Hello!
I started to write an update the other day, but the foul spirits that live in my Internet connection chose to cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war, thus crashing the computer. Ah well, any excuse to use the phrase "cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war," because let's face it, that is pretty awesome. Anyway, this is how my weekend went!
On Saturday I was feeling restless, so I told myself that as long as I was going to not get together with anyone, I would do some interesting new things! I checked out the park and ran a few miles, which was actually quite surprising, as I have not run in a while. Astoria Park is very nice, and I have come to like it quite a bit. Despite going to bed late (I think I was watching more Monty Python), I set my alarm for 7:30 so I could take the subway down to Brooklyn. Reason being is that there is a Zen temple located on State street, and I thought it would be a very cool thing to check out. I enjoyed it very much, if for no other reason than it was a very new experience. However, there is one point that bothered me, which was that there was a lot of ritual. This wouldn't be weird anywhere else, but I had thought that one of the whole points of Zen was to avoid ritual, as it is unnecessary. I don't get the feeling that this was just a particular place that carried out services in a very ritualistic manner, but that this is the norm, and that my understanding just happened to be limited. This left me quite adrift for a while, and I still do not exactly know what to think. When I think of Zen outside of practice at a temple, I find it fits me very well and whenever I have practiced it on my own I found myself very in line with its ideas. Now I wonder if I have always had a warped vision of what Zen practice entails, or if this i sjust the nature of the beast. Whatever.
Haha, now that I think about it, I have a few humorous, totally unrelated stories. I was on line for the ATM the other day and there was this little old lady in front of me. Over her shoulder, I saw that her balance was something like $48.00. "This is awful," I thought. "Here I am, a college student with no real responsibility, who can just cruise on by, while this poor old lady has to struggle and worry over money." Then I checked my balance and it was $28.00. I felt better.
The other incident occured when I was watching Monty Python. a commercial came on that was like, "Bla Bla Bla for centuries art has glorified the beauty of the female form," and had all these pictures of classic renaissance art, and I was like "Hey I know these paintings, how nice." Then it said, "And hundreds of years later, we are doing the same thing." It was an advertisment for a strip club. I sat there, dumbfounded, and thought "Oh they did NOT just go there!" But they did. They just compared classic art to strip clubs. And I died a little inside.
On Monday was an audition for directing projects. I went in not really having my heart set on any sort of a part, and I felt that my audition did not go too great. And even though I didn't really know any of the plays or care much, I still felt irritated with myself. It is hard to deal with the more perfectionistic side of myself gracefully. However, of course, I got an e-mail saying I got called back for one of the parts, hurrah. It is amazing how even a simple thing can make me feel so much better (even though everyone can come and try again if they want to. Don't ruin my good mood with facts).
I was feeling pretty junky, as I am tossing about on the horns of a dilema, as usual. I can't decide whether to make the effort to go out, or stay inside. I actually made a flowchart A FLOWCHART for god's sake of my options. It was clearly labeled and highly logic, listing possible consequences and concers. Does everyone do this, or am I just that big a loser that I can't make decisions without charts? Oh well, at least I didn't color-code it...yet.
-Emerson
PS- I really do love flowcharts. So organized. So dependable.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
IX: Wherein It is getting harder to make up these titles
Hello!
I played the violin today, for the first time in more weeks than I would like to count! Oh god, since the beginning of summer actually. Good lord, it is amazing how fast you forget things. Really basic things like counting, even. Everything looks very familiar somehow, and I know that I had the ability to read it blindfolded at one point, but now I found myself having to think a bit harder. At least, that is how it was at first. I had this vivid image of this old man led into a room of his childhood. Tottering, he makes his way to a music stand, where, before his almost disbelieving eyes lays his violin, resting on a pillow. A single tear rolls down his cheek as his tenderly lifts it to his chin and begins to play Meditation from Thais, his favorite song. All dignified the onlookers weep silently as his fingers dance over the strings, marking a course they know so well, a course they...
*ahem*. Got a little carried away there. No, I was not that old man, and the only reason the nonexistent onlookers would have cried is because it sounded so jarring. Seriously, even scales were a trick at first. It is bizarre and humbling to have to start from square one again. But enough on the violin (I will be working more on it).
Today was a okay day I guess. As it is Wednesday, I got to sleep in till 12:30, though I had to go to rehearsal at 2:30. Had pancakes with chocolate chips, yay! This seems like the making for a really great day, but as I made my way home from acting class I very quite morose. Class itself was pretty intense. Ellen is very, very passionate about what she does, and as such she can be a little much sometimes. I guess it is a good thing, and it didn't really bother me in class, but it is the only thing I can think of that put me in a glum mood. I had this whole elaborate thing to say about this homeless man on the subway, but it has all gone completely out of my head, and honestly I don't know if i feel comfortable relating all my inmost thoughts to the internet. Suffice to say that put me in an even blacker mood, and as I walked home everything seemed to remind me of something wrong and how bleak things can be. I wish I could explain it better, but I probably don't have the time to be mucking about on the internet. On the plus side, this did kinda put me into my Cleaning Madness/Do Something mode, which was nice. Hopefully I don't get lazy with all my vows to do something creative or new.
