Gabriella Grimes Entry #3

I like to consider myself an artist. I don't think I'm that great but it's a stress reliever. A few days ago I decided I wanted to practice painting with acrylics and thought to myself how wonderful it would be to paint something with a tree or animal or something. So naturally, I went online to find a tutorial on how to paint. I didn't get up and go outside to walk to Central Park which is about five blocks west of my apartment. Apparently that was too much trouble for me. Halfway through my painting I looked down at the youtube tutorial on my phone and felt some sort of shame. I could have left my house and look at the tree in front of the building even, but I didn't. I feel that the older I get, the more alienated I become from nature. I never grew up in an area surrounded by grass or mowed lawns, but I always went to the park with friends or family. I hated being inside when I was a child but the older I got, the more I became unimpressed with nature. "This tree is a thousand years old!" someone could tell me, but I wouldn't care. I'm more impressed by my cellphone. Can a tree hold 400 songs? Can a tree give me access to countless pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio? Can a tree show me how to turn an old sweater into a beanie? Granted, it can show me what a tree looks like. However, I don't seem to care anymore about nature. And I feel that when I do decide to go out to the park, I do it to make myself believe I'm more interesting in some way. I want to romanticize my life and what's more horribly romantic than sitting on a park bench and writing in a small notebook about how all the trees are dying.

I care enough about nature to understand that it needs to be preserved but I don't care enough to go out and stare at blades of grass for two hours. I don't want bugs crawling on me or birds attacking me or leaves getting caught in my hair. But I just remembered one day a couple weeks ago when it had just finished snowing. The snow on the ground was already dirty and disgusting and I angrily dragged my feet through gross brown slush on W 118th St, and then I looked up and saw a tree with snow on its branches. It was the only thing left untouched by humans and the only thing in the surrounding area that was actually beautiful. I don't have the greatest relationship with spending time with nature, but it's amazing that when I feel everything outside is nasty that I'll find pleasure in something that grew on its own. Maybe I might spend a bit more time in Central Park. After all, my phone doesn't have leaves that I can color with. My phone doesn't have leaves that change color. My phone doesn't surprise me with grown over time and make my morning with the scent of dew. And my phone cannot provide me with oxygen.