Dear twelve-year-old Odessa,
You've just left elementary school. You miss your teacher and you're nervous about going to Bennion, especially since there are only three people you know of in your grade who are going there. But you're also a little bit excited to find out what'll happen. You're interested in having eight classes in a day. Like I said, you're nervous. But nothing you can't handle.
You're also slightly upset that you're not going to be taking theatre due to a schedule conflict, and to make matters worse, you're being put in soprano-alto chorus. You do not want to sing. You do not like to sing. You are not happy.
Oh, you're in for a treat, my dear.
You get over that initial feeling of dislike rather quickly and you even get a solo in your very first choir concert. But the real delight will come in approximately four years and eight months. I don't want to spoil anything for you, but it's very safe to say that you're not going to hate singing for very much longer.
However, I won't lie: there are some major hardships in store. Seventh grade P.E. is going to be living H-E-double hockey sticks for you. I'm not even being hyperbolic. You are going to cry and cry and suffer and cry again because it just does not work for you. It's going to affect your whole outlook on the importance of exercise, because how could you ever go run a mile again without remembering how much you hated doing it in junior high? How could you ever enjoy sports without knowing how badly you did in junior high when you played volleyball and soccer and basketball and ultimate Frisbee? And how could you ever feel comfortable exercising in front of other people without remembering how consciously aware you were of how terribly you did during cardio day?
Of course, you're not going to hate every single aspect of P.E. You're really going to enjoy the weight room, and you actually don't mind lacrosse and hockey that much (it's not ice hockey, don't worry). And you're going to find a strength and a resolve in you that you didn't think you had. And it'll even be to your advantage in a few months.
And you're going to just shine in English. Not that this is any surprise, but still. It's probably a good reminder for you sometimes just how good you're going to get.
Seventh grade will be hard for you, but looking back on it, I'm surprised you don't take it harder. Every time I think back on it now, I'm amazed that you'll actually enjoy it. But you do. And that's what's important to remember: the only grade you've truly hated is fifth grade, and I'm writing this from eleventh grade. The years are going to be hard, but you'll never see it so negatively again.
My parting words to you are that the next three years are going to possibly be the best three consecutive years of your entire life.
Love,
seventeen-year-old Odessa
Dear thirteen-year-old Odessa,
See? Didn't I tell you? You made it through seventh grade with a smile on your face! Except for P.E. But you were prepared, which is more than I can say.
Of course, right now, you're lying on the couch in the living room by the window, extraordinarily sick. Trek was not kind to you, but it was significantly kinder due to the mental endurance you've been able to build up from P.E.
Doesn't change the fact that you're sick though.
But, you have your schedule, and it looks interesting. You've heard things about some of the teachers--good and bad--and you've had a couple of them before, but it's new enough that you're pretty excited. Or, at least, as excited as you can be while feverish and queasy.
I'm sorry I'm making fun of you, but it's too good of an opportunity to waste.
I bring up previous teachers, because if you take a look at your fourth period, what does it say there? Mixed chorus? That can't be right. You don't like singing. And if it's your fourth period, doesn't that mean you gave up taking GT Integrated Science? Are you settling for honors in order to take a more advanced choir class?
You know full well that you are. And you don't regret it whatsoever. You probably never will.
You're going to have another solo this year, and you'll be part of a trio for one song. You're also going to find one of your absolutely favorite choir songs this year. It's going to be crazy fun.
P.E. is still going to be absolutely horrendous, but you don't cry as much this year. And I really don't mean that in a condescending way. You'll know what I mean soon enough.
And you are going to have the absolute worst class of your life this year. I won't tell you which one it is, but let me just tell you, you will feel bitter towards the teacher and the class for who knows how long. I haven't gotten over it, that's for sure. Maybe I never will.
At least you're out of Heidel's class. Spoiler alert: you never go back. Ever. Not to any of the classes he teaches.
You're going to become so close to Bailey this year, it's going to be amazing. The two of you are going to have so much fun...I mean, at the time, you think that you're having more fun with Bailey than you ever will. I won't shatter that image for you.
Oh, one last thing...I hope you're not too excited about having Mrs. Travis for English, because you actually don't have her. But believe me, it's going to be one of the best things to ever happen to you (nothing that has to do with her, don't worry).
Love,
seventeen-year-old Odessa
Dear fourteen-year-old Odessa,
We'll just get it out of the way now: ninth grade P.E. doesn't suck nearly as much this year, but mostly because you actually have multiple, awesome friends this time around instead of just one or two decent ones.
Now, you are absolutely restless at home this summer. All you want is to go back to school. All you want is to dive right back in where you left off, but without the eighth grade U.S. history you so despise. (I did warn you, did I not?)
I want you to know that I have to drop this bombshell because I love you and because I wish someone would've done it to me earlier.
You're about to start your last year of junior high.
Oh gosh. That knowledge still makes my stomach twist.
You are going to have such a hard time this year. Like, you're going to cry yourself to sleep quite a few times, and you're going to keep yourself awake thinking about everything you're going to miss about it. This also means you'll get too caught up in your choice of high school a little too early on in the year. But, you'll have one of the most spiritual experiences you've ever had because of that. Just a forewarning: the answer you get at the beginning of the year is not what school you should go to.
Despite how sad it's going to make you, you are going to have so much stinkin' fun with your friends. You're going to keep a notebook of all of the fun things that happen to you guys, and even now, that notebook is a blessing to you and your friends. Like, you and Bailey and Alida are going to have so many adventures, it's crazy. They all happen at school, usually among seminary, choir, and English.
Coincidentally, those are the classes you'll miss the most.
But don't think about that. Just enjoy living each second because you'll wish you could hold every precious moment in perfect detail. So breathe in each one.
You, Bailey, and Alida are going to cause quite a bit of havoc for some of your teachers, namely Brother Hill, Ms. Puzey, and Mr. Graff. But it's fun havoc. You also become so much more outgoing in some of your classes, which is a nice surprise for some of your teachers (although I'm sure those three sometimes wished you shut up).
I haven't yet had a school year that beat out ninth grade, if that's any indication as to how much you'll enjoy it. Even with your first AP class, you enjoy it. And AP really isn't all that bad. You'll find it pretty interesting, in fact. The teacher won't be your favorite, but it's okay. You'll have worse ones.
Whoops. Pretend I didn't say that.
And seminary is going to be so amazing. You're going to find such a great appreciation for the Doctrine & Covenants, it's unbelievable. You'll be so incredibly surprised at how much it means to you, and how much it will always mean to you.
But probably the best outcome of seminary is that you're finally going to establish a pattern of reading your scriptures every day. I won't tell you why you suddenly start doing so because it's a little less than glamorous. Besides, you won't learn if I tell you, and that's the best part of the experience.
I just want you to remember that, as happy as you are in ninth grade, there's plenty more good stuff comin' your way.
Oh, and in case you were wondering...
You and Bailey have a little duet at the ninth grade promotion assembly (not an entire song, don't worry).
