And here I am, wasting time looking at blogs. -_-U
For those of you who don't know, Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) is a world-wide novel writing event. The goal is to write 50,000 words in one month, which totals to around 1,667 words per day. Each person signs up on the website, joins their local chapter, and sets to begin with feverish writing at midnight November 1st.
Now, some people outline, draw up character profiles, the works. Last year I began with the beginnings of a story I had scrawled when I should have been paying attention to Chemistry (sorry Mr. Sealey), and a handful of characters. That's it. No treasure map of a plotline, no characters waiting in the wings, not even a real setting. I didn't even really know where I was going with it.In fact, it wasn't until about halfway through that I actually knew why all of these kids were being gathered together in the back of a hippie van, only that they were, and it was important. I didn't have a means to reach that ultimate goal until I turned the 40-something woman into a hyper-intelligent 14-year-old.
The funny thing about writing, though: it doesn't really matter if you don't know where you're going, because your characters do. Peshmerga wouldn't have nearly reached the 50,000 mark without Garret and a crafty use of a reverse deus ex machina (Psh, mythical beings solving problems. Much more interesting when they cause said problems).
I guess what I'm saying is that I encourage everyone with even a fleeting interest in writing to go for the gold, the prizes (last year was a free copy of your book through CreateSpace!), the NanoGlory.
So get those plot bunnies running, we have a novel to write!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Bookmash!
A few bookmashes (thanks for the link, Mr. Center!)
Forever Odd
My name is Asher Lev.
I am the messenger,
the guardian,
the good guy
forever odd.
First Test:
Cannery Row
left behind
brightly burning.
Deadline:
High noon.
Napalm and silly putty.
Fade to black.
Forever Odd
My name is Asher Lev.
I am the messenger,
the guardian,
the good guy
forever odd.
First Test:
Cannery Row
left behind
brightly burning.
Deadline:
High noon.
Napalm and silly putty.
Fade to black.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Compartmentalization
When looking for a title for this post, as for most titles, this term popped into my head: compartmentalization. Now, I only have the fleeting knowledge that a year of Psychology 1 in high school can give, so what did I do? Googled it, of course! As soon as I pressed enter I was inundated with Wikipedia links, all for compartmentalization, all with different meanings tied from the kite tail: biology, computer science, engineering, fire protection, intelligence, psychology, and, inexplicably, the decay of trees.
I won't bore with unnecessary details (that would be rambling. why do I always feel like I'm rambling? And why am I talking to myself?), but suffice to say that they were generally diversified. It struck me as interesting, though, that three hovered around the same basic definition.
Computer science brought me to a page about information hiding. It basically stated that compartmentalization, or encapsulation, allowed information to be substituted freely as long as it performed the same function, and that none of it really mattered anyway because it's all fronted by the query screen, the desktop, and very few people ever really see the 'thought process' behind it.
Intelligence (not Smarts, Espionage): This is actually the strategy more commonly known as 'need-to-know information'. This theory is that the few people who know the details, the smaller the chance is that the information will fall into the wrong hands.
Last, and what I was actually looking for, Psychology: This definition deals with an obsessive, reaching, almost arbitrary act of grouping things together that are inconsistent with other groups. Think of it as organization for the psychologically unstable. Imagine that you had two boxes. In one, venomous rattlesnakes. In the other, tiny, month-old kittens. Each of these boxes contain a side of you, two polar opposites that CANNOT MIX. The rattlesnake box is everything bad about you, everything you don't like. The kitten box is all things good and right about you. The boxes put everything into black-and-white, oversimplified terms.
It's interesting to me that these three seemingly different meanings use the same word, and, at the core, cover the same thing.
Let's mix them together, shall we? Combining these three definitions, we are left with a complex inner landscape. From the outside, this character is calm and collected, the 'desktop screen'. All information is stored securely behind the screen, held tight to the chest, and only given with the correct passwords and queries, lest information be taken and used against them. Inside, things are tidy, orderly, but only superficially. At the first glance, all things work together, but are separate. If one piece of information no longer serves its purpose, it is seamlessly replaced with a new nugget, one that fits better into the system, into the boxes.
