Adventures of a Flunking Honor Student

Adventure #25: Adventures of a Flunking Honor Student

2013-04-25T16:09:00.000-06:00

This will most likely be my last post on this blog. Last spring, after evaluating this blog, I felt that twenty-five adventures would be a satisfactory number, a good landmark to wrap up on.

Essence Artistry
http://picessence.smugmug.com/

I originally intended to end this blog by December when I was officially a college graduate, but that last semester was too hectic for me. So, I'm posting this piece today, the day of my convocation (which I am not attending and am fine with; I am busy with other things and do not want to travel to it). I'm ending for several reasons. For one, I am a graduate and will no longer occupationally be a formal student. I am entering the professional world. Further, while flunking as an honor student may be an entertaining and fitting tag for the time of experimentation and accelerated self-discovery, success is more tolerable in the workplace. Also, I do not know if I will have time for this blog as I embark on other life journeys.

You may have noticed that most years I added ten posts (funny enough, this was never planned), but last year I had seven posts. I did not feel like posting much during that period. A person incredibly dear to me passed away. Once that happened, I spent the rest of the year broken until I graduated. Now, in this new year, I find myself seeking connections in whatever ways possible (usually in music and fictional characters) and had often unashamedly shared them on Facebook. I seem to be building myself again, and recognizing these connections and facets of myself and my interests is an attempt to take all the emotional pieces of what's left and establish them into something functional. I sense a reformation into someone new, whomever that may be. I am excited to see what comes of it.

I have been grateful for this blog and for the release and expression it has been for the last two years (Interesting Note: Originally I named the blog "Confessions of a Flunking Honor Student," so my first "adventure" was titled "Confession #1;" by the time I posted my second "adventure," I felt that "adventure" would be better for the blog). It has been a useful pasttime for me to put down my thoughts in an organized, tangible fashion (the internet isn't exactly tangible but close enough).

I now see that I could have taken this blog in a totally different direction, one more suitable for its title (what a fine time to finally being seeing this!). I could have posted funny stories about flunking and disappointment. I shared some, but I see that would have been a fun blog. Regardless, I took the blog in a direction that makes my mother laugh, because she thinks most of my posts sound fairly scholarly and thought-provoking, despite the supposed "flunking" theme.

I have been able to express different facets of myself and share them with others. Thank you for all that have read, for the few who have left comments on them, and for the many who have discussed my posts with me in person. I am glad we have been able to grow together and discover ourselves through each other.

The things I have learned aren't limited to what I have written. I mostly have tried to include the meat of what I had to say to condence post length and to remain private that which would be inappropriate to delve too deeply into or reveal. I do not know if I will continue with another blog. I will just have to see where life takes me and what of it I want to share and in what form I'd like to share it. I will leave this blog open for people to look at, if they so desire. Who knows?--maybe I will come back to it if the time is right (maybe during graduate school!...if I attend).

Below, I have linked my adventures. If any titles interest you, feel free to check them out. After all, they have been published for your reading. There's no telling what you may learn about me or yourself or may be entertained by or may be introduced to from them:

Adventure #24: Living Internationally/We're All in This Together
Adventure #23: You've Been Sexed!
Adventure #22: "Both Sides Now"
Adventure #21: I Had a Younger Brother in Kindergarten, even if My Parents Didn't Know

Adventure #20: It'll All Work Out
Adventure #19: Being Brave
Adventure #18: Too Immature for Kindergarten
Adventure #17: Silver Linings Playbook

Adventure #16: I'm Like a Barbie--Small, Beautiful, and Easy to Undress
Adventure #15: eBay Selling My 5th Grade Crush
Adventure #14: Good [Time of Day]
Adventure #13: Meeting the "Pop Perfection" of Darren Hayes

Adventure #12: (Social) Rules: Throw Them Out
Adventure #11: My Art IS Me
Adventure #10: Hey, There, "Friend." What's the Definition of a Friend?
Adventure #9: Decision vs. Circumstance (or Control vs. Chaos)

Adventure #8: Nothin' But Nettie
Adventure #7: Notes on My Study on People's Interests
Adventure #6: Keepin' It Real
Adventure #5: Check It!

Adventure #4: The Little Prince Personality
Adventure #3: Arrested for BUI
Adventure #2: Yo, Ga...Or How to See God (and Elves) and Be Happy
Adventure #1: Dumbing Down for the World

Adventure #24: Living Internationally/We're All in This Together

2013-04-17T16:24:00.000-06:00

Petra, Jordan

I was born in Spain and spent my first three years of school in Saudi Arabia, during which time I traveled to about fifteen other countries. It's not as incredible an international life as other people I've met, but it is a lot more experience than most people I meet. I used to think living overseas did not have much influence on me, that I just came from a background similar to everyone else, but as I get to know other people deeper than the surface and watch my peers develop, I see that it has had an incredible impact on my views (and my siblings' views) of the world. (It was during some of my formulative years. Why shouldn't I notice residual influence?) Or, at least, I imagine living internationally had some effect. Perhaps, what I perceive as effect was really just shaped by other experience or is more from my personality.

Basically, I understand there is difference in the world: different people, different lifestyles, different needed occupations, different issues, differences in everything. These differences should be explored, celebrated, appreciated, and experienced. There is endless opportunity regardless of appearance, class, gender fulfillment, sex, demeanor, power, opinions, social standing, race, religion, creeds, and yada yada whatever else. In truth, whenever any of these are an issue, I feel like, "Honestly? This is a problem? We're not stepping forward? This is honestly something we have to address?" *exasperated sigh* I feel held back by it.

I also feel the same when people take unnecessary offense at things. From my own experience, it seems healthy to laugh lightly at yourself and at others (with sensitivity). We're here together. Why not enjoy each other and our differences? Why be so grim? That is, of course, NOT to say that we should take at the expense of others. But I don't see why so many people take offense at things without seeing the intention behind it. Most of time, (this is just my experience; can we just add a disclaimer that this is all from just my experience? Let's do) no harm is meant from jokes and misinformed practices are just that: misinformed. So why take offense and slap something with a crude or perverse sticker when you haven't even done your own footwork to find out what someone truly means behind it or why it may make you feel uncomfortable? And if they do mean offense, then move on from them and what happened, because it's not worth your attention, even to use your energy in being "offended!" Or, maybe be respectfully open and honest about why you find it offensive. Maybe they'll listen and be respectful in return. Maybe they'll understand and you'll make friends instead of enemies. (*Angelic "Ahhh!"*) Who knew?! And now you don't have to be a naggy offended pussy pants. Okay, I'm bored of talking about the point of this paragraph (because, "Honestly? This is a problem...?" Catch my drift?).

Sydney Opera House, Australia

Now, besides these social issues that I find odd to even have existence, there is a great big world out there. Go get it. Go see it! It's beautiful! Don't be confined to whatever drudgery rules your life. Live.your.life! You're only here for only so long. Why not make every breath count? Yes, not everyone can afford to run off to a foreign land, but there are exciting things wherever you live to look at and experience. Tourists from all over the world come to see it. Why shouldn't you? It's in your own backyard. Live knowing the possibilities and potential there is in the world, even if your world feels small. Something that has LONG aggravated myself and my family is when people in our communities become so fixated on an issue that they lose the big picture and don't even realize they are doing it. They live in such a small world that they allow themselves to become distracted with jealousies, prejudices, and politics. There is not time for that! It's not helping anyone. It certainly is not healthy or uplifting to feel those things. Celebrate differences! Respect yourself without shame or apology or defense, and enjoy each other. We're all in this together.

We are all here on this planet together. We are a global community. There are people in every country hoping worthy things, dreaming worthy goals, joined in worthy causes--all living in the way they know how, in the way available to them. We're all just here together. So, we should learn from one another and be willing to stretch beyond our comfort zone. Why should we cheat ourselves from any life experience that we're unsure of? There's no way of telling what progress it may hand us that we did not foresee.

Adventure #23: You've Been Sexed!

2013-04-10T17:42:00.000-06:00

This past year, I have been informally studying the differences between art created by men and women. And honestly, there is a difference significant enough that I have been able to blindly tell the sex of the screenwriter or playwright when I’m watching a film or play.

In general, the male focus deals with the actual problem or the intellect behind the problem, rather than the feelings about the problem or rather than having the main complication being the feelings behind a problem, as is the common focus for females. Also, the male presentation of a story to an audience is directly presented, rather than indirectly or passively as with a female storyteller. Males present what is happening, while females project feelings. So, personally, this is a bit of a disconnect for me, since I tend to be drawn to the emotions of female art, though I am still male in the manner of my own writings.

Consequently, I feel that stories are best created by the sex of the story’s protagonist. My first awakening to the gendering behind the creation of art came winter of last year when I watched the 1995 film adaption of Sense and Sensibility. I was completely taken by the story and this production particularly and realized that perhaps it was so good—held true to itself and stable in its own right of portrayal; we often see art as “good” when we recognize its truth or, at least, the truth we understand—because the script was written by a woman (actress/screenwriter Emma Thompson won the Academy Award and Golden Globe for the screenplay). Further, the original story was penned by romance novelist Jane Austen. Both of these mediums, the script and novel, are written by women about women. Who better than a woman to know what it’s like to be a woman?

Try as some men do, they can never really know enough to best capture the female experience. Such experience cannot be envisioned through observation. Men and women’s biology are completely different, making their life experience and bodily reactions and functions separate from each other. There are too many hormonal, physiological, etc. differences that make it impossible for someone of the opposite sex to completely know what it is like to be that sex, whether socially, emotionally, or whatnot. Hence, I conclude that men are best suited making male stories and women female stories (and then we all should enjoy and respect them).

Granted, occasionally, stories of an opposite sex protagonist than its creator can come across well, but never do they completely escape the lens of their own sex. This appears the case with the Harry Potter series. At first, I was stumped at how the portrayal of the boy wizard was so catching when it was created by Jo Rowling, a woman, but then I thought back on the narration and realized a motherly attitude towards the protagonist. The narration comes from the perspective of a mother. The motherliness, of course, is not forward, but I can sense the care and concern of a mother behind the way the story is told. Perhaps, this is one reason why the books have been so endearing to the masses. They can subconsciously sense that motherly concern for the character, his friends, and his story and adopt that view and care, or they may find a comfort in the motherly sensory that is there. It makes sense, though. Rowling is a mother herself and was a poverty-stricken single mother concerned about her child’s welfare when the story came to her. Had the books been written by a man, the story would have been laid out with more ego: Harry would have been made to appear more heroic, wowza-boy, which may have been accepted, but can you see it being accepted much if that attitude came from a woman? The reason for this: a female would have been feigning masculine ego towards a boy. She would have more luck passing a feminine ego, like that of a mother. This may be bothersome to many feminists, but think about it. Would you have really accepted a story portrayal that does not come from truth? Harry Potter would have lost its charm. It works with its given narration of motherly concern and appreciation.

