Theater Theory

I am of the opinion that when attending a motion picture on the big screen, the audience has the power to make or break the movie for me. For example, if I am watching a comedy but noone in the theater laughs, I will come out of the movie saying "yeah...it was okay, I guess." But if the audience things it is hilarious, I will come out saying "yeah, yeah! I want to see that again!" I have experience in this.

Flight Paterns of the fat birds on the roof of the old building outside of the window that I look through during my Spanish class

There are these wierd chubby birds that have incredibly interestig flight patterns. You may be thinking, "Sam, why are you looking out the window watching these bird, when you should be listening the the drone of the professor?" Well, Kaia, the answer is, my desk faces the window, so when I sit and look in the direction of the desk, I am inadvertenly looking out the window. So, anyway, outside the window I can see the roof of the building across the sidewalk from the building I have Spanish in. It is a nice roof. It is slanted at about 45 degrees, give or take. The shingles are this red curvy thing, like what you would imagine on a Spanish casa. But, back to the birds, there are like 60 of them. They are grey. Pretty ugly. But they are funny. They will all land on the roof, mostly on the peak, but on the slanted part too. Then a few at a time will fly off, and then more and more will fly off. By off, I mean out of my eye sight, because remember, I am looking through a window which I am all the way across the room from. Anyway, pretty soon all the birds are gone. This all happens in about 30 seconds. Then lo and behold, 20 seconds later, all of the birds are back sitting on the roof. It is the most curious thing. They will repeat this ritual like 15 times. Fly away, come back. They aren't eating or anything, because they don't have enough time to go grab a bite and than make it back to the roof in the time that they are gone. Sometimes there is a rebel who doesn't leave with the rest of the group. He is my favorite, the little devil. Anyway, I'm sure you enjoyed that. Tune in next time for some interesting interaction with the crazy squirells.

I just spent an interesting three and a half hour car ride contemplating life...and death. Mostly death. I can't deal with people dying. My cousin died this weekend. It was hard for me, even though I don't ever remember having one single conversation with him. I have a big family you see, and he wasn't even my first cousin, he was my second. Still it was hard. He had cancer. My grandpa died of cancer, so this brought back a lot of bad memories. Espesially for my mom. It was different for my grandpa, though, because he was 50. Granted that is still really young, but Lee died at 29. 29 years is all the time he spent of the earth. I wonder if when he was 15 he thought to himself, man, my life might be over half over. Of course he didn't. Because at 15 you are invincible. At 18 you're still invincible. Heck, you're still invincible at 25, unless you have cancer. Than you die.

I don't know why I have such a hard time with death. I hate the thought of the end of a life. I hate that that person didn't get to experience everything they want to, because lets face it, who experiences EVERYTHING they want to in life? Name one person. You can't. Even if you could, you couldn't do it with certainty. Because deep down, that person wanted to do something outrageous, something so daring or unlike them, that they were afraid to tell anyone about it. I have those things. I have a list of them actually. A list of things I would do it I had more time, or more money, or more courage, or I was less afraid of the consequence, or of how people would react.

I'm a bit of a wandering spirit. My mind is always soaring to different places in the world. In my head, I meet people from all walks of life. They are alive, they are dead, they are legends. But they are real in my thoughts. I'm trying to decide what I want to do in my life. I'm having some trouble, because I have an idea of what my parent expect, and what my teachers expect, and what my peers expect. But I want to travel, and I want to help people. I want my life to mean something. I want to make a difference. I've looked, and so far I haven't found a career that is "people helper" or "difference maker," heck, I would even settle for "world saver," I'm not picky. But there are no jobs like that. They don't pay well. How is a person supposed to support a family, when they are traveling the world, trying to make a difference? How do I know what a difference is? Will I know if I make it? When I die, I want people to say, "Wow, there goes someone who really made a difference, not only in the lives of the people around her, but in many more peoples live." I take that back. I don't even care if people know I made a difference.

When people ask me what I am going to do with a major in Math and Spanish, I will still say "I don't know"...but I will think "make a difference." The only reason I won't say "make a difference" is because most of the people who ask that question don't care about the answer. They are just making small talk. They would feel weird if I said what I wanted to. They would feel obligated to ask me to elaborate, and the ensuing conversation would be way too deep that they wanted to go. I know how it is.

I'm sorry this was a rambling hodge podge of thoughts. I have a lot of things on my mind.