We take a step forward. The boxes and compartments, so meticulously built and filled, are flawed. Each piece is oversimplified; yellow pieces are in the light box because they are lighter. Purple pieces are in the dark box because they are lighter. Blue pieces are in both, but only when it is convenient, because they want to feel like they are in the right when they commit a certain act, but the other person is in the wrong when the act is committed against them.
And to think that I had no idea what I was writing about when I began this post.
All I know is that I have plenty of time, and words are amusing.
I won't bore with unnecessary details (that would be rambling. why do I always feel like I'm rambling? And why am I talking to myself?), but suffice to say that they were generally diversified. It struck me as interesting, though, that three hovered around the same basic definition.
Computer science brought me to a page about information hiding. It basically stated that compartmentalization, or encapsulation, allowed information to be substituted freely as long as it performed the same function, and that none of it really mattered anyway because it's all fronted by the query screen, the desktop, and very few people ever really see the 'thought process' behind it.
Intelligence (not Smarts, Espionage): This is actually the strategy more commonly known as 'need-to-know information'. This theory is that the few people who know the details, the smaller the chance is that the information will fall into the wrong hands.
Last, and what I was actually looking for, Psychology: This definition deals with an obsessive, reaching, almost arbitrary act of grouping things together that are inconsistent with other groups. Think of it as organization for the psychologically unstable. Imagine that you had two boxes. In one, venomous rattlesnakes. In the other, tiny, month-old kittens. Each of these boxes contain a side of you, two polar opposites that CANNOT MIX. The rattlesnake box is everything bad about you, everything you don't like. The kitten box is all things good and right about you. The boxes put everything into black-and-white, oversimplified terms.
It's interesting to me that these three seemingly different meanings use the same word, and, at the core, cover the same thing.
Let's mix them together, shall we? Combining these three definitions, we are left with a complex inner landscape. From the outside, this character is calm and collected, the 'desktop screen'. All information is stored securely behind the screen, held tight to the chest, and only given with the correct passwords and queries, lest information be taken and used against them. Inside, things are tidy, orderly, but only superficially. At the first glance, all things work together, but are separate. If one piece of information no longer serves its purpose, it is seamlessly replaced with a new nugget, one that fits better into the system, into the boxes.
We take a step forward. The boxes and compartments, so meticulously built and filled, are flawed. Each piece is oversimplified; yellow pieces are in the light box because they are lighter. Purple pieces are in the dark box because they are lighter. Blue pieces are in both, but only when it is convenient, because they want to feel like they are in the right when they commit a certain act, but the other person is in the wrong when the act is committed against them.
And to think that I had no idea what I was writing about when I began this post.
All I know is that I have plenty of time, and words are amusing.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Once Upon a Time: The Modern Destruction of Visual Representations
Since time began, people have created stories. We all remember hearing the generic tale of the evil villains, courageous heroes, and the fair maidens who win their hearts. These cookie-cutter characters have been used, in some variation, over and over throughout time in stories, most recently in video media. In fact, if put on the spot, most of us would tell a story using the same generic characters. Why is that, you may ask? Why does a culture so focused on originality fall back to Dark-Ages stereotypes? It is because we have been taught since birth to use them, that each mean, respectively, Good, Evil, and Love. These character stereotypes were, and still are, used to give a physical, visual representation of abstract concepts. Without these models from which to draw, most wouldn't know where to begin to explain good, evil, or love.
We begin with the Hero, the stalwart champion, the physical embodiment of all that is good and right in the world. If one asked a few hundred years ago what a hero looked like, most would answer that he would be tall, covered in scars, and be clothed in armor and chain-mail, perhaps sitting atop his valiant steed. The hero is handsome, kind, noble. He is the epitome of Good. The visual representation, at that time, described a knight, the protector of the small. Nowadays, in our modern world of comic books and movies, a hero would be clad in less rather than more, choosing to sport spandex unitards, masks, and capes instead of metal armor, and, more often than not, choose keen intellect over brute force. Quite the change in just a few hundred years, more obtainable in some ways, less in others. Spandex may be easier to find, but, unfortunately, super strength is not.
