A quick post just to show you the latest project that I’m working on. We were set the task of creating a piece of furniture that in some way supported or aided the act of reading. After various lengthy walks down exciting yet sadly unrealistic idea paths, I finally settled on a much simpler idea than I had first intended, but with the purpose of using the simplicity of design as a basis for putting in as much aesthetic detail as possible without overdoing it.
More to follow, including previous design concepts, AutoCad sketches and finalised Presentation boards.
What you have to remember is that everyday we’re faced with this illusion of tranquillity in terms of the constant and unrelenting thought streams that permeate our own minds, contrasting with the complete and utter lack of insight into another persons mind. And seeing as we’re confronted with hundreds of people on a daily basis it can get pretty daunting. And what it ultimately comes down to is trust, we have to trust that we are not alone in our thoughts, that other people are going through exactly the same thought patterns as us at exactly the same time. “Does this person have any interest in my words or do they just think I’m a dick” “what impression am I giving?” “Do they feel the same sense of connection, be it intellectual, love-based or anything else, that I feel towards them?”
And then it moves on from trust, to the almost sub-category of acceptance. We have to accept that when it all boils down, we will never truly know, but that’s fine. We can only know, what we ourselves know and anything else is merely an illusion.
But accepting that illusion I think, is what it means to be truly happy.
I think it takes extreme patience, or extreme ignorance to realise that level of acceptance.
And not ignorance in a bad way, not at all. In a way, I admire the trait of ‘ignorance’ and sometimes I feel myself craving it. But ultimately, I’m happy in my messy ways, I’m happy that most of the time I feel fairly awful because I know that, when the good times hit, they hit hard.
The wheels will tremor,
And the dash will shake,
And the hardened plastic blue will scrape,
And will shred, as sparks fly.
The dead grass will burn,
And fire will be made.
Engulfing all, cremating a life barely tasted.
And what a life,
that life could have been,
Would have been.
But alas, no amount of water can quench these flames,
For they are not real. Mere holograms of an ember,
Projected and reflected,
To strike fear into the mind, and eradicate hope.
Yet, for some time,
Love remains intact.
An idiotic tribute to a crash long past.
But soon, When memories die,
And the flowers once laid,
Lay rotten and broken
Consumed by decay.
My eyes will open,
And I will smile upon that new day.