I last posted here 20 days ago, which at one time would be unacceptable, but nowadays life moves too fast for me to guarantee anything.
I've been thinking a lot about the past recently. Let me make one thing entirely clear: I don't want to relive, I just want to acknowledge. Anyways, I've been looking over the past year's worth of blog posts because this is the time of year where I write the Christmas, and I will make my annual "Let's See How Far We've Come" post later today, but as for now I want to evaluate where I am.
Two weeks ago I served on an Eagle Board of Review. To be entirely fair, I have never once served on a Board, and the last time I was at an Eagle Board was, well, my own almost a year prior. This was the last Board for Troop 831 because we couldn't recharter for 2016 with none members. I was asked because, as usual, this was a down-to-the-wire during-the-week case. They needed manpower that didn't have work on a Tuesday. But the symbolic thing in all this was that it was indeed that last board of review. And so everyone who was asked (and then some) appeared.
The maximum number of adult registered leaders who can appear on a board is six. Mike had six. They were Mr. Y (my mentor, and the man I credit with me becoming a more confident human being than I thought possible), Mr. Ellenberger (the district advancement chair commissioner dude, also an Eagle), me (you know me), my dad (you should know my dad), Mr. Fenton (a family friend of Mike's who knows him outside of scouts), and a personal favorite, Jake Urbanek. If you've followed my life for a long time, you know about Jake. Officially he's the camp director at Seph Mack in Indiana, he's also a junior at Cal U. Personally, he's been one of my best scouting friends and a huge influence on me taking on leadership roles and advancing full on to Eagle. We've been great friends ever since the April 2009 NYC adventure.
We realized a few things in us discovering we were both on the board: we were there for Mike's start in Boy Scouting (which was the NYC trip) and we signed off on his end. We were, progressively with the exception of Jake Seanor between Mike and I, the last three SPLs of Troop 831.
There was a lot of symbolism in that room: three Eagle Scouts, the old guard and the final guard of Troop 831, and we ended the troop with the pinnacle of scouting - seeing our last youth member make Eagle.
It felt hollow, our last Court of Honor. People shared their memories from a bygone era and mourned the lost of that which they left. I'm sorry I don't know the troop 831 of the 90s or 2000s, and that I barely recognize anyone that showed up. Here's my sidebar: yes it was a magical reunion of yore, but it was the mourning of something completely preventable. They mourned their memories of 831, not the 831 that held that court of honor. As the scouts from years past walked up to speak about their memories or advice or whatever, each one of them recounted memories and punctuated their speeches with a near-condemnation of the current administration for ending it. Here's the deal: we had 4 scouts legally and on the books. I saw this coming back when I was SPL: we lost our feeder pack because the cubmaster pulled the jenga blocks and while that's an excuse it isn't a good one. In 2010 and 2012 we needed to look at recruitment, not sustainability. Because without the first one, the second was and proved to be impossible. We reached out nowhere, and this grand network of alumni remained silent and detached until April 26th. That's the reality. It wasn't overnight, people just didn't join. And those of us that were there aged out.
So it's over. Well, the troop is at least. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I do know this much: we will go on. Jake, Mike, and possibly some other 831 alums plan on taking an alumni reunion hike in Settlers' Cabin tomorrow. Who knows where we go from there.
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
Angry Roads Pricked With People Rolling Forward Like Onions
The post title comes from a song we played on our radio show, Don't Let Me Die At Coco's, an obscure song that I have no idea where it came from.
We're almost halfway through the semester. So that means it's almost midterm season. And time flies by like crazy.
So last time I posted on here, it was part of an English paper. I try to avoid discussing things that I'm assigned to in class, but I felt it would work well as a crossover. We got back the grades on these things earlier this week (or maybe last week, I can't tell anymore how time passes because down here the sun don't shine and the lights always flicker with a 1 a.m. overworked glow) and as is usual the professor made some comments on the whole to all of us.
She said she liked the blog posts better than the academic papers. So I want to attempt to explain why that is. In a phrase, blog posts are more free form. They're our own. That's what our teacher said, and I tend to agree. But to digress a bit, I want to talk about how the education system strips us of our personality and then tries to force it back.
I always had a bit of an issue with writing English papers. We were told for years that we aren't qualified enough to have opinions on subjects, thus everything we had needed to be cited within papers. Once I figured out that bit, my papers let my sources sing. I used their collective voices to prove points I myself felt but was unqualified to have.
This year, our English professor is saying that our essays don't properly reflect our own voices in the same way our blog posts do. Duh. Here I am, freely expressing myself without worry about form or elevated language or making sure I used academically approved sources to prove points. In other words, it was my work as a confluence, but not truly my own working opinions, And she wants us to change that within an academic sense.
Cool. So how do I do that when I've been trained I'm unqualified for any opinions, and all academic papers must be on the shoulders of these untouchable scholars? And why? What relevance does writing an academically cited and categorized paper have for me? It doesn't. I create content that at some point may be put in an academic journal, and then your force the next group to use your paper for their papers. It's a perpetual fight to stay relevant: a self-fulfilling prophecy. Let me just write a newspaper article already.
Speaking of, I'm now the Assistant News Section editor for The Globe, Point Park's Campus newspaper. So that's kinda crazy and I'm really excited about it!
We're almost halfway through the semester. So that means it's almost midterm season. And time flies by like crazy.
So last time I posted on here, it was part of an English paper. I try to avoid discussing things that I'm assigned to in class, but I felt it would work well as a crossover. We got back the grades on these things earlier this week (or maybe last week, I can't tell anymore how time passes because down here the sun don't shine and the lights always flicker with a 1 a.m. overworked glow) and as is usual the professor made some comments on the whole to all of us.
She said she liked the blog posts better than the academic papers. So I want to attempt to explain why that is. In a phrase, blog posts are more free form. They're our own. That's what our teacher said, and I tend to agree. But to digress a bit, I want to talk about how the education system strips us of our personality and then tries to force it back.
I always had a bit of an issue with writing English papers. We were told for years that we aren't qualified enough to have opinions on subjects, thus everything we had needed to be cited within papers. Once I figured out that bit, my papers let my sources sing. I used their collective voices to prove points I myself felt but was unqualified to have.
This year, our English professor is saying that our essays don't properly reflect our own voices in the same way our blog posts do. Duh. Here I am, freely expressing myself without worry about form or elevated language or making sure I used academically approved sources to prove points. In other words, it was my work as a confluence, but not truly my own working opinions, And she wants us to change that within an academic sense.
Cool. So how do I do that when I've been trained I'm unqualified for any opinions, and all academic papers must be on the shoulders of these untouchable scholars? And why? What relevance does writing an academically cited and categorized paper have for me? It doesn't. I create content that at some point may be put in an academic journal, and then your force the next group to use your paper for their papers. It's a perpetual fight to stay relevant: a self-fulfilling prophecy. Let me just write a newspaper article already.
Speaking of, I'm now the Assistant News Section editor for The Globe, Point Park's Campus newspaper. So that's kinda crazy and I'm really excited about it!
Friday, July 25, 2014
Start It Out, There's Nothing New
Those are lyrics from the Indians' "Oblivion" from the TFiOS Soundtrack. There aren't many words that are usable from M83's "Wait", but yeah...
The issue with self-policing is that the only authority you are answering to are yourself. It usually works because, at least in my case, your own guilt pushes you to do what you wanted. Well, I skipped a month - the guilt was there but the time/days to post weren't. So I apologize. Sometimes my own life gets in the way of recording it. As the title suggests, there isn't much new to record. Except that I have a car now, but it's not new.
I am now the proud owner of a 1992 Ford Tempo. It was my [paternal] grandmother's, but she doesn't drive anymore and it was in need of an alternator and some other little things. My parents, being awesome as usual, had it fixed up for me by our mechanic (who is the father of a kid I was in cub scouts with... fun fact - thanks again Bill!) and turned over to me. Enter the task of bringing it from legal to comfortable.
All told, I cleaned out roughly a garbage bag and a half of things that had either worn beyond use - umbrellas that crumbled, a sun shield that was falling apart - and others beyond use - a Valvoline engine check invoice from 1994, napkins, and used windshield wipers. An assistant to our mechanic graciously cleaned some black gunk off the side of it, and all I had to do was wash the exterior, vacuum the interior and go through the trunk. The car probably hadn't been driven since 2007ish - believe it or not, it only has only 26,200 miles on it! It runs really well, and was well kept - exactly the way I intend to keep it.
It's a 90's car in every sense of the word - manual windows, cassette deck, these sort of terrifying automatic shoulder seat belt things that try to strangle you when you start it - but I love it. It's a 4-cylinder engine, so it's fun to drive - sort of like a golf cart controls - but has the safety and stability of an American-made steel framed amazing.
The stereo system is also quite good, this coming from someone who has run a variety of sound systems, and because it has a cassette deck I can use an adapter to play my iPod over the system - if my brother would let me play my own music!!! [Sorry, he likes to control it and I've just about had it after two weeks here...]
This is indeed a new start, but nothing in essence new. I'm thrilled to have a car, and a grandmother who is okay with this all, and all I need is to name it...
The issue with self-policing is that the only authority you are answering to are yourself. It usually works because, at least in my case, your own guilt pushes you to do what you wanted. Well, I skipped a month - the guilt was there but the time/days to post weren't. So I apologize. Sometimes my own life gets in the way of recording it. As the title suggests, there isn't much new to record. Except that I have a car now, but it's not new.