The second character introduced is the Villain, the vile heathen, the epitome of evil. There is a more balanced ratio of men-to-women cast as villains as opposed to heroic females or men in distress. The men are usually visualized as wearing a lot of black, having an evil cackle, perhaps stroking a cat. The women are generally witches of some sort, whether it be the Wicked Witch of the West or Maleficent, and are forever casting horrible, evil spells of one sort or another. The villain spends all of his time plotting, scheming, trying to find ways to thwart the hero, take over the world, or create a doomsday machine. The villain does evil deeds just for fun, out of boredom, or, more often than not, simply because he is evil. End of story. In fairytales, that is as deep as the villain representation goes. The villain is evil, and evil is wrong, and that's the way it is.
Finally we come to the Damsel in Distress the helpless princess. This is the frail woman who is captured by the evil Villain and needs the Hero to rescue her. The damsel is beautiful, with long, flowing hair, radiant skin, and eyes like diamonds. She is the purest, most perfect, most helpless thing femininity has to offer. Unlike the Hero or Villain personae, the Damsel is always female, no matter the story. Men are simply not helpless, and do not need rescuing. The damsel also inevitably rewards her rescuer with her undying love. She is love, in those stories. It doesn't matter how little the Hero knows about her, the Damsel is Love, pure and simple, happily ever after. Their love is the thing all strive to obtain. It is the representation, as close to visual as such a thing can be.
Hollywood, however, seems to be changing these cookie-cutter representations of Good, Evil, and Love. The Hero, for example could be any number of people. More often than not, the modern hero is just a regular person, man or woman, who is thrown into the fray and given the responsibility of the safety of the world, and grudgingly does as he or she needs to do. The Hero is no longer the gung-ho beacon of chivalry and righteousness that he used to be. Though we still regard him as a hero, he is now just another man. Someone we can strive to be, of course, but more like us. More real, and less abstract.
The character of Evil is becoming more complex; Hollywood has given reason behind the cruelty of the Villain. He is not simply all things that are wrong with the world. He has a story all his own, logic. He has more reason to be evil than simply because he's evil. In short, the Villain, too, has become more human, more reachable. He is no longer a visual representation, but a facet of a character.
Finally, Hollywood has robbed us of the Damsel, in all of her helpless glory, and in robbing us of her have robbed us of the pure, fairytale love. The damsel has been replaced by the strong, confident, self-assured woman whom the leading male needs to win over. There is no undying, boundless, instant love any more. Everything has restrictions, endings.
In the end, for adults, there are no more fairytales. The real world is fast encroaching, and we learn, earlier and earlier in life, that there are no happy endings, that the Hero doesn't always win, the Villain doesn't always lose, and the Damsel doesn't always fall for the Hero. In fact, sometimes she falls for the Villain. Sometimes the one we think is the Hero is the Villain in disguise. Sometimes the two are the same. In short, we have no more true visual representations of Good, Evil, and Love any more, at least not in Media, and what Media thinks will eventually become what mankind thinks. The absolutes we were taught and believed in as children are no longer absolutes. Instead, our Heroes, Villains, Damsels, have been humanized, and are no longer the abstract concepts they used to embody so simply. In short, our fairytales have grown up.
We begin with the Hero, the stalwart champion, the physical embodiment of all that is good and right in the world. If one asked a few hundred years ago what a hero looked like, most would answer that he would be tall, covered in scars, and be clothed in armor and chain-mail, perhaps sitting atop his valiant steed. The hero is handsome, kind, noble. He is the epitome of Good. The visual representation, at that time, described a knight, the protector of the small. Nowadays, in our modern world of comic books and movies, a hero would be clad in less rather than more, choosing to sport spandex unitards, masks, and capes instead of metal armor, and, more often than not, choose keen intellect over brute force. Quite the change in just a few hundred years, more obtainable in some ways, less in others. Spandex may be easier to find, but, unfortunately, super strength is not.
