Well, school has started. But this year, school is wonderful! I just started my freshman year at Coe College on Monday (unless you count orientation... then LAST Monday). I absolutely love my classes, my three roomies, the random professors I've met briefly and still remember me (yay History department!) and everything about the busy college life: cross country practice, intriguing homework, trying to squeeze in meals, nighttime school-sponsored events..... the works. :)
This term, I am taking classes that I really enjoy. On Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays I have my First Year Seminar. The topic is "Monsters, Freaks and... Others." My teacher is a joy: a little strange and wholly endearing. Everyone in the class, mostly, is open in discussions and presents really good ideas. We're going to be reading really fun books and watching a ton of movies and I'm really looking forward to all the FYS things we're doing this term.
On Mon, Wed and Fri only, I have a religion class (Belief & Unbelief) which is really fun. The readings are dense but everyone really brings them to life in the discussions. The professor is bubbly and excitable and really has a passion for religion, which is always fun. Then on Mon, Wed and Fri afternoons I have History of Western Civilization I, which isn't the most fun but is still interesting because I'm a nerd that way. The teacher is really nice and makes the lectures/discussions interesting. The only thing I don't like is that we will have POP QUZZES. :(
My only class on Tuesdays and my only class besides FYS on Thursday is Introduction to Gender Studies. This class is going to be really interesting. There are around 15-20 people in the class, only 5 boys. One is gay. All the boys seem to come from different backgrounds. The rest are girls. The only thing that would make the class perfect would be to have more than just white people represented in discussions. But the readings are interesting and I enjoy doing the response/reflection assignments because it makes me really think about the material in a different way.
But besides all this boring (to you) school stuff, I have been doing fun things with my time. Cross country practice is usually fun (not the running, just the parts before and after with my team mates). But last night there was a small concert in the P.U.B. on campus which was amazing.
Ari Herstand came to play at Coe, and I hadn't heard of him before I saw signs up around campus. I checked him out on Youtube and immediately recruited my friend Emily and my roommate Bekah to go with me. He was an amazing performer, recording live loops that would play during the song which made him as a solo act sound like a 5-piece band. It was really unique. He had great stage presense and, of course, sounded great. (I bought a CD and a shirt because I'm a sucker like that.) I would definitely recommend checking him out on Youtube, Myspace, etc. He's really good, with a really mellow (most of the time) Jason Mraz/Jack Johnson/Death Cab for Cutie sort of sound.
All in all, I am loving college. It's a blast. I'm busy and loving every second of it. :)
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Requiem for a Dream (Hubert Selby Jr)
First things first, I bought the newest Carina Round EP this morning on iTunes. It is called "Things You Should Know" and is fantastic. I love it. All the tracks are fantastic and her voice just shines. Her last album, Slow Motion Addict, was half fantastic, half bad, so this gives me lots of hope. It reminds me a bit of a less experimental version of First Blood Mystery/Disconnection Carina, which I adore. I am eagerly anticipating word of the release of her next album.
Now, to the real reason I'm finally updating my blog again. I have seen the film Requiem for a Dream (directed by Darren Aronofsky) twice, and both times it has stunned me into speechlessness. It's so blunt and affecting. But I have now finally read the book (it took me just two days, which is about 1/10, at least, of the time it takes me to read books for class) and I can honestly say I have never felt so drained and dirty after reading a book.
If you are unfamiliar with the premise if Requiem, let me debrief you: It is about the steady downward spiral of four lives, as their dreams of happiness are replaced with despair, chaos and hopelessness.
First, I have to bring up the way the book is written. There are no quotation marks. There are paragraphs that literally run on for pages. No breaks in the dialogue. Fantasies and dreams that are often written as realities. But do not be intimidated by the first page (or the first few, even). It is an incredibly effective way of getting the reader into the heads of the characters. You begin to identify the characters by the way they speak and what they are saying, getting into their minds a little and coming to know them as people, instead of figments on a page. It draws you into the book more thoroughly than you can imagine.
The first, roughly, half of the book is about the hopes and dreams of the characters. Tyrone just wants to live without any hassles. He wants to have enough money that he can get away from the places he's lived for 25 years and just live happily without worries. Marion and Harry want to travel the world and open artsy, bohemian coffee shops in New York and San Francisco. Sara, Harry's mother, wants to fit into her red dress, be on television, see her son happy and married, and have grandchildren. They have simple goals, but unhealthy ways of acheiving them.