I am now the proud owner of a 1992 Ford Tempo. It was my [paternal] grandmother's, but she doesn't drive anymore and it was in need of an alternator and some other little things. My parents, being awesome as usual, had it fixed up for me by our mechanic (who is the father of a kid I was in cub scouts with... fun fact - thanks again Bill!) and turned over to me. Enter the task of bringing it from legal to comfortable.
All told, I cleaned out roughly a garbage bag and a half of things that had either worn beyond use - umbrellas that crumbled, a sun shield that was falling apart - and others beyond use - a Valvoline engine check invoice from 1994, napkins, and used windshield wipers. An assistant to our mechanic graciously cleaned some black gunk off the side of it, and all I had to do was wash the exterior, vacuum the interior and go through the trunk. The car probably hadn't been driven since 2007ish - believe it or not, it only has only 26,200 miles on it! It runs really well, and was well kept - exactly the way I intend to keep it.
It's a 90's car in every sense of the word - manual windows, cassette deck, these sort of terrifying automatic shoulder seat belt things that try to strangle you when you start it - but I love it. It's a 4-cylinder engine, so it's fun to drive - sort of like a golf cart controls - but has the safety and stability of an American-made steel framed amazing.
The stereo system is also quite good, this coming from someone who has run a variety of sound systems, and because it has a cassette deck I can use an adapter to play my iPod over the system - if my brother would let me play my own music!!! [Sorry, he likes to control it and I've just about had it after two weeks here...]
This is indeed a new start, but nothing in essence new. I'm thrilled to have a car, and a grandmother who is okay with this all, and all I need is to name it...
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Keep The Earth Below My Feet
So It's Summer. With summer comes the changing of the guard - from the class of 2014 to the class of 2015. Notice the title of the site? Yeah, that means us.
It is surreal to think that the class of 2014 is graduating. They were always 'that grade ahead of us' that I never liked on the whole. Over the course of the past few years, I was fortunate enough to meet a large portion of the class, and am glad to call a few of them my friends. Nevertheless, time marches on.
I have been within and without since finals, and that is mainly because of the combination of finals cramming and getting these approvals for the Eagle Project. After nearly 6 months and over a dozen meetings with the Principal/Assistant Principal, the first, preliminary paperwork is approved by them. I can't talk much more than that yet, which is kind of frustrating because I like being relatively transparent here, but I still have approvals to go before anything moves forward. Such Paperwork. Many Unwow.
Over the course of the first week of summer (7 days) I was back up at the high school three times. The first was graduation, because it was indoors (read: auditorium, and I work auditorium events). When I got there, however, they informed me that it was outsourced, the boards were moved, and there was no place for me to go. So I snuck into the LGI control room, turned off all the lights and watched from there. It seems like a lot of issues in my everyday life could be fixed with simple communication. Oh well, such is life.
On Friday, two days after getting out of school, a few friends and I went mini-golfing, and then harassed Greg at his place of work, Dairy Queen. It felt a lot like one of those scenes in a movie, you know the ones, where you're playing music, laughing, and having a good time. The music of the night was everything from whatever the heck the 'Church Clap' is to Mumford and Sons' "Below My Feet". I've learned to really like that song. Not exactly sure why, but it (followed by the Monster Mash) provided the soundtrack to our adventure.
Here's to Summer, and here's to getting everything done and SENIOR YEAR.
It is surreal to think that the class of 2014 is graduating. They were always 'that grade ahead of us' that I never liked on the whole. Over the course of the past few years, I was fortunate enough to meet a large portion of the class, and am glad to call a few of them my friends. Nevertheless, time marches on.
I have been within and without since finals, and that is mainly because of the combination of finals cramming and getting these approvals for the Eagle Project. After nearly 6 months and over a dozen meetings with the Principal/Assistant Principal, the first, preliminary paperwork is approved by them. I can't talk much more than that yet, which is kind of frustrating because I like being relatively transparent here, but I still have approvals to go before anything moves forward. Such Paperwork. Many Unwow.
Over the course of the first week of summer (7 days) I was back up at the high school three times. The first was graduation, because it was indoors (read: auditorium, and I work auditorium events). When I got there, however, they informed me that it was outsourced, the boards were moved, and there was no place for me to go. So I snuck into the LGI control room, turned off all the lights and watched from there. It seems like a lot of issues in my everyday life could be fixed with simple communication. Oh well, such is life.
On Friday, two days after getting out of school, a few friends and I went mini-golfing, and then harassed Greg at his place of work, Dairy Queen. It felt a lot like one of those scenes in a movie, you know the ones, where you're playing music, laughing, and having a good time. The music of the night was everything from whatever the heck the 'Church Clap' is to Mumford and Sons' "Below My Feet". I've learned to really like that song. Not exactly sure why, but it (followed by the Monster Mash) provided the soundtrack to our adventure.
Here's to Summer, and here's to getting everything done and SENIOR YEAR.
Friday, May 16, 2014
Good Morning Carlynton, it's Wednesday (Okay it isn't but just go with it.)
NOTE: The NYC pictures are up on Flickr! https://www.flickr.com/photos/alexanderpopichak/sets/72157644250348029/
These past few weeks have been, well, crazy. Mostly in a good way, but also in the oh-my-goodness-I-have-to-take-the-APUSH-test way. So I apologize that I took a two week hiatus there.
A week ago I was in New York. Well, I mean, it was technically New Jersey where I stayed, but that doesn't matter. I'm calling it New York. Deal with it.
I can't say it enough, I love New York City. I'll keep it to a minimum of moderately humorous anecdotes.
These past few weeks have been, well, crazy. Mostly in a good way, but also in the oh-my-goodness-I-have-to-take-the-APUSH-test way. So I apologize that I took a two week hiatus there.
A week ago I was in New York. Well, I mean, it was technically New Jersey where I stayed, but that doesn't matter. I'm calling it New York. Deal with it.
I can't say it enough, I love New York City. I'll keep it to a minimum of moderately humorous anecdotes.
- My favorite part of the whole trip was probably when I got off the bus about two blocks away from Times Square and it was pouring rain. When you've brought along your DSLR you have to improvise some sort of cover. My weapon of choice? a cut-out Post-Gazette bag over the lens attached with a rubber band. I'm glad I did. (See right, click for larger)
- The whole trip began with a tour of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. Unfortunately, it was foggy that morning so we didn't exactly get to see the city itself. It all worked out though, it came across like a sheet, and read pretty well on the pictures. We circled Liberty Island for a while and realized at the last minute we had pedestal tickets through the tour. So we essentially sprinted to the top of the pedestal, took a few(quick) pictures (we had to be back at the boat in 7 minutes), and then sprinted right back down. Sounded a lot simpler writing it out than it did doing it. Great view, so worth it.
- Fog made another appearance when we went to the top of the Empire State Building. A great view up there of - nothing. But then of course the fog cleared once we got to the bottom. Luckily, it was an elevator ride up and not a walk up.
- We saw The Lion King in the Minskoff Theatre and it was all in all, a great time.
- We spent a total of about 20 hours in New York. Not nearly enough, I want to go back sometime, but at least I have 800 something pictures of this adventure. More to come on Flickr and as I think of it.
- Before I go, I want to attach the "Taxi" picture:
- I did a lot of random photography - aimlessly hitting the shutter button without lining up the picture - which yielded a bunch of pictures of the side of Tyler Smith's face, some light poles, and this beautiful image. I took all of the colors except for that of the taxis. There are SO many taxis in NYC it's ridiculous, but I thought this would be cool. Want prints? contact me.
So that's my New York Trip, and I know I left a lot of things out, and this isn't my usual post style, but this hasn't exactly been a usual week for me.
Friday, April 18, 2014
Vote for Me! Or Not.
I've no doubt blogged before about not being in control, but I feel that at least once a year (usually during the week leading up to Easter) I am reminded that I am not in control. Usually I consider it all some form of divine intervention, but to those less inclined to go along with that take it as a coincidence of human will.
I ran for president of the senior class. The fourth estate and politics don't usually mix well, but it was worth a shot. I ran a minimalist campaign, putting up roughly 25 posters around the school and talking to people face-to-face. This took place from last Friday through Thursday. Thursday afternoon they announced the winner - not me. Which honestly I'm okay with. My friend Greg put it into perspective for me - do I really need something else to do and to organize?
Backtracking a bit, Tuesday I turned 17. They say that you're supposed to be wiser as you reach certain numbers of spins 'round the Earth, but honestly it's all arbitrary. I grow wiser with every conversation with people, and every book I read, and every blog post I half write and want to pitch. I feel no different from 16, or 15 for that matter (but I have a license!). I've said about three times that day that only two things matter to me on my birthday: that my family is there, and that there is chocolate cake*.
That was the day my (paternal) grandmother came back from rehab following a knee replacement, and we had that chocolate cake over at her house. She and I are pretty close, so it was nice since I had seen her all of thrice since the start of the year.
It is much easier to say that you know you're not in control, but it's a different thing to acknowledge and deal with how that actually works. We finished cake and got the call that she needed to go back to the hospital for something else. Because that's what she needs. Less cake and more hospitalness.