The second character introduced is the Villain, the vile heathen, the epitome of evil. There is a more balanced ratio of men-to-women cast as villains as opposed to heroic females or men in distress. The men are usually visualized as wearing a lot of black, having an evil cackle, perhaps stroking a cat. The women are generally witches of some sort, whether it be the Wicked Witch of the West or Maleficent, and are forever casting horrible, evil spells of one sort or another. The villain spends all of his time plotting, scheming, trying to find ways to thwart the hero, take over the world, or create a doomsday machine. The villain does evil deeds just for fun, out of boredom, or, more often than not, simply because he is evil. End of story. In fairytales, that is as deep as the villain representation goes. The villain is evil, and evil is wrong, and that's the way it is.
Finally we come to the Damsel in Distress the helpless princess. This is the frail woman who is captured by the evil Villain and needs the Hero to rescue her. The damsel is beautiful, with long, flowing hair, radiant skin, and eyes like diamonds. She is the purest, most perfect, most helpless thing femininity has to offer. Unlike the Hero or Villain personae, the Damsel is always female, no matter the story. Men are simply not helpless, and do not need rescuing. The damsel also inevitably rewards her rescuer with her undying love. She is love, in those stories. It doesn't matter how little the Hero knows about her, the Damsel is Love, pure and simple, happily ever after. Their love is the thing all strive to obtain. It is the representation, as close to visual as such a thing can be.
Hollywood, however, seems to be changing these cookie-cutter representations of Good, Evil, and Love. The Hero, for example could be any number of people. More often than not, the modern hero is just a regular person, man or woman, who is thrown into the fray and given the responsibility of the safety of the world, and grudgingly does as he or she needs to do. The Hero is no longer the gung-ho beacon of chivalry and righteousness that he used to be. Though we still regard him as a hero, he is now just another man. Someone we can strive to be, of course, but more like us. More real, and less abstract.
The character of Evil is becoming more complex; Hollywood has given reason behind the cruelty of the Villain. He is not simply all things that are wrong with the world. He has a story all his own, logic. He has more reason to be evil than simply because he's evil. In short, the Villain, too, has become more human, more reachable. He is no longer a visual representation, but a facet of a character.
Finally, Hollywood has robbed us of the Damsel, in all of her helpless glory, and in robbing us of her have robbed us of the pure, fairytale love. The damsel has been replaced by the strong, confident, self-assured woman whom the leading male needs to win over. There is no undying, boundless, instant love any more. Everything has restrictions, endings.
In the end, for adults, there are no more fairytales. The real world is fast encroaching, and we learn, earlier and earlier in life, that there are no happy endings, that the Hero doesn't always win, the Villain doesn't always lose, and the Damsel doesn't always fall for the Hero. In fact, sometimes she falls for the Villain. Sometimes the one we think is the Hero is the Villain in disguise. Sometimes the two are the same. In short, we have no more true visual representations of Good, Evil, and Love any more, at least not in Media, and what Media thinks will eventually become what mankind thinks. The absolutes we were taught and believed in as children are no longer absolutes. Instead, our Heroes, Villains, Damsels, have been humanized, and are no longer the abstract concepts they used to embody so simply. In short, our fairytales have grown up.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
The Ghost of You: A (not so) Quick Analysis
Alright, all, going to do something a bit different here. Instead of my usual meandering musings, I'm going to do an analysis. Of what? Of a music video.
Though I have been listening to the band My Chemical Romance for a few years now, I had yet to see the music video for "The Ghost of You", their fourth single off of the album "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge". While looking through their youtube montage, I stumbled across it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCUpvTMis-Y&feature=channel
The video begins with a USO dance set in 1944. They use the common grey filter to create a sense of an earlier age, adding to the WWII formal uniforms and the hairstyles of the women in the video. We cut over to a show of the band onstage, also in formal greens, with time-period appropriate hairstyles and instruments (saving that bassist Mikey Way is playing an early model Fender P Bass, not sold until 1951).
The USO dance scene cuts to a WWII battlefield, troops landing on what is meant to be Normandy Beach via ship. The camera is shaky, with the rougher chorus playing behind, the color scheme now completely muted in grey and blue tones. Each of the band members are revealed to be on the ship, along with familiar faces from the dance hall crowd.
