Last week, in my Spanish class, we watched the wonderful movie, "Mer Adentro", which starred Javier Bardem. I loved it. But that's not what I'm going to talk about. (Though I probably will later....)
What I am going to talk about is mine and my sister's new affinity for a certain type of music I wasn't entirely...open to before seeing the movie. This type of music is opera.
I can't say that I was totally, hardcore anti-opera. My mom is a classical music fanatic, and I would have to be pretty pretentious to deny the merit of some of the stuff she's showed me over the years.
Opera just wasn't my music of choice. It's actually not my mom's either, but she recognizes and appreciates the beauty of some operas, which she passed on to my sisters and me. But let's just say that I certainly wasn't looking for a chance to delve deeper into the world of opera before last, well...Wednesday.
Last Wednesday, we started "Mer Adentro". It's a movie about a quadriplegic who wants to die, but can't kill himself. He wants to get the state to give him permission to have assisted suicide. So the movie is going on about his struggle, and at this one part, he says that sometimes, when he's alone, he flys to where he wants to be, and then he's content for a few minutes. They show this, and while he flys to the ocean and sees the woman he loves, I noticed a beautiful song playing.
When I got home, I looked it up. It was "Nessun Dorma" from the opera Turandot. I'd never heard of it, but I asked my mom. She said that it was beautiful, but we didn't own it in our vast collection of classical music. So I bought it. My mom also had me buy "Con Te Partiro" by Daniel Rodriguez. This is also beautiful.
A lot of people, upon hearing the word 'opera', wrinkle their noses. They pigeonhole opera to be this stuffy, boring, unpleasant experience. I wasn't totally in that category, but if I'd had to choose between listening to, say, Death Cab's new album or opera, I would've chosen the former....hands down.
However, for the past five days, all I have listened to is classical music and opera. Everything else now sounds sort of...trite. Especially this morning, when my sister happily played Chris Brown and Rhianna while we got ready. I was pained. I just wanted to turn on my opera.
I don't know what it is about those two pieces, along with the Bach Cello Suite No. 1, Debussy's Clair de Lune, Liszt's Liebestraume #3, and others, that captured me.
All I know is that they're beautiful. Listening to these songs with their amazing orchestration is fine with me, even though they're both in Italian, and the only Italian I recognize comes from a menu. My sister even said to me, whilst listening to "Nessun Dorma" (what, no Fergie?) something interesting. She said, "Ok, don't laugh at me, even though I would definitely laugh at you if you said this to me...but this song is so pretty. It's painfully pretty. Like, if I saw or thought about something sad right now, I'd probably cry."
And you know what? I probably would have laughed at her had she not hit the nail on the head. It is painfully beautiful. It's so pretty.
I can't say enough about it.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
New music.
My friendy-friend lent me Death Cab for Cutie's new album, Narrow Stairs. I was really excited, because I love them.
The first time I popped it in, I loved it. But I was surprised. Though this is often the case, it catches me off guard when it happens. It didn't sound like their previous album, but like their early albums. It sounded a lot less studio-perfected and a lot more raw.
I'm not saying I don't like Plans. I do. I think it's one of my top ten favorite albums. I just find Narrow Stairs to be a lot more honest. It brings back memories of their older, more honest, less corporate stuff.
Woah woah woah. Did I just say less corporate? Let me clarify before you give me up as another ranting indie kid.
Before Death Cab signed with Atlantic Records, their stuff was a lot different. More sprawling, less perfected. It's just what normally happens when a band signs with a more mainstream label. They're cleaned up. Their music is honed down to make the best singles.
Once again, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Plans is perfected, and I find it nearly perfect, despite some people's dislike for its perfection. I love every song. I just also like it when an album sounds raw and honest. Gosh, I've used those two words like eight billion times.
Anyway, now that I'm done justifying and clarifying, let me move on with what I was saying. Death Cab's new album sounds more like their older ones than Plans. It sounds more pre-Atlantic. Ok? Ok.
One of the main reasons for this is the length of the songs. The second song "I Will Possess Your Heart", is around eight minutes long, and it's a single.
......what? But that's what amazing about this album. I found myself saying, "What? They're allowed to still do this kind of stuff?" But not in a despairing way. In a pleasantly surprised way.
Ok, I feel I'm beating a dead horse.
The other thing I really like about this album is the lyrics. They're open and honest and....raw? Haha, you bet.
I think I may be done with this, because it's crashing and burning extremely fast.
Lots of good feelings toward Narrow Stairs, ok?
The first time I popped it in, I loved it. But I was surprised. Though this is often the case, it catches me off guard when it happens. It didn't sound like their previous album, but like their early albums. It sounded a lot less studio-perfected and a lot more raw.
I'm not saying I don't like Plans. I do. I think it's one of my top ten favorite albums. I just find Narrow Stairs to be a lot more honest. It brings back memories of their older, more honest, less corporate stuff.
Woah woah woah. Did I just say less corporate? Let me clarify before you give me up as another ranting indie kid.
Before Death Cab signed with Atlantic Records, their stuff was a lot different. More sprawling, less perfected. It's just what normally happens when a band signs with a more mainstream label. They're cleaned up. Their music is honed down to make the best singles.
Once again, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Plans is perfected, and I find it nearly perfect, despite some people's dislike for its perfection. I love every song. I just also like it when an album sounds raw and honest. Gosh, I've used those two words like eight billion times.
Anyway, now that I'm done justifying and clarifying, let me move on with what I was saying. Death Cab's new album sounds more like their older ones than Plans. It sounds more pre-Atlantic. Ok? Ok.
One of the main reasons for this is the length of the songs. The second song "I Will Possess Your Heart", is around eight minutes long, and it's a single.
......what? But that's what amazing about this album. I found myself saying, "What? They're allowed to still do this kind of stuff?" But not in a despairing way. In a pleasantly surprised way.
Ok, I feel I'm beating a dead horse.
The other thing I really like about this album is the lyrics. They're open and honest and....raw? Haha, you bet.
I think I may be done with this, because it's crashing and burning extremely fast.
Lots of good feelings toward Narrow Stairs, ok?
Monday, May 12, 2008
Does Anyone Still Say Slovenly?
I am lazy by nature. I know that this is not a very appealing description for me to give, but it's the truth. I really am just a lazy person.
I don't have much incentive to do most of the things that I'd like to do, like work hard to get good grades, etc. I am a coaster. No, not the cork kind that protects wood tables from cup rings. The kind who coasts through school, sometimes barely scraping by with an acceptable grade.
When I say acceptable, don't be fooled. I'm not talking about acceptable to me. I don't even have that type of standard. I mean acceptable to my parents. The reason I want my grades to be acceptable to my parents? I may get grounded from doing something fun if I don't.
Here is another pathetic but true facet of my already sparkling personality: my standards fluctuate with my grades. If I get a C in Algebra 2, well, it's a hard class, and I tried my best. If I get a D in Physics, well, the teacher's an idiot and it's really hard. I don't know why I am admitting these things. But it's true.
I could have avoided so many grounded weekends, ridiculously late cram nights, and fights with my parents if I'd just put a little more effort into things. But, as Jimmy Eat World would say, "ain't that the way it always goes?" It's so easy to look back on your past mistakes and think, "Man, I could have done so much better," but it's so hard to make the effort when you actually have the chance.
At least, it's hard for me. Or as Billy Madison would say "Well, it was hard for me SO BACK OFF!"
I feel no incentive to type more about my laziness, shockingly enough.
Peace and love until I write again. Which will probably be in a few weeks when I realize I haven't been writing.
I don't have much incentive to do most of the things that I'd like to do, like work hard to get good grades, etc. I am a coaster. No, not the cork kind that protects wood tables from cup rings. The kind who coasts through school, sometimes barely scraping by with an acceptable grade.
When I say acceptable, don't be fooled. I'm not talking about acceptable to me. I don't even have that type of standard. I mean acceptable to my parents. The reason I want my grades to be acceptable to my parents? I may get grounded from doing something fun if I don't.
Here is another pathetic but true facet of my already sparkling personality: my standards fluctuate with my grades. If I get a C in Algebra 2, well, it's a hard class, and I tried my best. If I get a D in Physics, well, the teacher's an idiot and it's really hard. I don't know why I am admitting these things. But it's true.
I could have avoided so many grounded weekends, ridiculously late cram nights, and fights with my parents if I'd just put a little more effort into things. But, as Jimmy Eat World would say, "ain't that the way it always goes?" It's so easy to look back on your past mistakes and think, "Man, I could have done so much better," but it's so hard to make the effort when you actually have the chance.
At least, it's hard for me. Or as Billy Madison would say "Well, it was hard for me SO BACK OFF!"
I feel no incentive to type more about my laziness, shockingly enough.
Peace and love until I write again. Which will probably be in a few weeks when I realize I haven't been writing.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
The Ice Bowl
Every year, my youth group has "The Ice Bowl" at the Cedar Rapids Ice Arena. We wear jeans and sweatshirts, (gloves for the less hardcore kids) and we have a battle royale on the ice. what happens is we get these huge helmets to wear, and these sticks with a little black thing on the end. I couldn't tell you what shape the black thing is...it looks like something fell off the end of the stick.
So after we've slapped our huge helmets on, we take our incomplete little sticks and go play. There's a red ball a little bit larger than a fist as our puck. We put the two nets not long ways on the ice, but short ways, because no one wants to skate so far for one goal. Then, the game begins. Usually only ten or twelve people show up, so it's five-on-five, hardcore broom ball. Sans brooms. That's the other thing I don't understand. We don't use brooms. But that's okay.
So once the game is on, I think we all feel our inner Wayne Gretzky take hold. Wearing not skates, but tennies, we slip and slide around after that little red ball.
I have to say, this may sound a tiny bit lame, but it's not. It's really fun. For one, it's fun to ice....skate. If that's what you call it when you're not wearing skates. That part is fun, as well as the whole scoring a goal part. I'm one of those players that stays mostly over by the net...so I can receive passes and score a goal. (I'm sure that I am completely slaughtering hockey terms, but ohhh well.) So after I received a pass, I'd shoot. And usually, I'd have shot it in a way to make it go not at the angle I was hoping, but straight in front of me, slipping right past the entrance to the goal, into the enemy's hands. Ooops. But I did score three or four goals (pure luck, I assure you) and it's very exciting. Plus, I'm not the sportiest person ever (understatement alert) and so it made me have that teeny taste of sportsdom....which is nice.
So after a good two hours, we trudge back off the ice, peel our helmets off our oh-so sweaty heads, giggle at everyone else's horrible helmet hair, and flop down, sweating and tired. Our faces are red and our knees our soaked (as well as other places, for those with unfortunate balance) but it was fun!
Every year, I go a little reluctantly, thinking that no one will go, I'll be cold, I could be doing homework (yeah right...), or something else, but I leave saying "Oh my gosh...that was so much fun. We should start a league!"
Yeah, a league. Who knows? We may just give the Rough Riders a run for their money.
Maybe. But first we'd have to use real skates, I think.
So after we've slapped our huge helmets on, we take our incomplete little sticks and go play. There's a red ball a little bit larger than a fist as our puck. We put the two nets not long ways on the ice, but short ways, because no one wants to skate so far for one goal. Then, the game begins. Usually only ten or twelve people show up, so it's five-on-five, hardcore broom ball. Sans brooms. That's the other thing I don't understand. We don't use brooms. But that's okay.
