I could easily use this post as a platform to exhaust myself incessantly rambling about the infinite failings of our current educational system. But the last thing people want to hear is me complaining about having read no less than eight textbooks on US History since I was first imprisoned by compulsory schooling and how a majority of the co-eds I interact with at the collegiate level have little to no understanding of the demands of real life. Please whine some more about the paper that you have to write but probably can’t since you don’t appear to have a firm grasp on the English language much less comprehend the basic structure of an essay. Spare me from having to proofread your half-baked idiocy; you’re beyond saving, surrender to your own stupidity and retreat to your parents basement because you really didn’t deserve that high school diploma, much less whatever degree you’re currently seeking. Mic drop.
Good, now that I got that out of my system I can highlight one of the more enlightening moments of the semester in being assigned to read John Taylor Gatto’s “Against School.” He makes my rant above look like childsplay by emphasizing the agenda of systematic schooling and warning readers against becoming the incomplete and servile citizens that this type of schooling promotes. I immediately felt compelled to kiss him on the mouth. The part of the reading that stood out the most was his reference to the common condition of boredom; how his grandfather instilled in him that “the obligation to amuse and instruct [him]self was entirely [his] own.” My grandfather was more the type to feed me orange soda and cookies and then bellow to my parents that I was hyperactive and needed medication. If by hyperactive you mean that I was constantly fueled by sugar and caffeine in his presence, then yes grandpa, I was hyperactive. Still, I’m not good at being bored.
Let’s go back to school full-time. Let’s sign Rinn up for T-Ball, soccer camp and additional dance classes. Let’s agree to teach a handful of dance technique classes. Let’s make a summer reading list of approximately 254 books. Let’s make a table out of pallet wood because who doesn’t take on making furniture in lieu of resting and possibly taking a nap.
My most recent hobby turned entrepreneurial endeavor is painting. I definitely wouldn’t label myself with the word artist; my high school art teacher would probably attest to that and use my oil pastel drawing of Dopey from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as an example in petitioning against dubbing anything I create as a “work of art”. Dopey was less dwarf-like and more Slimer from Ghostbusters but pastels are hard and was I too busy socializing to produce anything that didn’t make people say “oh?” when they looked at it. I do however have a knack for things of the creative variety and rather than pay well over $200 for a chandelier print to hang in my bedroom, I said “fuck it, I can make that.”
Suddenly I’m cranking out photo renditions of lumberjacks, puppies and Bob Dylan. It’s incredibly therapeutic and I now get why people are raving about those adult coloring books. Even Rinn has gotten in on the action finding moderate success in the abstract genre and taking it upon himself to add some character to my desktop. A wonderful respite from him storming around the house pretending to be a pachyrhinosaurus and headbutting the dog in an attempt to reenact scenes from Walking With Dinosaurs.
Check out my RINNderings Gallery page and please contact me if you’re interested in a custom piece of your own. Tui recently ate a hole in the carpet and Rinn decided to empty a bottle of perfume so he could be “handsome for his dance recital”; painting is my therapy and keeps me of sound mind. Order something or my next blog post could be posted from a padded room.
The piece that initiated this madness.
Rinn's abstract work. If you're interested in these, we're offering them at a steal.