Cryptic Ceiling Wisdom

Today I went once again to Tamtam’s, the drum circle at the base of Mont Royal. It wasn’t quite as crowded today, probably because the Montreal fall is beginning to chill us  all, that rhymed, and I had a completely different experience than last Sunday. I was able to dance for a good half an hour, but then got lost in conversation with some people doing hair wraps (which I will inevitably purchase next week, to replace my old one).



  After that, I worked my way into the forest to find L.A.R.P. (live action role playing). Larping is essentially dressing up in medieval or pirate attire and running into a giant dust pit where other medieval pirates are stabbing each other with duct tape axes, swords, shields, and other weapons.


While watching, I ditched my friends and talked to some of the players. One man was named Malic. He was sporting his pirate best, including a leather hat, vest, belt, and a pirate flag punched into the dirt next to him. He is Quebecois, meaning he has never left Quebec in his life and barely speaks english.

Some of his hobbies include being in love with liberty, coaching boxing, freak shows involving a snake, reading, and leather working.

























My residence has two pet tortoises. I spent a while watching them eat grass and feeding them leaves, and was getting nostalgic for my turtle Ace, at home. I never even realized how much I’d miss his purple little scaly arms.

 














I sincerely enjoy the freedom of being a college student, and feel like this is the way I was supposed to be living the last few years. I never have to check in with anyone, and the city is always available for wandering. I am never alone, as I am living with kids who are always awake. My room is a playhouse and everyone is invited. At the same time, I’m allowed to be alone, and to say what I want, and to do what I want, and to be irresponsible if I so choose. I am the highest authority, and we are all flowers.


















It’s not Mac n’ Cheese here. It’s Kraft Dinner.

KD is what students, including myself, live off of. That, coffee, and Lucky Charms.









 

While walking around the campus, I’ve been trying to capture the best views so that my friends can at least try to understand what I’m experiencing up here. I especially love getting pictures of turrets, because I like everyone to know that there are turrets here.


















That last picture was Hogwarts. But you would never know.












This in particular is the view from Gardner Hall, where I live. It’s the uppermost building on campus, so getting up here is always a hike. People are usually sweating by the time they climb the 200+ feet hill. I just can’t wait till the winter when it turns into a cold, slippery mess.  However inconvenient, we still love the scenic views everytime we come home, and we can’t deny that it’ll keep off the freshman 15. It’s also really cool to watch the weather from here.






This is the view of Gardner from the field below it.















This is the view out my window. To the right, you would see Mont Royal.















My room has been a pleasant place to do some watercoloring. I feel inspired, and have the right music (Animal Collective and Penguin Cafe Orchestra) to make unique creations. Tea helps too, maybe coffee. I love how watercolors blend together and make a tie-dye effect, it’s much more pleasing than drawing where the marks are unchangeable, and mistakes cannot be fixed easily.
       
Splattering is fun too.






Some new art from Surrealartists.org





























Plato’s theory of forms says that we are living in the world of becoming. Everything in the world of becoming is a reflection of something in the world of being. The world of being is static and whole, whereas the world of becoming is constantly changing, has multiple forms, and is unique. For example, in the world of being there is “yellowness”; it is a form. In the world of becoming, there are many forms of yellowness that can be found— bananas, No. 2 pencils, school buses, the sun, giraffes sometimes, etc.
Every object is a reflection of the higher category it belongs to, however each object will never be a perfect reflection. It is no mirror—more like looking into a rippling pond.
I wonder what the world of being would be like, if you were ever to go there. Plato’s theory suggests that everything here is imperfect, so I’m curious to know what perfect looks like. Would everything be all shiny? Would all the lines be precisely aligned, would all humans be virtuous? Would the floor  never get dirty, would Vil’s hat have been through all of its imperfect moments?

Maybe I’m glad to be living in the world of rippling imperfection. Maybe it’s more fun, the world of being sounds too uptight for me.