So once the game is on, I think we all feel our inner Wayne Gretzky take hold. Wearing not skates, but tennies, we slip and slide around after that little red ball.
I have to say, this may sound a tiny bit lame, but it's not. It's really fun. For one, it's fun to ice....skate. If that's what you call it when you're not wearing skates. That part is fun, as well as the whole scoring a goal part. I'm one of those players that stays mostly over by the net...so I can receive passes and score a goal. (I'm sure that I am completely slaughtering hockey terms, but ohhh well.) So after I received a pass, I'd shoot. And usually, I'd have shot it in a way to make it go not at the angle I was hoping, but straight in front of me, slipping right past the entrance to the goal, into the enemy's hands. Ooops. But I did score three or four goals (pure luck, I assure you) and it's very exciting. Plus, I'm not the sportiest person ever (understatement alert) and so it made me have that teeny taste of sportsdom....which is nice.
So after a good two hours, we trudge back off the ice, peel our helmets off our oh-so sweaty heads, giggle at everyone else's horrible helmet hair, and flop down, sweating and tired. Our faces are red and our knees our soaked (as well as other places, for those with unfortunate balance) but it was fun!
Every year, I go a little reluctantly, thinking that no one will go, I'll be cold, I could be doing homework (yeah right...), or something else, but I leave saying "Oh my gosh...that was so much fun. We should start a league!"
Yeah, a league. Who knows? We may just give the Rough Riders a run for their money.
Maybe. But first we'd have to use real skates, I think.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Summer Summer Summer Summer... Can't Get Enough Of It.
I love love love love LOVE summer. It is magical and amazing. It's full of late nights and good memories. It has so many fun things. Summer....when I hear this word, it only connotes good and wonderful things.
One of my favorite things to do near the end of the school year is get pumped for the summer by listening to some classic summer songs. These are classic songs for MY summers, not necessarily everyone's. But there are a few that are simply summery. First off, pretty much any of the songs by The Ataris have something to do with summer. But my very favorite summer song by them is "In This Diary". Here are the lyrics, and it'll be pretty obvious why it gets me READY for summer.
Here in this diary,
I write you visions of my summer.
It was the best I ever had.
There were choruses and sing-alongs,and that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters.
All the nights we stayed up talking
listening to 80's songs;and quoting lines from all those movies that we love.
It still brings a smile to my face.I guess when it comes down to it...
Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up:
These are the best days of our lives.
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
and eventually you'll finally get it right.
Breaking into hotel swimming pools,
and wreaking havoc on our world.
Hanging out at truck stops just to pass the time.
The black top's singing me to sleep.
Lighting fireworks in parking lots,
illuminate the blackest nights.
Cherry cokes under this moonlit summer sky.
2015 Riverside, it's time to say goodbye...
Get on the bus, it's time to go.
Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up:
These are the best days of our lives.
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
and eventually you'll finally get it right.
This song just gets me pumped for summer...a few more summery songs are:
1. The Boys of Summer- The Ataris
2. Dani California- Red Hot Chili Peppers
3. Fun, Fun, Fun- The Beach Boys
4. First Day Of My Life- Bright Eyes
5. Melt The Sugar- The Summer Obsession
I also love that everything gets prettier. Green grass, leaves, flowers, warmer temperatures, and more! I love the feeling of grass between my toes, and I take any opportunity to kick of my shoes. I love the warm sun and a cool breeze, and that breathtaking, endless blue sky that makes you feel infinitely small and yet totally content at the same time. I love being able to wake up leisurely and saunter out into the warm air, unsure of where the day is going to take you.
Summer...summer. Oh, dear summer. I love it. I must write more on this later.
One of my favorite things to do near the end of the school year is get pumped for the summer by listening to some classic summer songs. These are classic songs for MY summers, not necessarily everyone's. But there are a few that are simply summery. First off, pretty much any of the songs by The Ataris have something to do with summer. But my very favorite summer song by them is "In This Diary". Here are the lyrics, and it'll be pretty obvious why it gets me READY for summer.
Here in this diary,
I write you visions of my summer.
It was the best I ever had.
There were choruses and sing-alongs,and that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters.
All the nights we stayed up talking
listening to 80's songs;and quoting lines from all those movies that we love.
It still brings a smile to my face.I guess when it comes down to it...
Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up:
These are the best days of our lives.
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
and eventually you'll finally get it right.
Breaking into hotel swimming pools,
and wreaking havoc on our world.
Hanging out at truck stops just to pass the time.
The black top's singing me to sleep.
Lighting fireworks in parking lots,
illuminate the blackest nights.
Cherry cokes under this moonlit summer sky.
2015 Riverside, it's time to say goodbye...
Get on the bus, it's time to go.
Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up:
These are the best days of our lives.
The only thing that matters is just following your heart
and eventually you'll finally get it right.
This song just gets me pumped for summer...a few more summery songs are:
1. The Boys of Summer- The Ataris
2. Dani California- Red Hot Chili Peppers
3. Fun, Fun, Fun- The Beach Boys
4. First Day Of My Life- Bright Eyes
5. Melt The Sugar- The Summer Obsession
I also love that everything gets prettier. Green grass, leaves, flowers, warmer temperatures, and more! I love the feeling of grass between my toes, and I take any opportunity to kick of my shoes. I love the warm sun and a cool breeze, and that breathtaking, endless blue sky that makes you feel infinitely small and yet totally content at the same time. I love being able to wake up leisurely and saunter out into the warm air, unsure of where the day is going to take you.
Summer...summer. Oh, dear summer. I love it. I must write more on this later.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Timshel
My sister keeps making fun of me. She says that Timshel sounds like the name of a dragon. I then tell her she shouldn't make fun of me about stuff like that when she's an avid fan of both of the Eragon books.
Anyway, I thought I should explain why I chose this dragonesque. Anyone who has read East of Eden by John Steinbeck knows why. Basically, a character, Lee, tried to get to the literal translation of Genesis chapter 24 of the Bible; the Cain and Abel story. He did many months and years of research to come to this:
“Don’t you see? . . . The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’—that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open.” (Sparknotes.com)
He found the Hebrew translation and saw that it wasn't an order or a promise, it was permission. It meant that men have a choice to triumph over the sin and temptations in their lives, and this is what the book is really about.
In the book, Cal's family has a history of evil, and Cal struggles with overcoming this legacy. Lee's discovery that God didn't promise or command Cain to overcome sin, but told him he had the ability to overcome sin was hope. This was hope for all the people who have something haunting them, who have temptations, who have sins they feel they can't escape.
Ultimately, Lee's timshel helps Cal see the truth in this and overcome his family's dark past.
I really liked this because of the hope it gave me while I was reading it. The thought that I have the ability to overcome my sin or my past or anything else that may be hindering me is encouraging, and it was presented in such an awesome way.
Not only is this one of my favorite books, timshel has become one of my favorite words, even if it does sound a little bit like a dragon.
Anyway, I thought I should explain why I chose this dragonesque. Anyone who has read East of Eden by John Steinbeck knows why. Basically, a character, Lee, tried to get to the literal translation of Genesis chapter 24 of the Bible; the Cain and Abel story. He did many months and years of research to come to this:
“Don’t you see? . . . The American Standard translation orders men to triumph over sin, and you call sin ignorance. The King James translation makes a promise in ‘Thou shalt,’ meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—‘Thou mayest’—that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. That says the way is open.” (Sparknotes.com)
He found the Hebrew translation and saw that it wasn't an order or a promise, it was permission. It meant that men have a choice to triumph over the sin and temptations in their lives, and this is what the book is really about.
In the book, Cal's family has a history of evil, and Cal struggles with overcoming this legacy. Lee's discovery that God didn't promise or command Cain to overcome sin, but told him he had the ability to overcome sin was hope. This was hope for all the people who have something haunting them, who have temptations, who have sins they feel they can't escape.
Ultimately, Lee's timshel helps Cal see the truth in this and overcome his family's dark past.
I really liked this because of the hope it gave me while I was reading it. The thought that I have the ability to overcome my sin or my past or anything else that may be hindering me is encouraging, and it was presented in such an awesome way.
Not only is this one of my favorite books, timshel has become one of my favorite words, even if it does sound a little bit like a dragon.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
No Country For Old Men
A few months ago, my sisters and I went to see a movie. We decided that we should see No Country For Old Men because it had gotten such awesome reviews. We had no idea what it was about. Had my sisters known, they would have refused. I probably still would have gone to see it.
This movie isn't like most movies. (Uh oh...sounds just as promising as "she has a good personality") It doesn't have much music, and it doesn't have much dialogue either. It starts out with Tommy Lee Jones talking about how he doesn't know how the older men who used to be sherriffs around where he lives would handle the kind of stuff that goes on these days. ("These days" being in 1980-something.)
The movie is basically about Llewelyn Moss, a man who finds about a billion dollars in a bag at the scene of a drug deal gone wrong, and takes off with it. Little does he know that the psychotic Anton Chigurh is following him, dead-set on getting the money. Not only does he want that money, he's going to kill Llewelyn no matter what, even if he gives Chigurh the money straight up.
Chigurh is what kept me watching. I wasn't terribly attached to Llewelyn, though I did want him to die because I liked his cute little wife, Carla Jean. But Chigurh is this psycopathic, horrible person. He barely seems like a person. He shows absolutely no emotion as he kills seven, eight, nine people onscreen. He needs a car, so he simply pulls someone over and kills him. He couldn't just take the car, he had to kill the guy. So goes the rest of the movie.
The acting in this movie, the filming, the lack of music, all these things made this movie chilling and extremely creepy. I liked the way a look from Chigurh could send shivers down my spine.
This movie's no feel-good family film, however. With ample blood and gore, and just enough plain suspense, this movie scared me a lot. But it is interesting and stuff.
I dunno, I've lost interest in this review....unlike the movie, which held my attention until the very unexpected rolling of the credits.
This movie isn't like most movies. (Uh oh...sounds just as promising as "she has a good personality") It doesn't have much music, and it doesn't have much dialogue either. It starts out with Tommy Lee Jones talking about how he doesn't know how the older men who used to be sherriffs around where he lives would handle the kind of stuff that goes on these days. ("These days" being in 1980-something.)
The movie is basically about Llewelyn Moss, a man who finds about a billion dollars in a bag at the scene of a drug deal gone wrong, and takes off with it. Little does he know that the psychotic Anton Chigurh is following him, dead-set on getting the money. Not only does he want that money, he's going to kill Llewelyn no matter what, even if he gives Chigurh the money straight up.
Chigurh is what kept me watching. I wasn't terribly attached to Llewelyn, though I did want him to die because I liked his cute little wife, Carla Jean. But Chigurh is this psycopathic, horrible person. He barely seems like a person. He shows absolutely no emotion as he kills seven, eight, nine people onscreen. He needs a car, so he simply pulls someone over and kills him. He couldn't just take the car, he had to kill the guy. So goes the rest of the movie.
The acting in this movie, the filming, the lack of music, all these things made this movie chilling and extremely creepy. I liked the way a look from Chigurh could send shivers down my spine.
