Jailbreak

A Warning: This is an introspective piece that is perhaps too corny to be published . . . the blessing and the curse of self-publishing with no editor to vet my whims Intro In Florence, leading up to the statue of David, lie four Michelangelo statues sitting unfinished for all eternity. Tourists often race past them to see the ultimate icon of Michelangelo--which is breathtaking in its own right--but in their haste they miss what I believe to be four of the most stunning sculptures ever made. These figures sit securely surrounded by marble, only ideas of what Michelangelo would have brought to life under different circumstances. Sometimes I feel like these prisoners. I fight to break free, to find my self, to establish a glorious self-identity that is magnificent to behold. But, like these prisoners, I find that the entropy of the day-to-day restricts my self definition and I am trapped in the unspectacular block of an unfinished work. How do we break free? Problem It is often easy--too easy--to get lost in the monotony of the day. Wake up at 6:18; shower, brush teeth, eat a bowl of Blueberry Morning; leave the house at 7:00, glide from Route 2 to I-95 S at precisely 7:20 as NPR reports that the Hong Kong Sang Sang and the Frankfurt DAX have dropped since yesterday. Roll through a hundred interactions with students--yes, you can go to the bathroom; I said, stop talking!; great answer, but please get your head off of the desk; but WHY?--and a few more with colleagues; wrangle 18 fourteen-year-olds into playing volleyball; come home and collapse, too exhausted to plan for the next day and hope that last year's lesson plans will carry me through tomorrow. This has been my September, and my October: a blur of burden, with short-lived victories and the long-lasting guilt of knowing there is ever more to do. Solution? I turned 28 recently, and made a purposeful decision to try to break out of the tedium with a goal: 28 Great Works experiences before my next birthday. It hasn't yet assauged my concerns about my schedule, but it reminded me of the why behind the what. It is easy to forget, but I break free when I remember that I love to learn. I love to be moved by lovely, powerful, profound art in all varieties. I love that art helps me transcend my routine and reminds me of the richness of our collective experience--that despite our 363 days of monotony, all of us will have at least a day worth sharing with the world, and the rest of the time we can rely on the stories and expressions of others to get us through. So far my little goal has led me to live productions of 39 Steps and Hamlet, a foreign film about East Germany (timely after this summer), and the Four Freedoms and other Rockwell classics at the Norman Rockwell museum. I'm finding myself by seeking the emotional outlets of others. May we be moved every day by the cultural gems that supersede the everyday, and may we on the days that are dry and tedious, remember to fight against the encroaching marble of monotony. Let us drink to the dregs and live!