize I'm asking for trouble. I'm trying to figure out how I can channel the purposely caused pain involved into some kind of creative effort. It's masochistic. Someone is gonna smack my hand and say, Girl, yes, it is art because I damn well say it is. 

It's knowing for sure that someone out there won't approve of my BFA opinion that silk peace lily flowers in a mass produced Hobby Lobby vase is not art. Nor are a row of old books interspersed with old bottles on a shelf. Nothing I ever made with a Cricut and some scrapbook paper was ever art, even though for all practical purposes I can safely assume myself to be an artist. I have a curio cabinet full of beautifully arranged things from my grandmother, my childhood and my present life, which could totally get points for self expression... but having a curio cabinet with stuff on the shelves should not be considered an artistic creation. It isn't even an antique yet, I think it's shy of that term by about 30 years. 

So I'm wondering, what is it about the term art, which by applying it to everyday objects somehow elevates those objects in someone's perception? That sort of turns hoarding into performance art. See? I get started thinking about the possibilities and then I can't quit. It's like a star being born.Or an implosion. Haven't got that far yet.

By the way. I think most of my work could accurately be considered illustration. This is what got me started thinking about this. In class the other day I was talking about Edward Gorey and Rene Magritte, as it related to the part in my lesson plan where I tell the class about Gorey's texture, and Magritte's surrealism. The professor was like "I'm not really sure who that is." I couldn't believe it.

So I was then led to ask myself, Well is that illustration stuff by Gorey different than fine art in the manner of Magritte?

It became even more interesting when I read this on Wikipedia: Gorey is typically described as an illustrator. His books can be found in the humor and cartoon sections of major bookstores, but books like The Object Lesson have earned serious critical respect as works of surrealist art.

And I've decided I'm living in a pretentious society. Therefore there is nothing I can do about any of this.

If you like Pandora, and alternative-ish music, the Hockey Radio channel is my favorite so far.