Oh, faith. Good, old fashioned faith. It sure is fun, faith. Isn't it? When people think of faith, they think of religion! When I think of religion, I think of NO!
But that's just one teenager's highly pretentious opinion!
That's not only what faith designates, though. For instance: I have faith that I am not going to die tomorrow. Is it possible I will? Sure! But my faith helps me get through the day without wearing a full suit of armor and carrying a sword around in case any dragons attack (they're known to attack men in suits of armor--look it up).
I have faith that I'll finally be done with this school and Springfield soon enough, but that's what we like to call stupid faith.
I imagine that when people think of religion and me, though, they don't have the best view... Hey, it makes sense. I'm an atheist. I don't believe in a god, so therefore I don't have faith in any one religion. Some would argue that it takes faith to believe that there is no god... But it's not a belief that there is no god, it's the lack of a belief... And it doesn't take faith to know something. If you cut yourself on the finger with a very sharp knife, you don't have to have faith that it's going to hurt, you just know that the second it hits the skin, you'll be wincing. I don't have faith in gravity, gravity is there! It's going to pull my face to the ground when I do a dive from my roof to the hard concrete of my driveway!
I mean, you don't need faith to follow facts... I guess some people would argue they don't need faith to believe in a god, and that's crazy talk, right there. You need faith to believe in something that has no evidence pointing towards it, whatsoever. Just knowing would be the equivalent of me "just knowing" that the sky is blue. Except I can see the sky and that it has a distinct quality of being a very blue color. You don't see god or its distinct omnipotent quality.
I'm sorry for being offensive, if I was! I don't care what you believe! I'm just stating what I do! Or my lack of beliefs...
Monday, May 10, 2010
Spring Break
Spring Break was all right. Actually, it was boring. Very boring. If I recall, at least.
here,
Was it? What did I do... I think I stayed home all the time and played games and sat on the internet. Did I develop pictures? Oh, I think I made a movie! I think... I think I did! Yeah, I did. That was cool. I made Unlucky, and that won me an award, so that's cool. I think I also developed pictures, too. I'm not sure, though. Still, I love developing! It's so rewarding to be in a darkroom and not staring at a screen, photoshopping every single aspect of a picture. If a picture is good, it's good! No need to Photoshop.
I digress, though. I also... Played games? I think so. But I really didn't do much. I hung out with my girlfriend and didn't hang out with any friends because I don't really have any. Okay, I do, and I did, but I like pity. I made a movie with friends! So that's a contradiction right there, isn't it? Yeah, it is.
Overall, my Spring Break was only worth it for just not going to school. It's not like I ever do anything overly exciting other than whatever you can in Springfield. It's a boring town with boring people and you've got to make what you can out of it. I have fun doing what I do, though, so it's not like it's depressing or anything. Still, I'd like to go somewhere that's not Springfield...
here,
Was it? What did I do... I think I stayed home all the time and played games and sat on the internet. Did I develop pictures? Oh, I think I made a movie! I think... I think I did! Yeah, I did. That was cool. I made Unlucky, and that won me an award, so that's cool. I think I also developed pictures, too. I'm not sure, though. Still, I love developing! It's so rewarding to be in a darkroom and not staring at a screen, photoshopping every single aspect of a picture. If a picture is good, it's good! No need to Photoshop.
I digress, though. I also... Played games? I think so. But I really didn't do much. I hung out with my girlfriend and didn't hang out with any friends because I don't really have any. Okay, I do, and I did, but I like pity. I made a movie with friends! So that's a contradiction right there, isn't it? Yeah, it is.
Overall, my Spring Break was only worth it for just not going to school. It's not like I ever do anything overly exciting other than whatever you can in Springfield. It's a boring town with boring people and you've got to make what you can out of it. I have fun doing what I do, though, so it's not like it's depressing or anything. Still, I'd like to go somewhere that's not Springfield...
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Unlucky - 48 Hour Film Project
Hey, guys! Since I know so many people read this blog, I just thought I'd plug my short film that I made for the University of Illinois' 48 Hour Film Contest. The film follows Gareth Davis (Dylan Robinson), a down-on-his-luck businessman that can't seem to get a break. In it, we had to include a reference to the film festival, as well as the phrase, "You're not supposed to be here!"
The film won the Audience Favorite award.
Unlucky from Drew Lang on Vimeo.
The film won the Audience Favorite award.
Unlucky from Drew Lang on Vimeo.
Job Shadowing
Isn't it nice when things go horribly, horribly wrong? Not at all, actually. Then again, things didn't really go horribly, horribly wrong for me. But ho-ho, boy, they sure were interesting. Let me take you through my time at Beatty Televisual:
Firstly, it consisted of me arriving at the place with 15 minutes to spare, and waiting around in my car for that time, reading Fight Club. When everyone finally got there, I was taken to meet Mr. Beatty, who is quite religious (we'll get to that later). After that, I was taken around some more to show me the equipment they have and all of that. Honestly, they don't do much video production... In fact, they don't do any at all. At most, they edit videos, but everything else is mainly business and film/tape conversion.
Soon enough, I was taken to Mrs. Beatty, who was bewildered that I was even there, and had no idea who I was or that I was scheduled to even job shadow that day. Go figure. Afterwards, I sat down with another dude that was quite cool and loose with his tongue (ie: bad language). I watched a video of a BBQ man trying to get into BBQ Pitmaster, or some other thing like that that I don't care about whatsoever, while the editor went on about how he liked bass music and was a game tester way back when.
Finally, I got to play around with a camera that seemed like the place didn't even need to have... Considering, like I said, they don't do any video production, which made it seem even more odd that they had a studio set up for video production. That they didn't use. And have barely ever used. Afterwards, Mr. Beatty told me that photography isn't an art, and asked me if I read. I said I'd like to read more, and he handed me a small book, telling me, "This is the most important thing you'll ever read." I look down, and THE NEW TESTAMENT is grinning up at me.
Either way, the dude that toured me talked about shooting for news and all the different occupations for video and how rewarding it is, and he was pretty cool about it. After that, I left.
Oh, also, they sell giant beanbag chairs and model trains for some reason.