-Emerson
I played the violin today, for the first time in more weeks than I would like to count! Oh god, since the beginning of summer actually. Good lord, it is amazing how fast you forget things. Really basic things like counting, even. Everything looks very familiar somehow, and I know that I had the ability to read it blindfolded at one point, but now I found myself having to think a bit harder. At least, that is how it was at first. I had this vivid image of this old man led into a room of his childhood. Tottering, he makes his way to a music stand, where, before his almost disbelieving eyes lays his violin, resting on a pillow. A single tear rolls down his cheek as his tenderly lifts it to his chin and begins to play Meditation from Thais, his favorite song. All dignified the onlookers weep silently as his fingers dance over the strings, marking a course they know so well, a course they...
*ahem*. Got a little carried away there. No, I was not that old man, and the only reason the nonexistent onlookers would have cried is because it sounded so jarring. Seriously, even scales were a trick at first. It is bizarre and humbling to have to start from square one again. But enough on the violin (I will be working more on it).
Today was a okay day I guess. As it is Wednesday, I got to sleep in till 12:30, though I had to go to rehearsal at 2:30. Had pancakes with chocolate chips, yay! This seems like the making for a really great day, but as I made my way home from acting class I very quite morose. Class itself was pretty intense. Ellen is very, very passionate about what she does, and as such she can be a little much sometimes. I guess it is a good thing, and it didn't really bother me in class, but it is the only thing I can think of that put me in a glum mood. I had this whole elaborate thing to say about this homeless man on the subway, but it has all gone completely out of my head, and honestly I don't know if i feel comfortable relating all my inmost thoughts to the internet. Suffice to say that put me in an even blacker mood, and as I walked home everything seemed to remind me of something wrong and how bleak things can be. I wish I could explain it better, but I probably don't have the time to be mucking about on the internet. On the plus side, this did kinda put me into my Cleaning Madness/Do Something mode, which was nice. Hopefully I don't get lazy with all my vows to do something creative or new.
-Emerson
Thursday, September 11, 2008
VIII: The Secret Life of Peter Morchov
Peter sat on the plastic subway bench, wedged in between two middle aged Asian women, chatting away as the train wound its way through the dark tunnel of Manhattan to Queens. Irritated, he glanced at the two women, seemingly oblivious to their fellow passengers. On any normal day, Peter would not be perturbed by the rudeness of others, but this was far from a normal day. He glanced down at his hands, twitching and constantly moving. Mentally he chided himself. Guilty hands were a rookie's mistake, a clear give away. Certainly, he had killed before, though never, not even the very first time, did it disturb him as it did today. Peter was in fact a man very well acquainted with death, both in the dealing of and the close proximity to.
The others that were sharing the bench with him could not have possibly guessed that this pudgy, tennis shoe-wearing facade masked lightning reflexes, iron strength, and the cold mind of a professional assassin. Still his fingers twitched. "Get a hold of yourself," he murmured aloud, hastily checking himself as a man sitting across from him noticed his fidgety movements and apparently one-sided conversation. In an effort to relax his mind, he let himself wander back to happier times: his harsh, foreboding training camp miles and miles out in the Russian countryside. Around a third of those who entered did not exit. And it was his home, his most beloved place. He recalled the initial nerves, the false acceptance, the blinding pain, the overwhelming fear, and then true acceptance. And peace. Yes, he remembered the peace. The peace that comes only when facing death, inevitable and unconquerable, and feeling only indifference. Peter carried that indifference with him on every single job, every mission since he left that camp twenty five long years ago. He carried it to such an extent that it became his life. His own outlook, his goals, his identity, all faded in time, falling by the wayside as all unneeded things are. It was for this reason he took on his most recent assignment, when he should have balked and walked away. It was for this reason the woman he loved was dead.
Phew, ha ha ha! That was kinda fun! This was the original intent of this blog, to chronicle the unknown and fantastical stories of the inhabitants of this frantic city (with a bit of artistic license). I hadn't done one up until now because I was a) too lazy and b) caught up in detailing my new experiences. As things begin to fall into more of a routine, I decided to get crackin'. I probably will look back on this as a little goofy, but whatever. More will come, I imagine. I not that all the stories I do make up for people are all very, um..."fanciful." I do not ever seem to invent realistic, boring, depressing lives that people actually probably do live. Assassins and secret wizards trump that. That doesn't sound too healthy now that I think of it, but it is only because I want people to live interesting lives! Crazy as they are.