Love,
seventeen-year-old Odessa
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Thursday, March 23, 2017
Food
I've come to the realization lately that my favorite types of my favorite foods are considered the "fake" versions.
And no, before you start rolling your eyes, I'm not about to rant about processed foods because I figure, if everyone's bound to get cancer, hot dogs are not the worst way to get there.
What I mean is that, out of my top five favorite foods, none of them are technically considered the quality--or "real"--options.
Let's start off with my favorite food of all time: macaroni and cheese. I love macaroni and cheese to a probably inordinate level. Back when I was younger (and by that, I mean junior high), I'd scarcely chew it when I ate it. I'd stick a forkful of mac 'n' cheese in my mouth, chew for .5 seconds, and swallow, because I could not get that delicious happiness into my mouth fast enough, and I could never eat enough of it. I still can't, especially since my siblings enjoy it too. But now, I chew my macaroni...mostly.
But I digress. Generally, when I say that this is my favorite food, I get the "Oh, do you like boxed or homemade better?" I proudly say boxed.
Whoever asks usually gives me a look like I just declared that I enslave children.
I'm sorry, but I do. I think part of it might be that I've loved good ol' boxed mac 'n' cheese for years and years, and the first homemade one I tried was not my favorite...and we kept eating it. It had ham in it, and I don't like that. There might have been other reasons, but I'm not sure.
Besides, there are few things more cathartic and satisfying than making a perfect pot of luscious macaroni and cheese in less than half an hour.
Also, I like my macaroni a certain way. I like the cheese really creamy and soupy--like, completely liquid. I do not follow that wimpy 1/4 cup of milk for every box of macaroni. Plus, I always make two boxes (unless there's an unknown shortage, like there was a couple Saturdays ago, and then I have no choice).
So, sorry--boxed macaroni and cheese for the win.
Then, there's popcorn. I actually chew my popcorn (at least, I chew it more than I chew macaroni and cheese), and I put more effort into controlling my popcorn-eating habits. I start with just one. I eat one piece at a time. At least, until it's easier to just grab two. I mean, my hand's already in there, right? Two at a time, two at a time...well, may as well take three, right? Three at a time, three at a time, five at a time, seven at a time, a whole handf--whoa.
The sad thing is, I repeat this every time, and still never regret it.
My favorite type of popcorn is those microwaveable bags, but air-popped is what is socially acceptable food-wise (which I could probably just say as sushi-ally acceptable), because air-popped popcorn is apparently more "real" than the microwaveable goodness.
Air-popped popcorn just tastes too bland to me, even when butter is poured on it. And it just never tastes quite the way I want it to. Microwave popcorn, on the other hand, never disappoints. Everything just works together properly. Air-popped popcorn always has something missing.
And then, there's tacos. Some of you might be very offended with this section.
I've loved tacos for a good long while, almost as far back as I can remember. And my favorite tacos of all time are the tacos from Jack-in-the-Box.
I'm sure I've just murdered some of you, including my own father.
"How can you like that fake, Americanized food more than the actual Mexican tacos?!?!?!"
Um...'cause the fake, Americanized tacos taste better?
I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but authenticity is not what I'm particularly worried about when it comes to what I eat.
Of course, the most "real" Mexican tacos I've had are probably from Cafe Río...so maybe I'd like authentic Mexican tacos more than Jack-in-the-Box.
And then, chocolate. I never thought that the certain chocolate made in Pennsylvania (I'm not sure what kind of copyright laws there are, and I'd rather not risk it) was considered "fake" until recently. One of my coworkers lived in Sweden for a couple years, so he experienced that kind of chocolate. He made a rather snotty comment about my love for the Pennsylvanian chocolate a couple weeks ago (but we're friends, so it was all in good humor, chill). It was the first time I'd ever considered that I might be getting the short end of the stick.
But then I remembered that this same coworker had given me some Swedish chocolate to try previously, and I realized that, as good as it was, the Pennsylvanian one is far more magical.
And finally, there's pizza. "Fancy" pizza has never impressed me because they always have to pander to those who can afford it, adding fancy sauces and vegetables and rare meats. Look, just give me a normal pizza from Little Caesar's or Papa Murphy's or even from my own home.
"So, you like cardboard?"
Shut up.
Well, that's my spiel on food. Enjoy your next meal/snack.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
And no, before you start rolling your eyes, I'm not about to rant about processed foods because I figure, if everyone's bound to get cancer, hot dogs are not the worst way to get there.
What I mean is that, out of my top five favorite foods, none of them are technically considered the quality--or "real"--options.
Let's start off with my favorite food of all time: macaroni and cheese. I love macaroni and cheese to a probably inordinate level. Back when I was younger (and by that, I mean junior high), I'd scarcely chew it when I ate it. I'd stick a forkful of mac 'n' cheese in my mouth, chew for .5 seconds, and swallow, because I could not get that delicious happiness into my mouth fast enough, and I could never eat enough of it. I still can't, especially since my siblings enjoy it too. But now, I chew my macaroni...mostly.
But I digress. Generally, when I say that this is my favorite food, I get the "Oh, do you like boxed or homemade better?" I proudly say boxed.
Whoever asks usually gives me a look like I just declared that I enslave children.
I'm sorry, but I do. I think part of it might be that I've loved good ol' boxed mac 'n' cheese for years and years, and the first homemade one I tried was not my favorite...and we kept eating it. It had ham in it, and I don't like that. There might have been other reasons, but I'm not sure.
Besides, there are few things more cathartic and satisfying than making a perfect pot of luscious macaroni and cheese in less than half an hour.
Also, I like my macaroni a certain way. I like the cheese really creamy and soupy--like, completely liquid. I do not follow that wimpy 1/4 cup of milk for every box of macaroni. Plus, I always make two boxes (unless there's an unknown shortage, like there was a couple Saturdays ago, and then I have no choice).
So, sorry--boxed macaroni and cheese for the win.
Then, there's popcorn. I actually chew my popcorn (at least, I chew it more than I chew macaroni and cheese), and I put more effort into controlling my popcorn-eating habits. I start with just one. I eat one piece at a time. At least, until it's easier to just grab two. I mean, my hand's already in there, right? Two at a time, two at a time...well, may as well take three, right? Three at a time, three at a time, five at a time, seven at a time, a whole handf--whoa.
The sad thing is, I repeat this every time, and still never regret it.
My favorite type of popcorn is those microwaveable bags, but air-popped is what is socially acceptable food-wise (which I could probably just say as sushi-ally acceptable), because air-popped popcorn is apparently more "real" than the microwaveable goodness.
Air-popped popcorn just tastes too bland to me, even when butter is poured on it. And it just never tastes quite the way I want it to. Microwave popcorn, on the other hand, never disappoints. Everything just works together properly. Air-popped popcorn always has something missing.
And then, there's tacos. Some of you might be very offended with this section.
I've loved tacos for a good long while, almost as far back as I can remember. And my favorite tacos of all time are the tacos from Jack-in-the-Box.
I'm sure I've just murdered some of you, including my own father.
"How can you like that fake, Americanized food more than the actual Mexican tacos?!?!?!"