Firstly, it consisted of me arriving at the place with 15 minutes to spare, and waiting around in my car for that time, reading Fight Club. When everyone finally got there, I was taken to meet Mr. Beatty, who is quite religious (we'll get to that later). After that, I was taken around some more to show me the equipment they have and all of that. Honestly, they don't do much video production... In fact, they don't do any at all. At most, they edit videos, but everything else is mainly business and film/tape conversion.
Soon enough, I was taken to Mrs. Beatty, who was bewildered that I was even there, and had no idea who I was or that I was scheduled to even job shadow that day. Go figure. Afterwards, I sat down with another dude that was quite cool and loose with his tongue (ie: bad language). I watched a video of a BBQ man trying to get into BBQ Pitmaster, or some other thing like that that I don't care about whatsoever, while the editor went on about how he liked bass music and was a game tester way back when.
Finally, I got to play around with a camera that seemed like the place didn't even need to have... Considering, like I said, they don't do any video production, which made it seem even more odd that they had a studio set up for video production. That they didn't use. And have barely ever used. Afterwards, Mr. Beatty told me that photography isn't an art, and asked me if I read. I said I'd like to read more, and he handed me a small book, telling me, "This is the most important thing you'll ever read." I look down, and THE NEW TESTAMENT is grinning up at me.
Either way, the dude that toured me talked about shooting for news and all the different occupations for video and how rewarding it is, and he was pretty cool about it. After that, I left.
Oh, also, they sell giant beanbag chairs and model trains for some reason.
American Literature Sites Project
Honestly, I don't quite get it... I mean, I understand it's a research project and all, but... Why don't we get to choose? Why does every group do the same exact person with the same exact information? Isn't that redundant? It's like saying, "Hey, guys, we're doing something different from another boring research paper! But to make up for the boring paper being gone, I'm going to cut off any ability to choose who you want to do and make the whole project meaningless!" I mean, I understand researching Emily Dickinson, but maybe, what, ten sites on the same person is a bit too much.
Hey, though, it was a lot easier than I thought. I was able to get my stuff done like that, and I sure didn't have to struggle much--well, not entirely. Either way, the only gripe I had is that it felt pointless. Why not give each group a list of who they want to do the site on, rather than just having each group do the same exact thing...? I chose Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. last year, and I was happy to be researching about him. Allowing the students to pick someone whom they have a general interest in really increased performance, I guarantee you that. Also, it helps if you pay us money to do it. That's my suggestion, mull over that for a while.
For next time, please let us choose. Well, no. I won't be here next time. But the next class will. Let them choose. And give us money.
Hey, though, it was a lot easier than I thought. I was able to get my stuff done like that, and I sure didn't have to struggle much--well, not entirely. Either way, the only gripe I had is that it felt pointless. Why not give each group a list of who they want to do the site on, rather than just having each group do the same exact thing...? I chose Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. last year, and I was happy to be researching about him. Allowing the students to pick someone whom they have a general interest in really increased performance, I guarantee you that. Also, it helps if you pay us money to do it. That's my suggestion, mull over that for a while.
For next time, please let us choose. Well, no. I won't be here next time. But the next class will. Let them choose. And give us money.
Favorite Car
I'll tell you my favorite car! I'll tell you it right now! I love Mini Coopers. There, I said it. They're pretty awesome cars, and I don't care what you think! They're small, but they pack a punch; and even then, I don't care how fast or whatever they are, they're just cool. Only thing I don't like is the lack of space. I like space in cars. Not too much space, mind you, but enough trunk room and such. Plus they get good miles to the gallon, so there's that. Also, I like my Honda Civic...
Yeah, so it's just cool. The inside is classy, the outside is awesome, and the speedy is zoom-zoomy. I made that joke, yes. Also, I'll admit it: They're cute. Yeah, that's right. I'm sorry, but I have to say things that go outside the norm. NO! it's not the girly cute that the Volkswagen Beetle is, it's the manly cute that a manly man can say is cute without losing any bit of his masculinity or chest hair. Also, a beard.
Indeed, the car is like the little guy that sits in a corner that no one knows or likes, but then it's so manly it can't care whatsoever about what other idiot cars think about it. Besides, who even likes the new Mustangs? People that drive those are almost always visor-wearing, Monster-drinking, popped collar-wearing dudes, anyways! And don't get me started on Toyota and their little car accelerator killing people thing. Mini does it right.
Yeah, so it's just cool. The inside is classy, the outside is awesome, and the speedy is zoom-zoomy. I made that joke, yes. Also, I'll admit it: They're cute. Yeah, that's right. I'm sorry, but I have to say things that go outside the norm. NO! it's not the girly cute that the Volkswagen Beetle is, it's the manly cute that a manly man can say is cute without losing any bit of his masculinity or chest hair. Also, a beard.
Indeed, the car is like the little guy that sits in a corner that no one knows or likes, but then it's so manly it can't care whatsoever about what other idiot cars think about it. Besides, who even likes the new Mustangs? People that drive those are almost always visor-wearing, Monster-drinking, popped collar-wearing dudes, anyways! And don't get me started on Toyota and their little car accelerator killing people thing. Mini does it right.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Imagining an Animal!
Grass slowly flows beneath the scales of the snake as it slowly slithers across the field. Wind caresses the soft hills of the plane, leaving the grass to writhe in ecstatic joy as the snake tunnels through its ticklish embrace. Far away, a small flower watches the snake; it takes in the sun and the wind, exhaling a certain sigh of relief in its safe tree above the world of treacherous animals just waiting to eat from its delectable petals.
The snake recoils slightly and, stopping to view the surrounding terrain, continues on, watching carelessly, unafraid of danger in the slightest. A white noise hums from the earth itself; an engine idling, waiting, as if in standby between the days of its youth and its inevitable collapse into oblivion. It is a natural hum, created from the animals and bugs that once ruled the Earth, before the days of Man--the days of creation. Cicadas chirping and barking their calls to each other, crickets playing their songs for the Earth to hear, like deaf musicians playing their songs for their long dead lovers.