This movie's no feel-good family film, however. With ample blood and gore, and just enough plain suspense, this movie scared me a lot. But it is interesting and stuff.
I dunno, I've lost interest in this review....unlike the movie, which held my attention until the very unexpected rolling of the credits.
I Got This Guitar And I Learned How To Make It Talk
I realized the other day that I'd been taking guitar lessons for over a year. It was kind of a shocking realization, because I remember being very frustrated the first few months, thinking that I'd never be able to play more than a convoluted rendition of "Boulevard of Broken Dreams".
This, however, is not the case. I have to admit, I haven't always been completely faithful in my practicing. Especially for the first few months, when I couldn't play anything but Green Day and some very watered down Beatles songs, I was frustrated. I decided I'd rather just learn the piano or something, because this wasn't worth it.
But somehow I stuck with it. I got more into it when I learned how to slowly play songs I like, or at least songs I liked then. I learned "Swing Life Away", "One Year, Six Months", and "We Are Going To Be Friends". These songs I knew and made it fun to play.
But then over the Christmas vacation I sort of fell off the wagon. I stopped practicing for at least a month, maybe two. This wasn't good, and I'd stare at my dusty guitar case and think, "Hmph, I should probably practice soon...."
Over the past few months, I've gotten back into practicing. I recently learned how to play my favorite song in the world, "A Minor Incident" by Badly Drawn Boy. Also, I learned "Wonderwall", which is a classic song for learners, but I'd never learned. I realize why everyone learns it; it's pretty easy but it still sounds really good.
So while my journey hasn't always been easy or fun, I feel as though I've weathered the worst of the storm, and now I know at least that I can make a few songs come out of my good ol' guitar.
This, however, is not the case. I have to admit, I haven't always been completely faithful in my practicing. Especially for the first few months, when I couldn't play anything but Green Day and some very watered down Beatles songs, I was frustrated. I decided I'd rather just learn the piano or something, because this wasn't worth it.
But somehow I stuck with it. I got more into it when I learned how to slowly play songs I like, or at least songs I liked then. I learned "Swing Life Away", "One Year, Six Months", and "We Are Going To Be Friends". These songs I knew and made it fun to play.
But then over the Christmas vacation I sort of fell off the wagon. I stopped practicing for at least a month, maybe two. This wasn't good, and I'd stare at my dusty guitar case and think, "Hmph, I should probably practice soon...."
Over the past few months, I've gotten back into practicing. I recently learned how to play my favorite song in the world, "A Minor Incident" by Badly Drawn Boy. Also, I learned "Wonderwall", which is a classic song for learners, but I'd never learned. I realize why everyone learns it; it's pretty easy but it still sounds really good.
So while my journey hasn't always been easy or fun, I feel as though I've weathered the worst of the storm, and now I know at least that I can make a few songs come out of my good ol' guitar.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Fifty Questions...(borrowed from Marissa)
1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
Sleeping
2. Who are you in love with?
Celebrity-wise: Shia LaBeouf, Ryan Philippe, and Channing Tatum. In real life?.....no comment.
3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
I work at a daycare. I see the effects of it once in a while, during potty time, and I'd rather not.
4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
The polka dots on my ipod case.
5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
Today! Glace at Sertino's..mmmm.
6. Are you wearing socks right now?
Yes.
7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
I DRIVE..I DRIVE...I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS!
8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
Last weekend.
9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
Noooooo.
10. Are you hot?
I have a great personality ;-}
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Diet White Peach Papaya Tea
12. What are you wearing right now?
Jeans, Backstreet Boy t-shirt.
13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
Depends on my cash supply.
14. Last food that you ate?
A pita thingy.
15. Where were you last week at this time?
Outta town.
16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
No.
17. When is the last time you ran?
Today!
18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
White Sox game whenever they're on.
19. What is your favorite animal?
Cow
20. Your dream vacation?
Greece.
21. Last person's house you were in?
Mine....?
22. Worst injury you've ever had?
Broken wrist
23. Have you been in love?
No
24. Do you miss anyone right now?
No
25. Last play you saw?
The Reluctant Dragon
26. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
Don't have one.
27. What are your plans for tonight?
Maybe a bike ride.
28. Who is the last person you sent a MySpace message or comment?
I have no MySpace.
29. Next trip you are going to take?
Jamaica
30. Ever go to camp?
Every summer.
31. Were you an honor roll student in school?
Yeah
32. What do you want to know about the future?
If what I want to happen in my life WILL happen
33. Are you wearing any perfume or cologne?
Happy by Clinique, my favie
34. Are you due sometime this year for a doctor's visit?
No
35. Where is your best friend?
Doing a massive paper
36. How is your best friend?
Pretty okay I think
37. Do you have a tan?
No, I'm pasty.
38. What are you listening to right now?
My sister watching "Sydney White"
39. Do you collect anything?
Cow Statues, Vogue magazine
40. Who is the biggest gossiper you know?
I think I'd qualify if I said their name in a blog entry.
41. Last time you got stopped by a cop or pulled over?
Never. Well, once my sisters and I were WALKING and a cop told us to walk on the other side of the road. But not in a car.
42. Have you ever drank your soda from a straw?
Yes, and I've also cringed at bad grammer such as "have you drank".
43. What does your last text message say?
Probably some demeaning name, love my sister.
44. Do you like hot sauce?
No.
45. Last time you took a shower?
Hmmmm...just kidding. This morning.
46. Do you need to do laundry?
No, my mom does my laundry
47. What is your heritage?
German and British
48. Are you someone's best friend?
Two BFFs.
49. Are you rich?
Filthy stinkin'. What kind of a question is that?
50. What were you doing at 12AM last night?
Listening to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole singing me to sleep.
Sleeping
2. Who are you in love with?
Celebrity-wise: Shia LaBeouf, Ryan Philippe, and Channing Tatum. In real life?.....no comment.
3. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
I work at a daycare. I see the effects of it once in a while, during potty time, and I'd rather not.
4. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
The polka dots on my ipod case.
5. When is the last time you went to the mall?
Today! Glace at Sertino's..mmmm.
6. Are you wearing socks right now?
Yes.
7. Do you have a car worth over $2,000?
I DRIVE..I DRIVE...I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS!
8. When was the last time you drove out of town?
Last weekend.
9. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
Noooooo.
10. Are you hot?
I have a great personality ;-}
11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Diet White Peach Papaya Tea
12. What are you wearing right now?
Jeans, Backstreet Boy t-shirt.
13. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
Depends on my cash supply.
14. Last food that you ate?
A pita thingy.
15. Where were you last week at this time?
Outta town.
16. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
No.
17. When is the last time you ran?
Today!
18. What's the last sporting event you watched?
White Sox game whenever they're on.
19. What is your favorite animal?
Cow
20. Your dream vacation?
Greece.
21. Last person's house you were in?
Mine....?
22. Worst injury you've ever had?
Broken wrist
23. Have you been in love?
No
24. Do you miss anyone right now?
No
25. Last play you saw?
The Reluctant Dragon
26. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
Don't have one.
27. What are your plans for tonight?
Maybe a bike ride.
28. Who is the last person you sent a MySpace message or comment?
I have no MySpace.
29. Next trip you are going to take?
Jamaica
30. Ever go to camp?
Every summer.
31. Were you an honor roll student in school?
Yeah
32. What do you want to know about the future?
If what I want to happen in my life WILL happen
33. Are you wearing any perfume or cologne?
Happy by Clinique, my favie
34. Are you due sometime this year for a doctor's visit?
No
35. Where is your best friend?
Doing a massive paper
36. How is your best friend?
Pretty okay I think
37. Do you have a tan?
No, I'm pasty.
38. What are you listening to right now?
My sister watching "Sydney White"
39. Do you collect anything?
Cow Statues, Vogue magazine
40. Who is the biggest gossiper you know?
I think I'd qualify if I said their name in a blog entry.
41. Last time you got stopped by a cop or pulled over?
Never. Well, once my sisters and I were WALKING and a cop told us to walk on the other side of the road. But not in a car.
42. Have you ever drank your soda from a straw?
Yes, and I've also cringed at bad grammer such as "have you drank".
43. What does your last text message say?
Probably some demeaning name, love my sister.
44. Do you like hot sauce?
No.
45. Last time you took a shower?
Hmmmm...just kidding. This morning.
46. Do you need to do laundry?
No, my mom does my laundry
47. What is your heritage?
German and British
48. Are you someone's best friend?
Two BFFs.
49. Are you rich?
Filthy stinkin'. What kind of a question is that?
50. What were you doing at 12AM last night?
Listening to Israel Kamakawiwo'ole singing me to sleep.
My Predicament
I used to be the first one in my family to wake up. I'd hop out of bed, refreshed and excited for the day to begin. That was, however, about ten years ago. These days I'm not as excited. In fact, I rather loathe getting up, which is why I almost always wake up at least fifteen minutes later than I should, usually half an hour later.
To solve this problem, I have four alarms. I have my normal alarm clock, and my phone. My alarm clock goes off at five. This is the ideal time I'd like to wake up. In theory, my sister and I should leave our house at 6:25 to get to school at a comfortable time. However, this, like my waking up on time, rarely happens. My phone alarm goes off at 5:15, 5:30, and 5:45, so as to ensure that I will get up eventually.
There is another problem I have with waking up. My sister does not wake up on her own. I think she has two alarms. Even with those two alarms, I wake her up every morning. Around 5:45, I open her door. Our rooms are connected with our bathroom, so she usually wakes up to a combination of the light from the bathroom, my music drifting over to her side, and the sounds of my drawers closing and opening. This is probably a perfect situation for her; she gets to sleep much later than me and doesn't have to worry about getting up for her alarm. This situation is not perfect for me, though, because I cannot choose to sleep late.
This is what happened yesterday. I responded to my first alarm like I always do. Shaken out of my precious five a.m. sleep, I stumbled over to my alarm clock and turned it off. Fifteen minutes later (which feels more like fifteen seconds), another alarm went off. I turned it off. Another alarm went off fifteen minutes later. It too was turned off. My last alarm went off, and this time was different. I was lying on my stomach, and raised my head off my pillow to squint at the time. 5:45. This is not a very good time for me to wake up; it always leaves me feeling rushed. I felt so exhausted, and I knew that my sister would not wake me up- she depended on me to wake her up. I turned off the final alarm, sighed, and put my head back on my pillow. Today I wasn't going to wake up.
Of course, almost any idea seems better at 5:45 in the morning when you've only just woken up and are a bit disoriented and very tired. When my mom woke me up at 6:30, I realized that making a conscious decision to skip my early bird class was probably not such a good idea.
My predicament is this: I have to wake up on time to get to my early bird class, but I don't like to, and sometimes I can barely bring myself to. My sister depends on me to get her up as well, so if I shirk my responsibility, I'm putting two people's grades on the line. It's a catch-22 of sorts, and I'm a bit (no pun intended) tired of it.
Ah well, it's near the end of the year, and as long as I can keep reminding myself to get out of bed, and as long as I don't decide to miss class in my half-conscious states, I think I can handle it for a few more months.