As the chorus drops into the smoother tones of verse two, so the viewer also drops back into the dance hall. Images of soldiers dancing with civilian women are juxtaposed with scenes of the band in a bar. Verse two wraps up as the soldiers are leaving their dance partners. As the music builds, soldiers in full battle dress run across the floor, the scene washing across the screen as a literal wave which turns each remaining couple on the floor to battlefield wreckage on the beach.
Abrupt, fleeting shots of the troops storming the beach flash across the screen, the camera sometimes submerged in the ocean. Soldiers run toward, around, and past the camera, adding to the frantic, fearful feel of the scene.
A sudden cut back to the barroom in the same muted tones as the beach reveal lead singer Gerard Way comforting his brother Mikey, lending a sense of foreshadowing to the next several scenes. We jump back and forth from the battle to the barroom, Gerard's talkative gestures in the bar mirroring his gestures and directions on the battlefield. The scenes of battle are accompanied by the choral lyrics (Never coming home, never coming home), creating a feeling of sorrow, fear, and almost desperation.
The song settles into a mellow spot. We cut back to the band at the bar just in time for the lyrics "for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me" - the band in the empty dance hall, turning from the camera - "if I fall," - a shot of the woman Mikey had been dancing with - "if I fall" - Mikey turning to look at her again in the midst of the departing soldiers, making eye contact - "down." he turns and walks away from her.
Heavy artillery fire surrounds Mikey, sheltering behind an anti-watercraft spike, as the bridge pours over the scene. In an attempt to move up the shore, he runs and is shot, falling slowly as his brother, Gerard, silently screams his name. A medic appears and attempts to help Mikey as the rest of the band / his squadmates hold Gerard out of the firing lines. Subsequent rapid-fire shots of the bar are off-balance, shots of Gerard onstage singing are heavily vertically blurred, visuals of the battle scattered by men running in front of the camera and flying debris. The song ends with Mikey's death despite the medic's best efforts. The sounds of the battle are finally audible, with a panning closeup of Gerard's shocked expression as he watches his brother die on the field.
This is a spectacular video, in my humble opinion, for several reasons; For one, the time and effort put into this video is evident. Each soldier has an infantry patch, the wave transition was phenomenal, and I am impressed, as per usual, of the ability MCR has to not only create their songs, but act out the intention behind the song in a video as well. The intensity of emotion is not commonly found in music videos, which is one of the reasons this particular video skyrocketed to the top of MTV's request charts soon after its release.
The fact that they used the sibling relationship between Mikey and Gerard Way was a spectacular idea. The use didn't play such a pivotal point in the story that new viewers would be confused, but was important enough that old fans would catch the significance. It turned the video from a sad war song to a song about losing someone you love dearly.
Though this video did have its askew details and faults, I would label it a success. This video played a pivotal role in developing MCR's widespread fan-base. I hope to see more videos of this caliber from them in the future.
All I know is that it's past midnight yet again, and I spend much too much time browsing Youtube.
Though I have been listening to the band My Chemical Romance for a few years now, I had yet to see the music video for "The Ghost of You", their fourth single off of the album "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge". While looking through their youtube montage, I stumbled across it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCUpvTMis-Y&feature=channel
The video begins with a USO dance set in 1944. They use the common grey filter to create a sense of an earlier age, adding to the WWII formal uniforms and the hairstyles of the women in the video. We cut over to a show of the band onstage, also in formal greens, with time-period appropriate hairstyles and instruments (saving that bassist Mikey Way is playing an early model Fender P Bass, not sold until 1951).
The USO dance scene cuts to a WWII battlefield, troops landing on what is meant to be Normandy Beach via ship. The camera is shaky, with the rougher chorus playing behind, the color scheme now completely muted in grey and blue tones. Each of the band members are revealed to be on the ship, along with familiar faces from the dance hall crowd.