Interesting lyrics, I think...thought provoking

Sleeping In--The Postal Service
Last week I had the strangest dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed
Where there never any mystery on who shot John F. Kennedy
It was just a man with something to prove
Slightly bored and severely confused
He steadied his rifle with his target in the center
And became famous on that day in November

Dont wake me i plan on sleeping
Dont wake me i plan on sleeping in
Dont wake me i plan on sleeping
Dont wake me i plan on sleeping in

And then last night I had that strange dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed
Where concerns about the world getting warmer
The people thought they were just being rewarded
For treating others as they like to be treated
For obeying stop signs and curing diseases
For mailing letters with the address of the sender
Now we can swim any day in November

Dont wake me i plan on sleeping
(Now we can swim any day in November)
Dont wake me i plan on sleeping in
Dont wake me i plan on sleeping
Dont wake me i plan on sleeping in

So, I hate the media. They are so nosy. They should be allowed to go to press confrences, they should not be able to roam a community and push cameras in distraught peoples faces. I suppose though, if they weren't allowed to, they would be going on about freedom of press...That all I really have to say about that.

"Sing-the-Jingle"

Sydni and I must have stood there for at least an hour before she decided she could do it. It was almost annoying, because she wouldn’t let us leave, and it was hot. We had to stay there in the parking lot of the Hy-Vee, on that lazy summer day, until she got the nerve to stand up and sing that silly song.

The whole situation was rather amusing, actually; though I’m sure it was only amusing for me. While I waited for Sydni to decide whether or not she could stand up and sing, I took in the environment. As we leaned against the building, we slowly ate our less-than-delicious Oscar Mayer hot dogs, and watched various individuals or groups of people walked fearlessly up to that big reddish-orange and yellow hot dog shaped van, formally know as the Wiener-mobile, and “sing-the-jingle,” though in some cases it was more like they “spoke-the-jingle” or even “shouted-the-jingle.” It was a pretty big deal to have such a well known vehicle parked in a small town like New Ulm. People came out of the proverbial wood work to see if they had enough talent –or lacked the talent—to be put in a television commercial for Oscar Mayer products. Not only was it an attraction for children, it was an attraction for construction workers on their lunch breaks, and 60-year-old singing trios.

As entertaining as it all was, we were on a mission, according to Sydni. She was going to sing that song, and I was going to encourage and help her. But, instead of becoming less nervous as we stood and watched countless other children, her age and younger, stand up and sing one of the three jingle options, she became more nervous. “Do you want to sing-the-jingle, honey?” the Wiener-mobile driver asked. Sydni hid behind me but silently nodded her head.

We still had some obstacles to overcome, though. First of all, there were three songs to choose from. There was the “Oh, I wish I was and Oscar Mayer Weiner…” one, but there was also the “My bologna has a first name…” one, and then one in Spanish. Well, narrowing it down to only two was easy enough, considering Sydni didn’t know any more Spanish than uno dos tres. Narrowing it down further was difficult though, because that was the point that Sydni told me she didn’t really know the words to either of two songs left to choose from. The second obstacle was that she couldn’t read very well yet. She would not give up though. So we retired to our wall and tried to memorize-the-jingle. We eventually decided on memorizing the first song, because after going through each song with Sydni several times, I concluded it would be much easier for her to remember, especially considering I didn’t think she knew what bologna was, let alone how to spell it.

So, with obstacle number one, choosing a song, conquered, we moved onto number two: actually memorizing the song. This one proved much more difficult to achieve than the previous. It turned out for an anxious six-year-old, memorizing a four line song a very difficult thing. Not to mention she still needed to get the tune of the song in her head. It soon became apparent that no matter how hard we tried, Sydni was not going to get that song memorized perfectly. Maybe she could have if we had had a little more time, but I had to be to work by 3, and we still had a couple of errands to run. We settle with what we had, which, all things considered, was pretty close to the original song, with only a few misspoken words, and an occasionally dropped line.

With obstacle two somewhat solved, obstacle three still glared at us. Just because Sydni had decided she was going to get up on that miniature stage, stand behind that microphone, and sing that jingle, did not mean that she still wasn’t terrified to do it. Because she was, she definitely was. We needed to wait until the perfect moment, when there was the least amount of people milling around, choking down their hot dogs. We also had to practice the song a couple more times, and watch a few more people perform it; just to make sure it was possible.