It rolls to a stop, looking out to where, atop a hill, the Earth is smothered; the grass lying in bliss under a blanket of two lovers lazing upon a quilted creation of origins unknown. The snake hesitates, but pushes on. The unknown is something to fear, but facing fear is easy enough when one cannot understand the meaning of cowardice. It nears the blanket, pausing slightly. Instruments of communication rise from the throats of the lovers as the snake finds its world enveloped in darkness. Red protrudes into the black, light is muffled beneath the sheathe on the earth; a different world unknown to the snake. The dark depths of its lair, pierced by the Sun's unforgiving glare onto the Earth, was a home to the snake. In this darkness, it was an alien.
Screams pierce the hum, the Earth is trampled beneath frightened skin. Bones crash and push away, perspiration bathes the grass, two figures grasp away and retreat to their own sides. Light pushes through, darkness falls back, the snake returns to the Earth.
Laughter breaks the hum, skin is alight with the sun. Far away, a flower sighs with relief.
The snake recoils slightly and, stopping to view the surrounding terrain, continues on, watching carelessly, unafraid of danger in the slightest. A white noise hums from the earth itself; an engine idling, waiting, as if in standby between the days of its youth and its inevitable collapse into oblivion. It is a natural hum, created from the animals and bugs that once ruled the Earth, before the days of Man--the days of creation. Cicadas chirping and barking their calls to each other, crickets playing their songs for the Earth to hear, like deaf musicians playing their songs for their long dead lovers.
It rolls to a stop, looking out to where, atop a hill, the Earth is smothered; the grass lying in bliss under a blanket of two lovers lazing upon a quilted creation of origins unknown. The snake hesitates, but pushes on. The unknown is something to fear, but facing fear is easy enough when one cannot understand the meaning of cowardice. It nears the blanket, pausing slightly. Instruments of communication rise from the throats of the lovers as the snake finds its world enveloped in darkness. Red protrudes into the black, light is muffled beneath the sheathe on the earth; a different world unknown to the snake. The dark depths of its lair, pierced by the Sun's unforgiving glare onto the Earth, was a home to the snake. In this darkness, it was an alien.
Screams pierce the hum, the Earth is trampled beneath frightened skin. Bones crash and push away, perspiration bathes the grass, two figures grasp away and retreat to their own sides. Light pushes through, darkness falls back, the snake returns to the Earth.
Laughter breaks the hum, skin is alight with the sun. Far away, a flower sighs with relief.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
2010 Olympics!
So, I didn't watch the 2010 Olympics. Other than that Georgian Luger dying, that's all I really saw of it. It's kind of a bummer. I enjoy the Olympics, but just the feeling of them. The atmosphere--even though I'm not there--sort of sets a tone for me that I can really appreciate. Maybe it was Canada that ruined it for me. Shows you what good Canadians are: No good, whatsoever, I tell you. Nothin' but hosers, eh?
Honestly, the most I can tell you about the 2010 Olympics is that Shaun White is a pretty cool dude. He was on The Colbert Report, which should have led to everyone seeing it, seeing as how Stephen Colbert is hilarious. I can also tell you that I absolutely did not like the logo for this year, which I just now discovered on Google Images. What a horrible design. What could we expect from Canada, though? I guess I can give them some props, though; they didn't just put a moose drinking maple syrup, which is quite overdone, in my honest opinion. Get some new ideas, Canada.
So America is apparently winning in medals, as of this moment. 37 over Germany, with 30. And Canada acts all smug with the most gold medals, 14. We get it, Canada, you like hockey! Go back to your bags of milk and silly hats.
Either way, we have Shaun White. And Aquaman.
Honestly, the most I can tell you about the 2010 Olympics is that Shaun White is a pretty cool dude. He was on The Colbert Report, which should have led to everyone seeing it, seeing as how Stephen Colbert is hilarious. I can also tell you that I absolutely did not like the logo for this year, which I just now discovered on Google Images. What a horrible design. What could we expect from Canada, though? I guess I can give them some props, though; they didn't just put a moose drinking maple syrup, which is quite overdone, in my honest opinion. Get some new ideas, Canada.
So America is apparently winning in medals, as of this moment. 37 over Germany, with 30. And Canada acts all smug with the most gold medals, 14. We get it, Canada, you like hockey! Go back to your bags of milk and silly hats.
Either way, we have Shaun White. And Aquaman.
Oh, Emily Dickinson and her Poems...
Oh, how poetry is hard to analyze... I'm sure if you've read my thing on Chanting the Square Deific, you already know about my opinions on poetry. They're mixed, to say the least. While it requires skill to write, I--oh, forget it. I need to stop digressing. It's annoying, sort of.
Either way, what was the poem? Something about being in grass. Oh, A Narrow Fellow in the Grass. There we go. Honestly, there couldn't be a worse poet for me to analyze. Of all the poets I need to read over, it has to be Emily Dickinson. I could actually appreciate some of Whitman's stuff, but this is just ridiculous. I know, I know, I'm probably just not looking into it enough and she's a genius or something, but still. Whitman's stuff is great because of the way he does it. Dickinson just isn't enjoyable to me at all...
I can appreciate some subtle nuances that Dickinson places throughout the poem, as well as her linguistic skills. She's very eloquent, I'll give her that, but otherwise I'm not sure. Her poems give off a rhythmic vibe, and yet when you speak with them, you're thrown off because of it. If I hear a rhythm, I demand to hear a rhyme! But then, that's not what poetry's all about, is it? It's all in the way it's written, what with its pentameters and all that. Bollocks, I say. That's right, bollocks.
Oh! I almost saw some Jesus reference, but that's probably my imagination. I look for Jesus too much in poems... But that's what so many are about! For some reason, it feels as if Dickinson is speaking of Jesus in different periods of his life, but who knows. Barefoot child, whip-lash; her breath gets tight when she meets him. Hey, who knows.
Either way, what was the poem? Something about being in grass. Oh, A Narrow Fellow in the Grass. There we go. Honestly, there couldn't be a worse poet for me to analyze. Of all the poets I need to read over, it has to be Emily Dickinson. I could actually appreciate some of Whitman's stuff, but this is just ridiculous. I know, I know, I'm probably just not looking into it enough and she's a genius or something, but still. Whitman's stuff is great because of the way he does it. Dickinson just isn't enjoyable to me at all...