-Emerson
The others that were sharing the bench with him could not have possibly guessed that this pudgy, tennis shoe-wearing facade masked lightning reflexes, iron strength, and the cold mind of a professional assassin. Still his fingers twitched. "Get a hold of yourself," he murmured aloud, hastily checking himself as a man sitting across from him noticed his fidgety movements and apparently one-sided conversation. In an effort to relax his mind, he let himself wander back to happier times: his harsh, foreboding training camp miles and miles out in the Russian countryside. Around a third of those who entered did not exit. And it was his home, his most beloved place. He recalled the initial nerves, the false acceptance, the blinding pain, the overwhelming fear, and then true acceptance. And peace. Yes, he remembered the peace. The peace that comes only when facing death, inevitable and unconquerable, and feeling only indifference. Peter carried that indifference with him on every single job, every mission since he left that camp twenty five long years ago. He carried it to such an extent that it became his life. His own outlook, his goals, his identity, all faded in time, falling by the wayside as all unneeded things are. It was for this reason he took on his most recent assignment, when he should have balked and walked away. It was for this reason the woman he loved was dead.
Phew, ha ha ha! That was kinda fun! This was the original intent of this blog, to chronicle the unknown and fantastical stories of the inhabitants of this frantic city (with a bit of artistic license). I hadn't done one up until now because I was a) too lazy and b) caught up in detailing my new experiences. As things begin to fall into more of a routine, I decided to get crackin'. I probably will look back on this as a little goofy, but whatever. More will come, I imagine. I not that all the stories I do make up for people are all very, um..."fanciful." I do not ever seem to invent realistic, boring, depressing lives that people actually probably do live. Assassins and secret wizards trump that. That doesn't sound too healthy now that I think of it, but it is only because I want people to live interesting lives! Crazy as they are.
-Emerson
Thursday, September 4, 2008
VII: Wherein I talk of chocolate milk and acting class.
Hello!
One of my favorite things in life is drinking chocolate milk with a spoon. It takes a bit longer, but I am 100% sure that it makes it taste at least 40% better. Be careful of spilling, especially over expensive laptops, and it will make you feel like a better person. Try it. Try it.
But onwards. This was my second day of Script Analysis and Art History, and yesterday I had my first acting class! I was so nervous that it would be full of stupid theater people who bug me, BUT so far as I can tell there is not one in the bunch! What good luck (especially with no Naked Man. Oh god I was so frightened). To give an illustration, the first exercise we did was to get to know each other. We were not allowed to speak anything except our names, and we had to know each other by the feel of our hands. In other words, we spent about 20 minutes in silence, just feeling each others hands very carefully. It sounds like it would be tremendously awkward, but everyone took it completely in stride. Then we had to go to the front of the class and put our hands behind our backs. People would come up and take our hands, and we would have to know who it was. It was magical and oddly intimate. The teacher seems like a cool lady, but very serious about theater, which kind of frightens me. But thus far, I am managing to keep up with my work and schedule. This isn't too impressive considering it has only been a week, but I think it is pretty good for me, and I am good about writing down my commitments. Quite soon, for acting class we will have to schedule independent rehearsals with our scene groups, which kinda worries me. But I am sure I'll get used to it.
For art history we visited the Met today. God, I am just not used to being early! I had time to kill and more, whilst I worried whether I was in the right place. I met someone cool who was also early, a junior, though this is his first semester as well. He transferred from a school in Texas, though his permanent home is in Rome, which is crazy. We looked at renaissance art, and observed the methods and styles. Looks to be a fun course!
I am really sleepy. So sleepy, in fact, that I actually am going to skip watching more Samurai Champloo (I've already watched waaaaaay to much in a 24 hour window anyway).
Night!
-Emerson
One of my favorite things in life is drinking chocolate milk with a spoon. It takes a bit longer, but I am 100% sure that it makes it taste at least 40% better. Be careful of spilling, especially over expensive laptops, and it will make you feel like a better person. Try it. Try it.
But onwards. This was my second day of Script Analysis and Art History, and yesterday I had my first acting class! I was so nervous that it would be full of stupid theater people who bug me, BUT so far as I can tell there is not one in the bunch! What good luck (especially with no Naked Man. Oh god I was so frightened). To give an illustration, the first exercise we did was to get to know each other. We were not allowed to speak anything except our names, and we had to know each other by the feel of our hands. In other words, we spent about 20 minutes in silence, just feeling each others hands very carefully. It sounds like it would be tremendously awkward, but everyone took it completely in stride. Then we had to go to the front of the class and put our hands behind our backs. People would come up and take our hands, and we would have to know who it was. It was magical and oddly intimate. The teacher seems like a cool lady, but very serious about theater, which kind of frightens me. But thus far, I am managing to keep up with my work and schedule. This isn't too impressive considering it has only been a week, but I think it is pretty good for me, and I am good about writing down my commitments. Quite soon, for acting class we will have to schedule independent rehearsals with our scene groups, which kinda worries me. But I am sure I'll get used to it.