Um...'cause the fake, Americanized tacos taste better?
I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but authenticity is not what I'm particularly worried about when it comes to what I eat.
Of course, the most "real" Mexican tacos I've had are probably from Cafe Río...so maybe I'd like authentic Mexican tacos more than Jack-in-the-Box.
And then, chocolate. I never thought that the certain chocolate made in Pennsylvania (I'm not sure what kind of copyright laws there are, and I'd rather not risk it) was considered "fake" until recently. One of my coworkers lived in Sweden for a couple years, so he experienced that kind of chocolate. He made a rather snotty comment about my love for the Pennsylvanian chocolate a couple weeks ago (but we're friends, so it was all in good humor, chill). It was the first time I'd ever considered that I might be getting the short end of the stick.
But then I remembered that this same coworker had given me some Swedish chocolate to try previously, and I realized that, as good as it was, the Pennsylvanian one is far more magical.
And finally, there's pizza. "Fancy" pizza has never impressed me because they always have to pander to those who can afford it, adding fancy sauces and vegetables and rare meats. Look, just give me a normal pizza from Little Caesar's or Papa Murphy's or even from my own home.
"So, you like cardboard?"
Shut up.
Well, that's my spiel on food. Enjoy your next meal/snack.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Introducing My Camera
One of my favorite possessions--and one of the best Christmas gifts I ever received--is my camera. I'd wanted a camera for a while because I absolutely love taking pictures (and filming the occasional video). So, I did the obvious thing and asked for a camera for Christmas. I put it to use immediately, and didn't really stop for the rest of the break.
Man, I carried that camera around like nobody's business. I took pictures and videos at just about every family get-together, vacation, or trip. Even if I didn't think we were going to need pictures taken, I brought it just to take pictures.
I still love my camera, and I'll never quite get over taking pictures with it. I'd use my camera over my phone to take pictures any day (as much as I love my camera, it's quite useless when trying to call my parents).
I don't use it as much anymore, since my phone is a little more convenient, but if we're going on a vacation or camping, you can bet that my camera will be one of the items I bring.
One of my favorite features of my camera is that it's a touchscreen. It was actually the first thing I ever owned that had a touchscreen (my Kindle Fire came the next Christmas and my smartphone came this past May). I thought it was the absolute coolest thing--and to be honest, I still kinda do.
I remember one time--I don't even remember where I was or who I was with--but I was telling someone about my touchscreen camera. Some bystander (I think it was someone I knew, but not well) interjected, "You mean a phone?"
I stared at whoever it was in complete shock. Whoever it was also gave me a bit of a dirty look. "No..." I said perplexedly. "A touchscreen camera."
"Yeah," the person said hotly, "that's a phone."
"No," I said, still completely bewildered. "Like, it's an actual camera...but with a touchscreen." At that point, I'm pretty sure they'd just walked away and weren't even listening.
I could not understand for the life of me why someone was irritated that I had a touchscreen camera, not a phone.
Of course, I rarely understand why people get offended these days.
I've pondered on that event a couple times, and I still don't understand why it happened, especially with someone I wasn't even talking to at the moment, nor do I understand why they seemed genuinely annoyed with me.
But I laugh about it now. Most people can't open their minds to anything past what their smartphone is, so it doesn't surprise me now. Maybe that person didn't have the phone they wanted, so they thought I was being a little snot and pretending my phone was less than it really was--just a "touchscreen camera."
To this day, there are few things more satisfying than grabbing my camera case, camera inside, and carrying it with me to whatever photo opportunities I'm off to discover. Just holding it gives me a sense of...not power, per se, but more the sense of, "I am holding a device that can capture a moment of the world around me in one frozen section of time and space, to be cherished by me forever." It's kind of crazy to think about sometimes.
I could never fully replace my camera. My phone can only do so much, and besides, I have standards when it comes to the quality of a picture. A phone is useful for convenience, but when I really want to remember something, my camera is the obvious choice.
Anyway, that's all for today. Cherish your memories, all right?
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Man, I carried that camera around like nobody's business. I took pictures and videos at just about every family get-together, vacation, or trip. Even if I didn't think we were going to need pictures taken, I brought it just to take pictures.
I still love my camera, and I'll never quite get over taking pictures with it. I'd use my camera over my phone to take pictures any day (as much as I love my camera, it's quite useless when trying to call my parents).
I don't use it as much anymore, since my phone is a little more convenient, but if we're going on a vacation or camping, you can bet that my camera will be one of the items I bring.
One of my favorite features of my camera is that it's a touchscreen. It was actually the first thing I ever owned that had a touchscreen (my Kindle Fire came the next Christmas and my smartphone came this past May). I thought it was the absolute coolest thing--and to be honest, I still kinda do.
I remember one time--I don't even remember where I was or who I was with--but I was telling someone about my touchscreen camera. Some bystander (I think it was someone I knew, but not well) interjected, "You mean a phone?"
I stared at whoever it was in complete shock. Whoever it was also gave me a bit of a dirty look. "No..." I said perplexedly. "A touchscreen camera."
"Yeah," the person said hotly, "that's a phone."
"No," I said, still completely bewildered. "Like, it's an actual camera...but with a touchscreen." At that point, I'm pretty sure they'd just walked away and weren't even listening.
I could not understand for the life of me why someone was irritated that I had a touchscreen camera, not a phone.
Of course, I rarely understand why people get offended these days.
I've pondered on that event a couple times, and I still don't understand why it happened, especially with someone I wasn't even talking to at the moment, nor do I understand why they seemed genuinely annoyed with me.
But I laugh about it now. Most people can't open their minds to anything past what their smartphone is, so it doesn't surprise me now. Maybe that person didn't have the phone they wanted, so they thought I was being a little snot and pretending my phone was less than it really was--just a "touchscreen camera."
To this day, there are few things more satisfying than grabbing my camera case, camera inside, and carrying it with me to whatever photo opportunities I'm off to discover. Just holding it gives me a sense of...not power, per se, but more the sense of, "I am holding a device that can capture a moment of the world around me in one frozen section of time and space, to be cherished by me forever." It's kind of crazy to think about sometimes.
I could never fully replace my camera. My phone can only do so much, and besides, I have standards when it comes to the quality of a picture. A phone is useful for convenience, but when I really want to remember something, my camera is the obvious choice.
Anyway, that's all for today. Cherish your memories, all right?
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
The Truth About Reading
You know what one of my biggest pet peeves is? People who think they're being funny when they're really not. Especially when it's in regards to another person, such as when someone starts "teasing" another person in what they may think is just jovial fun, but in reality, is just plain rude.
Anyway, that's all I'm saying about that today. No, my focus is an entirely different topic, and one that I am very fond of.
Books.
I absolutely adore reading. It is my favorite thing to do. I love it because I love stories, and I especially love stories that allow to me to enter an entirely new world. I think it's the highest degree of talent to create your own world and your own people, and then make it so emotionally stirring that you are able to show that world and those people to real people who don't even know you. This has also led to my love of writing, and I hope to write novels someday.