I guess that's what I love about Good Friday - it is something that usually is constant. The conversations and clothes and all the stuff that doesn't really matter changes, but in reality nothing changes. I'm fairly sure this is the second to last (or third) Good Friday that I'll be in Slickville for. But I can't dwell on that - after all, I'm not in control.
*Okay, so once upon a time there was this coffee shop in the plaza just over the Carnegie-Scott border called "For All Seasons Cafe and Gifts" owned by a guy named Andre. Anyway, we used to go there after a day at the pool or in Scott or at church or whatever and I'd get two things. The first would be a smoothie (I wasn't a coffee drinker [I was like 10!] so I usually got a creamsicle smoothie) and the second would be a piece of cake. He called it "death by chocolate" and you could get a refrigerated piece on a plate or to go. This cake was THE BEST CAKE. Anyway, For All Seasons closed in 2011 or 2012 over some rental dispute or whatever and I was cakeless.
But then my mother figured out where it was from - and that you could get this Death By Chocolate cake. So last year I asked my mother to find this cake and have it for my birthday. We ate it at the rehab facility my grandmother was at at the time, and from then on my two conditions were set. Family and Chocolate Cake. For now.
Happy Birthday Matt (though you don't read this... Oh well)
Saturday, March 22, 2014
A Dangerous Idea... Almost Makes...Sense
I've been listening lately to the soundtrack for Baz Lurhmann's The Great Gatsby. It's an interesting soundtrack, produced by Jay-Z including everything from this Jack White cover of a U2 song (Love is Blindness) to a songs from Andre 3000, Florence and the Machine, and a bunch of music you wouldn't expect to work together but it does.
This week has been quite stressful, and from about Tuesday on I've been sleep deprived. What have I learned? I have made it pretty far with what I want to do, yet I have miles and miles to go before I sleep (see? I can't even be original I've stooped to stealing from Robert Frost for heaven's sake!*).
Stress is an interesting thing for me. I produce some of my best work under deadlines and under crazy stress, but if I get past a certain point I just stop. Stop everything. It's really counterproductive, kills my grades, and drives those around me (family and my few close friends) into maddening confrontation. But unfortunately, like I said, I do some of my best work in my dizzying solitary stress circle.
Dizzying solitary stress circle? I like that, but it seems like one of those "writings of a madman" you'd see painted on the walls in a comic-sans-esque manner.
In Physics this week, we watched one of those Mechanical Universe videos. According to our physics teacher, these were originally on laser disk, and then migrated to VHS tape, and now is on DVD. It always (and I mean always) starts in a CalTech lecture room with the same guy explaining some physics concept and it fades off to some voiceover lady with 80s echo-synth background explaining math derivations. Every time they go to have some historical background, they cut to these historical dramatizations of Newton just creating things, and Keppler as a mathematical wanderer, and it goes on.
It was through this sort of bizarre historical dramatization that I learned that Newton went insane. Like, literally insane. Now I'm not sure how they determined this, or how he became insane, considering he was a solitary individual who was obsessed with math, gravity, and how it all coexists (I think he was insane the whole time, just good at hiding it...). Newton was brilliant, but he was still crazy.
In completely unrelated news, I am in talks with WYEP and Reimagine Media to start a podcast. We have already recorded at least one episode of it, but we are in the process of finding a home for it. Hopefully in a weeks time I'll have a link where you can listen in.
I'm in the middle of planning my eagle project as well as about ten thousand other projects. Sorry it's not all that coherent. Though I love writing, and I love posting here and talking with people (who never comment) about stuff I write about here, I have to have my priorities straight. My posting schedule and sanity suffers immensely for this.
*See what I did there? I cited the source, sort of.
This week has been quite stressful, and from about Tuesday on I've been sleep deprived. What have I learned? I have made it pretty far with what I want to do, yet I have miles and miles to go before I sleep (see? I can't even be original I've stooped to stealing from Robert Frost for heaven's sake!*).
Stress is an interesting thing for me. I produce some of my best work under deadlines and under crazy stress, but if I get past a certain point I just stop. Stop everything. It's really counterproductive, kills my grades, and drives those around me (family and my few close friends) into maddening confrontation. But unfortunately, like I said, I do some of my best work in my dizzying solitary stress circle.
Dizzying solitary stress circle? I like that, but it seems like one of those "writings of a madman" you'd see painted on the walls in a comic-sans-esque manner.
In Physics this week, we watched one of those Mechanical Universe videos. According to our physics teacher, these were originally on laser disk, and then migrated to VHS tape, and now is on DVD. It always (and I mean always) starts in a CalTech lecture room with the same guy explaining some physics concept and it fades off to some voiceover lady with 80s echo-synth background explaining math derivations. Every time they go to have some historical background, they cut to these historical dramatizations of Newton just creating things, and Keppler as a mathematical wanderer, and it goes on.
It was through this sort of bizarre historical dramatization that I learned that Newton went insane. Like, literally insane. Now I'm not sure how they determined this, or how he became insane, considering he was a solitary individual who was obsessed with math, gravity, and how it all coexists (I think he was insane the whole time, just good at hiding it...). Newton was brilliant, but he was still crazy.
In completely unrelated news, I am in talks with WYEP and Reimagine Media to start a podcast. We have already recorded at least one episode of it, but we are in the process of finding a home for it. Hopefully in a weeks time I'll have a link where you can listen in.
I'm in the middle of planning my eagle project as well as about ten thousand other projects. Sorry it's not all that coherent. Though I love writing, and I love posting here and talking with people (who never comment) about stuff I write about here, I have to have my priorities straight. My posting schedule and sanity suffers immensely for this.
*See what I did there? I cited the source, sort of.
Friday, February 21, 2014
And it’s a Long Way up When You Hit the Ground
This is from Imagine Dragon's "On Top of The World" which is an amazing song by a band that can play very well acoustically, which you should totally check out sometime after you're done reading this post.
This week in English we have been talking about Modernism, which has left me floating down the path of meta-cognition and identity and art. Metacognition (which chrome is telling me isn't a word... meh [meh is also not a word]) metacognition is the idea of thinking about thinking, which after a week of thinking about thinking and streams of consciousness, it's just... weird.
Anyway, this week has been a smorgasbord (spellcheck saved me on that) of information, events, and assorted nonsense. I now have a graduation/commencement date (per CSB) of June 12, 2015. Which is crazy to think about, 476 days away crazy. I'm extremely excited yet at the same time quite terrified that that is the amount of time within which I need to take the SATs, ACTs, complete a FAFSA, apply for scholarships, and of course apply to all of the colleges I want to.
So this, and so much more has been running through my mind. I've been listening to a lot of lectures, acceptance speeches, and the sort lately. I am listening to John Green's lecture at Kenyon, and have listened to Bob Schieffer's acceptance speech of the Walter Cronkite award for Excellence in Journalism, as well as what I offered earlier from Neil Gaiman's "Make Good Art" speech and his concept of "Art is Never Finished, it is Just Released", and so many other things.
This is rambly, but that's because I'm not exactly coherent. Thinking about thinking does that to you.
John Green's Kenyon Talk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4peoHkXsJg
This week in English we have been talking about Modernism, which has left me floating down the path of meta-cognition and identity and art. Metacognition (which chrome is telling me isn't a word... meh [meh is also not a word]) metacognition is the idea of thinking about thinking, which after a week of thinking about thinking and streams of consciousness, it's just... weird.
Anyway, this week has been a smorgasbord (spellcheck saved me on that) of information, events, and assorted nonsense. I now have a graduation/commencement date (per CSB) of June 12, 2015. Which is crazy to think about, 476 days away crazy. I'm extremely excited yet at the same time quite terrified that that is the amount of time within which I need to take the SATs, ACTs, complete a FAFSA, apply for scholarships, and of course apply to all of the colleges I want to.
So this, and so much more has been running through my mind. I've been listening to a lot of lectures, acceptance speeches, and the sort lately. I am listening to John Green's lecture at Kenyon, and have listened to Bob Schieffer's acceptance speech of the Walter Cronkite award for Excellence in Journalism, as well as what I offered earlier from Neil Gaiman's "Make Good Art" speech and his concept of "Art is Never Finished, it is Just Released", and so many other things.
This is rambly, but that's because I'm not exactly coherent. Thinking about thinking does that to you.
Stuff I've been listening to:
"I'll never really know what it's like to be you. I will always see you in the context of myself" -John Green's Kenyon Talk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4peoHkXsJg
Journalism is not about scratching the surface, it is about going beneath the surface and finding the truth — Bob Schieffer, in his acceptance speech for the Walter Cronkite Award for Excellence in Journalism
That Talk: http://cronkite.asu.edu/assets/video/2013/BobSchiefferluncheon.mov
The Neil Gaiman Art Release Thing is somewhere here: http://keepmoving.blackberry.com/desktop/en/us/ambassador/neil-gaiman.html#
Sunday, February 2, 2014
You May Select This Title, or Select One of Similar Literary Quality
I've been trying to start less often with the standard "So [insert start of post]" because honestly, it's not necessary. I first started thinking about this when Greg Joseph of the Clarks brought it up at the selection meeting of Reimagination CD, how he was trying to start less spoken sentences with "So." From there I started analyzing it, and it turns out that I do that a LOT, and it's really hard not to.
And yes, I realize this is a Sunday. I write when I can and how I can.