As the chorus drops into the smoother tones of verse two, so the viewer also drops back into the dance hall. Images of soldiers dancing with civilian women are juxtaposed with scenes of the band in a bar. Verse two wraps up as the soldiers are leaving their dance partners. As the music builds, soldiers in full battle dress run across the floor, the scene washing across the screen as a literal wave which turns each remaining couple on the floor to battlefield wreckage on the beach.
Abrupt, fleeting shots of the troops storming the beach flash across the screen, the camera sometimes submerged in the ocean. Soldiers run toward, around, and past the camera, adding to the frantic, fearful feel of the scene.
A sudden cut back to the barroom in the same muted tones as the beach reveal lead singer Gerard Way comforting his brother Mikey, lending a sense of foreshadowing to the next several scenes. We jump back and forth from the battle to the barroom, Gerard's talkative gestures in the bar mirroring his gestures and directions on the battlefield. The scenes of battle are accompanied by the choral lyrics (Never coming home, never coming home), creating a feeling of sorrow, fear, and almost desperation.
The song settles into a mellow spot. We cut back to the band at the bar just in time for the lyrics "for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me" - the band in the empty dance hall, turning from the camera - "if I fall," - a shot of the woman Mikey had been dancing with - "if I fall" - Mikey turning to look at her again in the midst of the departing soldiers, making eye contact - "down." he turns and walks away from her.
Heavy artillery fire surrounds Mikey, sheltering behind an anti-watercraft spike, as the bridge pours over the scene. In an attempt to move up the shore, he runs and is shot, falling slowly as his brother, Gerard, silently screams his name. A medic appears and attempts to help Mikey as the rest of the band / his squadmates hold Gerard out of the firing lines. Subsequent rapid-fire shots of the bar are off-balance, shots of Gerard onstage singing are heavily vertically blurred, visuals of the battle scattered by men running in front of the camera and flying debris. The song ends with Mikey's death despite the medic's best efforts. The sounds of the battle are finally audible, with a panning closeup of Gerard's shocked expression as he watches his brother die on the field.
This is a spectacular video, in my humble opinion, for several reasons; For one, the time and effort put into this video is evident. Each soldier has an infantry patch, the wave transition was phenomenal, and I am impressed, as per usual, of the ability MCR has to not only create their songs, but act out the intention behind the song in a video as well. The intensity of emotion is not commonly found in music videos, which is one of the reasons this particular video skyrocketed to the top of MTV's request charts soon after its release.
The fact that they used the sibling relationship between Mikey and Gerard Way was a spectacular idea. The use didn't play such a pivotal point in the story that new viewers would be confused, but was important enough that old fans would catch the significance. It turned the video from a sad war song to a song about losing someone you love dearly.
Though this video did have its askew details and faults, I would label it a success. This video played a pivotal role in developing MCR's widespread fan-base. I hope to see more videos of this caliber from them in the future.
All I know is that it's past midnight yet again, and I spend much too much time browsing Youtube.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Such Excitement!
Yes, yes, excitement abounds! I have decided, at the poking and prodding of one Hannah V., to create a blog for my 'novel'. It's still a baby, though, the remaining project of NaNoWriMo past, but I figure this might give me the incentive to finish on a timely schedule. Fingers completely crossed!
P.S. : http://peshmerga-novel.blogspot.com/
All I know is that it's way too early for such hijinks, and I have a math class first thing in the morning.
P.S. : http://peshmerga-novel.blogspot.com/
All I know is that it's way too early for such hijinks, and I have a math class first thing in the morning.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Things I don't understand:
Why it's acceptable to be proud of things you do poorly in and feel guilty about things you do well in.
The letter Q. Seriously. What's up with a letter you can't use on it's own?
People.
Why toothpicks have those colorful cellophane wrappers on top.
Why we seem to be alone at the very point in time when we need people the most.
Screw it. Perhaps I'll never know. Perhaps I'll be happier that way.
All I know is it's early morning, and this is slowly becoming an acceptable time for me.
The letter Q. Seriously. What's up with a letter you can't use on it's own?
People.
Why toothpicks have those colorful cellophane wrappers on top.
Why we seem to be alone at the very point in time when we need people the most.