Of course, I do have a disclaimer: just because I love reading doesn't mean I love all books. I know, I know, it's shocking. But it's true. In fact, I'm not singular in this feeling. I've yet to meet a person who loves all books and all genres with no bias or preference whatsoever.
Often, people will sneer at that, or they'll tell me that the types of books I like to read are "too simple" or "don't challenge your brain enough."
That's the point.
When I read, I am not reading with the goal to challenge myself. I read to relax and to take a break from the world that already expects so much from me.
Of course, that's not saying I don't read things that aren't challenging. I'm not reading Dr. Seuss and the Junie B. Jones books. And some of the books I read have some crazy concepts and vocabulary and stories, which engage my thinking and give me a different aspect on life.
I also don't like being forced to read books, even if I eventually end up liking the book. Being forced to read a book makes it seem more like another thing in this world that I'm expected to do instead of something that gets me out of the world. But I've also been forced to read some very good books. Granted, I haven't done much about them since reading them, but...I liked them.
"But Odessa, reading isn't always meant to be fun." I never said it had to be fun. All I expect from a book is a good story that gets my mind going at a brisk pace while giving it a break from everything else that's going on. That's it. Do I prefer to have fun while reading? Of course. But as long as the story is halfway decent, I'll probably make it through just fine.
The problem is, we're always being given books that are considered "classics," which, let's face it, don't have the best stories. Are there good aspects of each one? Yep. But there are only a few books that I've been forced to read that I've thought, "Wow, that story was so engaging! I really feel like I've become a smarter and better person because of reading this! I might even read this again someday!"
You know how many of those books have come from this AP English Language class?
While The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald had interesting characters and an interesting look into the societal muck of the Roaring Twenties, the story was completely worthless. No one got what they wanted, except for the person who I felt deserved it the least, and three people died--one rather violently. What did I learn from that book? Um...............
Don't cheat on your spouse? Well, golly darn, that sure ruins my plans.
"But Odessa! All the symbolism!" Yeah, it's great, isn't it. 180 pages of an excess of the color yellow and glasses that symbolize God.
Yep. That made me smarter.
Then there's The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, which, again, had interesting characters and a look into the mind of a struggling teenager, but we could've done without the story--and the foul language.
Some of you may be rolling your eyes at that. "Oh, Odessa, you're such a Mormon girl!" Yes, I am, but that has very little to do with the fact. The language in that book is terrible. If anyone in class started talking like that, any normal teacher would reprimand them and get them into so much trouble. But if we're reading it in a book, it's fine, because it's a "classic" and "educational."
Educational about what? The different ways you can use swear words and talk about dirty things? 200 pages of that? I'm sorry, but if you're going to go on and on about how we need to use more sophisticated words and then give us this novel that had little to no advanced language, how is that going to help us? We're constantly being told to not use the same words we used as seventh graders.
Hang on...The Catcher in the Rye is at a seventh grade level, you say?
Hm.
Oh, and let's not forget The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad. "Ooh, lookie here, there's a man in the water who looks an awful lot like me, so I'll invite him up and talk with him all night, and I don't care that he murdered someone last week because he's just like me, and I'll hide him since I don't want my crew to know I have a murderer on board, and wow, this man is a lot like me!"
Seventy-five pages of that. I wish I could have been the one murdered.
"Odessa, it's such an interesting book to talk about! Perhaps the man didn't actually exist, because the steward walked right into the bathroom and didn't see him! But he might exist because the other captain came looking for him!"
Yeah, because you can talk about that for ages.
There were hardly any "sophisticated" words used in the story, and certainly none that stuck with me. The hardest it made my brain work was challenging my mental ability to not tear it to shreds.
But, of course we should read it because it's a classic, and seeing as how we're in an AP English Language & Composition class, reading the classics will help us write the essays better.
Don't interrupt me, I'm not finished.
Then there was The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, which was the most boring, awful book I've ever read in my life. An old man goes fishing for nigh on 100 pages, finally gets the fish, and loses it within the next thirty pages.
Awful, awful, awful.
"Odessa, a book doesn't have to be fun." That's all well and good, but does a book need to be completely boring and pointless to be considered a classic? I mean, who read that book and exclaimed with a touched soul, "Oh, this book shall be read for generations to come!"
"Odessa, it's the symbolism. It's the way it was written." Fine. Why did it take 130 pages to do that? Why couldn't it have been half that length? But no, we have to read about Santiago trying to catch this fish and the thoughts he has while the fish is dragging his boat out to sea.
And why do we have to read it? Sure, this book changed my life--by giving me an eternal hatred for it. I can't hear the title without suddenly being filled with red-hot anger. Was the book long? No. But what it lacks in length, it makes up for in one single fish.
Then, there's our most recent one: The Tempest by William Shakespeare, which was actually a fairly decent decision because it's not written in a way that's terribly simple to read. It can be tough to understand at points. Even as much as I like Shakespeare, I was confused sometimes. The thing that makes Shakespeare hard to understand--for me, at least--is the way the sentences are arranged, not the words themselves. This was no exception.
And now, we're reading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, which is definitely not a book that's going to teach us sophisticated and advanced language.
"But Odessa, there have been books you've gotten to choose with your Lexile score!" Oh, you mean the books that only have high reading levels because of the length of their sentences and the content matter? If you're going to judge a book by a reading level, rate it based on, I don't know, something like comprehension and the difficulty of the words themselves! The Lexile scores are as useless as the MyAccess essays we had to do in junior high (but that's a different rant entirely). And while we're "choosing" what book we read, we're choosing from a very small pool of books, which is often made even smaller when giving us such a requirement as it being a biography or written before the 20th century.
The real issue for many of us is not the lack of sleep, or that we're being forced to read these books. It's not the content or the time it takes out of our day.
As has been so eloquently pointed out, we are in an AP English Language & Composition class.
Would you mind pointing out to me where it says "books" or "literature" or "classics" in there?
Oh, that's right! AP Literature is next year! That's all about books, isn't it? And we know that because it's actually in the name of the class, you know, we signed up for AP English Language & Composition because we were under the impression that we would spend more time writing than reading (not because we thought there wouldn't be any reading), but that was really dumb of us because excellent writing can't be done without reading, right?
I mean, how can't you impress the AP board with your essays when you're reading a book that has such sentences as "'Dat's just de same as me 'cause mah tongue is in mah friend's mouf.'"
"Oh, Odessa, not every sentence is written like that." Fine. But that's how quite a bit of it is. And again, if one of us started talking like that, there would be quite the conversation with that student.
My point is, these books have a place in the world, and that place may even be at school. But we are learning more about the importance of reading a book than how to write an essay, which is really what this class is based on. And if we must read, then we must read. But is there no possible way for us to read something that sounds intelligent? We're not reading any of the classics that have language that fits the language we're expected to be writing in. If reading is so directly related to writing, why isn't there more evidence of that in the class?
There's always going to be complaints about book choices. Always, always, always. You just have to decide which complaints you want to pay attention to.
