Monday, December 05, 2005
I'll confess, sometimes I just don't get Sarah. She is forever complaining about how ugly the modern world is. I must not be as refined in my tastes, because most of the time, I just don't see it. I remember in college when she tried to introduce to me the evils of aluminum siding. Until she pointed it out, I never noticed a difference between the aluminum and regular wood siding. Now, all I notice is that the aluminum siding is cleaner and has less paint peeling off it.
Is our modern life really so devoid of beauty?
Maybe, I just learned to be visually entertained in different ways. Sure, strip malls are gaudy, but, when the sun is setting, I can't help but admire the erie glow of all the different colored signs. Highways are monstrous, except when the archs of concrete curve above you a bisect the blue sky. My apartment building was obviously thrown together in a matter of weeks and I have a cabinet and bookshelf that are so off-level that you can see it with your bare eyes from a great distance. It's awful, but not without its charm. There's a character to it in a world of sameness that is so entertaining.
If the whole world was beautiful all the time, would be appreciate it as much? Growing up in the city, I guess I learned to see beauty where I could. Morning glories growing out of a crack in a cement sidewalk was breathtaking. They repainted in 'El' and I have to say, I miss the rusted shades of brown that flaked off the old faded green paint. It was far more interesting than their attempt at 'beautification.'
Maybe it's the blue collar streak in me but I really resent some government snob helping me out because I apparently have not taste.
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Is our modern life really so devoid of beauty?
Maybe, I just learned to be visually entertained in different ways. Sure, strip malls are gaudy, but, when the sun is setting, I can't help but admire the erie glow of all the different colored signs. Highways are monstrous, except when the archs of concrete curve above you a bisect the blue sky. My apartment building was obviously thrown together in a matter of weeks and I have a cabinet and bookshelf that are so off-level that you can see it with your bare eyes from a great distance. It's awful, but not without its charm. There's a character to it in a world of sameness that is so entertaining.
If the whole world was beautiful all the time, would be appreciate it as much? Growing up in the city, I guess I learned to see beauty where I could. Morning glories growing out of a crack in a cement sidewalk was breathtaking. They repainted in 'El' and I have to say, I miss the rusted shades of brown that flaked off the old faded green paint. It was far more interesting than their attempt at 'beautification.'
Maybe it's the blue collar streak in me but I really resent some government snob helping me out because I apparently have not taste.
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