Other exploration I’ve had was watching 13 Going on 30 for the first time a year ago. The story is honest to a womanly experience, but I recognized humor that seemed male originated. After the movie, I discovered it was written by a woman and a man, Cathy Yuspa and Josh Goldsmith. My guess is that a woman came up with much of the storyline/situation and a man came along to add humor.

The Other Guys’ script ran like two males bantering. Yes, the entire movie is two males bantering, but the script apparently was written the same, since it is by two males, Adam McKay and Chris Henchy. Even further, the humor is very male, especially with the masculinity-questioning aspects of the police captain working a second job at Bed, Bath, & Beyond and naïvely quoting lyrics from female R&B group TLC.

TV series Downton Abbey (written by Julian Fellowes) comes across as male with much of the story’s concern being about what is the problem and what they are going to do about it. Had it been written by a woman, the characters’ feelings and emotions about the problems and situations would be explored deeper and would become the show’s focus. As it is, for me, the show is very cut-and-dry and hard to get into for a while. Seemingly, the feelings aroused from the show are for the audience to impose and to fill-in-the-blank where feeling is not provided in the script.

When I watched Eat Pray Love, I could feel the story events running well and accurate in portrayal. Of course, the film is based on a woman’s autobiographical book. However, with this adapted script I felt everything presented to me directly. It was all laid out flat to me. It felt masculine but was done with sympathy towards the femininity of the story. My guess was that a feminine male wrote the script. Interestingly, it was directed and mostly written by Ryan Murphy, a homosexual male, and co-written by Jennifer Salt. I have not studied an occurrence like this beyond this example, but it suggests an idea that sexual orientation does not alter the sexed focus of the art, understandably, since the person is already male or female and are subject to that biological experience and function.

In the play Holiday by Philip Barry there are possible hints of Johnny being in love with Linda though he is engaged to her sister Julia, but these hints can all be passed as common decencies and are not enough to really catch the audience’s attention. It is not clear until Johnny and Linda are left alone and are led to a kiss. A female creator would have made the focus Johnny’s feelings behind the complication of where he puts his love, while the actual story is the struggle of where he puts his love, making the hints escapable. The female is more indirect, while the male is more defined.

I am sure many of these kind of qualities cross over into other artful creations. There are definitely many more aspects and personality that go into the creation of a story besides one’s sex, especially modernly when gender lines are blurred. But it is certainly telling if it can be deciphered from just perusing the manner in which something is written. It is something for artists to consider when they are creating and probably for audiences to look for in art and in their own lives of sex identity and gender identity.

Adventure #22: "Both Sides Now"

2013-04-03T17:01:00.000-06:00

In mid-January, something magical happened. I discovered the song “Both Sides Now,” penned by the legendary Joni Mitchell. I came across it while exploring the music of Carly Rae Jepsen, who covers it on her EP Curiosity. I can’t remember when such lyrics have hit me so incredibly, as I have found nearlyevery cover striking.

Of course, I’m not the only one to have such an impacted experience from the song. The song's themes are universal through many different phases of life, making it connectable for legions of people. To end each chorus with, "I really don't know clouds/love/life at all," reaffirms the natural, stirring fear of what is unknown and unsure. Its destructuring is striking to the listener, as they recognize the misalignment of illusion and reality. My own mother had surreal moments as she watched me obsess over the song. She, too, is deeply touched every time she hears it, but her original craze dates back to when Judy Collins released the first commercial record of it in 1967 (her recording went on to win the Best Folk Recording Grammy). Joni Mitchell released her own version of the song soon after it was a hit for Judy and a seemingly endless list of covers by touched artists followed.

When I discovered this incredible song, I felt astonished that something so wonderful had been kept from me like a secret. And when I realized how many people had covered it, I felt really ignorant for having just found it. (But, come to think of it, I'm not so sure it would have hit me so hard had I discovered it earlier than I did. It was actually PERFECT timing for when I came across it. Had I known it earlier, I would have liked it but not found it so striking, I think.) Joni’s re-recording of her song in 2000 earned her a Grammy nomination for Best Female Vocal Pop Performance. I prefer her original 1969 recording, however. All covers are remarkable, but besides Judy and Carly’s versions, I especially like versions by:

-Mindy Gledhill -Sharon Cuneta

-Melanie C -Unni Wilhemsen

-Pat Martino -The Swingle Singers

-Hayley Westenra -The Idea of North

Susan Boyle, Harpers Bizarre, Frank Sinatra, Willie Nelson, and Anne Murray also do notable renditions.

Perhaps, it was the limiting winter snow that made me find even the first verse applicable. Still, I feel like I’ve journeyed the entire song and that it expresses incredibly personal truths in its gorgeous and fitting (octave and a half) melody. Most times, when I sing the song to myself, I weep through the second and third verses. I have been there through each lyric. It is a song of my heart.

Adventure #21: I Had a Younger Brother in Kindergarten, even if My Parents Didn’t Know

2013-03-28T17:38:00.000-06:00

I have always had an active imagination and have enjoyed creating stories, even in Kindergarten, apparently. Recently, I remembered a conversation in Kindergarten when the French teacher’s aide sat me down to ask what I had drawn and written in my journal:

Me: I said, “I play games with Davíd and my little brother.”

Aide: Is David your older brother?

Me: His name is Davíd.

Aide: Oh, sorry. Is Davíd your older brother?

Me: Yes.

Aide: And you have a younger brother and have lots of fun with him?

Me: (Looking away) …Yes.

Aide: Babies can be so much fun, can’t they?

Me: …Yes.

Aide: How old is he?

Me: …A baby.

Aide: Is he eighteen months?

Me: …Yes.

Aide: Do his diapers stink?

Me: He doesn’t wear diapers, but I wish he did, then I could give him a bottle and change his diaper.

Aide: I think your mommy would change him.

Me: No, I would want to change him.

Aide: …Okay. What kind of games do you like to play with him?

Me: Stuffed animals. Hi-Ho Cheerio. Knockout. Mouse Trap.

Aide: You play all these with your younger brother?

Me: And with Davíd, sometimes.

Aide: …What’s your younger brother’s name?

Me:…Um…Robert.

This continued for a while. Eventually, there was an open house with our parents, and my teacher became so excited to see my parents. They had a conversation like this:

Teacher: Misses Inman, Jonathan’s mother! It’s so good to finally meet you. Where is your baby?

Mom: …My baby?

Sleep Well Little Friend wasn't a Cabbage Patch Kid, but he was similar to this

Teacher: Jonathan writes all the time about the fun he has with his little brother.

Mom: …He does?

Teacher: Yes, so I’m surprised to see him not with you tonight.

Mom: He’s never had a little brother.

Teacher: Really? Are you sure?

Mom: Uh, yeah!

Teacher: Well, of course you would be.

Mom: What kind of things does he do with this “little brother?”

Teacher: Well, they play games together.

Mom: (Laughing) That’s his doll!

Teacher: What?

Mom: He is talking about his doll. He has a little boy doll he’s named Sleep Well Little Friend. He must have been writing his doll as his little brother.

She was right. I always knew that the little boy in the pictures I was drawing was my doll, but I thought I would try to make others believe I had a younger brother, because I wanted one.

Adventure #20: It'll All Work Out

2013-03-21T17:21:00.000-06:00

I.LOVE.CHILDREN! They are the joy of life! I have been an uncle since I was eight and have been around each of my nieces and nephew enough to have a personal relationship with them all. I have spent time with kids! I don't know that a life without children would be worth living. In fact, I strongly considered going into Early Childhood Education to eventually teach kindergarten, but whenever it came to mind, I felt like I should remain a theatre major. And especially now that I've graduated and am unemployed, I've often wondered if I chose the correct field to study, especially considering how much joy children bring and that even in my family they might not always be accessible, depending on where I live.

With my youngest niece on a sleigh ride in December 2012

Overall, getting to know myself better through my college years, I see that being a teacher would not keep my attention, because I pick up new interests quickly. I would do it for a year, say, "That was fun. Whew. Bring in the next batch," and then decide halfway through my second year that I wanted to do something totally unrelated to my field....and honestly, I would probably try acting.

As it is, I still get my fill of children by being an uncle and think I much more enjoy being with children related to me than with other people's kids. (There's a sense of more freedom in disciplining them within the shared family values. And their bodily issues are much more comfortable, being familiar.) I hope to eventually be a father.

Even beyond that, for three Sundays last month, I attended the nursery in a church ward with some friends who were the nursery leaders, and for the other Sunday of the month, I accompanied my mother to her Sunday School class of eight-year-olds. It helped me see that even if it is not part of my career to interact with children, opportunities can be provided to fulfill that for me. What a glorious thing! It has been a great comfort to me, and I have felt confirmations that I made the right decisions in my education. You know, ideally, I think it would be great to work on a children's show, a (good quality) television show for children, like Mister Roger's Neighborhood, Blue's Clues, or Sesame Street. Even if I wasn't with children on the show, I'm sure the environment would be something I could thrive in. It would be such a treat! I'm not too sure how long I could stay in one place at one time, but who knows? What's important is that I feel like there's possibilities and that it'll all work out.

Adventure #19: Being Brave

2013-03-13T18:15:00.000-06:00

I wrote this personal essay for my Creative Writing course last March (turned it in a year ago yesterday, actually). I did NOT want to write it, but it burned to be written (I even wrote an alternate essay about something else, but all my peers preferred this one, so I stuck with it). Then, I felt like I should post it on here but didn't want to. Now, a year has passed, and through it all, I have still had that impression to post it, so I finally am. So YOU BETTER READ IT!

*********************************************************

I never really thought I was different. Getting my blood drawn was routine, and a finger prick or a needle in my arm was never anything to be afraid of, though the kids in my fourth grade class often discussed horror stories of getting even a shot. But, knowing nothing else, children accept the circumstances they are given, as I did with getting my blood counts. I do not even remember if I knew for what reason my blood was periodically taken.

Davíd (brother, 12), Me (9), Ilene (sister, 22), and Ashley (niece, 19 months)

in February 1998 at Natural Bridge Wildlife Ranch near San Antonio, Texas

Eventually I would learn I was a patient of the lifelong disease Diamond Blackfan Anemia (named after the doctors who discovered it; not intentionally meant to sound dark)—lifelong because it is a genetic mutation and there is no cure. Only 600 to 700 people in the world have this disease, which will cause the bone marrow to produce no or little amounts of red blood cells. It has been known as a crib death, since the ultimate result of a waning red cell count is cardiac arrest and death. Patients are most commonly treated with blood transfusions and/or steroids, a miracle drug that stimulates the bone marrow to produce red cells, though how or why it does this is unknown. The nature of the disease is often unpredictable. On occasion, a patient’s anemia may go into remission that they may live healthily, free of transfusions and steroids.