I can appreciate some subtle nuances that Dickinson places throughout the poem, as well as her linguistic skills. She's very eloquent, I'll give her that, but otherwise I'm not sure. Her poems give off a rhythmic vibe, and yet when you speak with them, you're thrown off because of it. If I hear a rhythm, I demand to hear a rhyme! But then, that's not what poetry's all about, is it? It's all in the way it's written, what with its pentameters and all that. Bollocks, I say. That's right, bollocks.
Oh! I almost saw some Jesus reference, but that's probably my imagination. I look for Jesus too much in poems... But that's what so many are about! For some reason, it feels as if Dickinson is speaking of Jesus in different periods of his life, but who knows. Barefoot child, whip-lash; her breath gets tight when she meets him. Hey, who knows.
Pleasant Plains and Greek Gods
It's hard to write about a school so mundane as Pleasant Plains High School and turn it into a fantastic portrayal of ancient Greek gods and goddesses and whatnot. I mean, honestly! Maybe I'm not creative enough. Or I don't have extensive enough knowledge of the Greek myths of Zeus and Hades and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man or what have you. Either way, it's an odd challenge to go up against, but I'll try my hand at it, anyways.
Well, first off, let's think of the teachers as the gods and goddesses. I'm not sure who to pick for what... Hm. Well, I guess it's obvious to choose Mr. Ward as Zeus, considering he's the principal, and all. But what about Peterson? I wouldn't call him Hermes, since he's not Ward's messenger... We'll go with Brutus, or something. Et tu, Brute? That's a Greek myth, right? Julius Caesar? Moving along.
Our very own Mr. Langley, I see as Hephaestus, for some reason; cast into the deep, dark bowels of his English room, left to toil in his darkroom with a number of different underlings that provide him with a number of pictures of their siblings and black and white lawn chairs. Mrs. Blemler would be Athena. She's the goddess of wisdom, right? She seems like an Athena. I don't know why. She reads books, so she seems all wisdom-like.
Mr. Tadla would be Apollo. He shines the light upon Pleasant Plains. Need I say more?
Hades would probably be Mrs. Durbin and Mrs. Clough, due to the sole reason that they're the only teachers in the basement. And Mrs. Graven. Come to think of it, so is Mrs. Blemler, now, isn't she? There's a conundrum...
Well, first off, let's think of the teachers as the gods and goddesses. I'm not sure who to pick for what... Hm. Well, I guess it's obvious to choose Mr. Ward as Zeus, considering he's the principal, and all. But what about Peterson? I wouldn't call him Hermes, since he's not Ward's messenger... We'll go with Brutus, or something. Et tu, Brute? That's a Greek myth, right? Julius Caesar? Moving along.
Our very own Mr. Langley, I see as Hephaestus, for some reason; cast into the deep, dark bowels of his English room, left to toil in his darkroom with a number of different underlings that provide him with a number of pictures of their siblings and black and white lawn chairs. Mrs. Blemler would be Athena. She's the goddess of wisdom, right? She seems like an Athena. I don't know why. She reads books, so she seems all wisdom-like.
Mr. Tadla would be Apollo. He shines the light upon Pleasant Plains. Need I say more?
Hades would probably be Mrs. Durbin and Mrs. Clough, due to the sole reason that they're the only teachers in the basement. And Mrs. Graven. Come to think of it, so is Mrs. Blemler, now, isn't she? There's a conundrum...
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Making Important Decisions
I'm not impulsive. Not completely, at least. When I make decisions, I thoroughly think over the possible consequences of all the different outcomes. It's just what I do. I don't like making impulse decisions, and when I do I often regret them, so I normally try and avoid them. That's just me, though. Everyone deals with it differently. Let's see...
So, today I went out and bought tons of different nuts and bolts to make a camera dolly for filming. I realized that when the total came up to $50 for just the nuts and bolts, I had made a mistake. If it's only $50 for those, what about the 12 skateboard wheels and 2 3' angle aluminums I was supposed to buy? In all, it'd basically round out to around $100 for it all. And so now I need to decide if I should continue with my project, or take them all back and just buy a pre-built dolly for $100 on eBay to use. This would probably be miles better than any dolly I could make, but then I'd have to wait to get it... Who knows.
Either way! I made the decision before I even calculated the cost, and that was a big bummer for me. I don't like acting on impulse or doing things before I have all the information. When I make big decisions, I try and have all the information down before I know what I'm about to do. I do as much research as I can and try to figure out what's going to happen before I take the dive, and I feel that's the best way to go about it. I don't like making promises I can't deliver. When I say I'll get something done, I'll normally get something done. And that goes for all of these blogs and whatnot. I've just been lazy and bored, lately, so they're taking longer and longer to get done.
But that's how I go about it...
So, today I went out and bought tons of different nuts and bolts to make a camera dolly for filming. I realized that when the total came up to $50 for just the nuts and bolts, I had made a mistake. If it's only $50 for those, what about the 12 skateboard wheels and 2 3' angle aluminums I was supposed to buy? In all, it'd basically round out to around $100 for it all. And so now I need to decide if I should continue with my project, or take them all back and just buy a pre-built dolly for $100 on eBay to use. This would probably be miles better than any dolly I could make, but then I'd have to wait to get it... Who knows.
Either way! I made the decision before I even calculated the cost, and that was a big bummer for me. I don't like acting on impulse or doing things before I have all the information. When I make big decisions, I try and have all the information down before I know what I'm about to do. I do as much research as I can and try to figure out what's going to happen before I take the dive, and I feel that's the best way to go about it. I don't like making promises I can't deliver. When I say I'll get something done, I'll normally get something done. And that goes for all of these blogs and whatnot. I've just been lazy and bored, lately, so they're taking longer and longer to get done.
But that's how I go about it...
I can Multitask... Sort of...
Contrary to popular belief, I'm... okay at multitasking. At least, I used to be. All them multitasking powers have seemed to have left my system, lately. I'm not sure why, though. I've gotten lazy and lethargic, and I don't know what to do about it. I can't bring myself to write anything--at least not very much. I'm failing to get work done, and who knows why. I'm just distracted by so many things, and I don't know what to do to fix it!