I want to talk about two things: the first being my research project, and the second being the adventure at the station. I'm doing a research project for English on the concept of 'literary merit'. Specifically, my paper is going to try and argue that YA fiction, specifically the case of John Green, has literary merit. In researching this, I've found a lot of differing viewpoints but mainly the question by these 'scholarly sources' is this: is literary merit and thus are merited to be required reading limited to the classics? This has been something I've been ranting about for years: who sets up what we read? why do we read what we read? and of course, what is the point of it all?
The answers aren't simple. <rant>* The education system in America as it exists today is a broken and crazy system. People who argue otherwise have not seen NCLB implemented, and have probably not talked to a teacher lately. The question I have is this: is society able to adapt to a group of strange people standing on the backs of giants, or do we have to all be of a certain classical mindset on the backs of certain giants? </rant>
Yesterday we met at the station with the ten acts that will be contributing to the Reimagination CD. The thing I love about working with Reimagine is that we start really small - meetings with four or five people - but when it comes to the projects we work on, we do huge things.
Here is what a ten artist/ten track compilation looks like sitting in a room:
May not seem like much, but it seems pretty impressive to me. We enlisted five or six producers, the GM of WYEP, and we're having it all recorded/mastered at a professional facility, Church Studio in Carrick. But the thing I am continually amazed by is how something goes from talk to reality, it's an amazing process, and I'm so glad to be able to be a part of it.
I won't go into much detail because everything is just starting at this point, plus I don't have much detail at this point. Nevertheless, it is looking like the next few months are going to be good.
*This is a nod to HTML tags. Before anything can begin, it must have an opening tag, and then when whatever code or style or whatever is done, it must be closed. Thus, the rant has an opening and closing. I don't even know what I was saying there...
And yes, I realize this is a Sunday. I write when I can and how I can.
I want to talk about two things: the first being my research project, and the second being the adventure at the station. I'm doing a research project for English on the concept of 'literary merit'. Specifically, my paper is going to try and argue that YA fiction, specifically the case of John Green, has literary merit. In researching this, I've found a lot of differing viewpoints but mainly the question by these 'scholarly sources' is this: is literary merit and thus are merited to be required reading limited to the classics? This has been something I've been ranting about for years: who sets up what we read? why do we read what we read? and of course, what is the point of it all?
The answers aren't simple. <rant>* The education system in America as it exists today is a broken and crazy system. People who argue otherwise have not seen NCLB implemented, and have probably not talked to a teacher lately. The question I have is this: is society able to adapt to a group of strange people standing on the backs of giants, or do we have to all be of a certain classical mindset on the backs of certain giants? </rant>
Yesterday we met at the station with the ten acts that will be contributing to the Reimagination CD. The thing I love about working with Reimagine is that we start really small - meetings with four or five people - but when it comes to the projects we work on, we do huge things.
Here is what a ten artist/ten track compilation looks like sitting in a room:
I won't go into much detail because everything is just starting at this point, plus I don't have much detail at this point. Nevertheless, it is looking like the next few months are going to be good.
*This is a nod to HTML tags. Before anything can begin, it must have an opening tag, and then when whatever code or style or whatever is done, it must be closed. Thus, the rant has an opening and closing. I don't even know what I was saying there...
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
There’s an Endless Road to Re-Discover.
So it's Wednesday. I don't post on Wednesdays. But this has been an interesting week of exceptions so far, and I have a story to tell.
On January 14, 2014 I took my driving road skills test and passed. I have a license to drive cars (and anything under like 26,000 pounds if I'm not mistaken).
So this adventure all started after school that day, when my mother had arranged to pick me up outside of school and take me down to the DMV. There are a wide variety of people who are in the DMV at any given day (I've been there a few times before, for Photo ID's and some other things) and Tuesday was no exception. I sat in the corner and waited for the gentleman to call my name.
He took me out, and we went through all of the standard in-park operating-your-vehicle things. Then off to parallel parking world. Now I'll be honest, I practiced with my mother a good 20 times parallel parking. It became one of those things like when you're a little kid, and you've just learned to do something, and then you ask every cat, dog, fish, and bird if they've seen you do it. I did it over and over, and parallel parked a little bit of everywhere.
So I went to the spot, and parked. He said I had three adjustments, and when I geared in to drive to adjust, he stopped me and said "you're in the spot, works for me." Not good for my OCD, but hey, he's the examiner. Then I went out onto the road. I'll spare you the details except potholes. At the end, I was nervous beyond anything, and my (terrible) parking job reflected that when he said flatly "Well, you passed." What followed was a back-and-forth "should I straighten out the car in the spot" "no".
From there it was a whirlwind: I sat in a new section of the DMV, they called my name to get a picture (which someone named Alexandra heard as her name, so that was fun). I signed up to be an Organ Donor, and then continued until I was red-flagged for not having my parent approve that. Irrelevant. Bottom line, I was handed my Driver's license and promptly freaked out.
I'm walking out of the DMV with my mother talking about what happens next (insurance, driving timeshares, etc) and I tell her where I parked. We go over there, and make it to the row before our car. And for some bizarre reason we both stop and watch this guy pull out of a parking spot, pull back into it, and then back out and forward. What followed I still don't know what to say about. It's one of those bizarre things that will live forever in my mind.
He went forward and CRUNCH. Right into the back bumper of the tank. At which point I notice three things: 1) this guy was taking his driving test 2) he had the same examiner and the kicker 3) THIS IS THE THIRD TIME IN THREE MONTHS THAT SOMETHING BIZARRE HAS HAPPENED TO THE CAR. Like, first the Baltimore accident, then a deer (I didn't blog about it because it was pretty anti-climatic) and now this.
I don't understand it. Originally I blamed my poor parking job, but then the examiner informed us that he had told the dude taking the test that he was going to hit our car and he still proceeded forward. I felt bad for the guy taking the test, I know how nerve-wracking it was. Nevertheless, I had just got my license and just started laughing at this point.
But seriously, I think I'm drawn to bizarre car adventures. It's never our fault (this is probably the freakiest of the three incidents), but I'm always there. It seems like when I'm near the car, bizarre things are drawn to me. Exhibit A: The goats.
So that's it: I have a license, there was a freak accident at the DMV, and goats. Oh well. I will probably post again Friday, but this was just too strange to wait. Here, have two pictures:
On January 14, 2014 I took my driving road skills test and passed. I have a license to drive cars (and anything under like 26,000 pounds if I'm not mistaken).
So this adventure all started after school that day, when my mother had arranged to pick me up outside of school and take me down to the DMV. There are a wide variety of people who are in the DMV at any given day (I've been there a few times before, for Photo ID's and some other things) and Tuesday was no exception. I sat in the corner and waited for the gentleman to call my name.
He took me out, and we went through all of the standard in-park operating-your-vehicle things. Then off to parallel parking world. Now I'll be honest, I practiced with my mother a good 20 times parallel parking. It became one of those things like when you're a little kid, and you've just learned to do something, and then you ask every cat, dog, fish, and bird if they've seen you do it. I did it over and over, and parallel parked a little bit of everywhere.
So I went to the spot, and parked. He said I had three adjustments, and when I geared in to drive to adjust, he stopped me and said "you're in the spot, works for me." Not good for my OCD, but hey, he's the examiner. Then I went out onto the road. I'll spare you the details except potholes. At the end, I was nervous beyond anything, and my (terrible) parking job reflected that when he said flatly "Well, you passed." What followed was a back-and-forth "should I straighten out the car in the spot" "no".
From there it was a whirlwind: I sat in a new section of the DMV, they called my name to get a picture (which someone named Alexandra heard as her name, so that was fun). I signed up to be an Organ Donor, and then continued until I was red-flagged for not having my parent approve that. Irrelevant. Bottom line, I was handed my Driver's license and promptly freaked out.
I'm walking out of the DMV with my mother talking about what happens next (insurance, driving timeshares, etc) and I tell her where I parked. We go over there, and make it to the row before our car. And for some bizarre reason we both stop and watch this guy pull out of a parking spot, pull back into it, and then back out and forward. What followed I still don't know what to say about. It's one of those bizarre things that will live forever in my mind.
He went forward and CRUNCH. Right into the back bumper of the tank. At which point I notice three things: 1) this guy was taking his driving test 2) he had the same examiner and the kicker 3) THIS IS THE THIRD TIME IN THREE MONTHS THAT SOMETHING BIZARRE HAS HAPPENED TO THE CAR. Like, first the Baltimore accident, then a deer (I didn't blog about it because it was pretty anti-climatic) and now this.
I don't understand it. Originally I blamed my poor parking job, but then the examiner informed us that he had told the dude taking the test that he was going to hit our car and he still proceeded forward. I felt bad for the guy taking the test, I know how nerve-wracking it was. Nevertheless, I had just got my license and just started laughing at this point.
But seriously, I think I'm drawn to bizarre car adventures. It's never our fault (this is probably the freakiest of the three incidents), but I'm always there. It seems like when I'm near the car, bizarre things are drawn to me. Exhibit A: The goats.
So that's it: I have a license, there was a freak accident at the DMV, and goats. Oh well. I will probably post again Friday, but this was just too strange to wait. Here, have two pictures:
Friday, January 3, 2014
I'm Gonna Make it Through This Year if it Kills Me
Those are lyrics from a song called "This Year" by the Mountain Goats. A bit more dismal than how I feel right now (and it has nothing to do with the bulk of this post), but it's a fantastic song. You should go listen to it sometime.