Apparently, I was exceptional, though. When I returned to Santa Rosa Children’s Hospital in San Antonio for the first time in four years, having recently moved back to the San Antonio area, everyone knew me, even those who were new since I had last been there. They knew my story. I was one of those who lived, treatment free, on my own, with the blood disorder in remission. I had not been on steroids or had a blood transfusion for years and, thereby, was taller than a twelve year old girl also with Diamond Blackfan that was at Doctor Briton’s office the same day as me. This remission is what made me known and a commonly discussed case among the Children’s Cancer and Blood Disorders Center. After all, I had just spent three years in Saudi Arabia, in which we had needed special permission for me to live there, where emergency medical attention would be even more difficult to come by than it already was. Many within the hospital department and those who knew me when I was very little found me an inspiration and would reverently express that.

As I came to understand these things, I took pride in it. I commonly prided in my facts. That is what I was known for—the one who traveled the world and always knew the right answers in my classes. I was never gifted with many abilities, as athletics or other talents. I played piano, because I had had lessons. Besides that, I did not do very much but was known for knowing stuff. If I were to get any attention or to be known by anyone, I would have to rely on the facts about me and the facts I knew.

Also, I was not very good-looking, I had determined. What I saw in the mirror and in pictures was unimpressive, unlike some of the other boys my age. There were often girls crushing on them. I had never heard of any girls crushing on me or of any other validation that I may be good-looking, so I resorted to believing that I was ugly and would not grow to be handsome like my older brothers. The only physical definition I had was being tiny, fairly short and thin. I was born small but also received the stunted growth that came from steroid and blood transfusion treatments. I enjoyed being small and thought it was ideal, though I often perceived disfavor from others about my size, but still, they would know me for my tininess. I figured that it at least got me some attention.

***

With my seventh grade awards in May 2001, Age 12

Over three years later one Sunday, I sat in my family’s hot minivan passenger seat with the door open, waiting for my family to come out of the church building, so we could go home. Celia Blaine [names changed] came out with Paul Abrey. He carried her baby to his car, but she approached me. She was a tall woman, very thin. I had always thought she looked like a model and had somewhat of a crush on this married woman who was more than twice my age, but I often wished for her sweet attention, as well as other people’s attention or praise—a sign of value from them.

I knew I would not get very good attention from my appearance. The older I got the scrappier or homelier I looked. I perceived I needed to show off my thin frame by moving lightly and feathery, and that, in turn, led me to feel insignificant, though I was only trying to give that quality notice.

Now, I was doped on steroids, and my body had honked up in size. This body bore no comfort, while it faced the effects of the steroid: water retention, weight gain, change in hair and eye color, stunted growth, stretch marks, and many other side effects of the drug. At times I could not operate. For instance, gas would be trapped so hard inside me, my chest would feel like it would explode; or, my indigestion so great my insides felt like they would implode. My body did not feel like my own.

My eating tripled, because I always felt hungry. I never reached satiety. Before I understood this effect of the steroid, the only reason I would stop eating was because I could not fit another parcel of food inside of me.

My personality changed, too. I was irritable about every thing that was even slightly out of place. This increase in stress made sleeping difficult and gave me headaches and migraines.

I did not recognize myself and was uncomfortable with the drastic changes in my bodily function and appearance. Others did not recognize me either. Some people would not look at me anymore. Had they stopped seeing me? Few would talk to me previously, and now even fewer did. I became the smart kid who suddenly got FAT in a month. Some would unsympathetically tease me, particularly about my abnormally chubby cheeks. But, after all, junior high is not when a lot of people are the most understanding. Still, as a preteen often contemplating the point of anything in life, I found these interactions not the least bit encouraging.

As Celia approached me, I sat up, expecting her to give me a message for my mother, who, at the time, was the leader of the women’s organization for our church ward. I was used to being a messenger regarding her business.

She hugged me. “You are so brave,” she said quietly and left.

***

As I look back on that day with Celia, she amazes me. I remember her as a quiet person. It did not strike me at that age, but now as an adult, I sense irony in her message, in that she probably braved to hug me and to say those words.

November 2012, Age 24

Still, that was one of the kindest things that anyone did for me during that time. I did not feel brave, but it made me realize I could be, more than I was being. I did not feel as alone, and I felt like there were people watching out for me. I could brave through my condition, despite how I felt about myself or how I felt others saw me. If anything, I could brave through my condition for others.

Now, ten and a half years since I received steroid treatment, eleven years since I received a blood transfusion, I walk across a university campus to meet a friend to discuss a personal essay I wrote for one of my classes. I did not wish to write about my topic, but it burned within me to be written. It is something that has usually made my body involuntarily shake when I discuss it. I rarely bring it up, unless I feel it is appropriate, but I never shy away from it when it is brought up.

That essay led me to investigate my blood disorder further. As I have scrolled through websites and Facebook pages and groups, I find pictures of patients posted by loved ones. They are all seeking hope. Many of those pictured are no longer living. Some only lived to the age of four, others eighteen. It is not easy to face.

In the past, I investigated these sites but eventually banned myself from further viewing, because my body would shake and they would lead to tears from recognizing the result of fellow patients and, perhaps, from a silent fear of the same for myself.

There was even a discussion board of parents with an infected child in my area wishing to reach out to others that may be experiencing the same disease. Others responded, although they were not near these parents. I did not participate. I did not want to face this with them, though I could have met them in person, as was their hope. Was I being selfish? I could hardly face looking at pictures of other patients, let alone comfortably recount my own story. Perhaps, it would have been good to meet them, but I was not brave enough.

Now, as I see those who are struggling more than I have had to and those who have passed on, I know I have been given this time. I have been granted it—not that I am more deserving than others. I sometimes wonder why I am given this. But I have it. I must use it. It should not be spent moping about what I feel I lack or in dispute with or fear of others. This is life. Every breath is a gift. I have the opportunity to live. I am here.

I attend a university where people are kind to me. My peers know me for my kindness and my humor. They enjoy my personality and smile when they see me, as I smile back.

May 2011, Age 22

Often, I am told how good-looking I am. “Cute” is the most common word used. Anytime I perform a scene for my film acting class, my professor raves about how good I look on film.

And in this, I am grateful. Being considered good-looking can be especially beneficial in landing a job in my line of work as an actor, but beyond that and getting ready for my day, I hardly think about appearance, though I assume value in tidiness, as I have all my life. I find more to life than how I look, physically and in action.

I love people knowing my personality and find great reward in that. Rarely do I discuss facts about me, having felt like a museum exhibit in the past—something to see, learn about, and then move on from. Very few people know of my international birth or world travels, and even fewer know about my blood disorder. I desire them to be honest and unbiased with me and treat me as they would anyone else, without affected favor, respect, or disregard based on these facets of me. It is not that I hide these things about me. I am open to speak of them when appropriate. I prefer people to know the current operation of me and I them.

We all have our pasts, but life is now, and we do not know how long we will have it. Now is what we are given, even if it requires being brave.

Adventure #18: Too Immature for Kindergarten

2013-03-07T17:41:00.002-07:00

Once upon an eon ago, school officials thought I'd be too young to start Kindergarten, because my birthday was in mid-summer. They said I was plenty intelligent, even remarkably more intelligent than my older peers, but I just didn't seem as mature as my peers, having little interest in life skills activities, while making uninterpretable drawings and writing in all caps.

WELL, SHOOT! My mom already taught me how to hold scissors; I NEVER liked coloring, not even in the church nursery, and still, to this day, can't color in the lines; and I mostly picked up letter shapes from studying a computer keyboard. I could write in lower case, but the whole testing thing made me nervous, so I reverted to what I thought they might want, because it seemed more official. According to them, I'm probably smart enough for my college degree but still wouldn't be mature enough to join Kindergarten.

My mom still considered my wishes and asked if I wanted to go to Kindergarten. I said yes but didn't tell her it was only because I wanted to ride a school bus.

Adventure #17: Silver Linings Playbook

2013-02-19T10:31:00.000-07:00

*I write this post because I am screaming for you to SEE THIS MOVIE*

A few weeks ago I went with a friend to see Silver Linings Playbook and fell MADLY IN LOVE with it! It was one of those experiences that reaffirmed truth and hope to me and made me believe in the cinema (I believe! Can I get an amen?!). I was totally blown away by the story and the character depth. It will definitely be a film I add to my library. After all, it is a romantic comedy(-drama) with a male protagonist. I tend to be strongly drawn to those.

I admired how it showed how everyone has a quirk about them that makes them a non-normal individual (yeah, yeah; what is normal, anyway? There. I said it. Now some other freak yuppie won't have to). Everyone seemed to have some leanings toward some kind of mental illness or social disability. Pat's father had OCD tendencies; Pat's mother was an enabler; Pat had bipolar disorder; Tiffany had a sex addiction caused by immense grief (perhaps, complicated grief); Veronica (Tiffany's sister) was a controlling perfectionist; Ronnie (Veronica's husband) had anger issues caused by Veronica's control; and so forth. The film (and book, I'm sure) helps show how people with mental illness (though few of the characters have "mental illness" stamped on their legal records) are still people and that they (I use the term they loosely) aren't other worldly beings that get locked up in a "looney bin." They are really still just a part of us. The film helps separate that mental detachment we have in the us vs. them idea. The movie reached out to show that even those without a certified "mental illness" still practice behaviors with signs and markings of a mental illness. We all have a little bit o' crazy in us.

Consequently, I felt that we shouldn't be put off by these signs within ourselves and others. We are all parts of a whole, and we don't need to shame ourselves from whatever little tendencies we may have. We don't need to let them rule us, but we shouldn't put ourselves down for whatever facets of ourselves we think are weird. Not one person has something about them that is not weird. We should still strive to be our best and conquer whatever challenges we face, as Pat does, despite the social pressures he is under by being termed mentally ill (and the pressures of his issues). It is a story of hope and of the natural drive to better oneself.

Personally, (yes, a little personal time; let's get personal) I connected with just about all the characters on some level, but I particularly loved Tiffany. Having struggled with complicated grief myself, I totally could see her motivation in everything she did. .... I could go deeper, but let's not get that personal...I did say "a little personal time," after all.

I recommend it to anyone over the age of 15, because that would be old enough to really appreciate it.
(Yes, it is rated R, so waiting until someone is 17 is understandable ;-) I know I have a lot of friends who are R-rated sensitive, as they should be (and as I usually am), but if you have questions about content, read about it on IMDB. I really did not feel like there was very much for an adult to honestly be concerned about. What you read on IMDB makes it sound worse than it really is. I hardly noticed much of the language, because none of it was gratuitous (neither was the other content). Any harsh language was said from a grounded place so that the character actually sounded like they earned it. After the film was over, I was surprised it was rated R, but I guess, it follows the qualifications. I was uplifted, and it was worth it! P.S. I WOULD NOT BE INCLUDING THIS PARAGRAPH UNLESS I FELT I SHOULD *HINT*HINT* SEE.IT! It doesn't have 92% on Rotten Tomatoes for nothing.)

That Horny Keyboard

2013-02-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

A writing prompt from my First Year Writing course in Fall 2009:

Find something to analyze that you wouldn’t normally analyze. A lamp. A boy in the ward. A chicken nugget. What you’re analyzing doesn’t matter as much as going through the process of analyzing. Remember this process from class: break something into its constituent parts and then try and figure out how the parts work together to create a whole.

