Trials

So this first week has been... rough...
It started out great.  I had my goals, I wrote them all down.  At first I did really well.  I woke up when I was suppose to, went to bed when I was suppose to, read what I was suppose to, worked out when I was suppose to, managed to do all of my assignments right after I received them... I was feeling pretty good.  Confident.  For the first time in my adult life, I was going to adhere to a routine, and not only follow one, but enjoy it too... benefit from it.
The end of the week could have potentially destroyed that.  In case you didn't notice I didn't post my progress on Friday like I absolutely insisted that I would... I hate that, but instead, I will be posting it today.  As the week went on, the workouts became harder and my ability to gather materials needed for my installation proved fruitless... kind of hard to do until your refund check comes in.  I simply set my sights too high.  That's okay. I accomplished a lot anyway, and that's something to be proud of.  I will continue to try and maintain what I have set out for myself as best as I can.
And yesterday, as I was trying to pick up the pieces, something exploded in my face (not literally of course...) but it immobilized me for the rest of the day.  I did nothing but feel like a piece of shit to be honest.  It was devastating, and now as I am recovering, it's a little slow going, but I'm doing my best to move forward...

First things first, progress on my installation.  I did nothing.  I had no money therefore no materials... so here's where I left off...

So, this isn't how it's going to be lit at all, but yeah, that's where it's at.  I have a lot of work to do before March.  Oh my... I don't even want to think about.  But anyway, I'll be posting more pictures this next Friday of the work I got done... unless I do a lot of work over the weekend... then you just may see it on Monday or something.

Anywhoo, as far as the weight loss thing goes, even though I struggled at the end of week, apparently my efforts were not in vain.  I've lost 2 lbs. I am now 159.  

Kaiser signing off, reminding you to not drink and drive...

Yeah, I'm a Nerd... What of it??

Conflict: Reality vs. Fiction

Perhaps I shouldn't be doing this... since technically this is due on Friday and I wouldn't really want anyone stealing my assignment... but... I'm fairly confident that no one in my class reads this blog, let alone know who I am... so it's probably safe.

Anyway, I'm posting this short assignment I had for my English class because I felt it entirely relevant and hopefully good food for thought, especially to anyone who enjoys writing.

             Is there a difference between real-life conflict and conflict in fiction?  Pondering this idea for a moment or two, I have personally come to the conclusion that the only difference is the matter of perspective.  Sure, in fiction, the conflict could potentially be outrageously unlikely, or perhaps even impossible by our own reality's perimeters; however, if we are under the assumption that a conflict must occur under a given set of perimeters, then the question is not that of a difference of conflict, but a difference of which given reality.

            Conflict in fiction and in reality serve the same function, essentially.  Conflict never fails to instigate a series of consequences and ultimately makes our lives (or a story) more interesting.  As far as a matter of perspective is concerned, in a work of fiction, conflict is inserted intentionally (unbeknownst to the poor characters) to move a plot in a certain direction, versus our own lives where conflict is not controlled by an outer force (an outer perspective) but by ourselves and other natural forces... as far as we can perceive anyway.

            Looking at it from perhaps more of a philosophical stand-point, conflict also serves as a character building device, adding to the depths and complexities of ourselves and the world around us, much like that of a work of fiction.  As a painter, I deal with a similar idea.  The concept of a painting, or any work of art, is to create an imitation of our own reality.  What makes a painting an imitation?  The fact that we as artists, as writers, control the perimeters and the constraints for which it exists.  So I'm making a minor leap to claim that a work of fiction is merely just an imitation of reality, by some measure, and therefore would believably not be that different than real-life when all is laid to rest.