I returned to school Thursday, and we immediately dove into new stuff. More specifically, in English class we are going to study the work(s) of Stephen Crane. Our English teacher usually adds some sort of contextual end to it [in this case to Red Badge of Courage] , but only after introducing some of the author's other works. In this case, we read Crane poetry. And I couldn't stop reading, which is really weird for me. I cannot poetry, end of sotry.
So when we got home, I googled Stephen Crane, and read through the intro to Red Badge, and found some interesting bits about him:
One should not be judged on anything but the merit of his/her deeds, the motives for those deeds, and how they reacted in the face of it. Arrogance is not a virtue, it is annoying.
After pondering all this, my hallucinating mind came to the startling conclusion: I am Stephen Crane. The evidence is (not) concrete:
I returned to school Thursday, and we immediately dove into new stuff. More specifically, in English class we are going to study the work(s) of Stephen Crane. Our English teacher usually adds some sort of contextual end to it [in this case to Red Badge of Courage] , but only after introducing some of the author's other works. In this case, we read Crane poetry. And I couldn't stop reading, which is really weird for me. I cannot poetry, end of sotry.
So when we got home, I googled Stephen Crane, and read through the intro to Red Badge, and found some interesting bits about him:
- He was the son of a [Methodist] preacher
- He worked in journalism for a while, and connected through some articles what war was like. Namely, the American Civil War.
A Man Said to the Universe
BY STEPHEN CRANE
A man said to the universe:Since I read this, I've been thinking about how true it is. In essence, the universe picks and chooses what is notable, much like society. It sort of reminds me of that scene in The Polar Express where Santa Claus tells that know-it-all kid that a bit of humility could do him good. Humility can do us all good.
“Sir, I exist!"
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”
One should not be judged on anything but the merit of his/her deeds, the motives for those deeds, and how they reacted in the face of it. Arrogance is not a virtue, it is annoying.
After pondering all this, my hallucinating mind came to the startling conclusion: I am Stephen Crane. The evidence is (not) concrete:
- I am the son of a[n Orthodox] priest
- I am considering photojournalism as a career path
- I am a docent at the Espy Post: a museum dedicated to the Civil War vets
- His style reminds me of what I perceive as my own style (wacky, disjointed, yet metaphorical in its meandering to the point where I can understand it)
Friday, December 27, 2013
It's Halftime America.
I went through five iterations of title on this, but because of my insistence on writing the title first, I just went with the famous Clint Eastwood commercial quote because I am going to a New Years Party with hosted by a guy who portrayed Clint Eastwood in the Match Game that benefited Arsenic. Lost? Good.
So this is my first full week off of school since summer break. It's a strangely peaceful feeling not having to accomplish some nonsensical deadline. It's during these times that I think the most, it's an isolation that comes as both a blessing and a curse. This week, it was a blessing.
Monday I spent decorating my house because up until that point I hadn't had the time to do so. It took 4 hours, and I probably shocked myself twice (but I can't remember) but it was totally worth it to see my parents' faces when it was all lit up.
Tuesday I spent doing, well, nothing really. Tuesday night I went to the church where we have scout meetings for a Lutheran Christmas Eve service. The front of the evening's bulletin read simply "All is calm, all is bright". And it was. There are certain things that I cannot put into words well, and one of those is the feeling of absolute peace. Not like a 'home' sort of feeling, but of resolution or at least reassurance. I only half payed attention to the service and more or less payed attention to the moment, to the experience of appearing and existing.
Wednesday was Christmas. My family would kill me if I focused on the sippy bird I received, but I would be stupid if I omitted it, because it's pretty awesome. I received from my family this year a Nikon DLSR D90 camera. In English, until this point I've been relying on the $5 Kodak point-and-shoot that my brother acquired for me at a yard sale. My photography has been luck-of-the-draw work. I'd shoot 200 pictures and get 30 that were in focus.
DSLRs are the step up from point-and-shoots. There is so much more control with these things, and on the first day of having this camera, I shot this lovely picture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexanderpopichak/11557347076/. Essentially, it's freaking amazing at it's job. My family has been looking at some of the things I've been doing with the little Kodak, and decided I need to look into this more professionally.
To which I have a bit of a confession: I've been holding off on pursuing photography as something I can legitimately work with because I didn't think I had the camera worth it. Now I do. I have so much learning to do, but I want to take this further. If what they're saying is true and I have an eye for this, who knows what'll happen.
This isn't an answer (just read last week's post: it sums up my thought process at this point pretty well... I'm still lost, I think I may have found some breadcrumbs though...), it's a way to try something new; something that may lead to something else.
N.B.: All thanks go to My Parents, Paternal Grandmother, my aunt Marie and uncle George (yep, that Aunt Marie and Uncle George), the Spring Standards, the people that work with my parents, and Rick Dayton, who without his help this would have never happened.
So this is my first full week off of school since summer break. It's a strangely peaceful feeling not having to accomplish some nonsensical deadline. It's during these times that I think the most, it's an isolation that comes as both a blessing and a curse. This week, it was a blessing.
Monday I spent decorating my house because up until that point I hadn't had the time to do so. It took 4 hours, and I probably shocked myself twice (but I can't remember) but it was totally worth it to see my parents' faces when it was all lit up.
Tuesday I spent doing, well, nothing really. Tuesday night I went to the church where we have scout meetings for a Lutheran Christmas Eve service. The front of the evening's bulletin read simply "All is calm, all is bright". And it was. There are certain things that I cannot put into words well, and one of those is the feeling of absolute peace. Not like a 'home' sort of feeling, but of resolution or at least reassurance. I only half payed attention to the service and more or less payed attention to the moment, to the experience of appearing and existing.
Wednesday was Christmas. My family would kill me if I focused on the sippy bird I received, but I would be stupid if I omitted it, because it's pretty awesome. I received from my family this year a Nikon DLSR D90 camera. In English, until this point I've been relying on the $5 Kodak point-and-shoot that my brother acquired for me at a yard sale. My photography has been luck-of-the-draw work. I'd shoot 200 pictures and get 30 that were in focus.
DSLRs are the step up from point-and-shoots. There is so much more control with these things, and on the first day of having this camera, I shot this lovely picture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexanderpopichak/11557347076/. Essentially, it's freaking amazing at it's job. My family has been looking at some of the things I've been doing with the little Kodak, and decided I need to look into this more professionally.
To which I have a bit of a confession: I've been holding off on pursuing photography as something I can legitimately work with because I didn't think I had the camera worth it. Now I do. I have so much learning to do, but I want to take this further. If what they're saying is true and I have an eye for this, who knows what'll happen.
This isn't an answer (just read last week's post: it sums up my thought process at this point pretty well... I'm still lost, I think I may have found some breadcrumbs though...), it's a way to try something new; something that may lead to something else.
N.B.: All thanks go to My Parents, Paternal Grandmother, my aunt Marie and uncle George (yep, that Aunt Marie and Uncle George), the Spring Standards, the people that work with my parents, and Rick Dayton, who without his help this would have never happened.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
To Just Stop In One Place
It seems all too often the focus of everyone's life is on moving. I don't mean just literal moving; it seems so many people, me included, feel unsettled or unsatisfied with where they are. For the first part of this I want to focus on moving, and the second part why moving.
This past week was insane: Sunday I was at a different church than my own (in Carnegie), Monday brought me filling in to film a girls varsity basketball game (GO COOOGURRRS!), Tuesday a high school band concert where I ran both lights and sound simultaneously (I shouldn't be allowed to touch audio), Wednesday brought my friend's concert at another school, Thursday brought the elementary band concert where I played stage manger, and Friday, Saturday, and today I was in Petrolia with my maternal grandparents and that section of my family.
In other words, for the past week I have been somewhat of a nomad. I throw myself this way and that, and I know that at least someone somewhere reading this does the same. Around the holidays it seems that the emphasis is on being home, and I can appreciate that because as of late I have been forcing myself out of my own home for [insert organization/obligation here].
With the workload I was given from school (aaah, all the things were due Friday), I became quite stressed; to the point where some of the teachers and my peers were concerned. I have this fifth period study hall that I always spend in the library. It all started because I procrastinate and the library has computers to write things in. It's also a quiet place to contemplate things, or to talk to a teacher about things.
Lately these talks have become philosophical - about figuring out where I'm going, what I want, feeling inadequate, those sorts of things. And I've realized this much: the reason I do so much is not because I want the stress or the full schedule, but rather because I like doing things. I was roped into the tech thing because I like it; it's a skill that's good to have (ha!) and it's fun to do.
Because, as I also learned this week: you don't ever know what you truly want. If you're lucky you know where you are. I keep moving and keep doing things because I don't know what I'm doing, where I'm going, and I want to cast out a wide enough net to figure out where that place I want to be is.
Ultimately, as goes the overused cliche, it's not about where you end up (because you can't see where that actually is) but rather how roundabout a way it takes for you to get there.
To all of you who celebrate this week: Merry Christmas. To those of you who don't: Happy Boxing Day.