(BEWARE: SPOILERS LIE BEYOND THIS POINT)
Tyrone, Harry and Marion involve themselves in drug trade to try to "score a pound of pure" to sell and get enough money to live comfortably off of (for the rest of their lives, we imagine?). This, eventually, backfires when the supply of heroin in the city dries up and they are reduced to sick junkies, always looking for their next fix, braving the Northeast winter all night long to try to find a source. You can sort of see it coming: the desperation, the anxiety, the falling out of love, the anguish. You feel horrible for where they end up (in a jail with Southern racists, without an arm because of needle-caused infection, selling her body for a score), but they deserve it a little more than Sara does. They chose to be this way, even if circumstance guided their hand.
Sara, however, is a lonely widow who just wants to have a happy son and be popular with the ladies in the apartment and have people see her on television. She is obsessed with the television; her life revolves around it. Early in the novel, we see that she thinks TV is reality: if a television show can end happily, so can her life. She also overeats and has a overwhelming love for food. After recieving a telephone call (perhaps a fake?) that she will be chosen to be on a TV quiz show, Sara begins to yearn to lose weight and fit into the red dress she wore to Harry's bar mitzvah. She tries a diet, but finds it took difficult. So instead, she goes to the doctor, who prescribes her, what we find out are, amphetamines. She becomes hooked on the energy (also downing a pot or more of coffee a day) but soon the pills aren't enough. She takes more of them at once, and begins to hallucinate, for which the doctor prescribes Vallium to take the edge off. Eventually, the lack of food (the pills take away her appetitie and she lives off the pill doses and pots of coffee) and the constant stream of chemicals causes her to, essentially, go crazy.
But this part of the book is what got to me the most. There is a scene in which a young doctor tells another that Sara need not be in the psych ward. She could be better in a few weeks with simple medical care. But he is overridden and she instead suffers, unable to talk and too weak to move, and subjected to force feedings (eventually a tube down her throat instead) and shock therapy treatments. At one point, she is strapped in a wheelchair for (I believe) two days, unable to speak because her throat is so dry and the tube makes her gag. No one will help her to the bathroom and instead she relieves herself in the chair. The nurse, however, tells her that she is disgusting and leaves her to sit in it for the next day until her next shock treatment. The horror she had to have felt in that hospital broke my heart.
By the end of the novel, I had been on a rollercoaster ride of drug induced euphoria, the lure of hopes of happiness, promises of a satisfied dream, then downward spirialling emotions, insanity and ravenous addiction, grime, filth and horrific scenarios. There is no way to accurately describe Requiem for a Dream besides as both heartbreaking and devestating. Especially the story of Sara who had no idea what was happening to her, and is sentenced to live the rest of her life in the bubble of a mental hospital, vaguely unaware of her surroundings most of the time.
(SPOILERS END)
The story is one that is highly affecting, and haunts anyone who reads the book or watches the film. Even though I have finished the book and put it on my shelf (well, not really, since I'm borrowing it, but let's think metaphorically), I still couldn't fight the urge to take a shower an hour after reading the last pages, and write a blog entry to get the scattered thoughts about the book out of my head.
I would recommend this book to anyone who has experimented with drugs or are familar with them, with people who are not terribly squeamish, and those who are interested in stories that delve into the triumph and defeat the human spirit, for this is not only a story about drugs and their effects, but what happens when outside forces cause the human spirit to surrender and cower in the shadows.
Now, to the real reason I'm finally updating my blog again. I have seen the film Requiem for a Dream (directed by Darren Aronofsky) twice, and both times it has stunned me into speechlessness. It's so blunt and affecting. But I have now finally read the book (it took me just two days, which is about 1/10, at least, of the time it takes me to read books for class) and I can honestly say I have never felt so drained and dirty after reading a book.
If you are unfamiliar with the premise if Requiem, let me debrief you: It is about the steady downward spiral of four lives, as their dreams of happiness are replaced with despair, chaos and hopelessness.
First, I have to bring up the way the book is written. There are no quotation marks. There are paragraphs that literally run on for pages. No breaks in the dialogue. Fantasies and dreams that are often written as realities. But do not be intimidated by the first page (or the first few, even). It is an incredibly effective way of getting the reader into the heads of the characters. You begin to identify the characters by the way they speak and what they are saying, getting into their minds a little and coming to know them as people, instead of figments on a page. It draws you into the book more thoroughly than you can imagine.
The first, roughly, half of the book is about the hopes and dreams of the characters. Tyrone just wants to live without any hassles. He wants to have enough money that he can get away from the places he's lived for 25 years and just live happily without worries. Marion and Harry want to travel the world and open artsy, bohemian coffee shops in New York and San Francisco. Sara, Harry's mother, wants to fit into her red dress, be on television, see her son happy and married, and have grandchildren. They have simple goals, but unhealthy ways of acheiving them.