And if mine doesn't fit into that, then fine. This is more my way of putting all my complaints about these books where I can see them. But don't discount them, and certainly don't try to argue with me. Because whether you like it or not, I have made valid points. These books have good aspects to them, but assigning them in such an impactful way does not help us the way I think you're trying to.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Anyway, that's all I'm saying about that today. No, my focus is an entirely different topic, and one that I am very fond of.
Books.
I absolutely adore reading. It is my favorite thing to do. I love it because I love stories, and I especially love stories that allow to me to enter an entirely new world. I think it's the highest degree of talent to create your own world and your own people, and then make it so emotionally stirring that you are able to show that world and those people to real people who don't even know you. This has also led to my love of writing, and I hope to write novels someday.
Of course, I do have a disclaimer: just because I love reading doesn't mean I love all books. I know, I know, it's shocking. But it's true. In fact, I'm not singular in this feeling. I've yet to meet a person who loves all books and all genres with no bias or preference whatsoever.
Often, people will sneer at that, or they'll tell me that the types of books I like to read are "too simple" or "don't challenge your brain enough."
That's the point.
When I read, I am not reading with the goal to challenge myself. I read to relax and to take a break from the world that already expects so much from me.
Of course, that's not saying I don't read things that aren't challenging. I'm not reading Dr. Seuss and the Junie B. Jones books. And some of the books I read have some crazy concepts and vocabulary and stories, which engage my thinking and give me a different aspect on life.
I also don't like being forced to read books, even if I eventually end up liking the book. Being forced to read a book makes it seem more like another thing in this world that I'm expected to do instead of something that gets me out of the world. But I've also been forced to read some very good books. Granted, I haven't done much about them since reading them, but...I liked them.
"But Odessa, reading isn't always meant to be fun." I never said it had to be fun. All I expect from a book is a good story that gets my mind going at a brisk pace while giving it a break from everything else that's going on. That's it. Do I prefer to have fun while reading? Of course. But as long as the story is halfway decent, I'll probably make it through just fine.
The problem is, we're always being given books that are considered "classics," which, let's face it, don't have the best stories. Are there good aspects of each one? Yep. But there are only a few books that I've been forced to read that I've thought, "Wow, that story was so engaging! I really feel like I've become a smarter and better person because of reading this! I might even read this again someday!"
You know how many of those books have come from this AP English Language class?
While The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald had interesting characters and an interesting look into the societal muck of the Roaring Twenties, the story was completely worthless. No one got what they wanted, except for the person who I felt deserved it the least, and three people died--one rather violently. What did I learn from that book? Um...............
Don't cheat on your spouse? Well, golly darn, that sure ruins my plans.
"But Odessa! All the symbolism!" Yeah, it's great, isn't it. 180 pages of an excess of the color yellow and glasses that symbolize God.
Yep. That made me smarter.
Then there's The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, which, again, had interesting characters and a look into the mind of a struggling teenager, but we could've done without the story--and the foul language.
Some of you may be rolling your eyes at that. "Oh, Odessa, you're such a Mormon girl!" Yes, I am, but that has very little to do with the fact. The language in that book is terrible. If anyone in class started talking like that, any normal teacher would reprimand them and get them into so much trouble. But if we're reading it in a book, it's fine, because it's a "classic" and "educational."
Educational about what? The different ways you can use swear words and talk about dirty things? 200 pages of that? I'm sorry, but if you're going to go on and on about how we need to use more sophisticated words and then give us this novel that had little to no advanced language, how is that going to help us? We're constantly being told to not use the same words we used as seventh graders.
Hang on...The Catcher in the Rye is at a seventh grade level, you say?
Hm.
Oh, and let's not forget The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad. "Ooh, lookie here, there's a man in the water who looks an awful lot like me, so I'll invite him up and talk with him all night, and I don't care that he murdered someone last week because he's just like me, and I'll hide him since I don't want my crew to know I have a murderer on board, and wow, this man is a lot like me!"
Seventy-five pages of that. I wish I could have been the one murdered.
"Odessa, it's such an interesting book to talk about! Perhaps the man didn't actually exist, because the steward walked right into the bathroom and didn't see him! But he might exist because the other captain came looking for him!"
Yeah, because you can talk about that for ages.
There were hardly any "sophisticated" words used in the story, and certainly none that stuck with me. The hardest it made my brain work was challenging my mental ability to not tear it to shreds.
But, of course we should read it because it's a classic, and seeing as how we're in an AP English Language & Composition class, reading the classics will help us write the essays better.
Don't interrupt me, I'm not finished.
Then there was The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, which was the most boring, awful book I've ever read in my life. An old man goes fishing for nigh on 100 pages, finally gets the fish, and loses it within the next thirty pages.
Awful, awful, awful.
"Odessa, a book doesn't have to be fun." That's all well and good, but does a book need to be completely boring and pointless to be considered a classic? I mean, who read that book and exclaimed with a touched soul, "Oh, this book shall be read for generations to come!"
"Odessa, it's the symbolism. It's the way it was written." Fine. Why did it take 130 pages to do that? Why couldn't it have been half that length? But no, we have to read about Santiago trying to catch this fish and the thoughts he has while the fish is dragging his boat out to sea.
And why do we have to read it? Sure, this book changed my life--by giving me an eternal hatred for it. I can't hear the title without suddenly being filled with red-hot anger. Was the book long? No. But what it lacks in length, it makes up for in one single fish.
Then, there's our most recent one: The Tempest by William Shakespeare, which was actually a fairly decent decision because it's not written in a way that's terribly simple to read. It can be tough to understand at points. Even as much as I like Shakespeare, I was confused sometimes. The thing that makes Shakespeare hard to understand--for me, at least--is the way the sentences are arranged, not the words themselves. This was no exception.
And now, we're reading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, which is definitely not a book that's going to teach us sophisticated and advanced language.
"But Odessa, there have been books you've gotten to choose with your Lexile score!" Oh, you mean the books that only have high reading levels because of the length of their sentences and the content matter? If you're going to judge a book by a reading level, rate it based on, I don't know, something like comprehension and the difficulty of the words themselves! The Lexile scores are as useless as the MyAccess essays we had to do in junior high (but that's a different rant entirely). And while we're "choosing" what book we read, we're choosing from a very small pool of books, which is often made even smaller when giving us such a requirement as it being a biography or written before the 20th century.
The real issue for many of us is not the lack of sleep, or that we're being forced to read these books. It's not the content or the time it takes out of our day.
As has been so eloquently pointed out, we are in an AP English Language & Composition class.
Would you mind pointing out to me where it says "books" or "literature" or "classics" in there?
Oh, that's right! AP Literature is next year! That's all about books, isn't it? And we know that because it's actually in the name of the class, you know, we signed up for AP English Language & Composition because we were under the impression that we would spend more time writing than reading (not because we thought there wouldn't be any reading), but that was really dumb of us because excellent writing can't be done without reading, right?
I mean, how can't you impress the AP board with your essays when you're reading a book that has such sentences as "'Dat's just de same as me 'cause mah tongue is in mah friend's mouf.'"