Well, it was possible. Sydni stepped up to that stage, timidly, like a kid on the first day of school. The camera guy lowered the microphone for her, and she was off, though pretty shakily. The first try could have gone better. She messed up on the words right away, and the driver tried to help, which was a mistake. With a huge sigh, she lost all confidence, and my heart broke for her. It was okay though, she could try again. My heart pounded in my ears. I wanted her to succeed so badly. I crossed my fingers as I tried to take a picture. Sydni started her second try. That time went much better, even though she still missed the line “That is what I truly want to be-e-e.” That line wasn’t very important to the song though, so it was okay. The important thing was she had done it.

Yes, she had done it. She had mustered up every last bit of courage in her body, and got up and performed. When she was done performing, she was done with her fear. She was content to blow the complementary Wiener whistle and brag to anyone who would listen that she had sung that song, but she stopped thinking about how scared she had been. For me it was different though. While I watched her internal struggle in amazement, I remember thinking that everyone had there own kind of courage, and some people were more courageous than others. I realized that a person could only be courageous if they had fear. For instance, I had no fear of performing, whether it was in front of cameras, or a live audience. Therefore it would have taken no courage for me to stand up and sing a silly song. Sydni, on the other hand was probably one of the most courageous people I knew, because she was terrified of performing, and yet she did it anyway. Ironically, she didn’t even like the hotdog.

I have always known that to be an American meant to be free, at least essentially. It has always been at the back of my mind though. Even with 9/11, I never really questioned my freedom. When everyone said that the terrorists were threatening it, I didn't get it. My freedom wasn't threatened. They were trying to weaken the counrty, not take it over. I don't think they even thought they could take over the US. Who would think that? We are the most powerful country in the world. They aren't going to just waltz in and take us over. If someone did that, then I would question my freedom. Today I was watching the movie "And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself" and Pancho said to one of the American characters something along the lines of "Go back to your county, where to be born is to be equal. Leave me here to fight for the children." Anyway, it was a good line. Plus it made me think. "Where to be born is to be equal." That is incredible. Amazing really. Think of all the other places where if you are born to certain people, or born in a certain place you are automatically less of a person in the eyes of somepeople. I know I have just switched topics from freedom to equality, but they are a little bit the same. Nevermind...I don't even know what I'm saying...

Things that make me think the world isn't as bad as I think it is

children
baseball
love stories
classic novels
cats
snowflakes
beautiful architecture
opera
rain
mountains
classical music
paintings
school supplies
tennis shoes
laughter
fireworks
sleepiness
flowers
sneezes
coffee
board games
jugglers
roller coasters
Fall
crickets
glasses
sunsets
gondolas
Sundays

This light of history is pitiless; it has this strange and divine quality that, all luminous as it is, and precisely because it is luminous, it often casts a shadow just where we saw a radiance; of the same man it makes two different phantoms, and the one attackes and punishes the other, and the darkness of the despot struggles with the splendour of the captain. Hence results a truer measure in the final judgement of the nations. Babylon violated lessens Alexander; Rome enslaved lessens Caesar; massacred Jerusalem lessends Titus. Tyranny follows the tyrant. It is woe to a man to leave behind him a shadow which has his form.

Victor Hugo

Procrastination at its greatest, my friends

A year has 365 days for you to study. After taking away 52 Sundays there are 313 days left. There are 50 days in the summer-too hot to work so there are only 263 days left. We sleep 8 hours a day, thats 122 days a year, so we're left with 141 days. If we just sat around for only 1 hour a day, 15 days are gone, left with 126 days. We spend 2 hours eating each day, 30 days are used in the year, and we are left with 96 days in our year. We spend 1 hour a day speaking to friends and family, that takes away 15 days more and left with 81 days. Exams/tests take up at least 35 days a year; hence only left with 46 days. Taking off approx 40 days of holidays, you are only left with 6 days. Say you are sick for a minimum of 3 days; that leaves 3 days in the year to study! Let's say you only go out 2 days. This means you are left with 1 day! And that 1 day is your birthday!