What I wrote:
This keyboard I am using must be a very horny son-of-a-gun. All it does all day is get felt all over, which must bring great satisfaction for it since it allows it to happen day in and day out. It is not a very monogamous tool. And just like every person has favorite places where they like to be touched, this keyboard must enjoy being hit on the spacebar, since it is hit so often and is large enough to always be touched. Perhaps, its drive for such interaction is insecurity. It must feel fairly confident about its number keys, since they are set off and fondled with rarely. Consequently, it must be most self-conscious about its letter keys since those are begged to be used more commonly. Further evidence of its insecurity is how it protects itself with a plastic cover, hiding its inner workings so no one can witness any deep sensitivities. It really is a very private individual that uses intimacy as a false sense of self-assurance and appraisal.

My professor commented, "This is why censorship was invented =) "

Adventure #16: I'm Like a Barbie--Small, Beautiful, and Easy to Undress

2012-08-15T15:00:00.000-06:00

I liked the Toy Story films casually--not as much as every else--but I still liked them. I never chose to watch any of them but typcially didn't mind when other people chose them, because I knew they were good and enjoyed them to an extent. Eventually, they grew old, though, and I felt they were overplayed, but I couldn't figure out why I felt this way. What was it that I didn't like about Toy Story and Toy Story 2? I couldn't find anything that should rub me the wrong way, that turns me off to them while everyone else was loving them.

...I found out with Toy Story 3: There was no character I connected with or that I wanted to identify with. However, I found two characters in Toy Story 3: Barbie and Ken...

Yes, yes, I know it's weird and funny. What's more funny? I can't even tell you why they're the ones I look to, but maybe other people can see me in them. They are my favorites. They make me giggle! Perhaps, they represent parts of me I don't recognize or don't want to recognize, or they are just the characters whose character humor I understand the easiest...who knows?...

Adventure #15: eBay Selling My 5th Grade Crush

2012-08-01T21:01:00.000-06:00

In my first year English class three years ago, we had to write a persuasive paper to use as a product description to sell an intrinsic item on eBay. I chose my 5th grade crush and read my paper aloud to the class for feedback. They loved it! My professor laughed throughout and commented that I had the "best.last.line.EVER!"...my item never sold, but the paper is fun to read:

**************************************************************

As a hopeless romantic, my life pretty much sucks, especially as a deep feeling, sissy college boy prone to attachment! Therefore, it would help me a lot if I could shake these romantic feelings I have been carrying for a girl from my fifth grade class. My method consists of ridding myself of a proxy—a broken heart shaped paper (two half hearts) with listings of my romantic feelings for her inside the heart. I do not have the money for therapy to settle this issue, since my collegiate institution requires I pay tuition. Hence, I have fallen into alternative ways to relieve myself of these feelings for a girl whom we shall call Annie.

To be honest, the first time I met Annie I thought she was a boy, because of her strong tomboy image. On the first day of school, my teacher requested the silence of some feminine giggling. I glanced in the direction to which she spoke to behold, what I thought to be, a group of three girls and a boy who was the cause of the girls’ laughter. I thought it rude for my teacher to refer to that boy as a girl. The next day, I saw that same boy enter and leave the girls’ restroom. I was shocked! However, when I saw my teacher’s casual appearance as she witnessed the same event, I accepted that this boy was really a girl—Annie.

Annie was the first girl I felt strong romantic yearnings for. I had previously had a countless number of crushes on girls, often at the same time. Eventually, I developed strong emotions directed towards Annie. No other girl mattered to me, anymore. None were so precious and special as her. My life brightened just by seeing her everyday in class. Her sparkling blue eyes always calmed me and carried me away into mushy, frolicking fantasies. She was also very funny, and the goofy qualities of our personalities meshed so perfectly. We were a killer comic team when entertaining our classmates.

I still remember the sinking feeling I felt inside when another girl from our class brought up Annie’s boyfriend. I had no idea she had one, and Annie instantly turned red and shied away from the topic as she watched my surprised and hurt reaction. Gradually, I calmed myself, thinking, Annie may not be mine now, but someday we will have each other. Soon, my parents informed me that we were moving to a small town three hours away. When my teacher revealed this news to my class, Annie’s face shared the same expression mine had when I heard of her boyfriend.

The months following my family’s move were mostly spent in loneliness, daydreaming that someone’s house in the neighborhood would go up for sale and then Annie’s family would move in. I tried to escape these ideas by facing reality and recognizing that I probably will never see her again. However, that was too painful, so I maintained my imaginative thoughts. I longed for her uplifting companionship.

Since then, I have been able to gather more crushes, but none develop into the same rushing intensity as with Annie. None have compared to her. Whenever something comes close, my mind remembers and pictures her. I feel guilty for any feelings for anyone I try to explore, as though I am being unfaithful to her.

Currently, I am a student in Provo, Utah, at Brigham Young University—the marriage meat market capital of the world! My feelings for Annie serve no purpose in my life right now. They haunt me! I have no contact with her and have not even been able to find her via Facebook! Our relationship is, basically, hopeless. Besides, as I have considered her ultimate tomboy image, I have come to strongly believe that she very well may be a full-boar lesbian by now. Once again, these feelings have no use to me, but, perhaps, feeling this way for a lesbian-like person may be quite tantalizing for someone else.

I offer these feelings to anyone interested, whether it is because you have not felt such feelings for another, yet, and desire to do so or because you like to gain these same feelings for several people and play them all. I am open to any reason to house these stirrings elsewhere. I really do believe this method will help rid myself of these feelings for her. Your purposes with the sent document are completely up to you. You may even write the name of your ex-lover on them and use them for toilet paper. If you are adventurous, you can reconnect with your mother by sending her one half of the heart and then meeting up to complete it. If you are thrill crazy, you could try this with your mother-in-law.

I remind you that I am only selling the feelings for Annie. I have tried to make her sound vague to protect her identity, since it is not her that I am selling (she is not a slave, and I am not her trader).

Happy bidding!

Adventure #14: “Good [Time of Day]”

2012-07-30T13:57:00.000-06:00

Why the heck do we greet each other with, “Good morning?” That’s not even a complete sentence! But maybe I hate it because I’m not a morning person. Whenever it's said to me, I typically don't respond, though I want to say, "Don't talk to me!" or "That's not my name!"

If you think about it, though, “Good morning/afternoon/evening/day” all are seen as appropriately interchangeable for greeting and departing. “Good night,” on the other hand, is only appropriate in departing (or metaphoric departing, like sleeping).

Of course, supposedly, all these greetings are wishings to the receiver, so to exchange, “Bad afternoon” or “Awful night” with someone, even as a reflection of one’s own condition, is seen as strange or rude. However, since “Good night” tends to be a token farewell, it is even angrily said when people are mad at each other…

Adventure #13: Meeting the "Pop Perfection" of Darren Hayes

2012-07-25T17:13:00.004-06:00

Remember Savage Garden? Did you know their former frontman, Australian singer/songwriter Darren Hayes, has released four solo albums in the last ten years? ...Yeah, it took me a bit to catch up with that, too, being American and all, but he's been a new candy for me. Well, he’s not exactly new for me. I have flavored some of his music before but didn’t take a leap for him until recently.

HISTORY

Let’s take a (dry) rundown of my discovery of him nearly two years ago:

Hear “I Knew I Loved You” again on radio (it eventually becomes my favorite Savage Garden song; plus, gorgeous Kirsten Dunst is featured in the music vid)
Remember/Renew curiosity of Savage Garden
(Wikipedia) Research Savage Garden
Come across name “Darren Hayes” and research
Discover 2004 tongue-in-cheek single “Pop!ular” reached #1 on U.S. Dance/Club Play chart
Like “Pop!ular” but have interest in little else
Use gift card to get Savage Garden Affirmation, which contains “I Knew I Loved You”

Last summer, I had some free music downloads, part of which I used to get “Pop!ular” and a few tracks off the album it’s from, The Tension and the Spark (Darren’s second album). About eight months later, I listened to his first and fourth albums, respectively, Spin and Secret Codes and Battleships on Spotify, generally liking them and occasionally listening to them more often.

DARREN & ME

Then, I moseyed along until May of this year (two months ago) when I realized a similarity in the songs he writes to the songs I write (and consequently, completed my collection of his music by ordering physical copies of his albums). This was HUGE! When I had thought about my songs, they seemed to be about...nothing...or, at least, nothing I could give a synopsis of, I felt. They're driven by feelings. Most songs are inspired by feelings and fused with emotion, but I've seen that the focus of my songs is completely about subconscious feelings becoming manifest. Darren's and mine don't exactly sound the same, but the focus and drive are similar. We each have our own separate patterns of addressing similar motives that are influenced by our own musical paths. Still, our songs seem to rest in an intuitive space (hence the mention of mine seeming "to be about...nothing;" the images we typically use aren't exactly tangible).

I had been looking at the current pop scene, especially Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, as well as other songs, but I couldn’t find many that I would say my songs were like. Darren’s have come the closest. When I figured this out, so many things in his songs opened up to me, and I could not believe what I was experiencing while listening to his music. Everything he sang made sense. There was no deciphering the metaphors or translation of events in my life to make them applicable to the song. Everything fit perfectly, like I could be saying those lyrics. It was one of those connections you have with someone and you just sense and feel that, “I need to know this person better,” or, “I want to meet this person.” It’d be awesome to meet him and chat about songs and ideas—perhaps, someday, if our lives cross. His songs are so honest to me. Perhaps, they are even too honest…

THE DOWNSIDE

Something he has been prized for is that, often, rather than taking a more commercial pop route, he musically and lyrically tends to take a more sophisticated, intellectual journey, which is a great aspect that I like (and makes me feel smart). But, his music is very artful and somber to the point that it can be depressing for me. At the same time, I love his music, because, like I said, my connection is so close; but it is easily depressing for me, because I don’t have to work to connect. His music naturally recalls emotional places I’ve been by just hearing those words and, especially, singing them.

HIS MUSIC

He does have light and positive songs but mostly on Spin, from which my favorite track is “I Can't Ever Get Enough of You.” His transition to heavier subjects is sampled on Spin’s title track but was also previewed in 1999 with the opening and title track of Savage Garden’s Affirmation. The music of these songs is still upbeat and fun, but the discussion is thoughtful.

His darkest album is The Tension and the Spark, where he explores themes of dark and light with, even, track titles as “Darkness” and “Light.” The Tension and the Spark is an amazing album, overall, despite its dark themes. It is brilliantly crafted with genius electronic production, and, honestly, deserves every one of the four stars Allmusic gave it (I tend to agree with Allmusic). “Darkness,” especially, is a song that surprised me how closely I connected with it when I really listened. I felt like someone had been watching me from my window… Other songs I most connected with from the album, whether emotionally or hearing my own thoughts in someone’s song, were “I Like the Way,” “Hero,” “Unlovable,” and “Love and Attraction,” but really, I side with the whole album.