I've lost interest in many things, as well. Writing, reading, drawing; it's all become boring! Taking pictures is still fun, and I haven't been able to make any movies lately, considering that not many people really want to make movies right now. Oh, well, I'm filming this Sunday, so that's good. And I'm making my own darkroom! So that'll be fun to do, as well. Nothing like experimenting with stuff on your own when you can't seem to find anything to do.
Oh, yeah, multitasking. When it comes to talking while I work, I think I excel at that. I've been able to be in my Algebra class and talk it up while I work on all my homework, and I don't get caught up on anything. Others are able to do that, as well, though that Swedish kid seems to suck at it. He's Swedish, though, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Just this once. I haven't been multitasking during this blog, though. I've kept my attention on this and this only, which is why I think I've been able to write this much.
God, I'm having trouble doing things lately... Even typing is becoming hard to do! I wonder why that is...
I've lost interest in many things, as well. Writing, reading, drawing; it's all become boring! Taking pictures is still fun, and I haven't been able to make any movies lately, considering that not many people really want to make movies right now. Oh, well, I'm filming this Sunday, so that's good. And I'm making my own darkroom! So that'll be fun to do, as well. Nothing like experimenting with stuff on your own when you can't seem to find anything to do.
Oh, yeah, multitasking. When it comes to talking while I work, I think I excel at that. I've been able to be in my Algebra class and talk it up while I work on all my homework, and I don't get caught up on anything. Others are able to do that, as well, though that Swedish kid seems to suck at it. He's Swedish, though, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Just this once. I haven't been multitasking during this blog, though. I've kept my attention on this and this only, which is why I think I've been able to write this much.
God, I'm having trouble doing things lately... Even typing is becoming hard to do! I wonder why that is...
Monday, February 22, 2010
Valentine's Day
All right, all right, all right, so let me tell you how this whole Valentine's Day thing started. It's a long, completely unremarkable tale about a man that, quite frankly, was too big of an idiot to exist in the first place. Not only is it a sad, disgusting idea of a holiday, it is also for tools. You tools, you.
Okay, it's not for tools. And it's not too bad of a holiday, but let me give you the rundown:
You see, people try to tell us that it was started because of some dude with the last name of Valentine, or something, was in prison and he died. Then his lady said "For my Valentine" or something, and then proceeded to ditch him for a wealthier bad boy that had a motorcycle. That's right--a motorcycle! Anyways, minus the motorcycle part, everyone knows this is complete nonsense. The true foundations of Valentine's Day were brought about after a bunch of candy companies (read: Hershey's, Wonka, Nestlee, etc.) realized that there are two things women love: money and chocolates. And boy, do they love chocolates.
Now, these companies were always drinking up the accolades. After all, why wouldn't they? Who doesn't like a classic Hershey's Kiss? I'll tell you who doesn't: Communists. They decided that they couldn't get enough money. No, the only way to get more was to exploit one of the easiest emotions there is to exploit, love. Of course, some would argue, "But Drew! Love isn't exploitable! Why not have a Greed or Gluttony Day instead?" To that, I say, shut up.
So the plan was hatched after much deliberation, and they set into effect Valentine's Day, based off of Saint Valentine, a chocoholic that died due to a broken heart. Authorities say it had to do with the massive amounts of cholesterol and sugar that were pumped through his system, but we all know that's a myth.
And so, every year, the candy companies make bank (a lot of bank) off of hormone-driven teenagers and that single lady that's too self-conscious to deal with being the only one in the office that doesn't receive some chocolates and sends some to herself as a way of coping with her slowly fading physical looks, leading to her inevitable death as a stay-at-home wife with four more kids than she would've wanted.
All of this information was taken from the incredibly reputable source of Wikipedia.
Okay, it's not for tools. And it's not too bad of a holiday, but let me give you the rundown:
You see, people try to tell us that it was started because of some dude with the last name of Valentine, or something, was in prison and he died. Then his lady said "For my Valentine" or something, and then proceeded to ditch him for a wealthier bad boy that had a motorcycle. That's right--a motorcycle! Anyways, minus the motorcycle part, everyone knows this is complete nonsense. The true foundations of Valentine's Day were brought about after a bunch of candy companies (read: Hershey's, Wonka, Nestlee, etc.) realized that there are two things women love: money and chocolates. And boy, do they love chocolates.
Now, these companies were always drinking up the accolades. After all, why wouldn't they? Who doesn't like a classic Hershey's Kiss? I'll tell you who doesn't: Communists. They decided that they couldn't get enough money. No, the only way to get more was to exploit one of the easiest emotions there is to exploit, love. Of course, some would argue, "But Drew! Love isn't exploitable! Why not have a Greed or Gluttony Day instead?" To that, I say, shut up.
So the plan was hatched after much deliberation, and they set into effect Valentine's Day, based off of Saint Valentine, a chocoholic that died due to a broken heart. Authorities say it had to do with the massive amounts of cholesterol and sugar that were pumped through his system, but we all know that's a myth.
And so, every year, the candy companies make bank (a lot of bank) off of hormone-driven teenagers and that single lady that's too self-conscious to deal with being the only one in the office that doesn't receive some chocolates and sends some to herself as a way of coping with her slowly fading physical looks, leading to her inevitable death as a stay-at-home wife with four more kids than she would've wanted.
All of this information was taken from the incredibly reputable source of Wikipedia.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I Can Has Cheezburger?
Seriously. They're so delicious: the bubbling cheese as it slowly slips its way down the sizzling, juicy burger. The soft, warm buns (no pun intended) that case the beautiful flavor of the vinegary and delicious ketchup compliment the overall satisfaction one would receive should they bite into the mound composed of delicious delectables. The smell of the savory goodness compels me to eat it, honestly.
Oh, but what is this? There are fries, too! Their crispy, salty goodness cannot be matched by any mortal food. Not saying there is such a thing as immortal food, though... I guess it's possible. I mean, if you don't eat it, it's possible it won't die, but I guess it doesn't mean it ever lived... Are rocks immortal? To be immortal, do you need to be birthed? Or have the ability to die, but don't? I don't know... Rocks are the same, regardless. I'd call them indestructible.