On Cemeteries and Teddy Bears

I'm a lot closer to my grandparents than a lot of people are. I have a reason. My mom was young, and a little stupid. I spent my first couple years tottering around their house. I was only in second grade when my grandpa died. I didn't know about death. I had barely even heard about it. I remember that I during the wake, when my mom and all the family were mourning, I was playing in the back with my cousins. We played hide and seek, around all the old sad people. We were young, we didn't know. Death has always scared me a little. I don't know why. I'm content with where I will be going when my life is done. The end of life just makes me so sad. We visited my grandpa's grave over the Easter weekend. Usually we clean up the grave stone, pick a few weeds, and then stand in silent prayer. I'm lucky if I can get to the prayer before I get choked up. I know I am sad for my grandpa, because I imagine how different my life and the lives of those closest to me would be different. I'm sure my uncle wouldn't have started drinking so much, and then he wouldn't have ended up in his situation. I remember once in school, in the elementary grades, one of my teachers mentioned something about her dad, who had died. I broke down. I just can't take death. When I stay at my grandma's house, I can't help but think how lonely she must get, how alone she must feel sometimes. When my grandpa was in the hospital, he had this teddy bear. It wasn't anything special. Just a brown bear. When I was younger I would always sleep with that bear. I remember my brother and I would fight over who got to sleep with it, and I always won, because I was older. I always felt comforted by that bear, like somehow there was part of my grandpa there. It has been years since we have fought over that silly bear. We've sort of passed it on. My younger cousins get to sleep with it now. They weren't even around when my grandpa was. I wonder if they feel the same thing as I do. I still sleep with that bear when I am staying at my grandma's house without any younger cousins. I still hold it tight, and I still feel comforted.

Sing me anything

Sing me something soft
Sad and delicate or
Loud and out of key
Sing me anything

Over the last few weeks there have been quite a few topics I have wanted to post about. It just so happens that I can't seem to get my thoughts organized enough to actually post them, so you are out of luck...or in luck, however you what to look at it. It also happens that a lot of the topics are too personal for me to actually have the nerve to post them, and that makes me want to start a blog that no one knows about, so I don't have to worry about their reactions.

Topics/Titles of posts that never were, though may eventually be:
On Cemeteries and Teddy Bears
Confidence is key
Courage
Betrayal
Living for yourself
Appearances

That is all for now...Thank you.

Things I want to read

***UPDATED***

Aeneid
Aesop's Fables
All Quite on the Western Front
The Art of War
The Bible
Brave New World
The Brothers Karamazov
Canterbury Tales
The Call of the Wild
Christmas Carol
The Constitution
The Count of Monte Cristo
Crime and Punishment
David Copperfield
The Death of Ivan Llych
The Declaration of Independence
Divine Comedy
Don Quixote
Fables
Gone with the Wind
The Good Earth
The Grapes of Wrath
Great Expectations
The Great Gatsby
Grimm's Fairy Tales
Gulliver's Travels
The House of Mirth
The House of Seven Gables
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Kidnapped
The Last of the Mohicans
Les Miserables
Metamorphosis
The Man in the Iron Mask
Moby Dick
The Old Man and the Sea
Oliver Twist
The Red Badge of Courage
Robinson Crusoe
The Scarlet Letter
The Complete works of Shakespear's:
Othello X
Hamlet X
King Lear X
Macbeth X
Richard III X
Sherlock Holmes
Silas Marner
A Tale of Two Cities
The Three Musketeers
Treasure Island X
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
Uncle Tom's Cabin
Utopia
Vanity Fair
War and Peace
The War of the Worlds
Wuthering Heights

ha Ha!

I knew winter wasn't over yet! Take that nay sayers. I don't care if it only lasts a day or so, the snow is here.

Prison, or something like it.

