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!