(BEWARE: SPOILERS LIE BEYOND THIS POINT)
Tyrone, Harry and Marion involve themselves in drug trade to try to "score a pound of pure" to sell and get enough money to live comfortably off of (for the rest of their lives, we imagine?). This, eventually, backfires when the supply of heroin in the city dries up and they are reduced to sick junkies, always looking for their next fix, braving the Northeast winter all night long to try to find a source. You can sort of see it coming: the desperation, the anxiety, the falling out of love, the anguish. You feel horrible for where they end up (in a jail with Southern racists, without an arm because of needle-caused infection, selling her body for a score), but they deserve it a little more than Sara does. They chose to be this way, even if circumstance guided their hand.
Sara, however, is a lonely widow who just wants to have a happy son and be popular with the ladies in the apartment and have people see her on television. She is obsessed with the television; her life revolves around it. Early in the novel, we see that she thinks TV is reality: if a television show can end happily, so can her life. She also overeats and has a overwhelming love for food. After recieving a telephone call (perhaps a fake?) that she will be chosen to be on a TV quiz show, Sara begins to yearn to lose weight and fit into the red dress she wore to Harry's bar mitzvah. She tries a diet, but finds it took difficult. So instead, she goes to the doctor, who prescribes her, what we find out are, amphetamines. She becomes hooked on the energy (also downing a pot or more of coffee a day) but soon the pills aren't enough. She takes more of them at once, and begins to hallucinate, for which the doctor prescribes Vallium to take the edge off. Eventually, the lack of food (the pills take away her appetitie and she lives off the pill doses and pots of coffee) and the constant stream of chemicals causes her to, essentially, go crazy.
But this part of the book is what got to me the most. There is a scene in which a young doctor tells another that Sara need not be in the psych ward. She could be better in a few weeks with simple medical care. But he is overridden and she instead suffers, unable to talk and too weak to move, and subjected to force feedings (eventually a tube down her throat instead) and shock therapy treatments. At one point, she is strapped in a wheelchair for (I believe) two days, unable to speak because her throat is so dry and the tube makes her gag. No one will help her to the bathroom and instead she relieves herself in the chair. The nurse, however, tells her that she is disgusting and leaves her to sit in it for the next day until her next shock treatment. The horror she had to have felt in that hospital broke my heart.
By the end of the novel, I had been on a rollercoaster ride of drug induced euphoria, the lure of hopes of happiness, promises of a satisfied dream, then downward spirialling emotions, insanity and ravenous addiction, grime, filth and horrific scenarios. There is no way to accurately describe Requiem for a Dream besides as both heartbreaking and devestating. Especially the story of Sara who had no idea what was happening to her, and is sentenced to live the rest of her life in the bubble of a mental hospital, vaguely unaware of her surroundings most of the time.
(SPOILERS END)
The story is one that is highly affecting, and haunts anyone who reads the book or watches the film. Even though I have finished the book and put it on my shelf (well, not really, since I'm borrowing it, but let's think metaphorically), I still couldn't fight the urge to take a shower an hour after reading the last pages, and write a blog entry to get the scattered thoughts about the book out of my head.
I would recommend this book to anyone who has experimented with drugs or are familar with them, with people who are not terribly squeamish, and those who are interested in stories that delve into the triumph and defeat the human spirit, for this is not only a story about drugs and their effects, but what happens when outside forces cause the human spirit to surrender and cower in the shadows.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Sophie Scholl - Die Letzen Tage
We just finished this movie in German class today.
It was really good. I love history, WWII, Nazi Germany history and anything related to any of those things so it was great. And it was a good human story as well as a good thinking-philosophically story. I would highly recommend this to anyone. It is in German but there are English subtitles. I think it is good to watch it in German, even if I didn't understand 98% of it, because it really was like, "Wow. These people actually had to stand there, having words sounding like THIS spat at them." It was mostly just interrogation and reflection but the part with the judge in the courtroom and the parts following were way more dramatic and far more emotional.
It was a fantastic movie. And the soundtrack was sometimes ill-fitting but still very good. I just can't get over how much I wish I had a copy of this film.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Oh, Patrick, dear...
I love Patrick Wolf. I really do. His music is just so good. I can't turn away from it. It speaks to me. He's always putting stories or emotions in his songs and I can't ignore that. He uses instruments differently than other artists that I know of. He's never the same, always experimenting.
His first single from his new album(s) is the song "Vultures." I have LOVED this song since I heard a rough, demo version on Youtube recorded from a live concert. He has a music video of it which is on MySpace from 9pm to 4am on March 18 and 19, limited because it is so "raunchy." Really, I couldn't bring myself to watch it.