Pretty sure I can't stand confinement. I was watching something about jails and things, and I think I would die if I ever got locked up. God forbid (please, please, God, forbid) I was in a car crash and someone died, and I was convicted of manslaughter and sent away to a prison for a few years. (That actually happened to someone my family knows.) The thing about prison is, it isn't the atmosphere that scares me. I mean, granted, hard core criminals are scary, and I'm sure it would be violent and unpleasant, but the scariest thing for me is the walls. I would drive myself insane with claustrophobia. I can't decide if it would be better or worse for me to be able to see the sky. Worse probably, because it would only taunt me with something I can't have. "Na-na-na-na-na," it would say. "Look at the clouds. Look at how they freely wisp by. To bad you're not free. Haha." I can definitely see myself getting very very angry. When I feel trapped animal instincts kick in. I would fight. Probably to the death. I think that is a good reason for me never to go to jail. I don't see how that penalty doesn't scare people. It is enough for me not to commit serious crimes.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone ever feels the way I do. I try to look into people's souls through their eyes and I imagine what they are thinking about. I want to know if it is anything like what I think about. I hope it is, because I don't want to be the only one with thoughts like mine. I'm a terrible person. If you knew me you would hate me. I can be insanely jealous and spiteful. I think things about people that embarrass myself. My wicked sarcasm only makes me worse. If I am in a self destructive mood you wouldn't believe how far down I can get. Every time someone says something that is supposed to make me feel better my sarcastic wit fires back another insult to myself. It is horrible that I do that, but I do it. I did it today to my parents. I only said one thing out loud, though. Then I went on in my head. They don't need to know the way I am. Lately I've been so emotionally unstable that I surprise myself. There are bad days, like yesterday, and there are okay days like today. Mostly there aren't good days. I will usually find a way to make them bad. I'm like that, you see. Sometimes I just want to walk away from the world, to be free. I want to walk in the rain and I want to go away from everyone and be by myself. These walls feel confining. These rules hold me back. I hate myself sometimes. I hate who I've become, how I act. I hate that I don't feel connected to people. I hate that I know I disconnect myself. I hate that I feel so lonely, but all I want to do is be alone. I hate my cowardice. I hate my fear. When I cry, I don't know why. The tears just come. They don't stop. I'm crying now. There isn't a reason, except my emotional instability. I like it. I like the tears when no one is watching. They are like the rain. They fall. They fall like I fall sometimes. They escape. I don't. I'm trapped.

Here are some of the things I was thinking about during my Political Science class today. Have fun...They are very random.

• Ugh. The teacher is wearing a yellow shirt. I hate yellow.
• The collar on his ugly yellow shirt is messed up.
• Haha. He said people are stupid.
• Audrey thinks that too.
• Where did the phrase "rule of thumb" come from?
• Hey, that guy is typing on his laptop.
  
• I wonder if this room has wireless Internet.
• Ugh. Now we learn about Gerrymandering.
• That was a Knowledge Bowl questions yesterday.
• Did we get that right?
• That word reminds someone about money laundering.
  
• Was if Kaia?
• Maybe
• His collar is still messed up.
• Man, I'm tired.
• Oh, jeez. My stomach just growled. I hope no one heard that.
• The teacher sure says aught a lot.
• How do you spell aught? Is it a-u-g-h-t? Like taught?
• I think so.
  
• Hey, he just kicked someone out of class.
• Was it the boy with the computer?
  
• No, it was the girl next to him.
• I think she was on her cell phone.
  
• Note to self: no text messaging in this class.
• I wonder if he is going to give us out debate papers back.
• Is the representative for my area still Brad Finstad?
• How long has he been going?
• Do I work at 1 or 2 today?
• What about tomorrow?
  
  

A good day...for once....

It seems like it has been a long time since I really enjoyed a day. I continue to wait for that day, though today was not half bad. Admittedly, I was tired. It was also very cold, and I had to leave my house earlier than normal. I also had dull College Algebra tonight. For the record, I have a higher grade in that class than any of my high school classes. Three hours of listening to the teacher with a Master's degree in Math make mistakes on the board. Anyway, aside from, or inspite of those things, I had a relatively good day for no real reason. I woke up and there was barely any snow on the ground, after all, and that right there could have almost guaranteed a bad day. I think if was maybe because I didn't care as much today as I sometimes do. Plus I only had two classes. Seriously though, I'm really just procrastinating. I haven't started my homework yet. I have a chapter and a half to read by Saturday and I have to be to school by 6:45 tomorrow. Yuck...

Appearances are everything...

At least to a lot of people I know they are. Some of the people I know are so bad, they border on discrimination. I despise them a little for that. It goes back to the respect thing. They lose about all of their points. My mom had the audacity to say to me last night that if I did something it "wouldn't look good." Plus, both of my parents are so judgmental when it comes to other people. Ah. They drives me nuts. I wish they would stop looking at how things appear, and actually see them. I get so mad at people like that sometimes. Most of the people I know like that are old, unused to change, but I know quite a few people my age that are the same way, they are just a little more subtle in the way they say things. To all of you, you make me want to scream. Who cares what everyone thinks? Especially if the people who do judge me don't even know me. If they did, they wouldn't judge me. I want to do things...I want to go places...I want to meet people...If I don't care, if shouldn't matter to you...

