Alignment Assignment

For an art class, I had to contemplate the word ‘Alignment’ as it would be used in art. I thought for quite a while and nothing came to mind. So I asked myself, “What is alignment?” Lining up in a straight line or pattern (Stonehenge) or having a common point of view or grouping (political parties). But what is alignment in art, poetry or writing? Nothing came to my pitifully vacant mind. I know drinking kills brain cells over time. I used to say while “tying one on” I was selectively pruning my grey matter, but during this assignment I now know which cells were killed off during that killer party at 2nd floor of Switlik dorm in the spring of ’86.

So, I will ramble a bit (the opposite of alignment), and we’ll see where this goes.

In contemplating alignment, the first thing I thought of was my hair. This would be where you tighten your seatbelt and press the “I believe” button. If I took one strand of my hair and created repeating points from beginning to end then I could align those points to various stars strewn across the universe. Take those individual points and multiple them by the thousands of hairs on my head or what seems like thousands according to the look of my bathroom floor. The results would show why my hair does crazy summer-salts, frizzes, and goes perfectly straight in one section (a black hole) all in the same day. You see, here is my theory. My head is in constant movement from talking, dodging bullets, and what not, along with the earth rotating around the sun, while the sun moves around the galaxy. I am not too sure what the Milky Way galaxy does within the universe (side bar: what kind of name is Milky Way for a galaxy anyway), but I am pretty sure it involves some type of rotational activity. And looking at the frizz of my hair and the 9 or 10 stray curls, it is fair to say the spinning has quite a substantial force.

Oh thank Hera, the queen of the heavens, the concept of art and alignment has finally been channeled to my hair through the great cosmos. OK fine, I goggled.

“The fundamental element of graphic arts is to determine the alignment of the picture or text upon the page in coordination with the other pictures or text blocks on the page. There is edge alignment and center alignment.” – stolen from some really smart art dude’s research paper posted on the web

So, I take this definition of alignment and look at my story/art journals. Is there alignment? Ah no, my journals pretty much look like chickens were set loose upon the pages with scraps of paper and a glue stick.

Clear Visibility

Pam knew for a long time her clairvoyance was a trait bestowed on her from her maternal grandmother. However, she wasn’t so sure it was a gift. It was a sunny spring morning, and she had been working hard in the garden. It was the first chance she had to clean up from the winter storm season. The sun was starting to break over the top of house; Pam knew it was near lunch time so she went inside to grab a bit to eat. Afterwards, she grabbed a blanket and took a nap on the patio glider.

Pam bolted straight up; she was out of breath and looking around her yard. A red car. She saw a red car running into another car. Someone was hurt. Who was hurt? She couldn't see. The bright red car, why was it going to fast? The vision faded away. Pam started to see her garden again, the irises had buds, and the little pink shamrock flowers were gently waving with the breeze. A tear rolled down her check as she whispered, “I hate this.” Pam wrapped the blanket tightly around her. She watched the tree limbs dance with one and other. She closed her eyes; she turned her face towards the sun and basked quietly in the afternoon’s warmth.

The visions made her feel impure and used. They had a life of their own which she couldn't control. It also came with the grim responsibility of convincing people they were in harms way, and that made her feel crazy and disconnected from the world. But for one moment with the sun warming her face and with the crisp noise of the wind in the background, Pam never felt more alive and connect to the world around her.

Pam’s body jerked; her feet hit the patio running as she yelled “Not Chris, please don’t let it be Chris.”