This past week was insane: Sunday I was at a different church than my own (in Carnegie), Monday brought me filling in to film a girls varsity basketball game (GO COOOGURRRS!), Tuesday a high school band concert where I ran both lights and sound simultaneously (I shouldn't be allowed to touch audio), Wednesday brought my friend's concert at another school, Thursday brought the elementary band concert where I played stage manger, and Friday, Saturday, and today I was in Petrolia with my maternal grandparents and that section of my family.
In other words, for the past week I have been somewhat of a nomad. I throw myself this way and that, and I know that at least someone somewhere reading this does the same. Around the holidays it seems that the emphasis is on being home, and I can appreciate that because as of late I have been forcing myself out of my own home for [insert organization/obligation here].
With the workload I was given from school (aaah, all the things were due Friday), I became quite stressed; to the point where some of the teachers and my peers were concerned. I have this fifth period study hall that I always spend in the library. It all started because I procrastinate and the library has computers to write things in. It's also a quiet place to contemplate things, or to talk to a teacher about things.
Lately these talks have become philosophical - about figuring out where I'm going, what I want, feeling inadequate, those sorts of things. And I've realized this much: the reason I do so much is not because I want the stress or the full schedule, but rather because I like doing things. I was roped into the tech thing because I like it; it's a skill that's good to have (ha!) and it's fun to do.
Because, as I also learned this week: you don't ever know what you truly want. If you're lucky you know where you are. I keep moving and keep doing things because I don't know what I'm doing, where I'm going, and I want to cast out a wide enough net to figure out where that place I want to be is.
Ultimately, as goes the overused cliche, it's not about where you end up (because you can't see where that actually is) but rather how roundabout a way it takes for you to get there.
To all of you who celebrate this week: Merry Christmas. To those of you who don't: Happy Boxing Day.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
To the Ends of the Earth Would You Follow Me?
Those are lyrics to a song called "Ends of the Earth" by a group called Lord Huron. If you listen to it and it sounds familiar, it's in some sort of Zales commercial with balloons...
We recently blocked the last bit of Arsenic and Old Lace. To those unfamiliar with theatre terminology, 'blocking' is the process of putting the lines in the script to actual motions and things on stage. It's an interesting process, albeit a sometimes tedious one. Nevertheless, it's all set.
Also that day I (along with most of the cast) was interviewed by Megan Guza of the Signal Item (Trib Total Media). It's very strange to be interviewed, not necessarily the whole having-a-conversation-with-someone-and-them-writing-it-down thing but the whole knowing-this-may-go-to-print thing. I'm perfectly comfortable with it all (I write a blog after all and have conducted interviews through WYEP a few times) it's just bizarre being on the other side.
Today I read that interview in the Signal Item... and it's so strange realizing that something you said was notable enough to put to print. If you're interested, you can read the full article here: http://triblive.com/neighborhoods/yourcarlynton/yourcarlyntonmore/5058234-74/senior-brewster-carlynton#axzz2lKuJwk1P.
I talked for about seven minutes with Megan Guza alongside Jeff Henke (Mr. Witherspoon) and Tyler Piper (Dr. Einstein). It was quite an interesting conversation, going everywhere from how Aidan convinced us all to try out for the play to where we plan on going. Though I do share some satisfaction in being the one that came up with the word camaraderie, which landed in the title of the piece.
Anyway, I'm posting this because I wanted to record what it felt like at the time - being interviewed, and capping off my first Carlynton play.
Shameless self-promotion:
Join the wildly talented Carlynton cast as they present Joseph Kesselring's Arsenic and Old Lace. What happens when you take two murderous little old ladies, mix in a dash of identity crisis, sprinkle in some dead bodies, and add just a hint of romance? The complete recipe calls for Brooklyn cops, wanna-be writers, a bugle, a window seat, and some elderberries. Don't miss your chance to find out why Aunt Martha and Aunt Abby have so many people simply dying to try the wine! Bring the whole family for a great evening of laughs and entertainment.
Cast (in order of appearance):
Abby Brewster- Marin Exler
Mrs. Harper- Cassie Clark
Teddy Brewster- Alex Popichak
Officer Brophy- Colin Henke
Officer Klein- Caleb Staker
Martha Brewster- Natalie Thomas
Elaine Harper- Angela Zucchero
Mortimer Brewster- Aidan Kalimon
Mr. Gibbs- Kassi Longstreth
Jonathan Brewster- Clay Bodnar
Dr. Einstein- Tyler Piper
Officer O'Hara- Jarod Latta
Lieutenant Rooney- Rachel Roach
Mr. Witherspoon- Jeff Henke
Tickets are available at the door. Price: students and seniors $5, adults $7.
We recently blocked the last bit of Arsenic and Old Lace. To those unfamiliar with theatre terminology, 'blocking' is the process of putting the lines in the script to actual motions and things on stage. It's an interesting process, albeit a sometimes tedious one. Nevertheless, it's all set.
Also that day I (along with most of the cast) was interviewed by Megan Guza of the Signal Item (Trib Total Media). It's very strange to be interviewed, not necessarily the whole having-a-conversation-with-someone-and-them-writing-it-down thing but the whole knowing-this-may-go-to-print thing. I'm perfectly comfortable with it all (I write a blog after all and have conducted interviews through WYEP a few times) it's just bizarre being on the other side.
Today I read that interview in the Signal Item... and it's so strange realizing that something you said was notable enough to put to print. If you're interested, you can read the full article here: http://triblive.com/neighborhoods/yourcarlynton/yourcarlyntonmore/5058234-74/senior-brewster-carlynton#axzz2lKuJwk1P.
I talked for about seven minutes with Megan Guza alongside Jeff Henke (Mr. Witherspoon) and Tyler Piper (Dr. Einstein). It was quite an interesting conversation, going everywhere from how Aidan convinced us all to try out for the play to where we plan on going. Though I do share some satisfaction in being the one that came up with the word camaraderie, which landed in the title of the piece.
Anyway, I'm posting this because I wanted to record what it felt like at the time - being interviewed, and capping off my first Carlynton play.
Shameless self-promotion:
Cast (in order of appearance):
Abby Brewster- Marin Exler
Mrs. Harper- Cassie Clark
Teddy Brewster- Alex Popichak
Officer Brophy- Colin Henke
Officer Klein- Caleb Staker
Martha Brewster- Natalie Thomas
Elaine Harper- Angela Zucchero
Mortimer Brewster- Aidan Kalimon
Mr. Gibbs- Kassi Longstreth
Jonathan Brewster- Clay Bodnar
Dr. Einstein- Tyler Piper
Officer O'Hara- Jarod Latta
Lieutenant Rooney- Rachel Roach
Mr. Witherspoon- Jeff Henke
Tickets are available at the door. Price: students and seniors $5, adults $7.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
No Matter What we Breed We Still are Made of Greed
**Note: I thought I had posted this when I wrote it - Friday the 8th. Apparently I had not**
The title consists of lyrics from Imagine Dragons' Demons. It has nothing to do with this post. However, I recommend their acoustic version, which you can find here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PthxO_lRu9c
Anyway, my week was busy, but as the trend has gone lately, I've spent a lot of time at the high school and more specifically in the auditorium. I'm in a strange position that I personally love: that of a tech and of an actor. I'm involved with the winter play, Arsenic and Old Lace and it's quite a different experience from anything I've done thusfar.
This is the first 'role' I've had to date, and it's interesting having actual lines versus being in the ensemble of a musical or being cloaked in black with most tech... Though my heart still is very much laying in the shadows - in the dark - in the control rooms.
We did maintenance, our ragtag crew of an adviser that was all of our former band director, my brother, one of his friends, and another guy we've picked up along the way. Our adviser is new this calendar year, but has been involved in Carlynton Tech for years. Honestly, I'm quite thankful to have someone knowledgeable teach us the ropes, and over the past week alone I've learned so much - and fixed so much!
It's when there's nothing going on in the auditorium - no shows, no people, no performers, nothing - that I've learned to appreciate this hidden zen of silence. I like the control of running a light board, the knowledge of a rigging system, and above all else the magic that we can create. A good tech crew - which over the past year the group of us have become - can do so much, especially when we're passionate about it. I'm not saying we do an amazing job with everything, it's just we love what we do.
But acting - bringing to life the scenes and tech - creating the backdrops and illusions, are so different. I'm thankful for being able to do this all, and I don't care if it ever lands me anywhere. I just love doing it all.
The title consists of lyrics from Imagine Dragons' Demons. It has nothing to do with this post. However, I recommend their acoustic version, which you can find here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PthxO_lRu9c
Anyway, my week was busy, but as the trend has gone lately, I've spent a lot of time at the high school and more specifically in the auditorium. I'm in a strange position that I personally love: that of a tech and of an actor. I'm involved with the winter play, Arsenic and Old Lace and it's quite a different experience from anything I've done thusfar.
This is the first 'role' I've had to date, and it's interesting having actual lines versus being in the ensemble of a musical or being cloaked in black with most tech... Though my heart still is very much laying in the shadows - in the dark - in the control rooms.
We did maintenance, our ragtag crew of an adviser that was all of our former band director, my brother, one of his friends, and another guy we've picked up along the way. Our adviser is new this calendar year, but has been involved in Carlynton Tech for years. Honestly, I'm quite thankful to have someone knowledgeable teach us the ropes, and over the past week alone I've learned so much - and fixed so much!