Respect

I'm a pretty hard person to please. I have been thinking about this for a long time, and there aren't that many people that I really, truely respect. Respect is a meaningful thing to me. You have to earn it, I don't hand it out like candy. I'm a tough critic. My standards are high, but hard to define. I know them, and if you asked me if I respected someone, I could tell you with only a little hesitation, but I don't know if I could tell you on what critiria I judge. First of all, I know you have to be a person of morales, and intergrity. There are a lot of other things thought too. Actually, I don't even think in my eyes, I would deserve my own respect. Is it hypocritical to show someone respect, but not actually feel it? I try not to disrespect people, openly, unless I want them to know they are stupid, but many of the people I talk to and show respect to in my opinion don't deserve my it. Automatically people who are off my respect list are those that try to make others feel lower than themselves. Then there are people who think they know everything. Then, people who don't know anything. Also, those who are unwilling to trust someone, even though that person has given them no reason not to trust them. There is a bigger list, but I'm know you don't want to here it.

Turning Points

I think I'm at a bit of a cross roads in my life. I'm sort of caught in between two forces, and they are driving me away. I hate what it is doing to me, but in a way, I can see that it is good for me. When I figure out what I'm going to do, or whether I do anything at all, I know that I will be a better person. More mature, more confident. Better equipped to handle certain situations. I have come to a point in my life where I have to decide what is really important to me. It is a hard choice, trust me. It has a lot to do with things that won't matter in ten years, or probably even five years, so that is making the decision easier. I'm sure I will just ride out the storm, but in my heart, and my head, I will know what my decision is, and I will live by it.

Loyalty

I have to wonder sometimes, am I loyal to a group, or am I loyal to one person in the group, namely the leader. I know at work, as it turns out, I was definitely loyal to the leader, not the group as a whole, and I've noticed that with myself in other things too. If I like the leader, then I will like the group, but when the leader is gone, the group isn't that great anymore. Then again, there are some things, namely teams, that I will be loyal to whoever the leaders are. I guess I'm weird like that.

Lying

This is a difficult topic for me. I just can't decide if it is right or wrong to lie in some situations. Obviously I know it is wrong to lie in real situations, for example when you are in court, or talking about something really important. The situations I'm talking about are like minimal things. On the really low side, you have the things that are physical...Like if someone asks you if you like their new hair cut. Personally, you hate it. You think it looks god awful. Do you tell them that? Or do you LIE and say that you like it. I usually try to avoid saying anything if I don't like something, but if it comes up, I will lie. I will tell them what will make them happy, as long as it won't hurt them in the long run. What harm is there in telling someone you like their hair, when you really don't? You've saved their self esteem a little, is all. It isn't like the world will end, because of that white lie, right? And what could they do about it anyway? Make their hair grow back? No, so it doesn't really matter. You've avoided conflict. A natural thing to do. I hate when people say things to me that they should keep to themselves. I have one friend, who ever time I'm around her, she points out a flaw in me. Every time. It never fails. It's come to the point where I don't even like being around her because she makes me feel bad about myself. It is almost like she does it just to feel superior to me. People don't have to be that honest. I won't be that honest, and I'm a pretty blunt person. It isn't just those physical situations though, there are others. I think over the course of this post, I've come to the conclusion that lying is okay in situations where neither party is getting hurt mentally, emotionally, or physically. So then, if by your lying to them, they are put into physical danger, or their heart breaks, or they become schizophrenic, then lying is bad. But lying is also bad if it creates false hope/esteem. The lying can't be taken so far that someone how is terrible at a sport thinks they are the best thing since Babe Ruth. That would be out of line. I don't know though, what do you guys think?

So...hypocrites. I'm not a big fan. I know that I probably have my own hypocritical moments, but still. The reason this came about actually, is because of something I remembered. I don't even think this is considered hypocrisy, but it reminds me of it all the same, so I will tell you about it. There is this girl. She is nice. A bit judgmental and pretty overbearing at times, but still good overall. When I held my position of power in the last play, she came to me in search of a part and told me how angry she would be if this other girl got the part. She pretty much went on and on about how much she would be mad if that happened. Well, as it turned out, the first girl did get the part, and the second girl was pissed. Pissed. She stopped talking to the first girl for at least a week. Well, now, as it turns out, these two girls are practically best friends. How about that. Maybe people just change...or are you friends when it is convenient and it betters yourself, but not when your "friends" set you back?

Connections...

You know what is weird? Say you are some place and you see someone you know, but they don't see you right away. You look away after a while, because you don't want to stare at them. You occasionally try to catch their eye, to be polite and not ignore them, but you never do. By now you have both seen each other, just failed to acknowledge one another. Then, if by some chance you do connect, it is hard to say, "Oh! Hey!" like you just saw them, because you both know you're lying. Am I the only one who thinks this is weird? Probably. Sorry. It's 'cause I'm a bit nauseous...the blood thing...