To solve this problem, I have four alarms. I have my normal alarm clock, and my phone. My alarm clock goes off at five. This is the ideal time I'd like to wake up. In theory, my sister and I should leave our house at 6:25 to get to school at a comfortable time. However, this, like my waking up on time, rarely happens. My phone alarm goes off at 5:15, 5:30, and 5:45, so as to ensure that I will get up eventually.
There is another problem I have with waking up. My sister does not wake up on her own. I think she has two alarms. Even with those two alarms, I wake her up every morning. Around 5:45, I open her door. Our rooms are connected with our bathroom, so she usually wakes up to a combination of the light from the bathroom, my music drifting over to her side, and the sounds of my drawers closing and opening. This is probably a perfect situation for her; she gets to sleep much later than me and doesn't have to worry about getting up for her alarm. This situation is not perfect for me, though, because I cannot choose to sleep late.
This is what happened yesterday. I responded to my first alarm like I always do. Shaken out of my precious five a.m. sleep, I stumbled over to my alarm clock and turned it off. Fifteen minutes later (which feels more like fifteen seconds), another alarm went off. I turned it off. Another alarm went off fifteen minutes later. It too was turned off. My last alarm went off, and this time was different. I was lying on my stomach, and raised my head off my pillow to squint at the time. 5:45. This is not a very good time for me to wake up; it always leaves me feeling rushed. I felt so exhausted, and I knew that my sister would not wake me up- she depended on me to wake her up. I turned off the final alarm, sighed, and put my head back on my pillow. Today I wasn't going to wake up.
Of course, almost any idea seems better at 5:45 in the morning when you've only just woken up and are a bit disoriented and very tired. When my mom woke me up at 6:30, I realized that making a conscious decision to skip my early bird class was probably not such a good idea.
My predicament is this: I have to wake up on time to get to my early bird class, but I don't like to, and sometimes I can barely bring myself to. My sister depends on me to get her up as well, so if I shirk my responsibility, I'm putting two people's grades on the line. It's a catch-22 of sorts, and I'm a bit (no pun intended) tired of it.
Ah well, it's near the end of the year, and as long as I can keep reminding myself to get out of bed, and as long as I don't decide to miss class in my half-conscious states, I think I can handle it for a few more months.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Stop-Loss Review
I wanted to see this movie because of the actors in it at first, but soon the storyline interested me as well.
I was a little afraid that this movie would be a Bush-bashing, anti-war, Liberal fest, and I wasn't sure if I could handle that. I don't like going to the theater to see a bunch of propaganda telling me our country's going to the dogs and our president's a moron and all of that, because I don't believe it.
The story is very interesting, and I was immediately drawn to the two main characters, Steve and Brandon. I liked that they'd been friends since childhood and that they were loyal and brave.
I thought this movie was very realistic. Many movies portray people as much too brave or honorable or nice, and you're left with a sense of, "Could anyone really be that great?"
This movie had flawed characters. Brandon (Ryan Phillippe) gets angry that he's been stop-lossed, so he beats two men up and runs away. He battles with doing the right thing and doing what he wants the whole movie. I thought this was realistic. Though I wasn't very happy with his character for doing it, I thought it was probably how a lot of soldiers would react when they found out they'd have to go back.
I also thought Tommy (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) was a realistic character. He gets into a lot of trouble getting drunk, and on top of that his wife kicks him out. In his despair, his absolute low point, he throws a beer bottle through a jewelry store window. This is after he's been warned to clean up his act. A few days after being kicked out of the army, he commits suicide. The army and his wife were his two reasons to live, and he had neither. I thought that this was pretty realistic. He's very perturbed by what he did and saw in Iraq, so he acts out. Then he realizes he's lost everything he lived for, and sees no point in living.
Though the movie did have a little bit of anti-current administration stuff, it was subtle, and not necessarily propaganda as much as only one side of the story. The screen read that some 88,000 soldiers were stop-lossed in 2007, but it didn't say how many willingly reenlisted. This would have been helpful to give a clearer picture on the whole situation.
All in all, however, I thought that this movie had a good cast who played realistic characters, I thought it was very well made, and I thought it left an impact.
I was a little afraid that this movie would be a Bush-bashing, anti-war, Liberal fest, and I wasn't sure if I could handle that. I don't like going to the theater to see a bunch of propaganda telling me our country's going to the dogs and our president's a moron and all of that, because I don't believe it.
The story is very interesting, and I was immediately drawn to the two main characters, Steve and Brandon. I liked that they'd been friends since childhood and that they were loyal and brave.
I thought this movie was very realistic. Many movies portray people as much too brave or honorable or nice, and you're left with a sense of, "Could anyone really be that great?"
This movie had flawed characters. Brandon (Ryan Phillippe) gets angry that he's been stop-lossed, so he beats two men up and runs away. He battles with doing the right thing and doing what he wants the whole movie. I thought this was realistic. Though I wasn't very happy with his character for doing it, I thought it was probably how a lot of soldiers would react when they found out they'd have to go back.
I also thought Tommy (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) was a realistic character. He gets into a lot of trouble getting drunk, and on top of that his wife kicks him out. In his despair, his absolute low point, he throws a beer bottle through a jewelry store window. This is after he's been warned to clean up his act. A few days after being kicked out of the army, he commits suicide. The army and his wife were his two reasons to live, and he had neither. I thought that this was pretty realistic. He's very perturbed by what he did and saw in Iraq, so he acts out. Then he realizes he's lost everything he lived for, and sees no point in living.
Though the movie did have a little bit of anti-current administration stuff, it was subtle, and not necessarily propaganda as much as only one side of the story. The screen read that some 88,000 soldiers were stop-lossed in 2007, but it didn't say how many willingly reenlisted. This would have been helpful to give a clearer picture on the whole situation.
All in all, however, I thought that this movie had a good cast who played realistic characters, I thought it was very well made, and I thought it left an impact.
Stop-Loss
Over Spring Break, I was very excited to get to see a movie I'd been waiting for, "Stop-Loss".
I initially wanted to see it, yes, because Channing Tatum is in it, along with Ryan Phillippe, and I find both of these actors rather easy on the eyes.
The basic storyline is this: Brandon (Phillippe), is a soldier who just came home from his tour of Iraq, where he witnessed his good friends injured brutally and killed. He's very glad to be back and start his life over. Steve, (Tatum) is his best friend since childhood, who was by his side every step of the way in Iraq. There are also two others that are good friends and fellow soldiers, Tommy (played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and Isaac (played by Rob Brown). These four soldiers return home to Texas, and all of them are eager to see their families and loved ones.
The soldiers did get out of Iraq with their lives, but that did not stop them from being affected. They get drunk and behave in unacceptable ways, including Steve hitting his girlfriend and thinking he was back in Iraq; he digs a grave in his front yard. Tommy is the most deeply affected, however, and he blames himself for a lot of what went wrong the day many of their friends were killed. He drinks too much and his wife kicks him out. The four decide to go out to a ranch that Brandon's family has and spend a few days taking it easy, away from reality.
The next day or so, the four have to go turn in all their effects and take care of their last business before being officially done with their tour. However, Brandon is informed that he's shipping out at the end of the month. After arguing back that he's done with his fighting, he's told he was stop-lossed, and that the president can override his contract. He even goes to his Lieutenant Colonel to get it reversed, but he says the same thing; he has to do what he's ordered.
Brandon reacts badly, beating up two soldiers escorting him out and taking Steve's car to run away. He ends up driving with Steve's girlfriend, Michelle (with no romantic undertones- she has a car and he needs one) to Washington DC to talk to a senator who told him to tell him if he had any trouble. Steve catches up with them to bring Brandon home, but Brandon refuses. When Michelle finds out that Steve signed up to be a sniper, she breaks it off with him, saying she waited five years for him and she can tell he'll never be done. Steve leaves completely unsettled. His best friend is a fugitive and his girlfriend, the girl he loves more than anyone, just broke up with him.
Along the way, Brandon realizes that no senator is going to help a runaway soldier who is defying an order from the president. He then looks at his other option: fleeing the country. He gets in touch with a man who can help him run away to Canada, but finds out that Tommy has killed himself, so rushes back home to go to the funeral after everyone else but Steve is gone.
Steve sees Brandon, and they talk about what's been happening. Steve has a crying moment, and they have a fist fighting moment, and they do not part well. Brandon goes to the ranch and says goodbye to everyone- he's decided to flee to Mexico.
Standing on the border, Brandon comments how when he crosses the border, all his friends and family and past will be gone, but he'll still remember what he did and there's nothing that can change that. (You find out in a flashback that when Brandon was saving Steve's life he killed a man with a weapon who was holding his very young son in his arms).
The movie ends with Brandon and Steve sitting side by side on a bus to ship out once again. Brandon's mom is terror-stricken and his dad is stone-faced. Michelle stands in the crowd, though you're not sure if it's for Steve, or Brandon, who she's known since childhood as well.
It's not necessarily a happy story, but it is a very moving one.
I initially wanted to see it, yes, because Channing Tatum is in it, along with Ryan Phillippe, and I find both of these actors rather easy on the eyes.
The basic storyline is this: Brandon (Phillippe), is a soldier who just came home from his tour of Iraq, where he witnessed his good friends injured brutally and killed. He's very glad to be back and start his life over. Steve, (Tatum) is his best friend since childhood, who was by his side every step of the way in Iraq. There are also two others that are good friends and fellow soldiers, Tommy (played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) and Isaac (played by Rob Brown). These four soldiers return home to Texas, and all of them are eager to see their families and loved ones.
The soldiers did get out of Iraq with their lives, but that did not stop them from being affected. They get drunk and behave in unacceptable ways, including Steve hitting his girlfriend and thinking he was back in Iraq; he digs a grave in his front yard. Tommy is the most deeply affected, however, and he blames himself for a lot of what went wrong the day many of their friends were killed. He drinks too much and his wife kicks him out. The four decide to go out to a ranch that Brandon's family has and spend a few days taking it easy, away from reality.
The next day or so, the four have to go turn in all their effects and take care of their last business before being officially done with their tour. However, Brandon is informed that he's shipping out at the end of the month. After arguing back that he's done with his fighting, he's told he was stop-lossed, and that the president can override his contract. He even goes to his Lieutenant Colonel to get it reversed, but he says the same thing; he has to do what he's ordered.
Brandon reacts badly, beating up two soldiers escorting him out and taking Steve's car to run away. He ends up driving with Steve's girlfriend, Michelle (with no romantic undertones- she has a car and he needs one) to Washington DC to talk to a senator who told him to tell him if he had any trouble. Steve catches up with them to bring Brandon home, but Brandon refuses. When Michelle finds out that Steve signed up to be a sniper, she breaks it off with him, saying she waited five years for him and she can tell he'll never be done. Steve leaves completely unsettled. His best friend is a fugitive and his girlfriend, the girl he loves more than anyone, just broke up with him.
Along the way, Brandon realizes that no senator is going to help a runaway soldier who is defying an order from the president. He then looks at his other option: fleeing the country. He gets in touch with a man who can help him run away to Canada, but finds out that Tommy has killed himself, so rushes back home to go to the funeral after everyone else but Steve is gone.
Steve sees Brandon, and they talk about what's been happening. Steve has a crying moment, and they have a fist fighting moment, and they do not part well. Brandon goes to the ranch and says goodbye to everyone- he's decided to flee to Mexico.