His third release, the highly experimental and personal double album This Delicate Thing We've Made, continues a somber approach but has a more intellectual feel. The album fits together almost like a story with most of the songs leading up to the next, though they are strong enough to stand alone (not that they're mixed together but that they're like chapters in a novel). Overall, the entire album is incredibly elegant. My favorite track is the beautiful single “Casey” (which the last minute and a half of the album version is gorgeous but, sadly, was taken out to make it appropriate as a single, even though it emphasizes, what I believe to be, the main point of the song: “I wanna be someone”), which he wrote about his sister Tracey (rhymes with Casey; ooooooh, clever boy). Other tracks that especially stand out to me are “A Fear of Falling Under,” “Listen All You People,” “Neverland,” “Words,” and “The Tuning of Violins.” The whole album is wonderful, though.

His latest album, Secret Codes and Battleships, released autumn of last year, brings him back to commercial pop senses but without losing lyrical merit. I, especially, have taken a liking to “Don’t Give Up” and “Black Out the Sun,” which is another one that encapsulates emotions I have felt and instantly recalls them (and vocally, it’s fun to sing). He originally wrote “Black Out the Sun” for Leona Lewis but kept it for himself. Lead single “Talk Talk Talk” sounds like a sequel to “Words.” When I watched the music video for “Bloodstained Heart,” I cried at the end, and then I watched it again, crying throughout from understanding deeper the symbolism. I get choked singing it or even when I explain the song and video to others.

THE UPSIDE

I’ve learned several things from Darren, though. One thing I’ve understood is that this connection I’ve had is only one part of me, and it is good to have someone to connect to, even with my darker experiences. I connect with lots of artists, but my favorites tend to be The Corrs and Kylie Minogue. I’ve often thought myself the male version of Andrea Corr, lead singer and lyricist for The Corrs, and still, I see myself more in her personality than I do Darren’s. Both Darren and The Corrs appeal to the dreaminess of hopeless romantics. Andrea’s solo lyrics and her lyrics with The Corrs, I have felt, are words I could have written myself and that speak for me, just as with Darren’s. I think why I may find Darren's lyrics particularly special is that he is male, and there is an inherent part of me, perhaps initially subconscious, that recognizes and connects with this. The difference between The Corrs and Darren is that while The Corrs (and Andrea; I do like Sharon Corr’s solo work, as well) are willing to go to the dark places that Darren goes, they offer a glimmer of hope, whereas Darren goes there to reveal and explore but doesn’t always offer a way out. He takes you there to experience it with him (but it is fair to say that when you are in those dark places, sometimes hope is forgotten or not desired because of the pain in the letdown of what was once hoped).

I enjoy all of Kylie’s songs, but I most connect with the ones she writes herself, especially “No More Rain” and “Looking for an Angel” (both metaphors; *gasp* intriguing). She goes to dark places on 1997’s introspective Impossible Princess, in which she wrote or co-wrote all the songs, but, like The Corrs, she offers a way out, even if it is just a cry for deliverance. Mostly, Kylie appeals to my fun side. From having seen her live and what I’ve seen of her in interviews, Kylie is pure fun, as also found in her choice to release bubbly, danceable songs. Understandably, she's been referred to as a dance force of light (interestingly, Darren's idol, Madonna, compared to Kylie, has been seen as a dark force; I also like Madonna but more to get groovy with). Through it all, Kylie still is able to express love and its vulnerability (see my paper on that here).

Basically, in general (and for me), Kylie presents the fun and vulnerabilities of love, The Corrs the reassurances of love, and Darren the fears in love. Darren doesn’t really seem far off from The Corrs and Kylie. All three of these artists explore romance and art with class that appeals to me, reassuring what I’ve evaluated about my interests (as described here).

One thing I speculate about Darren from his songs is that he holds things very precious. This is even suggested in the album title This Delicate Thing We've Made and is something I relate to. It makes him a true lover and is a characteristic I'm attracted to to add him to my collection of favorite artists. But while I do like his more darker themes for their own sake, I wish for more of the songs about the positive aspects of love, like he does in “I Can't Ever Get Enough Of You” and “I Knew I Loved You,” but I'll appreciate whatever he turns out.

Of Darren himself, his voice is very beautiful. He uses falsetto a lot, and it is equally pleasing. His voice has a soft, youthful timbre (as do Kylie and Andrea), as does mine, I’ve been told. Last year, I sang “Ten Minutes Ago” from the musical Cinderella for a voice lesson. My teacher said I sounded great, but the only problem with my performance was that I sounded sixteen and the character needed to be old enough that his parents were irritated he wasn’t married yet (so, at least ten years older...hmm).

Darren’s vocal range is very similar to mine, making him fun and comfortable to sing along with. I had previously been introduced to Mika, who also sings high into his falsetto range, but his isn’t always nice sounding. Hearing that falsetto made me afraid to use my own, but Darren’s has given me confidence to use it, as I have heard that my voice and falsetto are “pretty,” as well. When I have sang some of Darren’s and Savage Garden’s songs to others and then later showed them the recording, my audiences have mentioned similar pleasing qualities in my voice and his, though we each have our own value and sound like ourselves. Also, we have similar impulses on forming words when singing; that is, we naturally tend to emphasize the same letter sounds in pronunciation.

If anything, Darren has helped me reach another level of acceptance for my voice. It is what it is, and it can have a place as I find where to use it. It is okay for it to sound pretty and soft and young...or “unique.” And, like I said about his songs’ similarity to mine, it is okay for my songs to be what they are. The sound of Darren's “Unlovable” gave me faith in the few of my songs that lean to the experimental. “Unlovable” is done in a way that makes the song work, despite often possessing an almost disjointed melody, as a few of mine do. When I wrote them, I wasn't sure if they would work but completed them, anyway. Now, I see that as they are explored, an appropriate way of expressing them can be found, just as it was with “Unlovable.” I know some of my apprehension about my songs comes from a fear of revealing self-qualities expressed in the song. Tsk tsk. Courage, now. I'm sure as I embrace them their performance will smooth out and become whole, making them a treasure. They have a place, as what has been reiterated to me a lot this past year (not even an exaggeration; everywhere I turn, this comes up)—to quit hiding and offer what I have. And, honestly, I have been feeling more ready to share what I have with songs, poetry, acting, stories, my novels. Perhaps, finishing college soon has brought this to my mind, also, and given me the realization that I need to come forward in order for anything to happen, rather than hiding in the educational world. In all, Darren has brought it up for me, again.

So, if you don’t know much about Darren, check him out! It’s a shame his music is as rare as it is. He is a gem! You never know what you may find in store to experience with him, and you can see why critics call him genius and his work “pop perfection.”

Adventure #12: (Social) Rules: Throw Them Out

2012-07-05T17:04:00.000-06:00

Somehow, my thoughts recently have led me to the idea of rules, and basically, I think rules are stupid. Most of them are unnecessary, but of course, some are good. Rules are good so that people don’t hurt themselves and others, and if followed, people can live peacefully and get along with others and stay in line yada yada yada my GOSH! I am so bored already! All of you know that about rules (And if you don’t, then, frankly, I think you’re stupid, but I’ll probably still be your friend)!

Mostly, I think the majority of social rules are pointless, especially when it comes down to gender, like “Boys don’t hug,” “Boys should be serious,” “Boys are strong and quiet,” “Boys need their physical space,” “Boys are…” STUPID! Honestly, I don’t want to follow any of those rules, and I know other respectable BOYS who don’t. But, I admit, I am a feminine male (not effeminate, please. There is a difference. Thank you), as in I’m more emotional/sensitive, domesticated, clean, gentle, smaller framed than most guys I meet. Regardless, this isn’t a spat about gender roles, just social rules (which, I know, they interchange and affect each other and yada yada, but I don’t want to get into that right now, nor am I meaning that social rules all have to deal with gender).

ANYWAY! Much of this started when I was halfway through my first semester of college when I realized I was an adult. I was old enough to vote, but also I was an individual and could live however I please. I could get a girl and move in with her. I could move out of my house. I could volunteer at the hospital. I could cut down trees. I could unlearnedly strum a guitar and sing at the top of my lungs on Main Street. I could shoot up drugs. “I can do whatever I want!” (I often said this phrase to my family whenever they suggested anything, which drove them crazy…and still does…and which I apparently still say, since one of my old roommates once responded to his own question with, “That’s right. You can do whatever you want.”) That doesn’t exactly mean I want to do those things, but I realized how free I was and how free I’ve actually been.

So, now, I mostly side with the idea of making my own rules. I love making my own rules. Who is living my life? I am! Why should I not just live how I want within my own value code (meaning religion/beliefs, law obedience, business ethics, WHATEVER YOU WANT TO PUT HERE IN VALUES!)? Something I abhor is when people act with shame (which is a prevalent trait in much of Utah culture, especially Cache Valley; look around and see it). I love to be shamelessly nonsensical. I LOVE TO LET LOOSE—anything goes—and anything that is not impolite is welcome from others. I believe in observing without judging, as in there is no quizzical scowl with an up-turned lip, accompanied by, “Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” unless it is unkind or socially misplaced (in which case, correction would be properly done away from the(, perhaps, embarassing) presence of others). But, of course, I am a more chaotic personality, so for most social situations, I enjoy jumping in, going with my feelings, and seeing what happens. No social rules. No worrying about what people are thinking. Being fully committed to doing or saying or behaving whatever I feel in the moment I feel it, no matter how boisterous or over-the-top. (Sometimes, I feel like not saying or doing much, and that is perfectly fine.)

This doesn’t mean I’m wild. For me, I enjoy politeness and encouraging social interaction. I like to laugh and uplift others and to be uplifted, in turn. I do not feel like I am having to obey some kind of unpublished handbook of social behavior. Some can argue, though, that I have been conditioned to follow rules of politeness and positive socializing, and if that’s true, I don’t care. I interact how I want to interact. And if you desire to interact as the social rules laid down by your best friend or your roommate or that gorgeous senior cheerleader you admired your sophomore year, then do it, as long as it is want you want to do.

This may all sound jumbled. I have no idea. But I’m sure those who really know me understand this, because they have seen me do it and have experienced me.

"We'll make the rules up as we go along and break our own if we're not having fun."

Review of Madonna's MDNA

2012-03-28T17:46:00.005-06:00

Madonna released her twelfth studio album, MDNA, this Monday, March 26. Courtesy of Spotify, I listened to this recent effort on the day it came out. MDNA, used as an entendre for the drug MDMA but more rightfully for Madonna DNA and an abbreviated spelling of the singer's name, reminds that she is the source of controversy that has paved the way for many pop stars, by infusing references to religion and sexuality, often irreverently. At times, this feels like a forward stab to Lady Gaga, especially considering her recent "reductive" words about Gaga. She wants everyone to know that she is "Queen"--that she is what brought pop to what it is now. Fittingly, Madonna's performance beneath the heavy electronic alterations (especially in "Gang Bang") sounds much like it did twenty years ago during her times of greatest controversy in her Like a Prayer-Erotica era, before her vocal training for Evita. She has continued exploring this, revisiting the black-and-white music video for "Girl Gone Wild," like she did with "Justify My Love" and "Erotica." Similarly, "Girl" has met censory with an 18 and older age stamp on Youtube.