"Oh, Odessa, not every sentence is written like that." Fine. But that's how quite a bit of it is. And again, if one of us started talking like that, there would be quite the conversation with that student.
My point is, these books have a place in the world, and that place may even be at school. But we are learning more about the importance of reading a book than how to write an essay, which is really what this class is based on. And if we must read, then we must read. But is there no possible way for us to read something that sounds intelligent? We're not reading any of the classics that have language that fits the language we're expected to be writing in. If reading is so directly related to writing, why isn't there more evidence of that in the class?
There's always going to be complaints about book choices. Always, always, always. You just have to decide which complaints you want to pay attention to.
And if mine doesn't fit into that, then fine. This is more my way of putting all my complaints about these books where I can see them. But don't discount them, and certainly don't try to argue with me. Because whether you like it or not, I have made valid points. These books have good aspects to them, but assigning them in such an impactful way does not help us the way I think you're trying to.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Saturday, March 11, 2017
Refugees and Homeland Safety
Please, just ignore this blog post. I'm being forced to write it for my AP English class. I care so little about this, I basically care negatively. So, just skip this one and read the much more interesting and well-written piece about music just below, if you don't mind.
Oy vey. Well, a very prominent political issue at the present moment involves refugees and those fleeing persecution and distress in their homelands. Just in case you weren't aware.
These refugees often flee with next to nothing. Literally. They're trying to get away as fast as they can, so it's not like they can just haul their rocking chairs and vases with them. They're not moseying along, passively examining each town and village, deciding they don't want to live there, and moving on. They are running away. They are escaping from war and destruction and severe danger. And when they try to get into other countries, they have nothing to offer.
Some of you may be asking, "Well, what exactly is the issue with refugees? Aren't they just running away to other countries or other parts of the country?" And that, my friends, is exactly the issue, especially when running into other countries.
There's also trust issues, and I'm not talking about your petty little raisin cookies that look like chocolate chip cookies. I'm talking about the possibility (and it's sometimes a very real possibility) of the people fleeing into other countries for other purposes than trying to start a new, safe life. There are some people who can and will readily take advantage of a country with open arms and sneak in to cause all sorts of havoc--some more severe than others.
This can be a real problem, and governments would rather not deal with it. After all, they need to protect their own people, and just letting anyone in at anytime is not the wisest thing to do when striving for safety for your homeland.
So, what wins out? The desperate needs of refugees, or the safety of the land in which governments have sworn to protect and serve?
That depends. There needs to be a delicate balance. We need to help people, but we also need to be very cautious because, as selfless as someone might be, our lives matter too. And that's my position on it. The end.
I did warn you that I didn't want to talk about current events on my blog, didn't I, Harward?
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Oy vey. Well, a very prominent political issue at the present moment involves refugees and those fleeing persecution and distress in their homelands. Just in case you weren't aware.
These refugees often flee with next to nothing. Literally. They're trying to get away as fast as they can, so it's not like they can just haul their rocking chairs and vases with them. They're not moseying along, passively examining each town and village, deciding they don't want to live there, and moving on. They are running away. They are escaping from war and destruction and severe danger. And when they try to get into other countries, they have nothing to offer.
Some of you may be asking, "Well, what exactly is the issue with refugees? Aren't they just running away to other countries or other parts of the country?" And that, my friends, is exactly the issue, especially when running into other countries.
There's also trust issues, and I'm not talking about your petty little raisin cookies that look like chocolate chip cookies. I'm talking about the possibility (and it's sometimes a very real possibility) of the people fleeing into other countries for other purposes than trying to start a new, safe life. There are some people who can and will readily take advantage of a country with open arms and sneak in to cause all sorts of havoc--some more severe than others.
This can be a real problem, and governments would rather not deal with it. After all, they need to protect their own people, and just letting anyone in at anytime is not the wisest thing to do when striving for safety for your homeland.
So, what wins out? The desperate needs of refugees, or the safety of the land in which governments have sworn to protect and serve?
That depends. There needs to be a delicate balance. We need to help people, but we also need to be very cautious because, as selfless as someone might be, our lives matter too. And that's my position on it. The end.
I did warn you that I didn't want to talk about current events on my blog, didn't I, Harward?
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
The Songs You Need
"Some days I need the music, and some days I need the lyrics."
As much as I'd like to say otherwise, I did not come up with this quote, but I'm not sure who did, so...quote credit to whoever made it up and published it on social media. Kudos.
Part of why I like this quote is that it's very deep and thought-provoking while being very straightforward and blunt at the same time.
So, what does it mean for me?
Well, I identify with that statement on a very personal level. My favorite type of music is movie soundtracks (I know, how boring--shut up), which don't exactly have many lyrics. But I also love songs with lyrics--I'm in choir, for crying out loud. There are some days when I strictly want soundtracks, and then there are days where I just want to listen to words and sing to them.
Usually, when I really, really want to listen to soundtracks, I'm missing something that I don't even recognize. Sometimes it's motivation. Sometimes it's some heart-tugging material. Sometimes it's even some happiness. But there are certain scores that get to me in a way that nothing else in the world can--which is the most magical thing about music. There is something special about music, no denying it.
I think that the most romantic song ever written in a movie score is "Epilogue" from La La Land. For one thing, it plays little bits of all the songs throughout the movie, which I automatically love, but the way that the music flows together so seamlessly is just perfect. And then, when it gets to 4:32, the way it swells into their theme is just beautiful. Every time I listen to it, it never ceases to leave me breathless.
The first songs that made me fall in love with scores were "Statues" and "Courtyard Apocalypse," both from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. I remember sitting in the theater on July 14, 2011, giddy beyond belief that I was finally seeing these scenes on the screen. The music for "Statues" started ("Courtyard Apocalypse" comes a little later), and it made me feel something. I can't quite describe it. It felt like excitement, but it also made me feel so involved in the story and drew me into that world more than anything had done in a while. I saw it differently, which doesn't really make sense, even as I say it myself. But every time I listen to either one, I feel like that eleven year old sitting in the dark theater, feeling emotions soar through me with every note. I could not get over how that music made me feel--and even now, I still haven't. The score for that movie is my favorite of all time.
But my very favorite individual score is "The White Tree" from The Return of the King. When I first watched this movie, it was New Year's Eve (actually, it was probably really early on New Year's Day), and I was watching it by myself at this point. And when the song started, I didn't really notice it. I mean, let's be real here--how often do you really pay attention to the music in movies? But when it got to 2:35...oh man. It's a little different on the soundtrack than in the actual movie (nothing severe), but both of them still yank at my heartstrings. Something about the hope and adventure and determination that were all expressed through the music stunned me. Listening to it while watching the scene, I thought to myself, "Wow. I think I'm in love with these movies." And again, every time I listen to it, I can just feel a renewal within me of encouragement and strength and happiness (and a desire to watch Lord of the Rings). I'd never fallen in love with music like that before that night.
Some of you are rolling your eyes, saying, "Odessa, music like that is so boring. Why don't you talk about stuff that actually has words?" Sure thing, impatient readers.