Standing on the border, Brandon comments how when he crosses the border, all his friends and family and past will be gone, but he'll still remember what he did and there's nothing that can change that. (You find out in a flashback that when Brandon was saving Steve's life he killed a man with a weapon who was holding his very young son in his arms).
The movie ends with Brandon and Steve sitting side by side on a bus to ship out once again. Brandon's mom is terror-stricken and his dad is stone-faced. Michelle stands in the crowd, though you're not sure if it's for Steve, or Brandon, who she's known since childhood as well.
It's not necessarily a happy story, but it is a very moving one.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Spring Break
So everyone's been telling me about their awesome Spring Break plans. The Bahamas. Florida. New York City. California.
But me? Do I get to go somewhere warm, (where the beer flows like wine, and beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano)? No, I do not. I get to stay home. All week. And work.
I'm not trying to complain.
Ok, yes I am.
I don't want to stay home. I want to go somewhere super exciting and warm and sunny and beautiful. I mean, it snowed today. Today, the second to last day before SPRING Break. Why?
I mean, I'm not trying to be a party pooper. I'm sure I'll have my share of kicks and giggles, waking up to snow, working extra hours, and maybe not even making the college visit I thought I was going to.
Heck, maybe I'll even have more fun than my friends in those distant tropical places that I always see in calendars.
Yeah, that's right. Maybe I'll have MORE fun. While my friends are lounging around on an all-inclusive trip to Sandals, Jamaica on some gorgeous white sand beach, I'll be lounging around in the snow angel I just created with five two year olds. While my friends see the countless sights New York City has to offer, I'll be seeing my room, and all the nooks and crannies I'd been neglecting to clean for a while. While my friends eat delicious, foreign food, I'll be creating my own masterpieces out of pre-packaged turkey and pepper jack cheese.
Oh yeah, living the life.
I can't wait to rub it in when they get back.
But me? Do I get to go somewhere warm, (where the beer flows like wine, and beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano)? No, I do not. I get to stay home. All week. And work.
I'm not trying to complain.
Ok, yes I am.
I don't want to stay home. I want to go somewhere super exciting and warm and sunny and beautiful. I mean, it snowed today. Today, the second to last day before SPRING Break. Why?
I mean, I'm not trying to be a party pooper. I'm sure I'll have my share of kicks and giggles, waking up to snow, working extra hours, and maybe not even making the college visit I thought I was going to.
Heck, maybe I'll even have more fun than my friends in those distant tropical places that I always see in calendars.
Yeah, that's right. Maybe I'll have MORE fun. While my friends are lounging around on an all-inclusive trip to Sandals, Jamaica on some gorgeous white sand beach, I'll be lounging around in the snow angel I just created with five two year olds. While my friends see the countless sights New York City has to offer, I'll be seeing my room, and all the nooks and crannies I'd been neglecting to clean for a while. While my friends eat delicious, foreign food, I'll be creating my own masterpieces out of pre-packaged turkey and pepper jack cheese.
Oh yeah, living the life.
I can't wait to rub it in when they get back.
Beep Beep Beep Beep
I hate waking up. Well, that's not entirely true. I hate waking up before I'm good and ready. Which, for the rather pathetically grandma-like teenager that I am, is after having about 7 hours of sleep. At least. I don't remember the last time I've gotten seven hours of sleep. I have an early bird class (hehe) that starts at seven, and so I wake up at five. Supposedly. I usually roll out of bed at five fifteen to five thirty. But I'm getting ahead of myself, because I'm going to take you through a usual morning of mine.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
My alarm clock has the generic beeping noise that every alarm clock in every movie since digital alarm clocks came out has had. It's extremely loud, harsh, and very jarring. No matter how many times my alarm clock has beeped, it always completely surprises me. This sound is on a commercial or two, and when I hear it, I literally feel sick, tired, disoriented, and crabby. It's a sound I associate with absolutely nothing pleasant.
Anyway, after I'm jarred out of my peaceful slumber by the horror that is the modern alarm clock, I blindly crawl across my bed to turn it off. You see, I thought that if I put my alarm clock on my chest of drawers instead of my bedside table, I'd wake up because I'd have to get up. Sadly, even in my bleariest state, I've gotten around getting up all the way. My chest of drawers is on the wall next to the wall my bed's up against, and though I put my alarm clock on the veeeery corner, if I crawl across my bed, lean rather painfully against the metal frame, and fumble around until I hit the off button, I can flop back into my pillow for a few more minutes of precious sleep. I do this every single morning, and a few times I've gotten a bump or bruise from the frame. All this for fifteen more minutes of sleep. I digress.
After I've finally gotten back into the lull of my beautiful morning sleep, my cell phone alarm clock goes off. And this time, it's on my bedside table, right next to my ear. The alarm on my cell phone is some extremely generic, really pretty bad knock off of a Dave Matthews type song, complete with a sax. After I hear this at five fifteen, I usually get up. Usually. I'm thinking about putting a five thirty alarm on my phone as well, because sometimes I also just turn my cell phone off and tell myself that I'll wake up in fifteen minutes on my own. Yeah right.
So, when my twin and I have successfully failed at our tag-team plan (whoever wakes up first wakes up the other...preferably before five forty-five) we get ready. Quickly. Usually we both wake up at about six. We have to leave the house no later than six thirty-five to get to school on time. Thirty-five minutes goes by really quite quickly when you're not looking.
After Twinny and I have managed to also fail at leaving at six thirty-five, we usually blunder out of the house at around six forty. But then, there's sometimes frost on the windows of our cars. So we have to scrape it off. At six forty-five we hurtle towards school, with our finger crossed that just this once we could possibly get into class on time, even though we know it's not going to happen.
This is why I hate the morning. It's tiring and stressful, and most of all, it's the part of the day when I hear that awful beeping noise.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
My alarm clock has the generic beeping noise that every alarm clock in every movie since digital alarm clocks came out has had. It's extremely loud, harsh, and very jarring. No matter how many times my alarm clock has beeped, it always completely surprises me. This sound is on a commercial or two, and when I hear it, I literally feel sick, tired, disoriented, and crabby. It's a sound I associate with absolutely nothing pleasant.
Anyway, after I'm jarred out of my peaceful slumber by the horror that is the modern alarm clock, I blindly crawl across my bed to turn it off. You see, I thought that if I put my alarm clock on my chest of drawers instead of my bedside table, I'd wake up because I'd have to get up. Sadly, even in my bleariest state, I've gotten around getting up all the way. My chest of drawers is on the wall next to the wall my bed's up against, and though I put my alarm clock on the veeeery corner, if I crawl across my bed, lean rather painfully against the metal frame, and fumble around until I hit the off button, I can flop back into my pillow for a few more minutes of precious sleep. I do this every single morning, and a few times I've gotten a bump or bruise from the frame. All this for fifteen more minutes of sleep. I digress.
After I've finally gotten back into the lull of my beautiful morning sleep, my cell phone alarm clock goes off. And this time, it's on my bedside table, right next to my ear. The alarm on my cell phone is some extremely generic, really pretty bad knock off of a Dave Matthews type song, complete with a sax. After I hear this at five fifteen, I usually get up. Usually. I'm thinking about putting a five thirty alarm on my phone as well, because sometimes I also just turn my cell phone off and tell myself that I'll wake up in fifteen minutes on my own. Yeah right.
So, when my twin and I have successfully failed at our tag-team plan (whoever wakes up first wakes up the other...preferably before five forty-five) we get ready. Quickly. Usually we both wake up at about six. We have to leave the house no later than six thirty-five to get to school on time. Thirty-five minutes goes by really quite quickly when you're not looking.
After Twinny and I have managed to also fail at leaving at six thirty-five, we usually blunder out of the house at around six forty. But then, there's sometimes frost on the windows of our cars. So we have to scrape it off. At six forty-five we hurtle towards school, with our finger crossed that just this once we could possibly get into class on time, even though we know it's not going to happen.
This is why I hate the morning. It's tiring and stressful, and most of all, it's the part of the day when I hear that awful beeping noise.
Not Ready, Okay?
I just finished Ready, Okay! by Adam Cadre. I wasn't very happy about it. I mean, I thought the book was absolutely amazing. I just wasn't very happy about being done with it. I wanted to keep reading and reading and reading. That is the mark of a very good book.
For starters, though this is a story narrated by a high school-age kid, Allen, it's not your run-of-the-mill teenage lit novel. In fact, it's anything but. On the very first page, in the very first sentence, Allen lets you in on the big event of the book that doesn't happen for a couple hundred more pages.
This worked to get me interested, yet it also gave me plenty of time to forget it. Or so I thought. It's not so unusual to encounter the end of the story at the very beginning. But in Ready, Okay!, the end is merely hinted at. Then, to create some more intrigue, it's mentioned again and again throughout the rest of the book...right up until it actually happens. This was something very new to me, and I loved it.
I basically loved everything about this book, however, and I don't want to leave those other essential parts of the complexity of my love for this book out. I'll make a general list of everything I loved:
1) It's hilarious. I've been reading it for the past few days, and even when I was in the middle of a silent classroom, I'd laugh out loud. The humor in the book is sharp and makes me smile just thinking about it. Books that can get you to vocalize your emotions as you're reading are usually pretty good.
2) The characters. This book is filled to the brim with the quirkiest, most intriguing, beautiful, dysfunctional, profound, despicable characters I've ever read. There was someone for me to love, someone for me to hate, someone for me to be unsure of how I felt about...Another mark of a good book is when you find yourself thinking about the characters as if they were real people; away from the context of the story. I found myself constantly imagining how Allen would react to this, or how Echo would reply, or what Peggy would say. I absolutely loved the characters, and I wouldn't change a thing about any of them.
3) Saying that this book was "fast-paced" seems like something that would cheapen it; or at least liken it to a car chase, gunfire type book (although I can't say there wasn't some of both of those in the story....). I will say that this book kept me on the edge of my seat. Not so much because at every moment someone's life was in danger, but because I just had to know. I had to know about these people's lives and how they lived and reacted to the crappiness that high school and dysfunctional families were composed of. At any moment someone could say something incredibly thought-provoking or just plain hilarious.
4) Laughter was not the only emotion this book got me to vocalize. I was reading furiously in class, and my friend looked over. She said, "What's wrong?! You look so stressed!" I gave a very brief explanation- I was reading and almost near the end and I just really really really couldn't talk right then- and then kept reading. A few minutes later, I was crying. I would've cried a LOT harder, but I reminded myself of my surroundings that had disappeard for some time, and kept a lot of my emotions in. A book that made me laugh out loud and cry within the span of 20 minutes is a book worth remembering.
There are countless other reasons that I liked this book. I liked the way it was written, the words the author used, and, as usual, I loved the friends forever relationship between Peggy and Allen. I didn't want it to end because it was just a great book.
One of my favorite quotes from the book was this:
"'Because I spend a couple minutes with someone and they start to seem less like a miracle and more like an unfortunate accident. But not with you. You're the one person where I can always see the miracle. I have no idea why. And I don't care. I love you.'"
A very, very good book.
For starters, though this is a story narrated by a high school-age kid, Allen, it's not your run-of-the-mill teenage lit novel. In fact, it's anything but. On the very first page, in the very first sentence, Allen lets you in on the big event of the book that doesn't happen for a couple hundred more pages.