While the album's production sounds good, most of the lyrics seem forced. Madonna set out to make an album, and that's what she did--she made an album, when she needed to create one. However, production all-around is nothing short than what she wanted--a full ride in the dance genre for a non-stop party, as she did with Confessions on a Dance Floor but without revealing lyrics and cohesive beats (without brilliance, basically). An issue with the album is that there are little standouts for single releases. The track that comes closest is "I'm Addicted," which, besides the lyrics, sounds very close to Pet Shop Boys cuts. A potential promo release for club play is "Gang Bang," which sounds darkly fantasy-filled enough for Gaga, screwball co-writer Mika, or a metal arrangement. It isn't until near the end of the album that lyrics start to take meaning, on the tracks she collaborated with William Orbit, who brought introspection out of Madonna in 1998's Ray of Light. "I'm a Sinner" even rings a sound similar to the Orbit/Madonna collaboration "Beautiful Stranger."

MDNA is good but not great as it could have been. It contains tracks that people will want to hear again but that won't stick with them. I give it three-and-a-half stars out of five.

Adventure #11: My art IS me

2012-02-23T17:50:00.001-07:00

This post is about how well I know myself even if I don't know it. So, as the incredible and nearly toothless Snoop Dogg once said in a hot girl song:

"Let's take a journey."

It's been told to me before, and it was reiterated a few nights ago when I watched Never Been Kissed for the first time: "To write well, you have to write what you know." And, this applies to every form of art. For the most part, I do this with my creative projects, and for the most part, I never recognize I'm doing it until after the project is done. I don't know, exactly, if I can claim writing "well," but I sure do write about what I know.

"To write well, write what you know"

Let's start with my most recent project, which is what actually brought this junk to mind. For my creative writing class, I wrote a short story that I grabbed out of the air while we were given time in class to brainstorm quietly. Within two days, I knew the direction of the story, that a gentleman who wants a family discovers a strange creature in his plant shop and this creature fills his desire for a family. It took a few writing sessions, three of which I spent crying heavily (and I mean, BAWLING; there was no stopping the tears; they just kept coming and coming without effort, and I was heave breathing, feeling agony within), because I felt so emotionally connected to what the characters were going through. So, I wrote what I was feeling at the moment and tagged that the characters were doing it. I didn't quit feeling so emotionally overwhelmed until I wrote the characters out of that situation, and then I wrote how the characters(/I) felt in the calming period after a strong emotion (so, now if you ever read Twizzle, you'll know every emotion I felt (even the smiles) at the very moment I wrote it; that may be a nice (or torturous, if you're my mother) visual to play with as you read).

So, what does this mean? I wrote what I knew. And, what I presently know is loneliness. For me, that is what the story is about. This loneliness hasn't been a great secret to me, though I've tried to ignore it. It's mostly come up since I moved out of my sister's house last April and closer to my college campus, due to early classes and rehearsals that run late. It has seemed best to have a home to go to in the middle of the day than to be away from home for 14-16 hours everyday (my sister lived a forty minute drive from campus but is now moving near my parents, a two and a half hour drive from campus).

Perhaps, this is also why my baby hunger has increased a lot. If I can't have people readily to be with me, why not make people who will readily want to be with me? I'm used to creating things. Why not people? (I wouldn't exactly say that is especially a great idea, though)

This isn't to say that I don't have friends and don't talk to people. I appreciate those I have, but I've always lived with my family, where there has always been someone to talk openly with and with whom, I feel, I can receive an unbiased opinion about things or can get feedback that is not strongly judgmental or saving face to manipulate me. Now, I'm around other students who have their own agenda, when I've been used to having someone who will make time to talk to me, even if slightly inconvenient for them (gosh, I sound like such a little prince). There is a kind honesty (even if it's not pleasant to hear, it's necessary but done with kindness) among much of my family and I trust them.

So, wah wah! I don't have them right here. ANYWAY, this happens all the time when I write poems and songs. Sometimes, I have NO IDEA what I wrote means! Then, about 1-3 months later I look back over it and have an "ah-hah!" moment and realize I wrote exactly what I was feeling at the time I wrote it.

During my 20th year of life, I wrote a novel. It took me August to August (to figure it out and) to write it, and about 6 months later, I saw that I accidentally wrote a story that reflects that 20th year.

In my acting, I draw from myself and people and common behaviors I have observed or understand(/researched). When I'm doing crappy work, I'm not drawing from anything, because, for whatever reason, I forget to draw from inspiration or don't know (yet) what to use for inspiration. I am not "writing" what I know.

And lastly, I have been writing a bunch of silly sketches, some of which have been put on Youtube. The one that stands out in my mind is Einstein Home School College. I wrote a promo for it, and the lead in that has been kind enough to improv her way through two more videos of random interviews with the same spirit of this College I created. I have also written episodes of events that happen at this place. Basically, the gist is incompetent people acting like they know what they're doing. So, pretty much, I wrote about how I often feel. However, often when characters recognizes this cycle, then that is a drama. But, when they are clueless to their incompetence, then it is a comedy, as the scripts for this College try to reflect this latter pattern. Overall, since I feel I go through both of these patterns, and since drama and comedy are both part of life, I can say that I have experienced a whole life (Thanks, Mom; you did well, after all).

So, pretty much, I write what I know. And even if I have not experienced something firsthand, I write what I understand, and it still comes from a place within me, even if I don't readily recognize it. Then, my art is me.

How is your art you?

Adventure #10: Hey, There, "Friend." What's the Definition of a Friend?

2011-11-15T15:18:00.000-07:00

This may be silly or not, but something that's always bothered me is when someone addresses me as "friend"—not as calling me their friend, but giving me the title or greeting of merely "friend:" i.e. "Hey, there, friend," "How's it going, friend?" "Friend, here, will tell us," etc. I feel honored that anyone would call me their friend. I welcome all. What flips me wrong about this form of greeting, though, is that I feel like I'm being classified amongst other "friends," that I am among a collection (of objects), or that I am recognized as being their friend but they do not support it well enough to see ME, my individuality—that is the biggest reason. I am not completely certain that these are the reasons people fly this term about. For some, this may be it. For others, they may find it endearing to call others this, perhaps saving it for select people. Anyone in the habit of using it has their own reason. Personally, I often feel slapped with a number, being seen among a crowd or given a label and not prized for myself. Much of my feelings, though, may be based on how genuine or ingenuine (not an actual word but whatever) the term is used. For example, when someone addresses a group of people I am in as "friends," as in, "Friends, I'm having trouble" or "I hope this helps you, friends," in my experience, they are usually endearing with the term, and it reads kindly to me.

As I've reflected on this, I've wondered what people consider ranks a friend. For me, I feel I've had lots of friends. I've thought anyone who has been nice and friendly with me as a friend, and I would do what they ask of me within my moral code. I have been open to anyone who has wanted to be my friend and at times, though I did not initially feel an interest in getting to know someone, have opened up and made effort to reach out to those who showed (even shy) interest to be my friend. The idea of a friend is very fickle in my mind, as I have had little to define as a friend. Everyone is available, I feel. Why shouldn't I be open to anyone?

This can be hurtful, though, when I've grown to love someone and want to be there for them, but I know that they are only self-interested and their interest in me is for a purpose of perceived temporary self-gain—that I am disposable and only a step stool. When I am aware of this, I try to know my limits and not be taken advantage of or played. In this case, I understand where there is a definition of friend—that their actions are not of a true friend.

Still, I continue to be confused when I am having a good time with someone, and they happily state, "Let's be friends" or "Why aren't we friends?" I am always taken aback by this and know not how to answer. In my mind, we already were friends. If you are pleasant towards me, I am your friend.

Grammy Nomination Picks 2012

2011-11-14T17:15:00.002-07:00

This coming Grammy nominations will be announced November 30th, so for fun, I put together my own tentative picks for the coming Grammy nominations. Many categories have been restructured this year through combination or cutting. Distinction between sexes in performances have been combined to solo performances, and designation between duo/group performances and collaboration performances have been combined into one category per genre. This will cut the 109 categories to 78 categories.

NOTE: I am not a member of the Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences and this list is in no way OFFICIAL or reflective of their attitudes. Typically, there are five nominations spots in each category, but I've left some blank. Nomination eligibility period was September 1, 2010 to September 30, 2011.

NOVEMBER 30TH UPDATE: My picks and the actually nominees are about as accurate as my last year's picks: some accurate; some right artist, wrong song; some right album, wrong category; etc.

Album of the Year:

21, Adele

Born This Way, Lady Gaga

Duets II, Tony Bennett and various

Record of the Year:

"E.T.," Katy Perry ft. Kanye West

"Judas," Lady Gaga

"Party Rock Anthem," LMFAO

"Rolling in the Deep," Adele

Song of the Year:

"Firework," Katy Perry; Written by Katy Perry, Mikkel S. Eriksen, Tor Erik Hermansen, Sandy Wilhelm, and Ester Dean

"Born This Way," Lady Gaga; Written by Stefani Germanotta Jeppe Laursen, Paul Blair, and Fernando Garibay

"Rolling in the Deep," Adele; Written by Adele and Paul Epworth

"Moves Like Jagger," Maroon 5 ft. Christina Aguilera; Written by Adam Levine, Benny Blanco, Ammar Malik, and Shellback

Best New Artist:

Nicki Minaj

Jackie Evancho

The Band Perry

Best Pop Solo Performance:

"Firework," Katy Perry

"Edge of Glory," Lady Gaga

"Rolling in the Deep," Adele

"Grenade," Bruno Mars

Best Pop Duo/Group Performance:

"Moves Like Jagger," Maroon 5 ft. Christina Aguilera

"The Lady is a Tramp," Tony Bennett ft. Lady Gaga

"Body and Soul," Tony Bennett ft. Amy Winehouse

"E.T." Katy Perry ft. Kanye West

Best Pop Vocal Album:

Born This Way, Lady Gaga

Loud, Rihanna

The Beginning, The Black Eyed Peas

Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album:

Duets II, Tony Bennett and various

21, Adele

The Gift, Susan Boyle

Best Contemporary R&B Album:

Pink Friday, Nick Minaj

4, Beyoncé

Best R&B Performance:

"California King Bed," Rihanna

"What's My Name," Rihanna ft. Drake

Best Rap Performance:

"Super Bass," Nicki Minaj

"How to Love," Lil Wayne

Best Rap/Sung Collaboration:

"Mirror," Lil Wayne ft. Bruno Mars

"Niggas in Paris," Jay-Z and Kanye West

Best Rap Album:

Tha Carter IV, Lil Wayne

F.A.M.E., Chris Brown

Watch the Throne, Jay-Z and Kanye West

Best Dance Recording:

"Put Your Hands Up (If You Feel Love)," Kylie Minogue

"(Tonight) I'm Loving You," Enrique Iglesias ft. Ludacris and DJ Frank E

"Call Your Girlfriend," Robyn

"Til the World Ends," Britney Spears

"Judas," Lady Gaga

"The Time (Dirty Bit)", The Black Eyed Peas

Best Dance/Electronica Album:

Femme Fatale, Britney Spears

Body Talk, Robyn

Nothing But the Beat, David Guetta

Sorry for Party Rocking, LMFAO

Best Country Solo Performance:

"Mean," Taylor Swift

"Dirt Road Anthem," Jason Aldean

Best Country Duo/Group with Performance:

"If I Die Young," The Band Perry

"Don't You Wanna Stay," Jason Aldean ft. Kelly Clarkson

Best Country Song:

"Today is Your Day," Shania Twain; Written by Shania Twain

Best Country Album:

Speak Now, Taylor Swift

Chief, Eric Church

The Band Perry, The Band Perry

My Kinda Party, Jason Aldean

Best Music Video, Short Form:

"E.T." Katy Perry ft. Kanye West

"Born This Way," Lady Gaga

"Rolling in the Deep," Adele

"The Time (Dirty Bit)," The Black Eyed Peas

Best Musical Theater Album:

The Book of Mormon

Sister Act

Adventure #9: Decision vs. Circumstance (or Control vs. Chaos)

2011-11-03T18:29:00.000-06:00

Recently, a friend of mine said that a particular experience she had the previous night led her to decide that she really liked a boy--enough that she would love to date him. He was the top of her list. I found this odd that she would say that she has "decided" to like him.

Looking over the people I have had romantic yearnings for or have gained particular interest for, never would I say that I decided to be interested in them in that way. There was a point of recognition for all of them. There came a time when I was considering our relationship or them that I realized I had grown fond of them. Often, even, especially in the case of romantics, I have to slap myself and work at bringing myself to not like them due to circumstance of their relationship status, my perception of their interest in me, or other occasions.

I felt I did not understand my friend's pattern of romantic feelings, but I considered again, wondering if she was describing the same process I perceive for myself but in different terms. Perhaps, the only difference between us was attitude. I passively allow myself to be victim of circumstance, while she decides to have control. Or, perhaps, we desire different perceptions from others, that I don't care to be seen as passive, but she desires to be seen as one that takes control of things around her. Either way, her method seems to reign deliberation, while mine appears more chaotic.

Blog Status

2011-10-31T10:42:00.001-06:00

I know I have not written in a long while--6 months to be exact. I have been continuously busy. In fact, my break for the summer without significant responsibility consisted of 3 days--a short time for an unemployed college student. It's been a busy summer!

BUT, this blog has still been kept alive with lots of views, despite the lack of activity from me. It has received 78 views this month, which to me, seems like quite a bit for a nonpopular blog that hasn't received a new post for half a year. So, thank you--to all the people looking at this that I know and all those viewing randomly. All are welcome!

ALSO, One of my projects lately has been writing for, acting in, and co-producing/-directing a new sketch comedy group, Popsicle Stick Six Gun. We have several sketches we plan on producing and posting on Youtube. This is the first of the installments (WATCH IT NOW!):

Adventure #8: Nothin' But Nettie

2011-04-30T17:26:00.002-06:00

Story time! About a very special someone! (Not my "special someone," but someone I really love and admire)

My friend Jeannette and I met in a beginning acting class at BYU. We had one of those relationship (that I have often) when I would quietly talk and joke with her, but she ended up being the one that got caught talking. Sometimes she was reprimanded for distracting me from what was happening in class.

This semester, Jeannette took a break from school to nanny in Texas and has even blogged about her nannying experiences. I've missed her a lot and have been meaning to write this post for several months now. I dedicate it to her! Here's to Jeannette and our adventures!

In January 2010, we attended a BYU stage production of They Shoot Horses, Don't They? Afterward, we ate Teriyaki Stix for dinner. She was hesitant but ordered some bowl with fried rice. After two bites, she was sick of it, so I tasted it and found that it tasted like barf. DISGUSTING! So, we threw it away.

Anyway, it was at this meal that we decided we should take another class together and decided we'd take a Doctrine & Covenants (LDS scripture and church history) class. MISTAKE! We took it from a professor whose name we could never pronounce, spelled something like: Schaalje. It was at 10 in the morning. Jeannette only woke up early enough to come to one class meeting, and I kept being late, causing me to miss several quizzes and forget to make sure I signed the roll. Regardless of her attendance history, Jeannette scored higher than me on our first exam, which she also failed...there shan't be more comparison of our scores.

Pregnant Penelope and baby

Also, the other class members were fairly odd, it seems. They had a habit of staring at me. NO JOKE. For instance, one day (that I came late) I took a seat in the front right corner. After progression in the lesson, someone from the front left corner was commenting, so I turned to listen to her. She talked a long time, and I grew tired of looking that direction, so I turned to glance at the back left corner of the room and found about half of my classmates staring at me. Half of the stare-ers corrected themselves and turned away, uneasily, while the other half persisted staring. This was very uncomfortable for me, so I turned to the front of the room to face a blank white board...It was very awkward...There were other similar instances, but soon after our exam failure, Jeannette and I formally Withdrew from the class.

Among other fantastical happenings of that semester were randomly befriending Garrett, a Tuesday night security guard for BYU's fine arts center, and Jeannette's pregnant balloon poodle, Penelope; on a random night, I made the impromptu decision to join her at a BYU dance but was denied entrance, because I was wearing jeans, instead of slacks.

One last highlight of visiting Jeannette was last Fall semester. She had recently moved, so she gave me the numbers to her new address but didn't distinguish the direction of north/south/west/east. I found Mountain View Apartments, which was somewhat in a seeming vicinity of what she told me, so I called her, waking her.

"Hey, I'm at Mountain View Apartments. Is this where you're at? Which one is yours?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, I think that's it," she replied. "I live across the street from there."

I looked across the street to find Wasatch Mental Health.

"I'm pretty sure you don't live across the street," I laughed, "Unless there's something you haven't told me...Is it alright for me to come over? How long are your visiting hours?...What is your real address?"

Eventually, I found my way over to her apartment building and approached the apartment that was hers. I rang the doorbell. The lights were off inside, and I waited. No one came. I knocked and rang the doorbell more to no answer. I called her, again.

"I'm here," I told her.

"'Kay. Come in."

I tried the door. "I can't. The door is locked."

"Um, it shouldn't be."

"Well, it is."

"Did you ring the doorbell?" she inquired.

"Yeah," I replied.

"I didn't hear it. I don't even see you out my window. Where are you?"

"I'm at the place you told me. I'm ringing the doorbell." I obnoxiously repeatedly pushed the doorbell. "It's ringing. I can hear it."

I heard the door to the apartment next to me open and looked up to see Jeannette standing in its doorway. She didn't say anything but shot me a sassy smile. I walked down and joined her in her apartment.

We played a game of Battle of the Sexes, which I won (Go Men!), and had a lot of fun. On my way home, the windows of my car were rolled down, and I had Madonna's "Give It 2 Me" blasting while I was singing, cruising down Center Street in Provo. I stopped at a light just in time to scream, "GIVE IT TO ME!" and to catch the attention of people on the sidewalk...

These are just a few of my memories with Jeannette, but whenever I am with her, we have so much fun! She is very much like Glozell from Youtube, if you are at all familiar with Glozell. Everything she does is so entertaining. She is someone I can always depend on for a good time and who I can trust will be respectful in personal conversation. I am excited for her to come back to Provo next month and look forward to great more fun with my friend!

Adventure #7: Notes on My Study on People's Interests

2011-03-11T12:55:00.005-07:00


Kylie Minogue

I have outlined an analysis of my experience with my interests and wonder if I am accurate in what I have come up with. I have not fully developed my ideas, so, please, feel free to tell me what you may think, whether I am headed in a profitable direction or you think I am on crack. All of this is my own ideas, so also, if you've heard some other studies or things like this, I'd be interested in knowing. Or, perhaps, you think this is all crap and goes without saying. Much of my intrigue with this topic stems from my work in acting. It would make sense to me that much could be figured about a character by looking at their interests, if given in the script.

A few months ago, I wrote an extensive paper on Kylie Minogue's song "All the Lovers," in which I analyzed the general message of her music (that paper can be found here). In my argument that she explored themes of love and vulnerability, I could not help but see deeper similarities between her and myself as I perused over her music in search of the themes she conveys. I saw that I valued many of the messages often presented in her music. Previously, I had been liking her music, but never had I explored why I may be drawn to it in the extent that I have. This led me to look at my other favorite music artists, like Shania Twain and The Corrs, and explore their common themes. At this time of analysis, I was exploring the music of Daniel Bedingfield and found a commonality with him, too. Of these artists--Minogue, Twain, Corrs, and Bedingfield--I found that all were sensual/sensuous persons with sultry vocals and hopeless romantic personalities undertoned with cheeky sass. They all (with possible exception of Bedingfield; I'm not sure) have been known as classy figures associated with elegance. Also, every diehard Corrs fan I have met is a fun-loving, loyal, gentle, and soft-spoken romantic. From the interviews I have seen of the four sibling Corrs, I sense that each one matches this definition, as well.

The Corrs

Feeling I matched these descriptions ("sultry vocals," perhaps, is debatable), I concluded that our interests are means of validating perceptions of ourselves and what we desire to become. In a sense (this is probably my weakest, least informed point), my argument is that our natural interests are reflective of Sigmund Freud's concept of the id--that is, unfiltered, natural desire--and ego--the realistic reasoning side of a person.

Perhaps, the need for deep-rooted interests with emotional connection comes from the superego's correction of the id (superego does this so we behave in a manner befitting society). Because of the actions of the superego, the ego can become confused. This is where interests come into play. When the ego is needing validation in balancing the id and superego, it turns to interests. In such, it finds safety and security in things that satisfy id while accomplishing superego.

Recently, in a class discussing the Doctrine and Covenants (some of the modern scriptures from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) in which I am enrolled, we discussed the 88th Section, verse 40, which reads, "For intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light; mercy hath compassion on mercy and claimeth her own; justice continueth its course and claimeth its own." Basically, everything is attracted to its own; everyone is attracted to those like them. This makes total sense that people would be attracted to things that are like them. Their interests are reflective of who they perceive themselves to be or what they want to be. Interests give identity. They assure us of who we are. More can be said of us by our interests than we give credit for. SO MUCH of how we use interests as a means of identity goes unnoticed and is subconscious, just as how Minogue's music appealed to me, yet I did not fully seek to answer why. Further, it wasn't until after I had carefully selected and included these pictures of Minogue, The Corrs, and Twain in this blog post that I realized a similar theme of light in all of them. I'm sure something can be said about that. The purpose I find in exploring our interests and attractions is to discover what roles those interests play in developing our identities.