It's when there's nothing going on in the auditorium - no shows, no people, no performers, nothing - that I've learned to appreciate this hidden zen of silence. I like the control of running a light board, the knowledge of a rigging system, and above all else the magic that we can create. A good tech crew - which over the past year the group of us have become - can do so much, especially when we're passionate about it. I'm not saying we do an amazing job with everything, it's just we love what we do.
But acting - bringing to life the scenes and tech - creating the backdrops and illusions, are so different. I'm thankful for being able to do this all, and I don't care if it ever lands me anywhere. I just love doing it all.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Title to Post, I'm Lost and Tired
So I've mulled over a few different topics to talk about: The Pirates again, the Duck again because let's be honest; it is AWESOME!, and I've also looked into something borderline profound. I don't know what counts as profound, and when I label these posts, I do so in the vacuum of the back end of the blog here.
Usually I am able to just write - whatever is on my mind, or I'll pick a song, title the post, and then write the post to fit the title. But honestly, I don't feel like that does anyone except for my view count good. I have to ask myself every now and again why I keep going on with whatever it is I am doing. Why announce? It's fun, and I love nothing more than representing my school in a way that puts it in a good light. Why act? For the heck of it. Why sing? Because I enjoy doing it, and because we don't have a choir per se at our church.
I ask myself why I write this blog week after week, and it seems that the reasoning is threefold: 1) to force myself to improve my writing (and I'd say that works, considering I started this in the seventh grade) 2) When I'm able to come up with something, I love writing and 3) I feel like it's my job to make sure this thing gets finished: I need to have something posted at least periodically here until 2015.
I came to the realization recently that I'm a junior. This is my second to last year of high school. Up until now, I moved forward with the safety in my head that there are grades above me, seniors were a distant group that you get sort of close to, and then they disappear.
But then my friends became seniors. It's a strange reality to come to; though you consciously know that life moves forward, I don't think I understood what it meant to move with it. I attended my first college visitation Friday, and I realized that for once this stuff is pertinent. The stuff that was just words about who is coming to visit and to talk about what suddenly becomes relevant.
I'm trying to figure out where I'm going with everything: why it is I am doing what I do, why I choose to surround myself with the people I do. Why on Earth we put up with the stuff that we do. How we associate with one another, and whether or not we are just trying to relive what we once lived.
I don't know. It's late, and I'm lost. As I told a gentleman who appeared at my house from the Church of Latter-Day Saints, I think in a broader sense, we are all lost a bit. We have to be, and eventually we may find ourselves, but we never stop looking, and never stop redefining who we are.
Go Giant Rubber Duck, Go Cougars,
Usually I am able to just write - whatever is on my mind, or I'll pick a song, title the post, and then write the post to fit the title. But honestly, I don't feel like that does anyone except for my view count good. I have to ask myself every now and again why I keep going on with whatever it is I am doing. Why announce? It's fun, and I love nothing more than representing my school in a way that puts it in a good light. Why act? For the heck of it. Why sing? Because I enjoy doing it, and because we don't have a choir per se at our church.
I ask myself why I write this blog week after week, and it seems that the reasoning is threefold: 1) to force myself to improve my writing (and I'd say that works, considering I started this in the seventh grade) 2) When I'm able to come up with something, I love writing and 3) I feel like it's my job to make sure this thing gets finished: I need to have something posted at least periodically here until 2015.
I came to the realization recently that I'm a junior. This is my second to last year of high school. Up until now, I moved forward with the safety in my head that there are grades above me, seniors were a distant group that you get sort of close to, and then they disappear.
But then my friends became seniors. It's a strange reality to come to; though you consciously know that life moves forward, I don't think I understood what it meant to move with it. I attended my first college visitation Friday, and I realized that for once this stuff is pertinent. The stuff that was just words about who is coming to visit and to talk about what suddenly becomes relevant.
I'm trying to figure out where I'm going with everything: why it is I am doing what I do, why I choose to surround myself with the people I do. Why on Earth we put up with the stuff that we do. How we associate with one another, and whether or not we are just trying to relive what we once lived.
I don't know. It's late, and I'm lost. As I told a gentleman who appeared at my house from the Church of Latter-Day Saints, I think in a broader sense, we are all lost a bit. We have to be, and eventually we may find ourselves, but we never stop looking, and never stop redefining who we are.
Go Giant Rubber Duck, Go Cougars,
Friday, September 6, 2013
Art, Start, Insert Witty/Slightly Lackluster Title Here
Post Note: This is really just my thoughts, not really a regular 'post'. Sorry about that.
So this year, for the first time in my high school career, I have an art class. Our scheduling is a mess, but I don’t want to talk about that. It’s a creative release for me to design stuff, see any website I tweak endlessly or how many different things are attached to this blog. But I’ve found that I can very rarely create with my hands anything that’s remotely close to my digital design, so that’s nice.
I’ve recently been fascinated by the idea of art and creation. Neil Gaiman talks a lot about this in a commencement speech to an art school, and in the Blackberry campaign with Deviantart a while back, and I got two things out of it. He says that as artists, the most important thing to do is to make good art. The idea is to make art that pleases the artist and is something quite personal. The other part is that writing and art have a lot in common. Literary critics always argue that ‘ooh, the reason the book ended a certain way was because of some deeply though ambiguous black hole’.
I have a better theory.
I would venture to wager that the book ends because the words stop on a page. It’s because the author or artist decided at a certain point that the words/designs needed to stop and the thing they worked on needed to be released to the world. What Gaiman is saying is that a work is never really finished because, what is finishing? In reading books there is an author, and a reader. John Green argued that they work together, sort of like the internet and the often-despised comment section. Things get created because people have ideas and release them into the world.
So where am I going with this? I’m not exactly sure. I’m writing this in a fifth period study hall, and I’m mulling over the concept of design and what a treacherous thing it is to think that an artist is his or her work, as well as the concept of art.
I’m also thinking about the band festival tomorrow and the football game tonight, and just how quickly life goes and what we use our time for. I guess whatever it is; my mission should be to enjoy it. Because I'm reminded every day that I have a bunch of different ideas yet so little time to accomplish anything because of the things I 'need' to do: School, Homework, Volunteer Stuff, Mowing, etc. The internet constantly reminds us of the doom-and-gloom outlook that everything is temporary, and perhaps that’s true. But if it is, might as well enjoy every minute of it, and make whatever awesome things we can. To make good art.
Hopefully a more coherent post Wednesday… if I find the time to post Wednesday. Oy.
Post-Post Note: I realized that I label nearly all of the posts under "Stuff I Shouldn't Blog About" as "Things That Are Slightly Profound". What does that say about this? Does it mean anything?
So this year, for the first time in my high school career, I have an art class. Our scheduling is a mess, but I don’t want to talk about that. It’s a creative release for me to design stuff, see any website I tweak endlessly or how many different things are attached to this blog. But I’ve found that I can very rarely create with my hands anything that’s remotely close to my digital design, so that’s nice.
I’ve recently been fascinated by the idea of art and creation. Neil Gaiman talks a lot about this in a commencement speech to an art school, and in the Blackberry campaign with Deviantart a while back, and I got two things out of it. He says that as artists, the most important thing to do is to make good art. The idea is to make art that pleases the artist and is something quite personal. The other part is that writing and art have a lot in common. Literary critics always argue that ‘ooh, the reason the book ended a certain way was because of some deeply though ambiguous black hole’.
I have a better theory.
I would venture to wager that the book ends because the words stop on a page. It’s because the author or artist decided at a certain point that the words/designs needed to stop and the thing they worked on needed to be released to the world. What Gaiman is saying is that a work is never really finished because, what is finishing? In reading books there is an author, and a reader. John Green argued that they work together, sort of like the internet and the often-despised comment section. Things get created because people have ideas and release them into the world.
So where am I going with this? I’m not exactly sure. I’m writing this in a fifth period study hall, and I’m mulling over the concept of design and what a treacherous thing it is to think that an artist is his or her work, as well as the concept of art.
I’m also thinking about the band festival tomorrow and the football game tonight, and just how quickly life goes and what we use our time for. I guess whatever it is; my mission should be to enjoy it. Because I'm reminded every day that I have a bunch of different ideas yet so little time to accomplish anything because of the things I 'need' to do: School, Homework, Volunteer Stuff, Mowing, etc. The internet constantly reminds us of the doom-and-gloom outlook that everything is temporary, and perhaps that’s true. But if it is, might as well enjoy every minute of it, and make whatever awesome things we can. To make good art.
Hopefully a more coherent post Wednesday… if I find the time to post Wednesday. Oy.
Post-Post Note: I realized that I label nearly all of the posts under "Stuff I Shouldn't Blog About" as "Things That Are Slightly Profound". What does that say about this? Does it mean anything?
Thursday, August 22, 2013
But What a View from the Fifty Ninth Street Bridge
An alternative title is "Of Sandcastles, Roadmaps and" there's a third thing, but I couldn't think of it when I sat down to post. Add whatever you want there.
So I didn't write last week, and that was because I was on a 400ish mile adventure on our (my family and I's) way to vacation in Delaware. Roadtrips are interesting things: the basic premise is that you have a long road that you need to get over in order to go someplace that you're not.
Due to my knack for remembering things like addresses and memorizing routes, I end up playing navigator to get there. And it can get stressful, very stressful when I was put in the back of the car and barking directions to circumnavigate around Baltimore, but we get there nevertheless.