Reflection

It has been over a year since I started blogging. A lot of things have changed, but a lot is still the same. My first posts were meaningful in a thoughtful yet detached sort of way, and my most resent posts have given you a lot more intimate look at me. When I first started posting, I had no idea about anything. I was young, not as intune to reality as I am now. My life was easy then. I had no stress. When second semester came along, I was hopeless. I nearly went crazy with stress according to some people, though in my mind I was perfectly calm. When summer came, I had only sorrow. Junior year had been the best of my high school career. I remember that when Senior year started, all I wanted was to be a Junior again. I didn't need to be the ruler of the school. I didn't care. I still don't. It is only a game really. A game, that as of recently, I'm growing quite tired of. Blogging for me is different than for some people, I guess. I have never been able to keep up a journal. Once in a while, I will write something down when I am really angry and afraid I might do something stupid if I don't get it off my chest, but it never keeps up. I quit after a day. Occasionally I will come across these old writings and smile in a sad way at the silly things that used to make me mad. Blogging had become my outlet. If I am going to keep journaling, I need feedback. If my thoughts are too personal to share with the world, they stay locked in my head. I leave no paper trail to my hidden thoughts. You only know what I want you to know. Over the last year, I find I have gradually become a more internal person. Though I am sharing more it seems, it is only because I have more in my head to share. There wasn't this build up before. I was still a worry free, college free, problem free kid, with everything to live for and nothing to lose. I invite you to revisit these times. My favorite post is still Monotonous, but it doesn't really matter. It was a long time ago.

Insane

I feel like I'm on the edge of insanity. I'm at a terrible place in my life. I don't like who I'm becoming. I feel like I'm falling. I just want to scream and run away. Get away. From everything. Everyone. I get so confused sometimes. My mind travels faster than I can keep up. What shows on the outside is only a small fraction of what I feel on the inside. When I smile, I know that it is fake. I'm not smiling. It doesn't reach my eyes. I hate that. I feel like there is something missing in my life. I need something. I know what it is. I just don't know how to get it. I know I have to talk to someone. I know I can't do it on my own. I'm driving myself mad. I want to scream, with rage, with fear, pleading.

Things I want to read in my life.

Get ready, there are a lot of them.

Aeneid
Aesop's Fables
The Art of War
The Bible
The Brothers Karamazov
Canterbury Tales
The Constitution
The Count of Monte Cristo
The Death of Ivan Llych
The Declaration of Independence
Divine Comedy
Don Quixote
Fables
Grimm's Fairy Tales
Gulliver's Travels
The House of Mirth
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
The Last of the Mohicans
Les Miserables
Metamorphosis
Moby Dick
Oliver Twist
Robinson Crusoe
The Scarlet Letter
The Complete works of Shakespeare
Sherlock Holmes
Treasure Island
Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea
Uncle Tom's Cabin
Utopia
Vanity Fair
War and Peace
The War of the Worlds
Wuthering Heights

This is supposedly an actual essay written by an extremely creative college applicant to NYU. The author was accepted and is reportedly now attending NYU.

QUESTION 3A: ARE THERE ANY SIGNIFICANT EXPERIENCES YOU HAVE HAD, OR ACCOMPLISHMENTS THAT HAVE HELPED DEFINE YOU AS A PERSON?

I am a dynamic figure, often seen scaling walls and crushing ice. I have been known to remodel train stations on my lunch breaks, making them more efficient in the area of heat retention. I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently.

Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row. I woo women with my sensuous and godlike trombone playing. I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed, and I cook 30-minute brownies in 20 minutes.

I am an expert in stucco, a veteran in love, and an outlaw in Peru.

Using only a hoe and a large glass of water, I once single-handedly defended a small village in the Amazon basin from a horde of ferocious army ants. I play bluegrass cello. I was scouted by the Mets. I am the subject of numerous documentaries. When I'm bored, I build large suspension bridges in my yard. I enjoy urban hang gliding. On Wednesdays, after school, I repair electrical appliances free of charge.

I am an abstract artist, a concrete analyst, and a ruthless bookie. Critics worldwide swoon over my original line of corduroy evening wear. I don't perspire.

I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail. I have been caller number nine and have won the weekend passes. Last summer I toured New Jersey with a traveling centrifugal force demonstration. I bat .400. My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles. Children trust me.