For art history we visited the Met today. God, I am just not used to being early! I had time to kill and more, whilst I worried whether I was in the right place. I met someone cool who was also early, a junior, though this is his first semester as well. He transferred from a school in Texas, though his permanent home is in Rome, which is crazy. We looked at renaissance art, and observed the methods and styles. Looks to be a fun course!
I am really sleepy. So sleepy, in fact, that I actually am going to skip watching more Samurai Champloo (I've already watched waaaaaay to much in a 24 hour window anyway).
Night!
-Emerson
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
VI: Wherein I describe the first day of school! Hooray!
Hello!
Jesus, I sound like a 3rd grader with all my cutesy biographical entries. I was gonna try and explore all exciting and thought-provoking topics and such crazy stuff, but whenever I get home I am way too tired to be creative. I think it is this place. It is strange, my attitude towards the city appears to be cyclical: when I was little I hated it, when I was in high school/middle school I could not picture living anywhere else, and now I am kind "eh" about it. The city seems to drain off my energy and soul to fuel its sinister projects. It kind of impacts my mood too, as I can think of no good reason why I should feel so morose. Our dogs just returned this morning after their 2 day vacation throughout the town.
In other news: it is officially confirmed that books are a) really heavy, and b) really expensive. Two hundred and eighty five dollars!? On the bright side, classes thus far look to be REALLY REALLY amazing! It is such a foreign concept that I can study things I actually enjoy and we have moved away from the whole "complete pp 67-68 and do 1-59 ODD," to the system of free rein as long as it is done on time for lecture. For instance, this is how my Script Analysis is set up. We independently read a new play for EACH class, and have a round table discussion during class about a whole host of different themes. Works include: A Doll's House, The Seagull, Waiting for Godot, Oedipus Rex, The Bald Soprano, The Homecoming, Machinal, and some others. Our final "exam" is to basically direct a scene from a play, giving the actors whatever knowledge is necessary to convincingly portray a character. Exciting books, enjoyable subject, and an awesome teacher? Yes please! My art history course looks to be a lot of fun too. We visit the Met next class on Thursday to have an introduction to different terminology used in art, and just to check things in general out. Curses, Ian has distracted me with his e-mails full of humorous internet doings, so I have totally lost my train of thought. So...for now I'll leave it at that! College has super awesome classes thus far and they shall hopefully continue. And hopefully I'll make some friends so I don't have to spend ANOTHER night on ED...
-Emerson
Jesus, I sound like a 3rd grader with all my cutesy biographical entries. I was gonna try and explore all exciting and thought-provoking topics and such crazy stuff, but whenever I get home I am way too tired to be creative. I think it is this place. It is strange, my attitude towards the city appears to be cyclical: when I was little I hated it, when I was in high school/middle school I could not picture living anywhere else, and now I am kind "eh" about it. The city seems to drain off my energy and soul to fuel its sinister projects. It kind of impacts my mood too, as I can think of no good reason why I should feel so morose. Our dogs just returned this morning after their 2 day vacation throughout the town.
In other news: it is officially confirmed that books are a) really heavy, and b) really expensive. Two hundred and eighty five dollars!? On the bright side, classes thus far look to be REALLY REALLY amazing! It is such a foreign concept that I can study things I actually enjoy and we have moved away from the whole "complete pp 67-68 and do 1-59 ODD," to the system of free rein as long as it is done on time for lecture. For instance, this is how my Script Analysis is set up. We independently read a new play for EACH class, and have a round table discussion during class about a whole host of different themes. Works include: A Doll's House, The Seagull, Waiting for Godot, Oedipus Rex, The Bald Soprano, The Homecoming, Machinal, and some others. Our final "exam" is to basically direct a scene from a play, giving the actors whatever knowledge is necessary to convincingly portray a character. Exciting books, enjoyable subject, and an awesome teacher? Yes please! My art history course looks to be a lot of fun too. We visit the Met next class on Thursday to have an introduction to different terminology used in art, and just to check things in general out. Curses, Ian has distracted me with his e-mails full of humorous internet doings, so I have totally lost my train of thought. So...for now I'll leave it at that! College has super awesome classes thus far and they shall hopefully continue. And hopefully I'll make some friends so I don't have to spend ANOTHER night on ED...
-Emerson
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