Painting perfection

When it comes to art, there's no doubt that it can take many forms. If one were to ask me what my favorite form of art is I would not hesitate to say, "music, you ass," however, there are other forms of art that I hold high admiration for. One of which is the age old venue of expression and communication, painting. In this particular example, my overall favorite pice of art has to be Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night."

Ok, why "Starry Night?" Well, first and foremost it's the tittle. As technical as the painting is, the simple tittle accents it perfectly. When I look at the painting there are a lot of things that tend to occur. The first one is that I tend to put my self back on a hilltop I used to live on in Woodstock, Georgia. I didn't like the surrounding area too much...at all, but this hilltop made the place decent because it had the best view of the stars I had ever seen. I don't know if it was the land elevation (most likely not, cause that's just dumb) or what, but on many nights out there in the boondocks, I would just stand outside and look up, and just think about what was up there.

The second occurrence that happens is that I play music in my head; but not just any music though, I stare close and hear either "Clair De Lune" by Claud Debussy (the song in Ocean's 11, after the heist at the Bellagio fountain), or the main theme from Stephen Speilberg's futuristic Pinocchio story, "A.I." These songs are so much, "put you at peace songs" more-or-less, they're reflective and often lull me to sleep a bit.

The painting itself is beautiful. The extravagant blend of blues and yellows clashing over the silent town is almost violent, yet they blend in perfect harmony. I love the colors, and I especially believe that there's a hidden meaning in it's blend. The meaning: so much beauty happens in the chaos we don't understand. The universe is vast, and we know of it, and how things form, but we like to dream about it We like to sleep and whisk away in our minds to places unforeseen, much like the painting. I don't know, it's hard to explain really, but just know that it kicks major buttocks. The End. :)

The Hottest Summer Ever...

It is finally upon us. Summertime; a time for vacation, for laughing, and relaxation. Unfortunetly for me, I don't really plan on doing too much of any of them, why, because I'm graduating, and the last thing I need to do is slack major at this point.

Thus, my summer will be spent working. I have to pay off a lease at my bullsh*t apartment complex, so for 25 hours out of the week I'll be down at the good ol' j-o-b, slinging tables and tending to wondering parents of incoming freshman...lame.

By July I'll have left Statesboro only to comeback and check up on folks from time to time. For the majority of my time I'll be back in Atlanta, working. Summer doesn't look to be too exciting, but that's ok, just as long as I know that I'll have my finances straight by the end of the year to move out into the real world on my own, I think I can learn to get over it.

High Noon..

Let me pain the picture that I have in my mind for you.

As I see it, it's 1885. I'm in a tavern sitting in a dusty bar with a pianist playing awfully in the background. I've just downed a shot of whiskey and my face is scrunched, but it's only a physical reaction. Mentally I'm in another world. I don't notice too much that's going on around me, only my objective. A clock hits and the town bell sounds in the distance. When I stand, the whole tavern falls silent and awaits my next move. They know he's out there, I know he's out there, and that after all these months, it ends right here, right now.

I walk calmly towards the doors; face stern, stance stiff. Making my way toward the dirt road, they all flock to witness. They duck behind posts, lean against rails and stop their horses midway in hopes of seeing what happens. I crack the kink in my neck, brush my brow and await his words...It all comes down to this. Four years of bloodshed to make it here, and I refuse to let him win. He looks confident, as he should. After all, he's one of them; the high-and-mighty law. He's got years of experience under his belt in sending men with hopes like mine to their graves. But they won't be me. Sure, I've accepted the fact that we can't all be here forever, but not by his hands...not today.

He stands a good 40 yards away. The sun hits the star on his chest like a call from God, he's a messenger of death. He's been decided to leave this town and head back east to North Carolina with his wife and little girl. I understood. No rational man could take too much of this place before it took its toll on you, but I was his one loose end. He had passed judgment on my entire posse, and out of all 19 of us, I was the only one left. He walked roughly 13 yards rested his thumbs on his belt and with the smuggest smirk said, "So Woodard...this here's the FINAL stand."

I didn't want to respond. I only wanted to leave. There had been so much that I had been through already. The most important, losing my love. I remembered all the nights I wrote until my hand could no longer trace the pains of my heart. I worked 18 hours out of the week, still wanting to express my thoughts; but alas, my efforts came up short...she didn't get 11 of my letters, and it broke her heart. So much so she killed herself for thinking that I didn't care about "her." But I did. The pressures of my posse, my brothers, and trying to sustain a decent life in all of this chaos diverted my attention...but I cared...always did...always will.

"Now Woodard, you have to make a choice. You tell me how you wanna handle this. I know you want out of this life, but I ain't about to let you waltz out here 100 percent, I just wouldn't sleep too well at night if I did that."

I said nothing. I refused to let this end all that I had worked so long to achieve. Four years of preparation lost to four months, I wouldn't let it happen. I rounded up the courage and frustration that had been built up in my soul for as far back as I could remember, and with the readiness of fighting for my survival I yelled at the top of my lungs as loud as humanly possible, "Carr!"

He had gotten to know my comrades and me real well over the last few months. He knew that I had heart, and that I wouldn't go down quietly. I had more fight than them all. Sure, I'll admit, I had struggles, but I learned. I learned skills that I could use outside of this place. I had learned the value of responsibility in one of the toughest years of my life. Yet in still, he was insisting on passing my judgment.