To sit on my couch and watch one of my most beloved musical artists rolling around in bondage gear, showing all sorts of skin, looking strange and ghoulish and wearing strange, 18th century hair... I just can't do it. It's too strange. It's too sexual. I don't want to picture Patrick Wolf as some half-naked man with elf hair. I want to picture him as someone who sits down with an instrument and pours his hear out into lyrics and musical themes.
I adore him as an artist. I love his music. But I cannot stand most of his music videos and his antics. They just bother me. He seems so over-the-top and pretentious when I wish he could just be a shy, humble, music genius like I thought he was for so long. Since "The Magic Position," he's gotten more eccentric and strange in a way that is quite unbecoming.
So I suppose Patrick Wolf will become an artist I will listen to, but not watch. So I can imagine whatever I want while I listen to his music, instead of picturing him half-naked, rolling around on a bed. Or lip-syncing in long, blonde elf hair.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Coe College
It is so refreshing to finally know, 95% sure, where I want to go for college. After a long Friday and a brief Saturday in honor of scholarship weekend, I spent time in classes, with teachers and with students at Coe College. I've determined that I want to go there and I have the sweatshirt to prove it.
The teachers were great. They were all really friendly and tuned in with students (and visitors, like me). They were charismatic and entertaining on the whole. I met probably 10 faculty members and there was one 1 that was so-so. That's pretty good chances of having good professors most of the time. I interviewed with the history department and it was the second time in as many days I'd sat down and chatted with the same two fellows. It was really relaxed and enjoyable; I wasn't nervous at all.
I visited the writing center, intent on finding out what was involved in a writing minor/creative writing minor. And instead, I talked about a writing minor for about 5 minutes with a professor of professional writing and rhetoric. The rest of the time we talked about Coe and it's advantages, what I like to do in and out of school and various other topics until I really, really had to go to my next departmental open house.
The students were really nice too. Their dorms, not so great. But they were engaged and interested. Many of them offered help and advice about Coe and were interested in where I was from, what I wanted to study, what activities I was interested in continuing and what I was doing in school now. Most of the other prospective students were people I could see myself going to school with. (Don't worry, I don't have a roomie picked out... yet.) I loved the community atmosphere that the campus offered and it is just the right size. I wanted a small school... then a big school... and now I've settled on a school of 1300 people and I don't think it's a bad decision at all. It's in town and close to home; I'm thrilled that it has everything I want and I be home in 10 minutes.
Now that I know where I want to go next year... I'm really, really excited for college. I'm excited to try out cross country again to work on speed instead of distance. I'm excited to meet new people in a new place. I'm excited to be on my own but not too far away from home. I'm excited for new learning experiences and chances to learn more about myself, my capabilities and things I may love that I've never been exposed to before. A small liberal arts college in my city is just want I've been looking for.
The teachers were great. They were all really friendly and tuned in with students (and visitors, like me). They were charismatic and entertaining on the whole. I met probably 10 faculty members and there was one 1 that was so-so. That's pretty good chances of having good professors most of the time. I interviewed with the history department and it was the second time in as many days I'd sat down and chatted with the same two fellows. It was really relaxed and enjoyable; I wasn't nervous at all.
I visited the writing center, intent on finding out what was involved in a writing minor/creative writing minor. And instead, I talked about a writing minor for about 5 minutes with a professor of professional writing and rhetoric. The rest of the time we talked about Coe and it's advantages, what I like to do in and out of school and various other topics until I really, really had to go to my next departmental open house.
The students were really nice too. Their dorms, not so great. But they were engaged and interested. Many of them offered help and advice about Coe and were interested in where I was from, what I wanted to study, what activities I was interested in continuing and what I was doing in school now. Most of the other prospective students were people I could see myself going to school with. (Don't worry, I don't have a roomie picked out... yet.) I loved the community atmosphere that the campus offered and it is just the right size. I wanted a small school... then a big school... and now I've settled on a school of 1300 people and I don't think it's a bad decision at all. It's in town and close to home; I'm thrilled that it has everything I want and I be home in 10 minutes.
Now that I know where I want to go next year... I'm really, really excited for college. I'm excited to try out cross country again to work on speed instead of distance. I'm excited to meet new people in a new place. I'm excited to be on my own but not too far away from home. I'm excited for new learning experiences and chances to learn more about myself, my capabilities and things I may love that I've never been exposed to before. A small liberal arts college in my city is just want I've been looking for.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Apparently, I got ready for hibernation too!
