Irony and Critique

Just a small thought on the power of art - it has an ability to function as a mirror, confronting us with our own ugliness in a way that shatters our formerly held perceptions without breaking us as individuals. (Or, perhaps it does break us - but it does so in a way that we subtly allow, even if we're not aware of it.) In the breaking, art pushes and hopes for something better.

That being said...

We say that people are not for sale, but what about our identities? In buying things to define us, what have we sold ourselves to?

Howl

My heart feels more comfortable out in the frigid weather than in the cozy warmth of my apartment tonight. Out there are howlings and gusts which thrash about. Out there, the weather wants to fight - and my heart wants something to push against other than my ribcage. Out there, my heart resonates with the weather on what it means to feel frustraed as my body literally pushes against the wind.

I'm feeling this song tonight. I don't like all the lyrics, but this is where I'm at. Listen to the music - not necessarily to the words, but to the sound that the words make. Between the wind and this song is maybe where you'll find me.