confessions of an eclectic

I am a collector of collections -- as well as many other things -- a lover of symmetry, and a connoisseur of almost nothing. The upshot of this is that I have multiples of everything, arranged in even piles throughout my living space, with no requirement as to good taste or elegance. Some of you may have been to my apartment and perhaps you think it looks just fine. Well your wrong. You must have been to overcome be . . . IT ALL, to notice what it all was.

For example. you thought those shelves at the top of the stairs were quaint little nick-nac shelves with an assortment of strange things on them. Wrong. Those shelves harbor two of my collections. First a collection a pig statuary. (I loved pigs as a child and began collecting them. weird huh, "hey Nichole whats your fav animal? Mines a dog." "I like pigs.") Here is a pic of a few of them.

The other shelves hold by far my strangest collection, entitled -- Gnomes, Lanterns, and Toad Stools. I really don't know how thins collection got started. I was into fairies at the time but open to other enchanted creature, when I came across a gnome, (I often forget which silent letter goes in front of gnome and so have spelled it Knome many times.) I bought said gnome. I displayed the gnome with one of my lanterns (candle holder). Later I found a little toad stool figurine in some thrift shop or other, and a collection was born. I was still unaware of it at the time. This is where things like my love of symmetry come into play. You see, one gnome was unbalanced, but two gnomes looked much better. Of course I had a lantern for this new little fellow, and quite by accident found him a toad stool too. My family noticed my new collection sooner than I did and at Christmas I received several toad stools and a few gnomes. I finally realized that I had a collection. Not of gnomes, or toad stools, but of all things together. (you will notice that one of my gnomes does not have a toad stool but rather a toad, he was quite pleased with himself about that. Here are some pics.

I have many other collections, some such as books which everyone has, other like bottles which are less common. Some I do not display such as my key chains, or post cards. others are less noticeable on display, like my bird feeders or pillows. But there are to many to list or display pictures of here, so I will content myself with these few and a promise to show and tell you of the rest some other time. Perhaps now, the next time you come to my apartment, you will not tell my how wonderfully modern it is or how you love my style, but will look closer and give my that incredulous look which I think I so deserve.

PARTY!

Last night I had a "Friday the thirteenth, singles party" in defiance of Valentines Day. (Or should I say St Dwynwen Day?) I had such a great time. Cesar brought roses for all the girls (womanizer:) And Issac killed a little time drawing a nice pic. Leanna taught us a new game, which was fun, (even if Seth and Brit refused to play.) Cesar and I almost won in mafia (we're a regular pair of hardened murderers. And Tiff emerged victorious in our "honey if you love me" game though Josh did his best to crack her. All in all, it was a nice evening.

I now find myself with more cookies and chips left over than one person should be asked to deal with -- even though I begged people to take them home -- and enough pop to raise the level of the Ohio river. So I'm thinking . . . I should have another party! It a plan. Just as soon as I can find a good reason and a few days off work.

mixed up

I love my classes. I am taking bio 3 and intro to art. But they sometimes get confused in my head. For instance, this lovely picture was taken from a slide show in my bio class.

Isn't it beautiful? It is a cross section of bone, specifically highlighting the bone tissue.

Meanwhile, there are a few pics I've seen while paging through my art book that would make the most hardened bio student blush.

Strange world we live in isn't it?

new snow

What wild power of mother nature is it, that causes us to pause and view the new fallen snow? That holds us for a moment unable to proceed, unable to step into that which is so fresh and clean that it seems to be from another world? What is it that stops us?

What is that contrary streak in man, which causes us to plow ahead into the untouched landscape? That forces us to move forward and leave a mark, to claim that we have been here, to be the first to mar the perfection? What is it that pushes us forward?

Most depressing movie ever

Peter Pan.

2003 edition. Directed by P.J. Hogan. Staring Jeremy Sumpter as Peter Pan. I love this edition, and I love the story . . . usually. But after finishing it yesterday afternoon, I felt as if I had stepped into some kind of void. You could sum it all up in the question that Letha asked my after the movie. "Don't you wish there was some place like Never Land?"

Yes.

I don't want to grow up. Ever. But Yesterday I was acutely aware of how quickly I was. Maybe it was a very early mid life crisis. All I know is that after the movie I went into my bedroom and cried. I cried because I am twenty and technically living on my own, and working to support myself, and going to school. Even though I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, I am quickly reaching grown up.

I suddenly realized that all I want, is to be about eight or nine years old, back when the world wasn't perfect, but all that you knew of the world was. Back when you most stressful things was getting you ACE homework done, and the only loss you suffered was the loss of your pet, or your sock, or said homework. Back before you learned to care what your hair looked like, or who liked you. Back when comfort was the highest priority in every days clothing choice. Back when you could run barefoot through the woods all morning with the boys, and then play dress up all afternoon with the girls, and no one made fun of you for either. Back when the world consisted of family and best friends, school and weekends, faith was a no brainer, love was unconditional, and the future was limitless.

I never really "felt it" when I turned twenty like all my older friends did. I still don't feel old. I just don't feel young. In the book Peter Pan, it says something like, "all children know that they must grow up at two years old. Two is the beginning of the end."

I know I must grow old, but I don't wish to.
I know I will, but I don't want to.
I know I have to, but I don't have to like it.
I know I am, but I wish I wasn't.

I wish to never never grow up.