This worked to get me interested, yet it also gave me plenty of time to forget it. Or so I thought. It's not so unusual to encounter the end of the story at the very beginning. But in Ready, Okay!, the end is merely hinted at. Then, to create some more intrigue, it's mentioned again and again throughout the rest of the book...right up until it actually happens. This was something very new to me, and I loved it.
I basically loved everything about this book, however, and I don't want to leave those other essential parts of the complexity of my love for this book out. I'll make a general list of everything I loved:
1) It's hilarious. I've been reading it for the past few days, and even when I was in the middle of a silent classroom, I'd laugh out loud. The humor in the book is sharp and makes me smile just thinking about it. Books that can get you to vocalize your emotions as you're reading are usually pretty good.
2) The characters. This book is filled to the brim with the quirkiest, most intriguing, beautiful, dysfunctional, profound, despicable characters I've ever read. There was someone for me to love, someone for me to hate, someone for me to be unsure of how I felt about...Another mark of a good book is when you find yourself thinking about the characters as if they were real people; away from the context of the story. I found myself constantly imagining how Allen would react to this, or how Echo would reply, or what Peggy would say. I absolutely loved the characters, and I wouldn't change a thing about any of them.
3) Saying that this book was "fast-paced" seems like something that would cheapen it; or at least liken it to a car chase, gunfire type book (although I can't say there wasn't some of both of those in the story....). I will say that this book kept me on the edge of my seat. Not so much because at every moment someone's life was in danger, but because I just had to know. I had to know about these people's lives and how they lived and reacted to the crappiness that high school and dysfunctional families were composed of. At any moment someone could say something incredibly thought-provoking or just plain hilarious.
4) Laughter was not the only emotion this book got me to vocalize. I was reading furiously in class, and my friend looked over. She said, "What's wrong?! You look so stressed!" I gave a very brief explanation- I was reading and almost near the end and I just really really really couldn't talk right then- and then kept reading. A few minutes later, I was crying. I would've cried a LOT harder, but I reminded myself of my surroundings that had disappeard for some time, and kept a lot of my emotions in. A book that made me laugh out loud and cry within the span of 20 minutes is a book worth remembering.
There are countless other reasons that I liked this book. I liked the way it was written, the words the author used, and, as usual, I loved the friends forever relationship between Peggy and Allen. I didn't want it to end because it was just a great book.
One of my favorite quotes from the book was this:
"'Because I spend a couple minutes with someone and they start to seem less like a miracle and more like an unfortunate accident. But not with you. You're the one person where I can always see the miracle. I have no idea why. And I don't care. I love you.'"
A very, very good book.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
If I had to choose one designer to wear for the rest of my life, my top three choices would be:
1. Chanel
2. Oscar de la Renta
3. Dior
This is a beautiful John Galliano for Dior dress.
These two are both Oscar de la Renta. I like them because they're classic. The yellow dress is so beautiful, and the other looks like an awesome outfit for a crisp fall day.
The dress below is Chanel.
Work II
Then, before we do anything else, we have to wipe all their hands and faces down. Let me tell you, these kids can take ANY food that you can think of, and get it all over their faces. Anything. One skittle can spread sticky green goo all over a kids fingers and face, due to the taking it out to inspect it every few seconds. Animal crackers can do the same, though this one I won't elaborate on. I'll just say the kids seem to have a difficult time always leaving their chewed food in their mouths....chins and hands are ever popular places for graham cracker/saliva mixtures.
After that joyous activity, we go to centers. We have four or five centers, depending on the day, for fifteen minutes apiece. We have Manipulative Games, Home Living, Art, Gross Motor, and Spanish. Yes, my twos are learning Spanish. "ROJO!!! A-ZOOOL!"
Manipulative Games consists of mostly matching games, though on good days we make kites out of graham crackers, frosting, and licorice. (Though, after the kites, more wiping does ensue).
Home Living is something like a grocery store, or doctor's office, or fire station, where kids get to pretend to be grown ups. Art is always stressful- imagine five two-year-olds with paint brushes in hand and no reservations about painting on their clothes, the floor, or me.
Then Gross Motor, which is where they each get some type of those little kid computers, a Leap Frog or something, and they push a million buttons and get nothing they're supposed to done.
Spanish is where they learn colors and numbers and after a good ten minutes of Spanish, after Hayley holds up the card with green on it, and hopefully asks, "What color is this?" we usually hear "Rojo!" and "Greeeeeen!" mixed together. Rojo's really the only one they remember.
After all our centers, it's about five. I herd my group back to our room and we meet with whoever is still there. Now it's potty time! The potty-trained ones are easy, we just have to make sure they wash their hands. But changing diapers is another story. Not one that I'll give detail on, however! Let's just say that for five minutes every day, I wonder why I decided to work at a daycare.
Then we go to our second snack, which is ALWAYS animal crackers and water, so they don't spoil their appetites for dinner. They get four animal crackers, and no more. For some reason, the elephants are the very best animal for the twos to get, so it takes a while to eat snack because they're often too busy celebrating their elephants. After about fifteen minutes, we traipse back to the room and watch a movie. It's usually something with Elmo in it (who I can't stand), The Wiggles, or Blue's Clues.
Around five thirty, I go down to the three-fives' room and help the girl who works in that room, Allie, clean her room, and at six, I go home.
So you can see that a day at work isn't necessarily long, but it isn't super easy either. I really can't complain, though. I love going in to work not to deal with a snotty customer, but a kid who's really excited about the scribbles he drew that he claims are Optimus Prime.
After that joyous activity, we go to centers. We have four or five centers, depending on the day, for fifteen minutes apiece. We have Manipulative Games, Home Living, Art, Gross Motor, and Spanish. Yes, my twos are learning Spanish. "ROJO!!! A-ZOOOL!"
Manipulative Games consists of mostly matching games, though on good days we make kites out of graham crackers, frosting, and licorice. (Though, after the kites, more wiping does ensue).
Home Living is something like a grocery store, or doctor's office, or fire station, where kids get to pretend to be grown ups. Art is always stressful- imagine five two-year-olds with paint brushes in hand and no reservations about painting on their clothes, the floor, or me.
Then Gross Motor, which is where they each get some type of those little kid computers, a Leap Frog or something, and they push a million buttons and get nothing they're supposed to done.
Spanish is where they learn colors and numbers and after a good ten minutes of Spanish, after Hayley holds up the card with green on it, and hopefully asks, "What color is this?" we usually hear "Rojo!" and "Greeeeeen!" mixed together. Rojo's really the only one they remember.
After all our centers, it's about five. I herd my group back to our room and we meet with whoever is still there. Now it's potty time! The potty-trained ones are easy, we just have to make sure they wash their hands. But changing diapers is another story. Not one that I'll give detail on, however! Let's just say that for five minutes every day, I wonder why I decided to work at a daycare.
Then we go to our second snack, which is ALWAYS animal crackers and water, so they don't spoil their appetites for dinner. They get four animal crackers, and no more. For some reason, the elephants are the very best animal for the twos to get, so it takes a while to eat snack because they're often too busy celebrating their elephants. After about fifteen minutes, we traipse back to the room and watch a movie. It's usually something with Elmo in it (who I can't stand), The Wiggles, or Blue's Clues.
Around five thirty, I go down to the three-fives' room and help the girl who works in that room, Allie, clean her room, and at six, I go home.
So you can see that a day at work isn't necessarily long, but it isn't super easy either. I really can't complain, though. I love going in to work not to deal with a snotty customer, but a kid who's really excited about the scribbles he drew that he claims are Optimus Prime.
Work
I work at a daycare. My job's hectic, but it's also very rewarding. I'm going to take you through a typical day of work.
I walk in, and put on my badge, which has a fairly bad picture of me that was taken when a bunch of three-year-olds were getting theirs taken. They got to sit on a mushroom, but I just got a chair.
Anyway, after I put on my badge and greet Hayley, the receptionist, I walk about fifteen feet to the room I work in, the 2-year-olds' room. I'm greeted by a chorus of children squealing my name, but no, don't think I'm bragging of my superior way with children; they like any excuse to make a lot of noise. After the initial hello's, and any stories hastily shouted at me as I try to quiet them down, "Matthew bwoke the baby doll's head off!" or anything I need to know from Brittany, my coworker, "Landon didn't take a nap today...." (eyebrow raise), we line up and go to snack.
Snack is an interesting time. As teenagers, it's easy to forget that kids don't eat much. At all. We sit all nine of our lovely, shouting 2-year-olds down and we say our prayer, "Our hands we fold, our heads we bow, for food and drink we thank You now. Aaaaaaaaamen." (The twos basically mumble along with the rest and robustly exclaim that amen.) After we pray, we give them their snack. This is the 3:30 snack, so they get juice, except for Opal, who's not allowed to have very much sugar, and Catherine, who curiously doesn't like juice.
They usually have either about an eighth of a cup of ice cream with sprinkles and a teeny bit of strawberry syrup, or a fourth of a graham cracker with frosting sandwich. The thing that really amazes me is the amount of time it takes some of them to eat. While it would take your average teenager one, maybe two bites to down either the ice cream or the graham cracker, it takes them six solid minutes of concentrated eating. It's actually pretty cute.
TO BE CONTINUED...
I walk in, and put on my badge, which has a fairly bad picture of me that was taken when a bunch of three-year-olds were getting theirs taken. They got to sit on a mushroom, but I just got a chair.
Anyway, after I put on my badge and greet Hayley, the receptionist, I walk about fifteen feet to the room I work in, the 2-year-olds' room. I'm greeted by a chorus of children squealing my name, but no, don't think I'm bragging of my superior way with children; they like any excuse to make a lot of noise. After the initial hello's, and any stories hastily shouted at me as I try to quiet them down, "Matthew bwoke the baby doll's head off!" or anything I need to know from Brittany, my coworker, "Landon didn't take a nap today...." (eyebrow raise), we line up and go to snack.
Snack is an interesting time. As teenagers, it's easy to forget that kids don't eat much. At all. We sit all nine of our lovely, shouting 2-year-olds down and we say our prayer, "Our hands we fold, our heads we bow, for food and drink we thank You now. Aaaaaaaaamen." (The twos basically mumble along with the rest and robustly exclaim that amen.) After we pray, we give them their snack. This is the 3:30 snack, so they get juice, except for Opal, who's not allowed to have very much sugar, and Catherine, who curiously doesn't like juice.
They usually have either about an eighth of a cup of ice cream with sprinkles and a teeny bit of strawberry syrup, or a fourth of a graham cracker with frosting sandwich. The thing that really amazes me is the amount of time it takes some of them to eat. While it would take your average teenager one, maybe two bites to down either the ice cream or the graham cracker, it takes them six solid minutes of concentrated eating. It's actually pretty cute.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Thursday, March 20, 2008
My Favorite Paintings
Boreas by John William Waterhouse, is one of my favorite paintings.
I love the way that you can feel the wind that's making her scarf dance, and the trees are bent, and it looks like a beautiful grey day. I also really like the expression on the girl's face. She looks almost sad, but not quite. Contemplative, maybe.
