And I must have stumbled into an area akin to Nascar

Life is like driving a car in reverse.
We have no way of knowing where we're going and can only see what's already past us. The furthest landmarks are beginning to blend with the horizon and the only hint for how to steer comes from what we've already passed.

Life is like driving a car in reverse. We don't remember how we got in or why we hit the gas and we're hoping to hell that we don't crash.

Life's Funny

If there is a single, undeniable fact about life, this would be it. Life is naturally funny. How often we seem to overlook this fact. How often we forget to laugh a little, even when it may hurt or feel wrong somehow. I once had a very good friend tell me,

"Don't take life too seriously, after all, you're not getting out of it alive."

Morbid isn't it? But at the same time oddly funny. That's the point.

Comedy is often referred to as the lowest form of art. However, in my view, the point of art is to either evoke an emotion or provoke a thought. Good comedy does both. The comic is even sometimes better at explaining life to us than the deepest novels, plays, essays or poems.

Like I said, life's funny.

Plus, the comic does something else! He evokes an emotion that makes us feel good! Laughter, after all, is a part of the human experience that should be taken very seriously.

Now, because I couldn't resist the bad pun, I'd like to illustrate what I mean about the comic artist, through the use of... comics!



Bill Watterson is one of my favorite comic artists. He has the ability to make his comics work on many levels to appeal to whatever a person may look for in it. There's always the punchline at the end but usually there are deep thoughts and conclusions to be drawn from his comic if one takes the time to dwell on it.



As a man in the public eye - or rather - a man putting "stuff" in front of said public eye, he could use his position and his humor to address issues that he felt were important to himself and the world.



He could show off the deepest thoughts of his being. Pay close attention to Calvin's description of his sculpture.



Or the comic artist can simply show off his skill at poetry. Read the comic, then read it again and notice how perfectly the poem flows with the different panels creating pauses in the poem.



And all the time the comic artist is showing something basic and primal about human nature in a humorous manner.

Now in stark contrast, another favorite artist of mine is Tatsuya Ishida. Although he was inspired by Watterson's work in Calvin and Hobbes His style of comedy is quite different, relying on the basis of human nature that is offensive or now considered unacceptable for much of his humor. Still, he manages to express himself and human nature quite well - in some ways better than Watterson himself since he isn't bound by a syndicate to publish his work, he can say whatever he feels like.

Whether it be about self pity or passing wishes of nonexistance



Or about the stark contrast between ideals and actions.



What amazes me most about the comic artist is the ability to relate to each of us in a way that can make us laugh. Sometimes it may amaze us in it's simple profoundness



Or in it's ability to show us ourselves.



For those of you who keep up with my blog. This comic was written approximately 2 months after my Inner Peace posting... and it still amazes me how exactly that last comic hits the mark.

Thanks for reading and remember: Don't take life too seriously or you'll never have time to stop and laugh

a Song for tomorrow

We've always known it'd end like this
And in our last song together
You'd play the notes I've played a thousandfold
And I'd march off, fighting the tears
We all knew would come

Why!? We knew it'd end
But yet, you and I, we kept at it
Through sun and storm
The shouting, the laughter
Long afternoons, those early, cold mornings
And yes, through that pile of fresh manure
At the Christmas Parade

So what made it?
Was it the day we got our music?
Knowing we'd just make ourselves sick of it
We played that sheet of more black than white
While our Chief grinned and covered his ears
Or was it that sectional in the storage room,
Where we were nearly crushed by the sax shelf?
I suppose we never did find out who did that
Perhaps it's not important

The little minutes maybe:
Trying desperately to hit that high note in my solo
Or having my face turn a remarkable shade of crimson
When my voice cracked
As freshmen were called to dismiss

Taking a ride for the first time
Barely able to stand on cardboard legs
Which never seemed to improve with time
Or pouring my song out to the drum major
Whose smile stopped my heart

How about when we came together?
It happened every year.
And every year we seemed to improve just a little, just enough
To hear our song for the first time
After playing it a hundred times before

Of course there were the People
Some friends, some not
but all together in it

We sang, yes, the band sang
Ironically, only on the bus
And only returning from somewhere
But Bohemian Rhapsody was a must
...maybe what made it was trust
Trust to set the song up
Trust to play it right
Trust that when you messed up
To tell you "It's alright"
Trust we'll play the show
Trust that jazz band will come
Either though
Second semester seemed oh so far
And marching had just begun

Yes
It was all these things and more
And as I walk down the isle
And as you play that tune
Remember, my heart is not at the podium
Nor with my class
My parents, family, or friends
Right now, for one last brief second
I'm sitting in row three, seat two.