Oh, yeah. The fries are delicious. They're so salty and warm and soft (yet crispy, as well) and smell like awesomeness. There's a Diet Pepsi there, too. And some pizza and chicken and lots of other foods that I love but am too lazy to comment on. I personally prefer to philosophize about rocks being immortal, or not. As well as food. Also, the soft touch of the bread of the cheeseburger would feel great, too.
I don't like imagery! Not about food, at least. It's hard to do! I could thesaurus up some new words, but I really don't feel like doing that...
Oh, but what is this? There are fries, too! Their crispy, salty goodness cannot be matched by any mortal food. Not saying there is such a thing as immortal food, though... I guess it's possible. I mean, if you don't eat it, it's possible it won't die, but I guess it doesn't mean it ever lived... Are rocks immortal? To be immortal, do you need to be birthed? Or have the ability to die, but don't? I don't know... Rocks are the same, regardless. I'd call them indestructible.
Oh, yeah. The fries are delicious. They're so salty and warm and soft (yet crispy, as well) and smell like awesomeness. There's a Diet Pepsi there, too. And some pizza and chicken and lots of other foods that I love but am too lazy to comment on. I personally prefer to philosophize about rocks being immortal, or not. As well as food. Also, the soft touch of the bread of the cheeseburger would feel great, too.
I don't like imagery! Not about food, at least. It's hard to do! I could thesaurus up some new words, but I really don't feel like doing that...
Friday, February 12, 2010
Preparin' for the ACT
So... I have to write a guide to prepare for the ACT? How am I supposed to do that? I haven't even taken the ACT yet... Hell, I'm still confused as to what the PSAE is... But hey, whatever. I suppose I've heard enough from enough guidance counselors that I know how to prepare for it. Sort of.
- Take the PSAT
- Work well and study in all classes relating to any ACT material.
- Make sure to take ACT Prep classes! Statistics show that students who have prepared for the ACT (by, say, taking it before) get better scores overall than those that have had no preparation.
- Remember: Don't bring a cell phone or something that will get your stupid pitooty (yeah, that's right) kicked out of the testing. Even if it's completely innocent, you'll get a zero. Then what? Yeah, have fun working at the Dollar General for the rest of your life and being excited when your middle-aged, balding manager named Gerald gives you a promotion to--gasp!--assistant manager! Why, you'll almost be making $10.00 an hour! With 30 hours a week!
- The PSAT is a practice ACT test that can help prepare you for the test to come. Though it is only testing you in math and... reading? I don't remember. I think science was there, too. Either way, it helps, regardless.
- Also, what the hell is the PSAE?
Chanting the Square Deific: Holy Crap
Okay, seriously? Forget! the Square Deific! I've had enough of this crap! Forget your stupid meanings, religious poetry! Stop being annoying! All you do is act smug while you preach about how awesome and figurative you are! I can't relate to a religious poem, and I refuse to! I don't like your homeric similes and your epithets and assonances and anything having to do with your freaking meaning!
Why can't you be literal?! Why must you cause so many pretentious people to act like they're deep for being able to find that "a shoe is brown" actually means "the world is going to blow up", based on vague bull crap that, quite frankly, doesn't actually have anything to do with what they're trying to convince us it does?! I refuse to read the former sentence, as I know if I read it, I'll discover a multitude of grammatical errors that will probably confuse the reader, but I don't really care.
I have this to say: Forget you, Walt Whitman! I like poetry, some of it's good! But I hate you! Poetry as a medium where people can be as pretentiously arrogant in their writing as they want, and everyone will bow down to them. It takes skill to be a poet, I know that, but holy crap; make a vague, long-winded poem with so many weird words, and you'll be called the next Shakespeare. I could be considered a god for writing something incredibly odd and eccentric, when it doesn't mean anything.
Stop making me analyze something! If I find meaning in it, then the meaning will be mine. Poets shouldn't point to one, singular meaning and force everyone to listen to them that "This is what it means and it will always mean this." I hate you, high school poetry analyzers.
Sorry, I went overboard.
Why can't you be literal?! Why must you cause so many pretentious people to act like they're deep for being able to find that "a shoe is brown" actually means "the world is going to blow up", based on vague bull crap that, quite frankly, doesn't actually have anything to do with what they're trying to convince us it does?! I refuse to read the former sentence, as I know if I read it, I'll discover a multitude of grammatical errors that will probably confuse the reader, but I don't really care.
I have this to say: Forget you, Walt Whitman! I like poetry, some of it's good! But I hate you! Poetry as a medium where people can be as pretentiously arrogant in their writing as they want, and everyone will bow down to them. It takes skill to be a poet, I know that, but holy crap; make a vague, long-winded poem with so many weird words, and you'll be called the next Shakespeare. I could be considered a god for writing something incredibly odd and eccentric, when it doesn't mean anything.
Stop making me analyze something! If I find meaning in it, then the meaning will be mine. Poets shouldn't point to one, singular meaning and force everyone to listen to them that "This is what it means and it will always mean this." I hate you, high school poetry analyzers.
Sorry, I went overboard.
Groundhog's Day
I'll tell you what's special about Groundhog's Day: Yours truly was born on that day. Seriously, is that not the best part thing that's ever happened on that day, ever? Okay, but really, it's just a memorable event on Groundhog's Day. That same day I was born, Bill Murray had to steal my thunder and demand a movie be released on that day. That angers me to this day. Oh, well, though. Not much I can do about that. Bill Murray is too funny to be denied, and it was actually a very good movie...
Still! Either way, I won't bore you with a long-winded rant about how I was born and cried and did baby stuff whatnot; that's just sloppy writing. What I will do is go on about how Groundhog's Day was never that big of a holiday in the first place. Really, if you had to be born on any holiday, I'd say Groundhog's Day is the best one to be born on. Why? There's really nothing that great about it. People just acknowledge it, and get on with their day. It would suck to be born on Christmas or Valentine's Day or Easter or whatever, since so many people acknowledge those days. You get presents on them and such, and you're basically just screwed over for presents for the whole period.