Another thing I like is the colors. They're sort of muted, but not in a boring, hospital way. I think the colors help the day feel even more grey, but also not in a bad way.
Her outfit is another aspect of this painting I really love. It looks flowing and classic and comfortable. She looks like she threw on a dress and a scarf, and ran outside to walk through the fields, picking flowers and thinking her own little thoughts.
There's something very beautiful about this painting, when you first look at it, and when you 
think about doing what she's doing.
think about doing what she's doing.I also like M-Maybe by Roy Lichtenstein, who pretty obviously drew his inspiration from comic books. His paintings are vintage and bright, and they just look....cool.
More paintings later.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Dan Flavin
I wanted to do my research paper on Dan Flavin, an artist whose work I got to see this summer at the Los Angeles County Muesum of Art.
His art was composed of flourescent lights, and he used entire rooms for it. Sometimes there would be only a few haphazard lights in the corner of the room, but some of the rooms were filled with lines of mesmerising lights.
This art is nothing I'd compare to the art of Leonardo or Michelangelo, but it was interesting, and walking through art is an interesting feeling.
http://www.artnet.com/Magazine/reviews/lawrence/Images/lawrence11-16-1.jpg
http://grammarpolice.net/archives/images/flavin_mcgovern.jpg
http://www.davismuseum.wellesley.edu/images/pageGraphics/whatsnew/flavin.jpg
http://www.swo.de/bilder/2/11042.flavinsmall.jpg
Those were just some of the exhibits I encountered at the LACMA last summer, and at first I was annoyed. With classics like Monet just a building over, why was I bothering with flourescent lights? I don't think that all art can be compared. The types of art differ as much as types of music, and comparing the two would be as difficult as comparing and choosing the better of classical and rap, though I think that argument would have an obvious winner depending on the age group questioned.
Anyway, the reason I didn't end up choosing Dan Flavin as my topic was that there's really not much to be found about him. This is what I did find:
He was born in Jamaica, New York in 1933. He studied priesthood for a time, but ended up studying art while in the military. He attended Hans Hoffman School of Fine Arts and went to Columbia for some art classes.
He was working as a guard at the American Museum of Natural History in 1961 when he started the sketches of his lightbulb art. He spent the rest of his life refining his art and doing lighting commissions, such as Grand Central Station in 1976.
I couldn't find much else about him. Sounds like he stayed out of the spotlight (no pun intended) mostly. Possibly because his art was interesting, a little out of the ordinary, but not absolutely phenomenal. After all, it's lightbulbs.
Anyway, I still find it interesting. The best part was the first picture; the room with the boxes of green lights. The whole room glowed this crazy martian color, and everyone was silent as we shuffled through. It was really eerie, and I think that's why I was interested in him--- his art made me stop and think, even though it was just about how awesome it would be to have a party with lighting like his.
His art was composed of flourescent lights, and he used entire rooms for it. Sometimes there would be only a few haphazard lights in the corner of the room, but some of the rooms were filled with lines of mesmerising lights.
This art is nothing I'd compare to the art of Leonardo or Michelangelo, but it was interesting, and walking through art is an interesting feeling.
http://www.artnet.com/Magazine/reviews/lawrence/Images/lawrence11-16-1.jpg
http://grammarpolice.net/archives/images/flavin_mcgovern.jpg
http://www.davismuseum.wellesley.edu/images/pageGraphics/whatsnew/flavin.jpg
http://www.swo.de/bilder/2/11042.flavinsmall.jpg
Those were just some of the exhibits I encountered at the LACMA last summer, and at first I was annoyed. With classics like Monet just a building over, why was I bothering with flourescent lights? I don't think that all art can be compared. The types of art differ as much as types of music, and comparing the two would be as difficult as comparing and choosing the better of classical and rap, though I think that argument would have an obvious winner depending on the age group questioned.
Anyway, the reason I didn't end up choosing Dan Flavin as my topic was that there's really not much to be found about him. This is what I did find:
He was born in Jamaica, New York in 1933. He studied priesthood for a time, but ended up studying art while in the military. He attended Hans Hoffman School of Fine Arts and went to Columbia for some art classes.
He was working as a guard at the American Museum of Natural History in 1961 when he started the sketches of his lightbulb art. He spent the rest of his life refining his art and doing lighting commissions, such as Grand Central Station in 1976.
I couldn't find much else about him. Sounds like he stayed out of the spotlight (no pun intended) mostly. Possibly because his art was interesting, a little out of the ordinary, but not absolutely phenomenal. After all, it's lightbulbs.
Anyway, I still find it interesting. The best part was the first picture; the room with the boxes of green lights. The whole room glowed this crazy martian color, and everyone was silent as we shuffled through. It was really eerie, and I think that's why I was interested in him--- his art made me stop and think, even though it was just about how awesome it would be to have a party with lighting like his.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Since Freshman Year...
A lot has changed since freshman year. I mean, I'm not trying to sound all mature and above freshmen now. It just has. I guess that's what a couple of years will do to you.
For one, my entire view of life has changed. My freshman year, I was still pretty mad that I'd had to switch from my private school to public school. I didn't want a whole lot to do with my new school, and I certainly didn't think I was going to make many friends. I was planning on being so obviously miserable that my parents would succumb and send me back to the private school.
I was really into bands like Fall Out Boy, and I didn't have a lot of my own opinions. If the masses weren't a fan, neither was I. Except I did like Bright Eyes, and I have to give myself credit for that one. I wore mostly band tees and other trying really hard to be emo stuff.
My hair was a lot shorter....and blonde! That is craziness when I think about it. The way I did my hair and makeup and dressed is incredibly different than I do things now. Though that may not seem to matter, it's crazy. I was looking at pictures today with pain because of some of the stuff I'd put on.
I also had a way different plan for my life than I do now. I was pretty much set on being a teacher, and now I'm not sure that's what I want to do. I'm just too afraid of teaching a class where 80% of the students don't really care about the subject I'm passionate about. That would be too discouraging. But in ninth grade, I wanted to teach high school LA.
Now I want to do something along the lines of either fashion merchandising or journalism. (....Vogue!) I never would have seen that coming. Though I've always been known to dress out of the ordinary, fashion was never something I'd have seen myself being really interested in. But I remember that fateful day when I picked up an issue of Vogue. Sienna Miller was on the cover.
Anyway...it's just weird to think that so much has changed about me since freshman year. I've gotten more opinionated, more sure of myself, more confident....more everything!
I wonder what I'll be saying my junior year of college?
For one, my entire view of life has changed. My freshman year, I was still pretty mad that I'd had to switch from my private school to public school. I didn't want a whole lot to do with my new school, and I certainly didn't think I was going to make many friends. I was planning on being so obviously miserable that my parents would succumb and send me back to the private school.
I was really into bands like Fall Out Boy, and I didn't have a lot of my own opinions. If the masses weren't a fan, neither was I. Except I did like Bright Eyes, and I have to give myself credit for that one. I wore mostly band tees and other trying really hard to be emo stuff.
My hair was a lot shorter....and blonde! That is craziness when I think about it. The way I did my hair and makeup and dressed is incredibly different than I do things now. Though that may not seem to matter, it's crazy. I was looking at pictures today with pain because of some of the stuff I'd put on.
I also had a way different plan for my life than I do now. I was pretty much set on being a teacher, and now I'm not sure that's what I want to do. I'm just too afraid of teaching a class where 80% of the students don't really care about the subject I'm passionate about. That would be too discouraging. But in ninth grade, I wanted to teach high school LA.
Now I want to do something along the lines of either fashion merchandising or journalism. (....Vogue!) I never would have seen that coming. Though I've always been known to dress out of the ordinary, fashion was never something I'd have seen myself being really interested in. But I remember that fateful day when I picked up an issue of Vogue. Sienna Miller was on the cover.
Anyway...it's just weird to think that so much has changed about me since freshman year. I've gotten more opinionated, more sure of myself, more confident....more everything!
I wonder what I'll be saying my junior year of college?
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Just another eighties movie.
My friend Brittany accidentally left the movie Some Kind Of Wonderful in my car, and after three weeks of staring at the cover, I began to wonder what it was about. It showed Mary Stuart Masterson and Lea Thompson on either side of Eric Stoltz. All three of them have a very serious expression on their faces, and I couldn't help but try to figure out who was supposed to be in love with who. http://imdb.com/media/rm3750728192/tt0094006
Yesterday, I left school at the beginning of second hour because I had a pounding headache. I got home, and was doing a quick trash pick-up from the floor of my car when I spotted Some Kind Of Wonderful sandwiched between an old coffee mug and my umbrella. I decided that I would watch it while I recuperated from my traumatic illness.
This movie struck me as the stereotypical eighties movie. The beginning has Mary Stuart Masterson as Watts playing the drums to some, well, stereotypical eighties music. Then it goes on to show the attractive (ahem) but misunderstood Eric Stoltz, aka Keith, who likes art, and would rather go to art school than college, much to the dismay of his father. (Yes, can't have this type of movie without a disapproving father) He and Watts are and have been best friends for many years, and while he complains of his father's sternness, Watts reminds him that he's lucky to have a father at all.
Later you find out that Keith has a slight crush on the extremely popular, way out of his league Amanda Jones. (Cue the Rolling Stones) She's dating an older guy and Keith's a loser. End of story. When he asks Watts about Amanda Jones, she simply says she's shallow and wouldn't give Keith the time of day.
Through a series of Amanda walking up on her skeezy boyfriend Hardy with other girls about three times, she dumps him, and Keith takes the opportunity to ask her out. She accepts, though only to make Hardy jealous.
After a while of Watts talking badly about Amanda and making it extremely obvious that she too likes (loves?) Keith, he goes out on the date with her. He spends all the money he's ever earned on taking her to a fancy restaurant and buying her some diamond stud earrings that Watts helped him pick out. They go to the museum and then sit on a huge stage and talk. Then they go to a party at Hardy's house, where he's waiting to beat Keith up, and Keith knows it. But once they get there, Keith's friend Duncan (who he met in detention after he purposely got sent there because he thought Amanda Jones would be there) steps in and tells Hardy not to touch him.
So then, of course, Amanda Jones slaps the now helpless and cowering Hardy, and she and Keith walk out. Amanda has of course had a change of heart and actually likes Keith back, as you can see by their escalating chemistry onscreen.... At this point in the movie I was wondering if maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't end happily.
But I had wondered too soon. As soon as they step out the door, Keith sees Watts, who'd been driving them around in a nice car all night. He remembers kissing her earlier that day (she'd told him he needed to practice for Amanda Jones) and a look of....confused love....crosses his face. Amanda Jones, being the deep and understanding girl that she is, immediately assesses the dilemma, and takes out her diamond studs. She gives them to him, saying "Remember how before I said that I'd rather be with someone for the wrong reasons than alone for the right? It's going to feel good to be right." (or something intellectual like that)
With that, Keith takes off after Watts, who'd begun to walk down the street with tears streaming down her face. He catches up with her, and they kiss etc. Then he gives her the earrings and she says how she wanted him to give them to her....she kind of had a feeling he would....she hoped he would...the end.
And that was the movie. Though it held my interest in my feeble state, I wouldn't give it five stars. It was stereotypical, predictable, and I wasn't a huge fan of the cast. None of them were particularly attractive.