Screw it. Perhaps I'll never know. Perhaps I'll be happier that way.
All I know is it's early morning, and this is slowly becoming an acceptable time for me.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Writing Letters
I guess it's not until you sit down and try to explain to the people who have touched your life just why they're special to you that you realize how important they really are.
All I know is it's early, and I'm feeling philosophical.
All I know is it's early, and I'm feeling philosophical.
Friday, May 14, 2010
MYAF Day One
I arrived at MYAF today amid humidity and mobs of students. Turns our my roommate is Jess, Anthony's girlfriend. She's pretty cool, and I've gotten to like her the more I talk to her. She's a very interesting person, and she shares quite a few of my philosophies.
The opening ceremony was the same as it ever was, lots of congratulations or being invited, some singing, some dancing, etc. There was a boy there who I swear could be Hillary's Josh's twin brother who did a pair of monologues absolutely phenomenally. The first was from Death of a Salesman, Biff's monologue about his inability to hold down a job. The second was the better of the two: a monologue from a play called The Spotted Man. It was a wonderful monologue. I'll have to look it up for future auditions. Also, Alyssa S.'s dance was in the ceremony, the first, apparently, to be admitted as a student choreographed piece. I think it's really nifty.
After the ceremony Jess and I returned to the dorm and spent a few hours talking about whatever crossed our minds, leapfrogging from one topic to the next, often without finishing the first. It was okay, though. I like talking with her.
I'm looking forward to the classes tomorrow, though it's that Anne Marie woman from two years ago, the sort of hippie-ish woman. I hope we're not writing poems about trees again.
Oh well. We'll see.
All I know is that it's technically Friday, and I am unable to sleep.
The opening ceremony was the same as it ever was, lots of congratulations or being invited, some singing, some dancing, etc. There was a boy there who I swear could be Hillary's Josh's twin brother who did a pair of monologues absolutely phenomenally. The first was from Death of a Salesman, Biff's monologue about his inability to hold down a job. The second was the better of the two: a monologue from a play called The Spotted Man. It was a wonderful monologue. I'll have to look it up for future auditions. Also, Alyssa S.'s dance was in the ceremony, the first, apparently, to be admitted as a student choreographed piece. I think it's really nifty.
After the ceremony Jess and I returned to the dorm and spent a few hours talking about whatever crossed our minds, leapfrogging from one topic to the next, often without finishing the first. It was okay, though. I like talking with her.
I'm looking forward to the classes tomorrow, though it's that Anne Marie woman from two years ago, the sort of hippie-ish woman. I hope we're not writing poems about trees again.
Oh well. We'll see.
All I know is that it's technically Friday, and I am unable to sleep.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Performance Checklist
Lights? Check
Sound? Almost check
Set? Almost done
Performers? Mostly ready, but lacking confidence
Music? Of course
Audience? We'll see!
All I know is that this thing is happening tomorrow, and I am contented with my stress.
Sound? Almost check
Set? Almost done
Performers? Mostly ready, but lacking confidence
Music? Of course
Audience? We'll see!
All I know is that this thing is happening tomorrow, and I am contented with my stress.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Life is about....
Who knew that life could be so hectic? I remember back when I would lie on my bed waiting for something interesting to happen, hoping for something to do.
Boy did I get that. And then some.
It has been a whirlwind ride through college applications, scholarships, senior project, senioritis, and more.
College applications make me feel stupid.
I went through my papers today for a senior biography and came up with these findings:
Life is about going with the flow.
Life is about getting applications in to four prestigious colleges in November and finding out that you're not interested in a single one, then starting over and turning in the one app you care about. Three days after the financial aid deadline.
Life is about turning down the $55,000 over-four-years scholarship to a college you don't want to go to in order to wait a year and hope for financial aid from the one place which sparks your interest.
College applications suck.
But maybe there's a reason? I can tough out gen ed classes at the local university for a year, I guess. Who knows? Maybe something monumental will happen in the next year that I would have missed otherwise.
Senior projects make my brain hurt.