An example may be those who are interested in the hobby of hunting. It seems reasonable to say those individuals desire to be providers. They believe themselves to be providers, or they desire to someday become providers, and bringing home a kill expresses and re-establishes that desire and identity for them. (Of course, there are also other identity establishments that can draw people to hunting.)


Shania Twain

Our (desired) identity certainly says something for the people we desire as friends and with whom we attempt to reach out to, as well as whom we choose as a mate. Those in positions of popular desire, whether based on wealth, celebrity, talent, physical appearance, or whatever else, are commonly bombarded with social opportunities and interactions, because people's interests in them are driven by the desire to see those qualities in themselves. Someone's interest in a person could also be driven by the perceived identity that person gives them, whether by association with or by certain interactions received from that person. Also, just as my connection and interest with The Corrs and others celebrity artists, every person idolizes their own A-listers based on qualities they see in themselves or qualities they wish to see. It seems safe to say that one recognizes, even subconsciously, a certain likeness with or is fondly reminded of someone else like their favorite celebrities, actors, writers, fictional characters, etc.

Family is an essential part of one's identity. Our interest in them, then, is to validate and design our perceived identity. From an early age, our family unit, no matter how formed, trains and shapes the identity we take. If among our biological family, this is especially key, as we see similarities in how we look and how we behave temperamentally. Children, especially, are in the stage of developing an identity and often turn to their parents for guidance through the means of mimicry. Commonly, one of the parents is chosen by the child, more prevalently than the other, and as the child gets older, they speak most often about the parent they are most like. After all, this parent is of most interest to them, as they have established the earliest forms of their identity around this parent. To speak of them gives validity to oneself. However, these interests are among all family relationships, whether it be parent to child, sibling to sibling, aunt to nephew, or any other relationship. Seeing these similarities drive our interests to associate with them and, in turn, love and be loved by them. They form a facet of our identity, which interests us to seek validity of that identity from them and in them.

At times, family interest for someone may be minimal, because of a distracting interest in work or something else. They are seeking validity in an identity in something that their family does not offer. Some, though, do have interest in family life, but the identity they receive from their given family is not what they desire, so they turn to alternate means of identity.

People can only connect to and understand art (movies, TV shows, books/novels, paintings, sculptures, music/songs, architecture, etc.) on their own level of what speaks to them--them being made up of their own experience and personality. All that we know in life is our own experience (even if you witness or learn of someone else's experience, you are still in your experience when you see or learn it, and you process it according to yourself). Art is reflective of the human experience, often specifically to the creating artist's experience. It makes sense, then, to go about reading a work of art through one's own lens. We can only go through and process art from what we already know and understand, what we identify with and recognize in the world around us or in ourselves. In this way, we connect with art by understanding and identifying with it, even abstractly or if it is only to say, "Yes, I know that. I have been there. I understand it. I adopt that idea. It is a part of me." We gain preference for artworks and use that interest in them to validate our identity.

The role of religion in one's interests is another key part of one's identity, as they seek to answer the questions of their origins and creation--where did I come from--where am I going--what am I doing here (*ahem, while sober; not because of intoxication)? Some do find what they believe to be answers but do not highlight religion in their life, because they fill their life with finding validity in identity through alternate means. Others cleave unto their religion to re-enforce that identity they found. Our interests, too, come into play when we choose which religious establishment to identify with. Few do not find interest in the questions of origin, because they seek fulfillment of identity in other fields. MUCH MORE can be said about religion in this topic...but I haven't figured how it fits yet...and what else I have figured, I can't seem to find the words to explain what I understand.

The concept of personality types, or common combinations of emotional, attitudinal, and behavioral response patterns, is backed by association of interests. It would only make sense that those of similar tendencies would be drawn to each other, to similar careers, and to similar hobbies, as they share similar senses of identity and similar needs for validation.

Our interests change as we age, because our sense of identity changes over time, as well.

It seems fair to say that disinterest or lack of interest occurs when we perceive that the interest does not validate our identity or what we desire to perceive ourselves as. We do not connect with it, or else, we do connect but desire not to.

Depression seems to be the state in which one lacks interests and, consequently, lacks a sense of validity in their identity, or vice versa. Further, when someone's interests are not being recognized or accepted, depression can also result because of the same lack of validity.

There is so much more that goes along with this topic, that our interests validate our identity, but these are the basic things I have so far. It seems that it would be beneficial for people to look over their interests and discover what they are gaining by having these interests and why they have them.

What do your interests say about you?

Adventure #6: Keepin' It Real

2011-03-01T17:46:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, I had a callback for a play and had some auditions for some student films, so, naturally, I was pretty stressed that day, which can be exhausting, especially since I was already tired from lack of rest. In the evening, I walked to a car with two other boys and a girl in a parking garage underneath some apartments. I was the driver, so I headed to my designated location while the boy who was going to sit behind me asked, "What time is the movie?"

The boy on the other side of the car replied, "Seven-thirty."

The girl opened her door to the passenger seat and asked me a question regarding a friend. I fittingly replied and got in the car, placing the key into the ignition.

Before I could fasten my seat belt, our attentions were called out of the car, so we all exited. When the matter was settled, we headed back to loading the car. These kinds of distractions were expected, but my exhaustion had been creeping up on me. As we headed to the car, the boy behind me asked, again, "What time is the movie?"

I waited for someone to respond but grew impatient and turned to speak directly to him, answering, "Seven-thirty," maintaining composure, though in my mind, I irritatedly thought, "You just asked that, you idiot!"

The girl opened her door and asked me her same question regarding our friend. I expected this from her and just answered as I had before. I sat in my seat, but before I could insert the keys into the ignition, I heard a voice outside the car shout, "Cut!" It was then I remembered I was in a film......

I had forgotten and wasn't focused, hence my agitation at the repetition of the actually unscripted question regarding the movie. Consequently, I forgot to speak up so the boom could catch my reply, and I also directed my answer directly to the asker, who was in a different direction than the boom.

So, here's to keepin' it real and failing to keep a balance between reality and imagination.

The Corrs' Borrowed Heaven review

2011-02-17T21:03:00.002-07:00

Last semester, my last assignment for my Advanced Writing course was to write an Art Review, so I wrote a review on one of my favorite music albums, Borrowed Heaven by The Corrs, my favorite group. I've been asked to post it by several people, mostly fellow fans:

Nearly four years after the release of their last studio album, the very poppy In Blue (whose quality was recognized with Grammy nominations in 2001 for Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals for “Breathless” and Best Pop Instrumental Performance for “Rebel Heart”), Irish sibling group The Corrs, known for striking good looks and incredible talent to match, returned to their original Celtic folk sound with the release of their fourth studio effort Borrowed Heaven in May 2004. The album showcases The Corrs in what they do best—catchy mainstream pop that is top notch—and as a concept album, it sticks to the experience of loss and coping—realizing life is a borrowed heaven.

With ex-Eurythmics drummer Olle Romo at the production helm, the album maintains a consensual pop appeal through its near electronica, over-produced tracks in the most airy fashion ever to come from Corr-land. Lead singer Andrea has been known for her sultry, light vocals, but this collection of tunes, despite being their most intimate projection, presents the feel of something you would listen to while drying off in the Sun, after you had just run through the sprinkler as you listened to their other works, save Talk on Corners (being a wine-and-dine ambient). Borrowed Heaven’s sound still works splendidly for The Corrs, although it completely avoids any punk or hip hop influences rampaging U.K. radio of the time, as seen from artists like Avril Lavigne and Destiny’s Child. However, the album is nothing to shy away from.

Borrowed Heaven takes you on a journey through the feel of its sound and lyrically explores handling loss. It begins with the bright and upbeat lead single “Summer Sunshine” (ironically bonded to dark lyrics) and the celebratory second single “Angel.” The mood shifts with the more sober “Hideaway” and continues its sullen mood until picked back up with the funky “Humdrum.” It continues its ascension till the instrumental closer “Silver Strand” travels to a point of transcendence.

Likely, this journey is reflective of their own experience with their late mother’s passing during the production of In Blue. In fact, two of the tracks overtly address the issue, picking up where they left off with In Blue’s “No More Cry,” which they wrote to help their father cope. “Angel” is a conversation of the afterlife with the late Jean Corr, confessing, “I hope they love you like we do/ Forever angel/ I’ll be proud to be like you.” The song is touching and would seemingly become a new regular at funerals were it not so fast-paced and cheerful. It is a celebration of life, a celebration of a person, an angel. The other song is “Goodbye,” whose lyrics, written by oldest sister and violinist Sharon, are a direct response to a loved one’s passing. Borrowed Heaven and In Blue are dedicated to Jean Corr.

Besides their covers, The Corrs typically write their songs together, but for this release Sharon lends her songwriting abilities to two other songs, the inspirational “Hideaway” and the agonizing break-up and third single “Long Night.” The group also covers the Golden Globe nominated song “Time Enough for Tears,” written by Bono, Gavin Friday, and Maurice Seezer and featured in the 2002 film In America with Andrea’s vocals. Borrowed Heaven’s version offers a bluesy feel, while the soundtrack arrangement shares an orchestral sound.

Overall, Borrowed Heaven steers from predominately addressing ideas of love and romance and focuses on intimate reflection, except for heartbreaks “Summer Sunshine” and “Long Night,” mundane-everyday-life praising “Humdrum,” and frothy-sweet “Even If.” The title track, featuring Ladysmith Black Mambazo as backing vocalists, explores the lack of possession in life and how everything passes and is therefore borrowed. “Confidence for Quiet” acknowledges one’s own responsibility for validation, while “Baby Be Brave” uses a D minor key to emphasize the dire feelings of addressing a loved one losing themself to self-doubt.

The only complaint about the album is a dropped note performed by Andrea on her tin whistle during “Silver Strand.” This happens at the end of both verses and sounds like she is simply failing to give full breath support to the end of the note’s required measure. Besides this flub, the track is gorgeous and a heavenly listen.

Borrowed Heaven is a golden find for anyone who loves their pop pure and unadulterated. It molds its concept well and is a great presentation of sympathy and healing for those suffering loss, even loss of self.

*My original version included this inserted as the seventh paragraph (third to last), but because its inclusion made the paper exceed the maximum word count by A LOT, I had to cut it down to a phrase in the final version:

The last vocal track of the album, “Baby Be Brave,” is a gem with its superb electronic production of beeps and riffs guaranteed to satisfyingly melt in the ear of anyone craving an electronica savor. The electronic effects aid the song’s D minor key in its effort to sound dire and almost demonic, driven by hard-pressed, determined beats. The empathetic lyrics address someone who throws series of pity parties in a witty, understanding, and caring manner (“Yeah everyone knows but we don’t believe it/ The pain of a pop star you’re breaking my heart/ […] I know what you’re doing ‘cause/ […] I’ve been tempted, you are/ Drowning the special to/ Immortalize the rise/ And what’s the point of it all/ Baby be brave […]/ (Confide in me, tell your story)/ […] (It’s your fear that makes you worthy)”).