I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy. I once read Paradise lost, Moby Dick, and David Copperfield in one day and still had time to refurbish an entire dining room that evening. I know the exact location of every food item in the supermarket. I have performed several covert operations for the CIA. I sleep once a week; when I do sleep, I sleep in a chair. While on vacation in Canada, I successfully negotiated with a group of terrorists who had seized a small bakery. The laws of physics do not apply to me.

I balance, I weave, I dodge, I frolic, and my bills are all paid. On weekends, to let off steam, I participate in full-contact origami. Years ago I discovered the meaning of life, but forgot to write it down. I have made extraordinary four course meals using only a mouli and a toaster oven.

I breed prize-winning clams. I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff-diving competitions in Sri Lanka, and spelling bees at the Kremlin. I have played Hamlet, I have performed open-heart surgery, and I have spoken with Elvis.

But, I have not yet gone to college.

I'm sort of a random person when it comes to certain things. For example, whether or not I like someone. You could be a perfectly nice person, but when I meet you, I might not like you. I'm sure it is a personallity trait that is subtle and is probabaly not even suquential, but it will cause me to dislike you. There are several people who come into where I work like this. They are very nice people, and everyone seems to get along with them, I just don't like them. No real reason. They just bug me. I'm civil to them and everything, and even offer up random bits of conversation, but in my head, I just want them to go away. I'm sorta mean like that, I guess.

Looking people in the eye

I really like looking people in the eye, most of the time. It makes me feel connected to the other person. I hate it when you are trying to talk to someone and they are looking at million different things. I hate how I do this, sometimes. Like today, when I was having a conversation (which here means, just listening and never getting a word in edgewise) with someone about something that I knew that person thought was very important I had a hard time looking that person in the eye, because I was uncomfortable. I looked at the clock. I looked out the window once or twice. I checked behind me to see who was at the door. Anything to keep from looking the person in the eye and risk being intimidated. I was consciously doing it too. I had a little battle inside myself for a minute or so. "Don't look at the clock, don't do it. Stop it. Look at him. The clock isn't important. Pretend to listen. You already know what time it is. Stop! Grr. Are you happy? You looked at the clock. What did that accomplish? Nothing, that's what. Look at him." I finally just looked him in the eye and everything was fine. Sometimes, I have competitions with others, to see who will break eye contact first. It is my own competition, the other participant doesn't know they are playing. Like when my dad is speaking loudly at me I look him in the eye just to be defiant. That makes me feel good. He hates it, and I can tell. He wants to feel in control, and when I stare back at him, it takes his power. That is mean spirited, I know, but I can't help it. I like staring into people eyes for other reasons too though. Sometimes I can see what they are thinking. I notice a lot that young kids have an innocent twinkle in their eyes that older people tend not to have. The eye is the window to the soul, they say. I don't know if this is true, but I can see truth in it.

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. Scientists have proven the long-term benefits of sunscreen, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or celebrate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders. Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it is worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

It's funny, when I'm angry I drive faster. All I want to do is be away from people as long as I can and all I do is bring myself closer to them faster. I can't believe my mom. She thinks I'm some stupid teenager destined to make the same mistakes she did when she was my age. I just want to scream, "Mom! I'm not you! I have morals. I'm not stupid," in a very accusing tone. I would, but it would be sure to offend her, and I would be sure to be grounded. She doesn't even know me. Maybe I don't want to talk to her. Maybe the things I'm thinking are too personal for her to know. When I just stare into space and blink back tears, she asks me why I'm so upset and I just want to tell her to leave me alone but she won't. I'm so angry. My stomach is upset. My head hurts. My eyes burn with tears. Grrr.

I opened a real book today for the first time in quite a while, and I don't mean a text book, or anything like that. I mean a book that was just for enjoyment. It was exhilarating. I forgot how much I love reading. For the few hours it took me to read it, I was free. It provided a welcomed distraction from my confused, broken, overwhelming thoughts. I fell into the story, became part of it. I lived through the characters. I learned. The message was profound. Meaningful. I feel enlightened. I have the courage to make my decisions. If only I can muster the courage to fulfill them. Carpe Diem.

We are the music makers
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lonely sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;
World losers and world forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world, forever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties
We build up with world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a dream, at pleasure
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And three with a new song's measure
Can trample an empire down.
We in the ages lying,
In the buried past of the earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with out mirth.
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old on the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

-Arthur O'Shaunghnessy