Of course, if I like the lyrics of a song, I'll probably like the music as well. It just happens that way. Just take that into consideration and remember that I love the music in each and every one of these--I just appreciate the lyrics far more.
I didn't used to really "care" about lyrics. I mean, I cared what the words were, but I very rarely, if ever, listened to a song and thought, "I swear, I could've written this if I were able to write decent song lyrics." It wasn't until rather recently, in my ninth grade year, when I finally came to understood why lyrics are so important to some people.
I really loved junior high (yes, I had ninth grade in junior high, get over it), and the closer the year drew to its end, the more I struggled to accept the fact that I was moving on. Right around the same time, the final Hobbit movie came out, and I don't remember exactly when or how it happened, but I ended up listening to the song in the credits: "The Last Goodbye" by Billy Boyd. I remember I was watching it on DVD, but I listened to the words (I don't know why I decided to do so), and I was just stunned. I had never identified with a song so strongly, before or since. The part that really struck me and made me listen was when he sang, "To these memories, I will hold. With your blessing, I will go to turn at last to paths that lead home." I couldn't think of better words to describe those feelings I had at the end of junior high. Listening to it makes me sad yet happy at the same time (which is a good thing).
Another song that has truly impacted me through its words is "Vienna" by Billy Joel. I've known of the song for years: my dad is an avid Billy Joel fan, so I was familiar with it. After a couple years of having an MP3 player, he put no less than thirty-three of his songs on it (I had requested three but when he offered to put more, I gladly accepted). I'd requested this one because I remembered the basic tune and that I'd liked it. Listening to it for that first time--really listening to it--provided me with a source of motivation that I didn't think possible. It was shortly into my first year of high school, and the line that particularly struck a chord with me was, "Slow down, you're doing fine. You can't be everything you wanna be before your time." Honestly, what better advice could you give to a poor, stressed sophomore trying to figure out life? I certainly couldn't see any. It calms me down when it comes to all of my different responsibilities and such.
And let's not forget "Lead, Kindly Light" by John B. Dykes. I've liked this one ever since I was pretty young, but I never really knew why until a few years ago. There's always something I need to look forward to, and I've always loved comparisons to light. This one helps to remind me that there is nothing permanent about any of the trials we face. There's a light at the end of the tunnel, but no one said it's coming towards us, and that's because we need to find the strength to move toward it ourselves. "Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me."
Finally, there are songs that fit in both categories: songs that I love for their words and their music equally. These include, but are certainly not limited to: "Savior, Redeemer of My Soul," "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing," "Take Time to Be Holy," "Indodana," "The Music of the Night," "Silhouettes," and "Your Song."
So, what's the point of me sharing all these with you? Certainly not to convince you that these songs are far superior to what you listen to. I just read the quote and found it interesting, and the more I pondered on it, the more I wanted to write about it. I wanted to share with you the joys and stories that I have felt connected to music (and to maybe introduce you to a couple new types). Music is an important part in my life, and it's one that I don't share nearly often enough.
As I'm sure you've already seen, the links are provided for each song if you're interested. (If you don't like the song, don't listen to it--it's real simple.) If any of you out there are actually reading, I'd love to hear your opinion on this quote, and also what songs stir powerful emotions within you (with or without words), and if there are any you'd recommend to me.
P.S. I'd like to put it out there that I've never seen Moulin Rouge. I know the song because of my parents. I'm also fully aware that this was not the original version of the song. Don't worry, guys.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Usually, when I really, really want to listen to soundtracks, I'm missing something that I don't even recognize. Sometimes it's motivation. Sometimes it's some heart-tugging material. Sometimes it's even some happiness. But there are certain scores that get to me in a way that nothing else in the world can--which is the most magical thing about music. There is something special about music, no denying it.
I think that the most romantic song ever written in a movie score is "Epilogue" from La La Land. For one thing, it plays little bits of all the songs throughout the movie, which I automatically love, but the way that the music flows together so seamlessly is just perfect. And then, when it gets to 4:32, the way it swells into their theme is just beautiful. Every time I listen to it, it never ceases to leave me breathless.
The first songs that made me fall in love with scores were "Statues" and "Courtyard Apocalypse," both from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. I remember sitting in the theater on July 14, 2011, giddy beyond belief that I was finally seeing these scenes on the screen. The music for "Statues" started ("Courtyard Apocalypse" comes a little later), and it made me feel something. I can't quite describe it. It felt like excitement, but it also made me feel so involved in the story and drew me into that world more than anything had done in a while. I saw it differently, which doesn't really make sense, even as I say it myself. But every time I listen to either one, I feel like that eleven year old sitting in the dark theater, feeling emotions soar through me with every note. I could not get over how that music made me feel--and even now, I still haven't. The score for that movie is my favorite of all time.
But my very favorite individual score is "The White Tree" from The Return of the King. When I first watched this movie, it was New Year's Eve (actually, it was probably really early on New Year's Day), and I was watching it by myself at this point. And when the song started, I didn't really notice it. I mean, let's be real here--how often do you really pay attention to the music in movies? But when it got to 2:35...oh man. It's a little different on the soundtrack than in the actual movie (nothing severe), but both of them still yank at my heartstrings. Something about the hope and adventure and determination that were all expressed through the music stunned me. Listening to it while watching the scene, I thought to myself, "Wow. I think I'm in love with these movies." And again, every time I listen to it, I can just feel a renewal within me of encouragement and strength and happiness (and a desire to watch Lord of the Rings). I'd never fallen in love with music like that before that night.
Some of you are rolling your eyes, saying, "Odessa, music like that is so boring. Why don't you talk about stuff that actually has words?" Sure thing, impatient readers.
Of course, if I like the lyrics of a song, I'll probably like the music as well. It just happens that way. Just take that into consideration and remember that I love the music in each and every one of these--I just appreciate the lyrics far more.
I didn't used to really "care" about lyrics. I mean, I cared what the words were, but I very rarely, if ever, listened to a song and thought, "I swear, I could've written this if I were able to write decent song lyrics." It wasn't until rather recently, in my ninth grade year, when I finally came to understood why lyrics are so important to some people.
I really loved junior high (yes, I had ninth grade in junior high, get over it), and the closer the year drew to its end, the more I struggled to accept the fact that I was moving on. Right around the same time, the final Hobbit movie came out, and I don't remember exactly when or how it happened, but I ended up listening to the song in the credits: "The Last Goodbye" by Billy Boyd. I remember I was watching it on DVD, but I listened to the words (I don't know why I decided to do so), and I was just stunned. I had never identified with a song so strongly, before or since. The part that really struck me and made me listen was when he sang, "To these memories, I will hold. With your blessing, I will go to turn at last to paths that lead home." I couldn't think of better words to describe those feelings I had at the end of junior high. Listening to it makes me sad yet happy at the same time (which is a good thing).