But that's if you're materialistic! Luckily for me, I'm not materialistic...
...
But either way, I'm a fan of my birthday, and I'm a fan of Groundhog's Day and February. I think they're cool months and days and holidays and lunar cycles or something.
Still! Either way, I won't bore you with a long-winded rant about how I was born and cried and did baby stuff whatnot; that's just sloppy writing. What I will do is go on about how Groundhog's Day was never that big of a holiday in the first place. Really, if you had to be born on any holiday, I'd say Groundhog's Day is the best one to be born on. Why? There's really nothing that great about it. People just acknowledge it, and get on with their day. It would suck to be born on Christmas or Valentine's Day or Easter or whatever, since so many people acknowledge those days. You get presents on them and such, and you're basically just screwed over for presents for the whole period.
But that's if you're materialistic! Luckily for me, I'm not materialistic...
...
But either way, I'm a fan of my birthday, and I'm a fan of Groundhog's Day and February. I think they're cool months and days and holidays and lunar cycles or something.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Reporting in the Trenches
Reporting in the trenches of a war would be a truly incredible experience. All the rush and excitement with the adrenaline flowing through your system--it's invigorating! Until, you know, you possibly die; that's the downside. There is, however, the point that the reactions of the soldiers in the battle would be incredibly realistic and down-to-earth. There would be no errors, only human emotion, fear, and anger would flow in their words. I wouldn't have to reword what happened, I wouldn't have to rely on the experiences of the war-torn individuals that are already as damaged as they could be in their minds. The entire experience whets my own mind. I have the first-hand experience that shapes the entirety of my coverage, and it's something that is to strive for.
Now, once you get past those few positives, you realize the negatives. Oh, yeah, I'll be writing and recording and trying to talk to people who are in the middle of a frenzy. Their reactions can be ugly and terrifying, and not to mention the fact that there's no protection for me, either. What do I have? A helmet and a tape recorder. The last thing these men need is a man asking them questions while they're fighting for their life. The ring of a bullet as it ricochets off any spare metal lying around could distract them in the middle of an interview. While the room for error is small when it comes to recollection, the room for error is great when it comes to the fact that I would have so many distractions in the middle of the interviews.
Though the concept of reporting in the trenches is a good one, and one that makes sense for journalistic ideas, the fact is that there is no way of reporting without any fear; without any emotional consequences. Now, whether these are great or tiny depends entirely on the individual.
Now, once you get past those few positives, you realize the negatives. Oh, yeah, I'll be writing and recording and trying to talk to people who are in the middle of a frenzy. Their reactions can be ugly and terrifying, and not to mention the fact that there's no protection for me, either. What do I have? A helmet and a tape recorder. The last thing these men need is a man asking them questions while they're fighting for their life. The ring of a bullet as it ricochets off any spare metal lying around could distract them in the middle of an interview. While the room for error is small when it comes to recollection, the room for error is great when it comes to the fact that I would have so many distractions in the middle of the interviews.
Though the concept of reporting in the trenches is a good one, and one that makes sense for journalistic ideas, the fact is that there is no way of reporting without any fear; without any emotional consequences. Now, whether these are great or tiny depends entirely on the individual.
Monday, January 18, 2010
The Art of Persuasion: Give Me Your Money or I'll Kill You
Now that is persuasion. Okay, so I never did that. Well, not seriously, anyways. Either way, it's hard to remember a situation like that, but I know something happened that was like that. Probably going to McDonald's when they wanted Burger King, or something, I don't know!
(I do know that McDonald's is better than Burger King, though)
I remember, actually, now! I was with a person that wanted to spend the night at my house. I didn't feel like having anyone over that night, so I respectfully declined. It was after this that he went on a tantrum, saying that I have to let him stay over and that I was being selfish by not having him over... somehow. Either way, I wasn't havin' none of that stuff! I told him straight up, "No!" and that was that. Sort of. I guess that wasn't persuasion, but it's close enough, right?
I remember trying to persuade my parents to buy me things or take me places when I was younger, as well, but that's just a given. I don't know, this one is a bad blog, but I can't really think of anything to write, right now...
Oh, my Canon AE-1 Program is being given a tune-up right now, so I'm happy about that! But that's really all I have to say...
(I do know that McDonald's is better than Burger King, though)
I remember, actually, now! I was with a person that wanted to spend the night at my house. I didn't feel like having anyone over that night, so I respectfully declined. It was after this that he went on a tantrum, saying that I have to let him stay over and that I was being selfish by not having him over... somehow. Either way, I wasn't havin' none of that stuff! I told him straight up, "No!" and that was that. Sort of. I guess that wasn't persuasion, but it's close enough, right?
I remember trying to persuade my parents to buy me things or take me places when I was younger, as well, but that's just a given. I don't know, this one is a bad blog, but I can't really think of anything to write, right now...
Oh, my Canon AE-1 Program is being given a tune-up right now, so I'm happy about that! But that's really all I have to say...
Who am I?
See, that's the line that you hear told in such a cliche manner in so many movies and books. It's not a good line. As a matter of fact, it's a horrible line, and no person in their right mind would say that to his or herself with sincere seriousness. If a person did, then they need to learn to get a grip.
Who you are IS a real idea, though. To understand who you are is a bit of a hard thing to do as you change and grow. You go through experiences that make you seriously question who you are and what your meaning is in everything. Your meaning in anything is actually meaningless, to be honest. You're a byproduct of nothing and thus have no influence on anything in the universe. If you feel like you mean something to anything other than people, then you're clearly arrogant and pretentious. Life is meaningless, but it's relative, so in a way it has meaning as long as you make it meaningful to yourself.
Finding out who you are is a long-winded process. It requires patience, time, and perseverance. You can't have an epiphany and then just immediately figure out that you are this person with these likes, dislikes, and moral feelings; it's just not possible! When you're 16, you can feel like you know yourself, but it's not possible, to be honest. You have your whole life ahead of you. Of course, you can pinpoint certain things about yourself that you feel you are. Finding them is mainly just encountering a new experience, and reflecting upon it. After quite a few experiences, only then can you start to evaluate them all and make a final decision.