The dialogue was nothing special, but I did sort of like the storyline. I am a fan of the best friends since childhood relationships. The outfits and music are awesome if you want to be transported to the wonderful world of 1987.
This movie's good for a day home sick or a movie night full of other eighties movies, but all in all, it's not one I'd adamantly recommend.
Yesterday, I left school at the beginning of second hour because I had a pounding headache. I got home, and was doing a quick trash pick-up from the floor of my car when I spotted Some Kind Of Wonderful sandwiched between an old coffee mug and my umbrella. I decided that I would watch it while I recuperated from my traumatic illness.
This movie struck me as the stereotypical eighties movie. The beginning has Mary Stuart Masterson as Watts playing the drums to some, well, stereotypical eighties music. Then it goes on to show the attractive (ahem) but misunderstood Eric Stoltz, aka Keith, who likes art, and would rather go to art school than college, much to the dismay of his father. (Yes, can't have this type of movie without a disapproving father) He and Watts are and have been best friends for many years, and while he complains of his father's sternness, Watts reminds him that he's lucky to have a father at all.
Later you find out that Keith has a slight crush on the extremely popular, way out of his league Amanda Jones. (Cue the Rolling Stones) She's dating an older guy and Keith's a loser. End of story. When he asks Watts about Amanda Jones, she simply says she's shallow and wouldn't give Keith the time of day.
Through a series of Amanda walking up on her skeezy boyfriend Hardy with other girls about three times, she dumps him, and Keith takes the opportunity to ask her out. She accepts, though only to make Hardy jealous.
After a while of Watts talking badly about Amanda and making it extremely obvious that she too likes (loves?) Keith, he goes out on the date with her. He spends all the money he's ever earned on taking her to a fancy restaurant and buying her some diamond stud earrings that Watts helped him pick out. They go to the museum and then sit on a huge stage and talk. Then they go to a party at Hardy's house, where he's waiting to beat Keith up, and Keith knows it. But once they get there, Keith's friend Duncan (who he met in detention after he purposely got sent there because he thought Amanda Jones would be there) steps in and tells Hardy not to touch him.
So then, of course, Amanda Jones slaps the now helpless and cowering Hardy, and she and Keith walk out. Amanda has of course had a change of heart and actually likes Keith back, as you can see by their escalating chemistry onscreen.... At this point in the movie I was wondering if maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't end happily.
But I had wondered too soon. As soon as they step out the door, Keith sees Watts, who'd been driving them around in a nice car all night. He remembers kissing her earlier that day (she'd told him he needed to practice for Amanda Jones) and a look of....confused love....crosses his face. Amanda Jones, being the deep and understanding girl that she is, immediately assesses the dilemma, and takes out her diamond studs. She gives them to him, saying "Remember how before I said that I'd rather be with someone for the wrong reasons than alone for the right? It's going to feel good to be right." (or something intellectual like that)
With that, Keith takes off after Watts, who'd begun to walk down the street with tears streaming down her face. He catches up with her, and they kiss etc. Then he gives her the earrings and she says how she wanted him to give them to her....she kind of had a feeling he would....she hoped he would...the end.
And that was the movie. Though it held my interest in my feeble state, I wouldn't give it five stars. It was stereotypical, predictable, and I wasn't a huge fan of the cast. None of them were particularly attractive.
The dialogue was nothing special, but I did sort of like the storyline. I am a fan of the best friends since childhood relationships. The outfits and music are awesome if you want to be transported to the wonderful world of 1987.
This movie's good for a day home sick or a movie night full of other eighties movies, but all in all, it's not one I'd adamantly recommend.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Project Reality
I love fashion. I love clothes and shoes and accessories. I especially love unique, intriguing, innovative fashion, and I love the idea of becoming a fashion designer.
Because of my love for fashion, I am a big fan of the show "Project Runway". This show is attractive to me because it shows so many sides of fashion....and it makes me ponder what my collection would be, if I were up on that runway.
Of course, when I think of being a fashion designer, I'm always dressed in Oscar de la Renta or Chanel or some astonishing couture outfit, dashing around a room with beautiful models and my breathtaking designs being put on. I know how to do any type of sewing-related skill flawlessly, and my comments are full of insight into the intricacies of each garment.
Once I realize that I am not a famous designer, I remember a few key facts:
1. I have never even touched a piece of bona fide couture, let alone worn it.
2. My designs, if you can call them that, are tepid and slightly unoriginal; certainly not impressive compared to the likes of the designers of "Project Runway".
3. I have no idea how to sew.
These three facts have led me to the conclusion that I have A LOT of work to do before I've even got a shot at breaking into the fashion industry. Though it would be unimaginably fun to go from Paris to Milan to New York with my world famous dresses, it's highly unlikely. Fashion is a tough industry, and I honestly don't think I have what it takes. In the words of Heidi Klum, "You're either in or you're out." I'd have to say, I think I'm out.
I know, I know....the age-old "you can do anything you set your mind to" is supposed to kick in right about now, get me on my feet, and dust off my wallowing-in-defeat dirt. I know that it is true that trying your very hardest at something gives you a better chance of accomplishing it. But I don't think that just because I want to be a world famous fashion designer means I will be one. Even if I spend all my money on going to the Fashion Institute of Technology and spend every minute of my spare time in internships, I could very well just not make it.
And that is why, after two years of complete faith in the fact that I would one day be as well known as the aforementioned Oscar de la Renta or Chanel, I have realized that I will not.
But I am not wallowing. I am merely stating that after two years of dresses that cost more than my car, ocean view villas in far-off beaches, and rubbing elbows with the likes of the great Heidi floating around in my head, I've finally come to terms with the fact that this isn't going to happen. And I'm ok with that. After all, who really needs a $3000 pair of pants anyway?
(509 words)
Because of my love for fashion, I am a big fan of the show "Project Runway". This show is attractive to me because it shows so many sides of fashion....and it makes me ponder what my collection would be, if I were up on that runway.
Of course, when I think of being a fashion designer, I'm always dressed in Oscar de la Renta or Chanel or some astonishing couture outfit, dashing around a room with beautiful models and my breathtaking designs being put on. I know how to do any type of sewing-related skill flawlessly, and my comments are full of insight into the intricacies of each garment.
Once I realize that I am not a famous designer, I remember a few key facts:
1. I have never even touched a piece of bona fide couture, let alone worn it.
2. My designs, if you can call them that, are tepid and slightly unoriginal; certainly not impressive compared to the likes of the designers of "Project Runway".
3. I have no idea how to sew.
These three facts have led me to the conclusion that I have A LOT of work to do before I've even got a shot at breaking into the fashion industry. Though it would be unimaginably fun to go from Paris to Milan to New York with my world famous dresses, it's highly unlikely. Fashion is a tough industry, and I honestly don't think I have what it takes. In the words of Heidi Klum, "You're either in or you're out." I'd have to say, I think I'm out.
I know, I know....the age-old "you can do anything you set your mind to" is supposed to kick in right about now, get me on my feet, and dust off my wallowing-in-defeat dirt. I know that it is true that trying your very hardest at something gives you a better chance of accomplishing it. But I don't think that just because I want to be a world famous fashion designer means I will be one. Even if I spend all my money on going to the Fashion Institute of Technology and spend every minute of my spare time in internships, I could very well just not make it.
And that is why, after two years of complete faith in the fact that I would one day be as well known as the aforementioned Oscar de la Renta or Chanel, I have realized that I will not.
But I am not wallowing. I am merely stating that after two years of dresses that cost more than my car, ocean view villas in far-off beaches, and rubbing elbows with the likes of the great Heidi floating around in my head, I've finally come to terms with the fact that this isn't going to happen. And I'm ok with that. After all, who really needs a $3000 pair of pants anyway?
(509 words)
Monday, March 3, 2008
At The End Of The Road
I am almost done with On The Road by Jack Kerouac. When I started the book, the only thing I knew about it was what I'd read in my US History book about it; that it offered insights into the lifestyle of the Beat generation. I didn't know if I would like it, but I broke the golden rule and thought the cover looked interesting.
As soon as I'd started it, I was intrigued. Kerouac's style is completely different than what I'm used to reading. Although I wasn't sure about the way the characters just talk and talk in huge long sentences about the strangest things, I quickly got used to and even began to like this style.
Dean Moriarty is a character different than any character I've ever encountered. He's spontaneous, neurotic, and completely sincere. He gets excited over people on the street, and nature, and the way someone words a sentence...he's innocent and insightful and illogical. He falls in love with girl after girl, but gets restless and leaves wives and children in the dust. He's irresponsible and selfish, but I somehow still found myself rooting for him.
At first, I decided that if I met someone like Dean in person, I probably wouldn't feel the absolute reverence for him as the narrator, Sal Paradise, does. As I read on, I wasn't sure if that was entirely true. Though Dean is erratic and illogical and insensible, he's also very inspirational. He finds beauty in everything, chases truth, and strives to understand what life is about.
(I cannot say that some of his enthusiasm for life's more simple things isn't due to his consumption of "tea" throughout the book.)
Besides, the complexity, sincerity, and charisma of Dean Moriarty, another aspect of the book I was very intrigued by was their nomadic lifestyle. The ability to just pick up and go at any time, on a whim, to different parts of the country, knowing that there are friends that will open their doors to you and have a bed or at least a floor for you to sleep on, is very interesting to me. I would love to bum around the country with a group of friends between a larger group of friends for a while. Traveling, meeting new people, experiencing different cultures within the United States; this would be very enjoyable to me.
This book is crazy and complicated and trippy, frankly, but it's also a very good peek into the Beat generation, and is sure to keep you interested.
(421 words)
As soon as I'd started it, I was intrigued. Kerouac's style is completely different than what I'm used to reading. Although I wasn't sure about the way the characters just talk and talk in huge long sentences about the strangest things, I quickly got used to and even began to like this style.
Dean Moriarty is a character different than any character I've ever encountered. He's spontaneous, neurotic, and completely sincere. He gets excited over people on the street, and nature, and the way someone words a sentence...he's innocent and insightful and illogical. He falls in love with girl after girl, but gets restless and leaves wives and children in the dust. He's irresponsible and selfish, but I somehow still found myself rooting for him.
At first, I decided that if I met someone like Dean in person, I probably wouldn't feel the absolute reverence for him as the narrator, Sal Paradise, does. As I read on, I wasn't sure if that was entirely true. Though Dean is erratic and illogical and insensible, he's also very inspirational. He finds beauty in everything, chases truth, and strives to understand what life is about.
(I cannot say that some of his enthusiasm for life's more simple things isn't due to his consumption of "tea" throughout the book.)
Besides, the complexity, sincerity, and charisma of Dean Moriarty, another aspect of the book I was very intrigued by was their nomadic lifestyle. The ability to just pick up and go at any time, on a whim, to different parts of the country, knowing that there are friends that will open their doors to you and have a bed or at least a floor for you to sleep on, is very interesting to me. I would love to bum around the country with a group of friends between a larger group of friends for a while. Traveling, meeting new people, experiencing different cultures within the United States; this would be very enjoyable to me.
This book is crazy and complicated and trippy, frankly, but it's also a very good peek into the Beat generation, and is sure to keep you interested.
(421 words)
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