Another song that has truly impacted me through its words is "Vienna" by Billy Joel. I've known of the song for years: my dad is an avid Billy Joel fan, so I was familiar with it. After a couple years of having an MP3 player, he put no less than thirty-three of his songs on it (I had requested three but when he offered to put more, I gladly accepted). I'd requested this one because I remembered the basic tune and that I'd liked it. Listening to it for that first time--really listening to it--provided me with a source of motivation that I didn't think possible. It was shortly into my first year of high school, and the line that particularly struck a chord with me was, "Slow down, you're doing fine. You can't be everything you wanna be before your time." Honestly, what better advice could you give to a poor, stressed sophomore trying to figure out life? I certainly couldn't see any. It calms me down when it comes to all of my different responsibilities and such.
And let's not forget "Lead, Kindly Light" by John B. Dykes. I've liked this one ever since I was pretty young, but I never really knew why until a few years ago. There's always something I need to look forward to, and I've always loved comparisons to light. This one helps to remind me that there is nothing permanent about any of the trials we face. There's a light at the end of the tunnel, but no one said it's coming towards us, and that's because we need to find the strength to move toward it ourselves. "Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me."
Finally, there are songs that fit in both categories: songs that I love for their words and their music equally. These include, but are certainly not limited to: "Savior, Redeemer of My Soul," "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing," "Take Time to Be Holy," "Indodana," "The Music of the Night," "Silhouettes," and "Your Song."
So, what's the point of me sharing all these with you? Certainly not to convince you that these songs are far superior to what you listen to. I just read the quote and found it interesting, and the more I pondered on it, the more I wanted to write about it. I wanted to share with you the joys and stories that I have felt connected to music (and to maybe introduce you to a couple new types). Music is an important part in my life, and it's one that I don't share nearly often enough.
As I'm sure you've already seen, the links are provided for each song if you're interested. (If you don't like the song, don't listen to it--it's real simple.) If any of you out there are actually reading, I'd love to hear your opinion on this quote, and also what songs stir powerful emotions within you (with or without words), and if there are any you'd recommend to me.
P.S. I'd like to put it out there that I've never seen Moulin Rouge. I know the song because of my parents. I'm also fully aware that this was not the original version of the song. Don't worry, guys.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Play Review of the Winter Play
I promise, I'm not doing this to torture you. I'm doing it so that I can get a good grade in my AP English class.
What makes a good story? This is a question that has many answers, and each person has a different variety of things they think makes an interesting story. The most popular answers include action, mystery, romance, and magic. The Tempest by William Shakespeare has all of these qualities, and more. And what better way to experience that than by seeing it? Taylorsville High School just recently performed this play. Since we just read the play in our AP English class, what better way to reinforce the story than making us pay six dollars to go see it?
The story of this specific performance was simple. The story begins with a ship and quite a collection of passengers: King Alonso of Naples (played by Karl Gardener); his son Ferdinand (played by Seth Jones); the duke of Milan--and Prospero’s brother--Antonio (played by Wyatt Stensrud); Sebastian, Alonso’s brother (played by Lauryn Nebeker); Gonzalo, Alonso’s councilor (played by Sam Schmuhl); Trinculo, a jester in Alonso’s court (played by Natalie Andersen); Stephano, a butler to Alonso (played by Rockwell Strunk); two lords in attendance on Gonzalo, Adrian (played by Jaden Jensen) and Francisco (played by Landon Briggs); three mariners (Megan Atkinson, Sophie Micheel, and Megan McArthur); and the boatswain (played by Makoda Maus).
Anyway...the ship is in the middle of a storm, and everyone argues for a while, but then the ship wrecks, and the group is split up all around this enchanted island, where the only inhabitants are a magician named Prospero (played by Spencer Myers), his daughter Miranda (played by Miranda Prows), his powerful servant-spirit Ariel (played by Jessie Marchant), and his slave Caliban (played by Tynan Portillo).
It turns out that Prospero was the duke of Milan, until Antonio got rid of him and Miranda (Alonso played some sort of role in that as well, but they weren’t terribly clear on that). Gonzalo had helped them escape, and Prospero and Miranda had come to this island. Prospero was essentially taking revenge on them by splitting them up. Ferdinand was all by himself, assuming that everyone else had died. He comes upon Prospero and Miranda, and he and Miranda immediately fall in love. Prospero pretends to be all huffy about it and tries really hard to convince Miranda that Ferdinand must be a terrible human being (in reality, this is his plan). He “enslaves” him for a time, but Ferdinand and Miranda continue falling in love.
Prospero makes Ariel follow the others around and make sure that everything goes as planned. He also promises to free him after two days if he does everything faithfully. He also makes Caliban (who’s part fish, part human) get wood, much to Caliban’s annoyance.
Meanwhile, Alonso, Antonio, Sebastian, Gonzalo, Adrian, and Francisco stayed together, assuming that everyone else had died. Alonso is distraught (and completely useless) because he mourns his son. Antonio and Sebastian are frustrated (and completely useless) and secretly plot with each other to kill their companions so that they can be the rulers of Naples and Milan (even though Antonio already kind of is...I don’t know), but they’re thwarted by Gonzalo waking up a little too soon (thanks to Ariel). They cover it up, and continue wandering the island.
On yet another part of the island, Trinculo is trying to hide from an approaching storm and ends up hiding under the blanket (or cloak, maybe) that Caliban is hiding under (since he heard Trinculo coming and thought it was a spirit come to torment him). Along comes Stephano, singing loudly with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. He sees four legs poking out from underneath the blanket-cloak thing and kind of screams a lot. Trinculo, however, hearing a familiar voice, pops out, and the two of them converse and drink, and Caliban eventually pops out as well and scares them, and through a strange turn of events, gets drunk as well and swears servitude to Stephano, much to Trinculo’s annoyance.
After extensions of these (including a very surprising plot twist with flying, black demon things coming out of nowhere and scaring the crap out of Alonso, his group, and the audience), Ferdinand and Miranda get married, and as they do, three...female figures come out and sing to them. They’re apparently named Iris, Ceres, and Juno (and played by Megan McArthur, Sophie Micheel, and Megan Atkinson, respectively). Eventually, the groups all meet up together. I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’ll stop there.
The acting was quite impressive for the most part. The facial expressions and body language were very believable and greatly enhanced the story. I enjoyed the set mainly for two reasons: the large amount of books in the background and the actual pool in the front. The music was...fine? It didn’t really play much of a role, so I didn’t pay much attention. The sound and lights were...fantastic. It was really hot because of the lights, since it’s a really small room and there were lots of people added to the already warm lights. The costumes were realistic, the excellent directing shone through their obvious excitement to be acting, and I usually understood what was going on, except for the first ten minutes.
So, what makes a good theater production? According to me, at least, a good theater production needs good talent but also good attitudes. There ought to be minimal technical difficulties, memorization problems, and otherwise other bloopers. The time and effort put in should be impressive, not distracting. It should be fun (notice I didn’t say funny) and interesting to watch. It shouldn’t be too overly dramatic. Really, I just want everyone involved to look like they’re enjoying it. And with The Tempest, they truly achieved that. Definitely a four star performance...even with Natalie Andersen’s slip that turned out to not be part of the script.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
I hope your day is as awesome as you.
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