Writing/directing/performing in a musical for a senior project. Genius? Not so much that as wishful thinking and temporary insanity. I have discovered these findings:
Life is about compromising.
Life is about waiting that one extra day to find a new lead male. Don't rush things, because you WILL regret it in the end. Trust me.
Life is about discovering that work and play don't mix. Never work professionally with your friends if they're not willing to take you seriously. Directing well means pissing off friends, and it's difficult to do.
Life is about learning that friends let you down when you count on them sometimes. Sometimes you're just not as important as you thought.
Life is about finding the little joys in a well done scene and stage lighting, along with seeing your script come to life.
Two more days. Two more days....
But I'll miss it, I know I will. It's all about how you look at it. As the song goes, I never saw a sight that didn't look better looking back. I'm sure it'l turn out fine, and the theatre fairy will show up just as she always does. We'll get it together somehow or another.
All I know it that it's currently Tuesday morning, and I have a Physics test first period.
Boy did I get that. And then some.
It has been a whirlwind ride through college applications, scholarships, senior project, senioritis, and more.
College applications make me feel stupid.
I went through my papers today for a senior biography and came up with these findings:
Life is about going with the flow.
Life is about getting applications in to four prestigious colleges in November and finding out that you're not interested in a single one, then starting over and turning in the one app you care about. Three days after the financial aid deadline.
Life is about turning down the $55,000 over-four-years scholarship to a college you don't want to go to in order to wait a year and hope for financial aid from the one place which sparks your interest.
College applications suck.
But maybe there's a reason? I can tough out gen ed classes at the local university for a year, I guess. Who knows? Maybe something monumental will happen in the next year that I would have missed otherwise.
Senior projects make my brain hurt.
Writing/directing/performing in a musical for a senior project. Genius? Not so much that as wishful thinking and temporary insanity. I have discovered these findings:
Life is about compromising.
Life is about waiting that one extra day to find a new lead male. Don't rush things, because you WILL regret it in the end. Trust me.
Life is about discovering that work and play don't mix. Never work professionally with your friends if they're not willing to take you seriously. Directing well means pissing off friends, and it's difficult to do.
Life is about learning that friends let you down when you count on them sometimes. Sometimes you're just not as important as you thought.
Life is about finding the little joys in a well done scene and stage lighting, along with seeing your script come to life.
Two more days. Two more days....
But I'll miss it, I know I will. It's all about how you look at it. As the song goes, I never saw a sight that didn't look better looking back. I'm sure it'l turn out fine, and the theatre fairy will show up just as she always does. We'll get it together somehow or another.
All I know it that it's currently Tuesday morning, and I have a Physics test first period.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Beginning
I sit here starting this blog listening to mellow music and my overweight cat's snores at 2:30 in the morning. The perfect time and place, no doubt. I have countless notebooks, journals, yet I am making the choice to entrust my thoughts to the internet. Why? I guess it's easier, faster certainly, and it is far easier to erase embarrassing or unwanted lines or entries on the computer than it is to erase them from paper.
I learned more about a person today than I ever realized there was to know. She writes. Did you know that? She struggles with the same emotions, the same doubts. There is a one-sided kinship there now, and the anger and hurt toward her I didn't consciously acknowledge has mostly disappeared. It's interesting how learning can do that. Where I have, for the past few weeks, been unwilling to make eye contact with her, avoided being physically close to her, I now find myself wanting to give her a hug. Maybe it's understanding. Maybe it's because it's 2:30 in the morning. Perhaps it's both.
All I know for certain is that I'm sitting in a room that smells like roses and I am warm.
I learned more about a person today than I ever realized there was to know. She writes. Did you know that? She struggles with the same emotions, the same doubts. There is a one-sided kinship there now, and the anger and hurt toward her I didn't consciously acknowledge has mostly disappeared. It's interesting how learning can do that. Where I have, for the past few weeks, been unwilling to make eye contact with her, avoided being physically close to her, I now find myself wanting to give her a hug. Maybe it's understanding. Maybe it's because it's 2:30 in the morning. Perhaps it's both.
All I know for certain is that I'm sitting in a room that smells like roses and I am warm.
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