Beauty, A Kick in the Face and An Exposed Personality

After nearly a week in school, Bray and I are trying to settle into the new routines. As I mentioned in the post about our first day, we both love school so far. To date, I've had Elements of Intercultural Communication, Intro to Art History and Mythology. All extremely interesting classes which seem as though they will not only educate me on the subject matter, but help me better understand myself and my own outlook on the world. This of course, is exactly what I am hoping to do. As a writer, it is my goal during my college career to open my mind to the infinite possibilities of the universe and obtain knowledge of the world around me. This will make me a better writer, a better person and hopefully, a better mother.

The communications class so far, has been about getting to know our classmates and has made us aware of the judgement we use in making first impressions. Homework has consisted of reading the first two chapters, and after reviewing chapter 1 in class yesterday, it is clear that I went too far in my note taking. Four pages of notes and written answers to the chapter's review exercise proved to be overkill when all that was required in class Wednesday was to share one or two sentences of what we could remember. When I read the second chapter (due Monday), I'll take in down a notch or two. After 7 years of lacking structured education, it is hard to know what is expected.

Art History is awesome. We've learned a few basics, watched a clip of a Flash Mob (look it up... it's amazing!), and caught a glimpse into the meaning of art. I always just say that art is everything and everything is art; something I am sure I picked up from my father, who is an incredible artist . Although I still believe it to be true and that the word "art" has infinite definitions, I like the way our instructor defined the subject. He said, "Art is expression that is experienced". While a little more narrow that my personal definition, I can agree. Our first assignment is to find something that we consider beautiful or art, not necessarily a typical art piece, and describe in one page. Simple enough right? Considering that I am stunned, daily, by the mass amount of beauty that surrounds us, I am having a hard time pin pointing what to write about. I look up; I see white whimsical clusters containing the purest nectar of life, waiting until they are too full to keep hold of the drops intended to sustain life. I look down as the sun light bounces off thousands of tiny rock particles, reminding me how fragile even the hardest parts of our souls are. Ahead in the distance the ocean water genitally rolls to shore, colliding with glistening sand, bringing with it peace and unity, reminding me of the depths of uncertainty. Of course, I could describe a piece of blown glass, the incredible Aurora Boreas, the shocking 3D sidewalk art of Julian Beever or Kurt Wenner, the cliff homes of Santorini, The Louvre.... the list goes on and on and on, and I'm not sure where to stop, or begin.

In Mythology, we will obviously learn of Gods and Goddesses, Heroes and epic tragedies; however these first two classes (and I expect more to come) have revolved around us, the students. We have taken a personality quiz, which revealed me to be an idealist, and had to write a mad-lib style mythical identity. Mine read "I am Tara, protector of Earth. I come from the depths of the ocean and travel to the infinite abyss." I'm sure I could have dug deeper and come up with something better, as did a fair amount of the students in the class, but this is what spit out of me in the 3 minutes we had to work with. The words lingered in my mind that entire Tuesday. "I am Tara, the undefined mother of an untainted soul. I come from the grips of Dionysus and travel the path of the un-named Goddess within."

Braydon has absolutely loved school and everything about it. Monday he was devastated when it was time to go and just HAD TO show me everything about the class and the playground before he could even think about going home. Tuesday I could hear him crying in my heart, and when I walked through the preschool door, he was sobbing on a chair with an ice pack to his cheek. Apparently Braydon was standing in front of the swings, not realizing that he was supposed to move, and another little boy came down from his flight, accidentally kicking my baby in the face! After kisses and comfort, we had to talk about forgiveness. I didn't need to cover clearing the runway because the teacher finished that lesson up as I arrived that afternoon. Wednesday all the kids took a campus walk and got snow cones. Braydon hasn't stopped talking about the beautiful little girl whose hand he held on the walk, but whose name he can not remember. Today seemed to be an uneventful day, with only an hour and a half in class, but he was happy when I picked him up. Bedtime on the other hand, has been a miniature tragedy in itself. Nap time is really screwing up my child's perfect bed time routine. Today I picked him right before this dreaded hour and a half of sleep filled misery and have high hopes for a smooth night. Tomorrow will be my first day in English class and Bray will be in his class a little earlier than normal, so he will get to experience a few new things as well. What, exactly, we shall hear about early afternoon (before nap time) when I come to bring my son home for our first "weekend".