That's just my two cents, at least.
Who you are IS a real idea, though. To understand who you are is a bit of a hard thing to do as you change and grow. You go through experiences that make you seriously question who you are and what your meaning is in everything. Your meaning in anything is actually meaningless, to be honest. You're a byproduct of nothing and thus have no influence on anything in the universe. If you feel like you mean something to anything other than people, then you're clearly arrogant and pretentious. Life is meaningless, but it's relative, so in a way it has meaning as long as you make it meaningful to yourself.
Finding out who you are is a long-winded process. It requires patience, time, and perseverance. You can't have an epiphany and then just immediately figure out that you are this person with these likes, dislikes, and moral feelings; it's just not possible! When you're 16, you can feel like you know yourself, but it's not possible, to be honest. You have your whole life ahead of you. Of course, you can pinpoint certain things about yourself that you feel you are. Finding them is mainly just encountering a new experience, and reflecting upon it. After quite a few experiences, only then can you start to evaluate them all and make a final decision.
That's just my two cents, at least.
I was Tested by Nature!
Actually, was I? I suppose a lot of times when I was younger I was. It was back when I had an imagination that I wasn't ashamed of; when I could swing a stick around with a friend and act like some dude with a sword without feeling like a complete idiot. That sure is fun, you know. I still imagine stories that have to do with embarrassing, nerdy stuff like that! But that's because I'm a nerd, honestly. It doesn't change the fact that it's fun, and anyone that stops hasn't grown up, they've just lost something important! Sorry, over dramatic.
Either way, I was young, and I would go out in the woods to just play around. Summer, winter, spring, fall, I would go whenever. I would carry around a stick and act like the coolest dude in the world that kills tons of orcs and goblins and whatever. Yeah, nerdy, whatever, I was ten. Anyhow, I was out there almost every waking day. I would just walk around the woods, hopping streams and climbing trees. Regardless of whether it was cold or not, I would be out there, exploring my heart out.
I did that for years before I was that age, and I continued further... Until they killed the woods to build a new neighborhood. That made me sad. I went over to the other side of the woods after that! I didn't know it was so much bigger and fun! And then I'd get in predicaments where nature would hurt me and where I'd be sad from everything or something or I don't know. Either way, it tested me.
Either way, I was young, and I would go out in the woods to just play around. Summer, winter, spring, fall, I would go whenever. I would carry around a stick and act like the coolest dude in the world that kills tons of orcs and goblins and whatever. Yeah, nerdy, whatever, I was ten. Anyhow, I was out there almost every waking day. I would just walk around the woods, hopping streams and climbing trees. Regardless of whether it was cold or not, I would be out there, exploring my heart out.
I did that for years before I was that age, and I continued further... Until they killed the woods to build a new neighborhood. That made me sad. I went over to the other side of the woods after that! I didn't know it was so much bigger and fun! And then I'd get in predicaments where nature would hurt me and where I'd be sad from everything or something or I don't know. Either way, it tested me.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Christmas Break Extravaganza!
So, Christmas Break came and went. Or is it Winter Break? Whatever, it came and went. Did much happen? For some people yes, for others (mainly me), no. I had Christmas, went to Iowa for a few days, came back, and did absolutely nothing. Well, not nothing, but quite a bit of nothing. See, I don't have many things to do anymore, and double that considering the fact that it's so cold outside. So, so cold. So... cold...
So! I'll get to what I have to say about Christmas. I was at home the night before, doing nothing but lazing about and wanting to do something. Alas, I did nothing. Surprise, surprise. I went to sleep, and the next morning, my gift-opening commenced. Ripping and tearing, and clawed about my new presents with mostly indifference and genuine surprise. Okay, so I wasn't that indifferent. I was happy to be getting new stuff, but it still wasn't the most exciting of Christmases, I'll tell you.
A quick interjection: Where in the William H. Macy is my power icon on my computer...? I have no idea when I'm going to run out of battery or anything. Whatever.
Anyhow, I opened up my presents and got a nifty case for my XH-A1, which was nice. I also got a tripod! Which has since been sent back due to a small error of it being completely broken. Fun! So then I got a little coin jar that counts what money you get as it's placed in. I also got Lost, season Five. Say what you will, but I love Lost... Also, a giant book of film stuff. It's very nifty. I think that's all...
Well, after that I went to Iowa where my cousins live to stay for a few days. I opened more presents, where I got a new coat and an awesome green laser pointer! Then I left, which was good. I hate family. After a week or so, I went to The Mighty Fighty Whale Sharks Formal Dinner, where we watched my short highlight reel for the team. Then I hung out with my girlfriend on New Year's Eve... And that was basically it. Oh, I got nice little sound-canceling headphones from her!
Buuuut that is it. What a boring break.
So! I'll get to what I have to say about Christmas. I was at home the night before, doing nothing but lazing about and wanting to do something. Alas, I did nothing. Surprise, surprise. I went to sleep, and the next morning, my gift-opening commenced. Ripping and tearing, and clawed about my new presents with mostly indifference and genuine surprise. Okay, so I wasn't that indifferent. I was happy to be getting new stuff, but it still wasn't the most exciting of Christmases, I'll tell you.
A quick interjection: Where in the William H. Macy is my power icon on my computer...? I have no idea when I'm going to run out of battery or anything. Whatever.
Anyhow, I opened up my presents and got a nifty case for my XH-A1, which was nice. I also got a tripod! Which has since been sent back due to a small error of it being completely broken. Fun! So then I got a little coin jar that counts what money you get as it's placed in. I also got Lost, season Five. Say what you will, but I love Lost... Also, a giant book of film stuff. It's very nifty. I think that's all...
Well, after that I went to Iowa where my cousins live to stay for a few days. I opened more presents, where I got a new coat and an awesome green laser pointer! Then I left, which was good. I hate family. After a week or so, I went to The Mighty Fighty Whale Sharks Formal Dinner, where we watched my short highlight reel for the team. Then I hung out with my girlfriend on New Year's Eve... And that was basically it. Oh, I got nice little sound-canceling headphones from her!
Buuuut that is it. What a boring break.
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