First Sentence

You pick up the phone and someone says, "Hello. You're home, are you?" and with just these five words you know, although you haven't heard from him for ten years, that Uncle Ed is calling.

That was the first sentence of the chapter I started reading from my Creative Writing textbook today. Ed is a common name for an uncle to have (for anyone to have, really). I know that's why the author chose to use it. Not because everyone has an Uncle Ed, but because most everyone has an uncle who probably doesn't call that often, but whose mannerisms stick in our heads regardless. Ultimately, every reader should be able to relate to the sentence, whether their Uncle's name is Ed or Bo or Willie or George or what have you. And if your Uncle's name is Ed, then the connection between you and the sentence is even stronger.

However, the connection was lost on me, broken before it could reach me. I still understood the sentence's purpose, and why the author chose to use it, of course. It just wasn't the same. But hey, what are the chances of me taking this course, reading this book, two years after my Uncle Ed died?

Backstabber

I found out what it's like to gossip on Friday. Not just to sit quietly in the room listening while a gossip conversation goes on, like I usually do. I straight up talked down on someone just because of the clothes they wore that day. And it wasn't like they were hideous clothes nobody should be seen in public wearing (as if that would justify gossip, anyway); the dress she wore Friday--albeit a tad more risque than her normal attire--well, she looked beautiful wearing it. Not slutty, which is what the stupid conversation was about.

I hate it when people gossip about someone else. And there is a difference between venting similar emotions with other people about someone else and talking shit about someone else just to reach the next rung on a social ladder. The former case, in moderation, can be a healthy way to sort out opinions of someone you're not sure about, I've found. But I was definitely committing the latter when her name came up in conversation, when one participant said her outfit screamed prostitute, when I commented on the irony of her beaded crucifix necklace for a chuckle at the table.

The laughter was brief, and the moment it subsided it dawned on me what I just did. Gossiped. On a friend. Someone I actually kinda liked a year ago. We didn't talk much over the summer (I never saw her, and her boyfriend definitely had more priority than me), but we'd bumped into each other a few times since classes at MAC started up this semester. We were still friends (she even remembered the little hand gesture I taught her, haha). In fact, earlier that Friday she told me she had missed me.

And that's what kills me.

An Abrupt Halt

Every end is a beginning.

Where one road stops, new paths extend from it.

I didn't make it into the cast of The 39 Steps at MAC.

In my four-year theater career, this is the first play I didn't get a part in, of the twelve plays I auditioned for.

This is also the first play in my four-year theater career in which I am part of the backstage crew.

Chuck even asked me to be the stage manager.

Did you know that, in the United States, someone dies every thirteen seconds?

Every seven seconds, in the United States, someone is born.

Every end is a beginning.

Where one road stops, new paths extend from it.

'Mental Warfare' Preview

Going through the videos on my phone today, I uncovered a video clip for a song I've been piecing together for about a year now. I originally intended to blog the video after posting the video sample of 'Why Should We', but I must have forgotten to do it. Chances are I was swamped with school, homework, and play practices and never found the time to upload it. So, it sat in the backseat of my phone's SD card, waiting patiently for me to give it some fresh air.

So, here is the intro for 'Mental Warfare,' finally getting some daylight (though I didn't know that's what I would name the song when I recorded the video, haha).

EDIT: I also found a hilarious blooper from recording this video, haha.

In my dreams

I do a lot of running in my dreams.

Sometimes to chase something (or someone),

but more often to escape something

(or someone).

I always see people in my dreams.

Often it's the people I love,

or the people I used to.

Or maybe I still do,

but shouldn't.

I see Jenny from time to time.

Maybe it's just the people I miss.

I frequently become Spider-Man in my dreams.

Sometimes I save the day.

Other times I lose my powers.

Once, I was the villain, the monster.

I like it better when I'm the hero.

* * *

And these are just the dreams I remember

after waking up.

Unasleep

You know, I hate it when my house phone rings. It seriously annoys me. I mean, it interrupts what everyone in the house is doing just so the caller can talk to one person. It completely sucks. This is what individual cell phones are for: if someone wants to talk to me, they dial my number, my phone rings, and I'm the only one who has to worry about answering it. The whole family doesn't have to scramble to answer the phone just for one person, who isn't even around the house half the time. But while everyone in my house does own a personal cell phone (even if my dad rarely uses his), we don't have any cell service at our house, leaving us stuck with the landline.

That's what I started writing this blog about. I meant every word of it; living outside cell service and relying on a landline seriously bothers me. But then again, that's what bothers me? That's what I feel passionate about--who has to answer a damn phone? Why don't I feel this strongly about getting a job, or improving my writing, or making music? Why doesn't it bother me that funding for education is getting mowed down to save a failing economy while the fat cats responsible for the mess desperately cling to their cash? When did I let myself get sucked into this cynical, hipster-ish, I'm-too-cool-to-give-a-shit mindset?

I used to be on fire about the world around me. What happened? Did I grow up? Did I just get bored? I am getting older, but that should mean I'm growing wiser, and wisdom means having a better understanding of life, not thinking thinking I'm too mature to be as fiery as I was when I was young. Well, this is my wake-up call. It's time I realized how much life there truly is ahead of me.

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