So I've been training for and running half-marathons for the last 11 months. I started up in March 2008, ran my first half-marathon at the Quad Cities Marathon in September 28th and the Walt Disney World half-marathon in January 10th. I've since been training to run the St. Louis half-marathon on April 19th. It's been going swell and I've been getting much faster since I had an issue with my IT band that I need to work on improving my form to get rid of. And my form is better when I run faster.
But running history aside, all winter I've been avoiding the scale and eating what I want. I've noticed some increase in the ring of pudge around my middle, but have tried to ignore it. But today, on a whim, I stepped into the upstairs bathroom and jumped onto the scale and was surprised what I told me. Before winter, I weighed about 119 pounds, give or take a pound on any given day. I expected, at most, 121... 122... but what did I get?
124.8!
How could this happen? Yeah, I eat Little Debbie treats and potato chips and sneak candy like nobody's business... oh. That's how. Maybe I shouldn't hoard food away in my room or sneak candy after my dad goes to bed or pig out every time I get a chance. Perhaps I shouldn't fill myself up completely at nearly every meal even though the food is good. I could always spend less time wishing I had food and spend more time thinking about other things. I could try not to compulsively eat whenever I bored or in the kitchen...
This sounds like a good plan.
It's February 11th and I have basically two months and 8 days to lose 5-10 pounds. Not only will this make me feel a lot better about myself, feel more healthy and make it easier to pick flattering clothes every morning, this will help me run a sub-2:00 half-marathon. My first was 2:18:34, my second 2:06:45 and this one I'd like to take those 7 minutes off... if not more. And losing 5 pounds at least would aid in that a lot
So let's see how it goes, shall we?
EDIT: My dad and I are now having a bet. He wants to lose weight too, so we are going to see who can lose 5% of their body weight the fastest. Whoever loses owes the winner the gap of the two percentages, times $5. It's quite fair and our first "weigh in" is this weekend. Nothing like some good old competition to get the ball rolling.
But running history aside, all winter I've been avoiding the scale and eating what I want. I've noticed some increase in the ring of pudge around my middle, but have tried to ignore it. But today, on a whim, I stepped into the upstairs bathroom and jumped onto the scale and was surprised what I told me. Before winter, I weighed about 119 pounds, give or take a pound on any given day. I expected, at most, 121... 122... but what did I get?
124.8!
How could this happen? Yeah, I eat Little Debbie treats and potato chips and sneak candy like nobody's business... oh. That's how. Maybe I shouldn't hoard food away in my room or sneak candy after my dad goes to bed or pig out every time I get a chance. Perhaps I shouldn't fill myself up completely at nearly every meal even though the food is good. I could always spend less time wishing I had food and spend more time thinking about other things. I could try not to compulsively eat whenever I bored or in the kitchen...
This sounds like a good plan.
It's February 11th and I have basically two months and 8 days to lose 5-10 pounds. Not only will this make me feel a lot better about myself, feel more healthy and make it easier to pick flattering clothes every morning, this will help me run a sub-2:00 half-marathon. My first was 2:18:34, my second 2:06:45 and this one I'd like to take those 7 minutes off... if not more. And losing 5 pounds at least would aid in that a lot
So let's see how it goes, shall we?
EDIT: My dad and I are now having a bet. He wants to lose weight too, so we are going to see who can lose 5% of their body weight the fastest. Whoever loses owes the winner the gap of the two percentages, times $5. It's quite fair and our first "weigh in" is this weekend. Nothing like some good old competition to get the ball rolling.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
JANE AUSTEN WILL DIE!
Ugh. After reading nothing but Jane Austen novels for the last 2-2.5 months for AP Lit, I swear on my life I will never pick up another Jane Austen book for another 10 years. I am so tired of the humorous societal satire and the hand-touching, eyes-meeting romantics. Give me something, anything, with different themes and storylines!
I'm dying to read something new. I can't even open Mansfield Park without wanting to kill myself.
Hopefully, at the end of the term, I can get some people in my class to read The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (James Joyce) with me.
At least, I can go to class every day, comforted with knowing I will listen to my classmates butcher the pronounciation of words and rhythm of speech for plays such as Othello, Oedipus and Tartuffe. That's not Jane Austen!
I'm dying to read something new. I can't even open Mansfield Park without wanting to kill myself.
Hopefully, at the end of the term, I can get some people in my class to read The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (James Joyce) with me.
At least, I can go to class every day, comforted with knowing I will listen to my classmates butcher the pronounciation of words and rhythm of speech for plays such as Othello, Oedipus and Tartuffe. That's not Jane Austen!
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