"You win Carr, I know I'm not perfect, and you know this. But I'm not going to let you kill me and leave me here to die," I said. I was passionate, I had to play my hand on emotion, it was my only chance to make it out in one peace.

"Now why should I spare you boy," he said, "If anything, it would have been your own doing that put you in this predicament in the first place."

Carr looked at me viciously, but I wouldn't budge. I was calm, steadily watching his movements, but calm. The crowd knew that this was the moment. One of us was going to do something epic, and that’s when I saw it. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t cower, but there was a moment of remorse. He had seen that I was sincere in changing my ways, and that I went well. “I can’t lie to you Woodard, given all that you’ve done, and lack there of, I can’t let it end like this,” he said.

“So what do you mean?” I was slightly confused at his statement. here I was walking into a fight I was prepared to shootout until the death, and he gives me the pardon.

“You’ve come up slack boy, but I see you’ve got promise…I won’t lie to you.” That’s when he did the unthinkable.

“I’m gonna turn around, and if you leave, I won’t stop you.”

I didn’t believe it at first. He I was thinking that all of the work that I lacked, all the things that I had done would surely bring our fighting to arms. “C’mon now Carr. You and I both know that that’s not gonna happen. As soon as I walk into that there sunset, you’re gonna take that pistol tucked there in your holster, and shoot me dead.” I was really at a loss as to what to say, so I let my emotions speak for me.

“No,” he said, “You’re a good kid. Sure, I’m not too fond of your work, but I’ve got a feeling that you’re gonna do something great with your life son. I won’t recommend you be anyone’s mayor, but I’m not gonna condemn you to hell either.”

And with that, Carr turned around and faced the stunned crowed behind him. You could tell that they didn’t believe him either, and with good reason. He was leaving, what was one more body to add to the toll? However, he never turned around. He stayed facing the howling wind running wildly as the florescence of the dimming sky set in. This was my chance.

“I admit Carr, I’m no angel, but if what you’re saying is true, and you do see that I’m a changed man, I hope that you Believe in me as much as you’re preaching. I admit, some of my partners put in a lot of work, but I gave my life to make it this far, and I’m hopin’ you can see that.”

He didn’t have to turn around for me to know that he was smirking. I could feel it. Yet even in his skewed sense of humor, he knew where I was coming from.

“I’ll be seeing you Woodard,” He said, back still to me. He tilted his hat, and started walking towards his horse. The crowd parted something like the Red Sea when he made his way through to his horse. “Take care son. I hope you do make somethin’ outta that life of yours.” He kicked the right side of his beautiful stallion and like that, rode off.

I walked away from a changed man, and realized something great that day. Sometimes the measure of a man can’t be figured in numbers, letters, or words. Sometimes it takes a genuine trust of unknowing. Call it what ever you want: faith, hope, optimism, but I honestly believe that day, Carr saw who I wanted to be, and gave me that chance. I had done it; I had graduated into the life I was destined for. A life that no one in my family before me could ever state claim to. A name to be remembered, forever.

Rookie of the year

To whom this may concern,

My name is Darin Woodard, and I am a graduating senior of the Class of 2010 out of Georgia Southern University. I am completing my college career with a degree in journalism, and am looking to apply the knowledge I have acquired through the years in a professional setting. The following will be a list of reasons as to why I feel I would make an outstanding member of your organization.

I am polite.

I was raised on the principle that people should be mutually respected. My household consisted of two parents dedicated to making sure I knew what the definition of respect was, and how to show it. I have an appreciation for everyone I encounter, and do my best to let my attitude reflect it.

I am determined.

After I graduated high school, I could not attend a university on the grounds that my initial test scores did not meet the necessary requirements. Instead of giving up, I worked for five months in a restaurant to raise the money to re-take the test and re-apply for school. It was grueling work, but there was a lesson it all. I learned that if you really want to accomplish something, you will not accept defeat...ever. You press on until what you deem as success manifests itself into reality, and because of these beliefs, as of May 8th 2010, I will have been the first in my family to attend and graduate a four-year University, and do so in exactly that; four years.

I am responsible.

I believe that I am mature enough to admit my faults. In my opinion, this character trait is one that means a bit more than most simply because it is one you're least likely able to own up to. I admit to having challenges, but I do not let these challenges hinder me from my goals. If there is something that I may have done wrong, I will speak up as opposed to placing blame on others. I believe that my up-bringing has taught me how to be mature enough to handle things expeditiously; however, when I do "miss the mark," I step-up and speak out.

I am unique

There's no one like me around for light-years. I am strong, easy to talk to, and creative. I may have the mind of a dreamer, but at the end of the day those same wacky concepts conjured in my head allow me to write praise-worthy work. I do not toot my own horn (unless it's beyond awesomeness), and am an avid believer in humility.

In conclusion the traits I posses, I believe, will allow me to even further develop myself not only as a professional, but as a contributor to society. I have dreams and aspirations, and want to bring them to fruition. Hopefully you will be moved enough by this letter to see that my words are in fact sincere, and that I will stop at nothing to make something of myself.

Thank you for your consideration,

-Darin C. Woodard II