I created a brochure for this communication. It is addressed to art teachers because the subject of my project was rejection in the art industry, & I believe that art teachers can help prepare future artists to face rejection in healthy ways. I chose to use a brochure because I felt that it is something that is easy on the eyes (& the ears, since no audio is required). I used that cutesy font & created abstract/simple images because I felt it sort of fit the theme of the brochure, as (at least here in Loudoun County) we all take art starting at a very young age. I’ll be sending this brochure directly to my current art teacher, Mr. Fabin (that super tall man you sometimes see in the hallway & probably ask yourself “Who is that man???”). Because I chose to create a brochure, I had to shorten a lot of the things I implemented from my research paper. Also I’m really sorry but I could not for the life of me figure out how to remove the final page, & spent a good while trying to figure it out, but to no avail. Seriously, I reformatted the thing like a billion times… no success.
My fingers scrape deep into the interior flesh of the pumpkin, filling my nail beds to the brim with pumpkin guts. I pull out a considerable amount of pulp and set it in my bowl. I comb through the wet mush, searching for seeds, which I separate into another bowl. The seeds are so slippery. I was never really one for carving pumpkins, never thought it was much fun, it was more that I had to do it, for it was Halloween and we had to have something to put on our stairs to show festivity. I mean it’s not like we had nothing; my dad always did a nice job decorating the exterior of our house, but having carved pumpkins is one of those things that is just a necessity. You could adorn your house with all the decorations in the world, both inside and out, even turn your garage into a mini haunted house as some do, but if you don’t have at least one carved pumpkin outside your house, you may as well put it all away. And listen, I appreciate some good house decorating, at least the looking at it part. But I feel as though a carved pumpkin demonstrates work. It’s something you do yourself. And not only does it demonstrate work, but it represents creativity and expression. You get to choose how to carve your pumpkin, how intricate you want it to be, or how simple. And it is something that feels good to look at when you are done, when you strike that match and set it to the wick of the small candle you’ve placed carefully into your pumpkin, turning it into an illuminating lantern of art for all to see.
“It’s only a dollar, I’m just gonna buy it because I have to know…” Circus peanuts… Disgusting, despicable, circus peanuts. What are they even supposed to be? Why must we taint the name of both circuses and peanuts with these awful things. The package said “Chewy” but when I bit it, it was definitely not chewy. And the smell… You’d think with the word “peanut” in the name, as well as their peanuty shape, they’d have a taste somewhat resembling that of, well, a peanut… But no. This is the story of my horrible discovery of circus peanuts.
It was about time for our movie, but we stopped by Walgreens to buy candy, because nobody wants to pay 20 dollars for movie theater candy. We stroll down the candy isle, weighing our options. Reeses, M&Ms, Sour Patch Kids, Twizzlers, the lesser known Snowcaps, and more I haven’t mentioned: all the candies you could ever want, suitable for a movie or any occasion really. My eyes come to a screeching halt.
“Circus peanuts??” I ask (not with one question mark, but two.) Silence. The person I am with just stares.
“What even are those?”
“I don’t know,” I respond. “But there’s only one bag left, so they must be good…”
We walk out of Walgreens with a box of Raisinettes, a box of Sour Patch Kids, and one bag of Circus Peanuts. We get to the car and I’m beyond excited to try them. I eat one… regret fills first my mouth, then my whole body. I sit silently. The person I am with tries half, but I insist they finish it. It is disgusting. What is this bubblegummy taste doing in this peanut body? Why is the texture so hard yet soft at the same time? What am I doing? Where am I? Who am I? And what have I done.
Milk is my favorite drink. “Ew!! You like milk???? I can’t even drink milk. I just can’t.” Yeah okay, I’ve heard it all before. But you know what? I don’t care. Milk is a glorious, natural drink, with the perfect texture and the perfect taste, and not only that, it’s healthy. You like Mountain Dew right? It’s opaque, just like milk, therefore milk and Mountain Dew are the same thing, so if you like Mountain Dew, you like milk. Okay just kidding. But milk is perfect, you can drink it warm or cold, and it comes in a variety of “flavors,” if you will, such as skim 1% and 2%, as well as the classic, creamy, whole. You can also get lactose free milk, which surprisingly, may taste better than regular milk. You may be a bit salty that I didn’t mention “chocolate” or even “strawberry” in my flavor list. Everyone likes chocolate milk. Chocolate milk, according to my findings, is not milk at all. People that don’t or even “can’t” drink milk often say to me “I just can’t drink milk, I just don’t like it *lists a bunch of “gross” things about milk*…except chocolate milk.” People almost regard chocolate milk as a completely different beverage, not included in the milk category at all. I’m tired of it. White milk tastes JUST as good, if not better. And it’s healthier. So stop being a hater and go have a nice big glass of milk, and maybe consider enjoying it for once.
My high school artifact is a pinky ring. It’s a size 3, 3mm, sterling silver ring. It’s slightly scratched. It fits nearly perfectly, but I wouldn’t be upset if it was a size 2.5. This ring goes everywhere with me. I had two rings before this one that have succumb to the abyss, but this one carries on the legacy. The two predecessors were pretty much identical to this one, but maybe half a size smaller. I only take this ring off when I shower, enter a hot tub or pool, or go to the beach. All four scenarios are quite rare (yes, including showers, which I take 1-2 times per month week… JK.) I took it off to write this paper so I could look at it more closely. Although it’s not on, it leaves a mark where it should be. I think it’s triggered since I took it off at an inappropriate time. I have a habit of adjusting the ring, like pushing it down with my thumb nail, and if I ever forget to wear it or I don’t have it on for some reason, I still catch myself trying to adjust it.
My “organic” object was a flower. I say “organic” because it is not actually organic… it is a fake flower. While writing about my flower, I made the observation that unlike a true organic object, this flower does not feel the impact of time. As I wrote about it each day, it became difficult, because the flower did not change. A real flower would wilt and dehydrate and shrivel and rot, but this flower… this flower went through no metamorphosis. It doesn’t seem to endure time. As time goes on, it remains unchanged. I am impacted by time, as I age and grow and change. My mood changes, my skin becomes damaged and then heals, my hair grows, my nails grow, etc. This flower does none of that. If this flower becomes damaged, it does not repair itself, rather it remains in that state for the rest of eternity, until something else interacts with it. In a sense, it’s as though it does not age. Sure, it ages in the sense that more and more time passes since the day it was manufactured, but no physical change is dealt to this flower with time, except for maybe fading in the sun and collecting dust, but in the right conditions even these signs of aging can be avoided completely. I, unlike the flower, am doing more than collecting dust and fading, I’m actually decaying. I’m actually changing. You could write about me changing over time, but this flower- this flower would remain the same.
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