When I was little, I used to think my life was just one ridiculously long reality television series (this is what television did to me, which is part of the reason I don't watch it much anymore. The other reason? Because, internet.). Part of that crazy idea was that when we got in the car, the stuff that ran by wasn't really there. I would sit in a car for an hour or whatever and when I got out, the sets would have changed to the point where I was 'someplace else'.
The reality hit me around age 6 or so that such a thought was ridiculous. Though at times I wish that I was still in that. Take for example last year when I first crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge spanning from Annapolis to the nonexistent peninsula that is DelMarVa. The reality that cruise ships (gigantic things from what I've seen) can pass under this thing without problem is sort of unnerving. It also helps this time when we had to go in the opposite direction (something having to do with rush hour and EZ-Pass) as everyone else on the particular part of the bridge that we were on. I'm just glad I wasn't driving for that part.
Once we got over onto DelMarVa, I can say that I've officially driven (that's proper use, right?) in two states: Pennsylvania and Delaware.
So part of the adventure of vacations is checking out the local television networks and comparing them with back home. Last year I was introduced to Captain Willie Dykes and the crew of DelMarVa ' s (a made up word combining Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia) news leader WBOC-16.
Oh My. So yeah, though we may grumble back in the burgh about little quirks at TAE, Channel 11 and the Special K, nobody has the weekly adventure that is OUTDOORS DELMARVA. It's really something else. Check it out sometime.
But I wasn't in nonexistent DelMarVa to critique local news, I was there to build sandcastles and take pictures of stuff. Though I haven't finished looking through everything yet, I will post everything eventually to my flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexanderpopichak) and will share this gem from Ocean City, Maryland:
The thing about vacations is that, as Wikipedia puts it: A vacation or holiday is a specific trip or journey, usually for the purpose of recreation or tourism. In essence, it's an adventure for no great reason but to live.
And I think in a larger sense people take vacations in order to appreciate their hometown more. I know that the beach is great (and so is the ocean and the rest that comes along with it) but nothing compares to being home, which when googling to find some deep and profound definition, I realized that I was seriously about to google what home is.
Alright, new posts eventually. Summer ends for me sometime next week, so I may be spotty when it comes to posting for the first week or so.
And then I realize it's a Thursday, not a Friday. Oy vey.
So I didn't write last week, and that was because I was on a 400ish mile adventure on our (my family and I's) way to vacation in Delaware. Roadtrips are interesting things: the basic premise is that you have a long road that you need to get over in order to go someplace that you're not.
Due to my knack for remembering things like addresses and memorizing routes, I end up playing navigator to get there. And it can get stressful, very stressful when I was put in the back of the car and barking directions to circumnavigate around Baltimore, but we get there nevertheless.
When I was little, I used to think my life was just one ridiculously long reality television series (this is what television did to me, which is part of the reason I don't watch it much anymore. The other reason? Because, internet.). Part of that crazy idea was that when we got in the car, the stuff that ran by wasn't really there. I would sit in a car for an hour or whatever and when I got out, the sets would have changed to the point where I was 'someplace else'.
The reality hit me around age 6 or so that such a thought was ridiculous. Though at times I wish that I was still in that. Take for example last year when I first crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge spanning from Annapolis to the nonexistent peninsula that is DelMarVa. The reality that cruise ships (gigantic things from what I've seen) can pass under this thing without problem is sort of unnerving. It also helps this time when we had to go in the opposite direction (something having to do with rush hour and EZ-Pass) as everyone else on the particular part of the bridge that we were on. I'm just glad I wasn't driving for that part.
Once we got over onto DelMarVa, I can say that I've officially driven (that's proper use, right?) in two states: Pennsylvania and Delaware.
So part of the adventure of vacations is checking out the local television networks and comparing them with back home. Last year I was introduced to Captain Willie Dykes and the crew of DelMarVa ' s (a made up word combining Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia) news leader WBOC-16.
Oh My. So yeah, though we may grumble back in the burgh about little quirks at TAE, Channel 11 and the Special K, nobody has the weekly adventure that is OUTDOORS DELMARVA. It's really something else. Check it out sometime.
But I wasn't in nonexistent DelMarVa to critique local news, I was there to build sandcastles and take pictures of stuff. Though I haven't finished looking through everything yet, I will post everything eventually to my flickr (http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexanderpopichak) and will share this gem from Ocean City, Maryland:
 |
| It's the pleasantville effect... Click for larger |
And I think in a larger sense people take vacations in order to appreciate their hometown more. I know that the beach is great (and so is the ocean and the rest that comes along with it) but nothing compares to being home, which when googling to find some deep and profound definition, I realized that I was seriously about to google what home is.
Alright, new posts eventually. Summer ends for me sometime next week, so I may be spotty when it comes to posting for the first week or so.
And then I realize it's a Thursday, not a Friday. Oy vey.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Home, Let Me Come Home Home Is Wherever I'm With You
So I keep track of my analytics, which are how many people come here, what they read, and that sort of thing. The mission is simple: see what people who read my blog like to read, and write more like that.
Honestly, I've been writing this blog pretty blindly for the past four years. And since my last post (yeah, I realize I'm slacking writing on a Tuesday of all days) this blog has reached 10,000 views. Wow. I mean, I realize that it's not unique views, but I reckon there are roughly 200 posts here, and if I do the math, that's roughly 50 people per post. That's crazy.
So first off, thank you. Whoever on earth you are, from whatever country, thank you for reading this blog. It really means a lot to me to know that someone somewhere is visiting. Okay, enough whit the nonsense gushy stuff.
This past weekend I spent up at camp, and saw firey flashes of AMERICA (fireworks) shot up at camp amongst other things. It was a lovely weekend despite the rain, and I learned about these paper lantern things.
They work off of the same principles as hot air balloons. A little candle is lit in them and using the heat inside them, they float up and are quite a sight to behold. Granted, every time I tried to take a picture they ended in blurs. But that led me to thinking...
After tweaking the settings on my camera, and playing with some America sparklers, I produced these pictures:
Well, that's all I got. See you Friday.
Honestly, I've been writing this blog pretty blindly for the past four years. And since my last post (yeah, I realize I'm slacking writing on a Tuesday of all days) this blog has reached 10,000 views. Wow. I mean, I realize that it's not unique views, but I reckon there are roughly 200 posts here, and if I do the math, that's roughly 50 people per post. That's crazy.
So first off, thank you. Whoever on earth you are, from whatever country, thank you for reading this blog. It really means a lot to me to know that someone somewhere is visiting. Okay, enough whit the nonsense gushy stuff.
This past weekend I spent up at camp, and saw firey flashes of AMERICA (fireworks) shot up at camp amongst other things. It was a lovely weekend despite the rain, and I learned about these paper lantern things.
They work off of the same principles as hot air balloons. A little candle is lit in them and using the heat inside them, they float up and are quite a sight to behold. Granted, every time I tried to take a picture they ended in blurs. But that led me to thinking...
After tweaking the settings on my camera, and playing with some America sparklers, I produced these pictures:
 |
| This was one of the lanterns |
 |
| Matt and the America Sparklers |
 |
| Me and the America Sparklers |
 |
| Yeah, this didn't end too well... |
Friday, June 7, 2013
Smile Like You Mean It
Note: I apologize if this is hard to understand. I am losing my mind with finals in school and assorted other things... Your understanding is appreciated.
So today was the last regular Friday to my sophomore year. Wow was that crazy. I'm one of those people who walk to the top of a hill, and look back. Then I decide to move forward because, honestly, there's so much more ahead.
So today in English our teacher brought out our 'portfolios' which are a collection of selected works of ours from each year going back to 7th grade. It was interesting to see how far I've come as a writer, and how poor my handwriting has become.
I'm again reminded that things progress.
It's wild looking back after something to see what it actually was. By this I mean that I am an idea guy, and to see something actually come out of an idea, or whatever the case is, is satisfying.
I look at the end of this year, and I sort of feel the same as I did last year (http://2015blogger.blogspot.com/2012/06/don-know-what-to-write-centralia-and.html), but in a different sense of becoming those older people, and realizing how much has actually been accomplished.
I have yet to do finals, but already I know this much: sophomore year is over. And even though I may not have done so great in chem, and struggled writing research papers for social studies and English I've learned a lot - about the world around me, as well as myself.
I've learned a bit from everything ranging from how to put on an arts festival of sorts, using a studio, how relationships work, how to work in a lab, and ultimately where I plan to go. We'll see how this all pans out.
I can't wait for this summer to come, because I plan to go to Delaware (which I can never spell), and I want to get lost in the awesome of downtown Pittsburgh again, and do so many things... I don't know. I am just excited to be where I am now, and to be moving forward.
For the record and for those keeping track at home, this brings the count to roughly two years until this blog becomes relevant. Thanks.
So today was the last regular Friday to my sophomore year. Wow was that crazy. I'm one of those people who walk to the top of a hill, and look back. Then I decide to move forward because, honestly, there's so much more ahead.
So today in English our teacher brought out our 'portfolios' which are a collection of selected works of ours from each year going back to 7th grade. It was interesting to see how far I've come as a writer, and how poor my handwriting has become.
I'm again reminded that things progress.
It's wild looking back after something to see what it actually was. By this I mean that I am an idea guy, and to see something actually come out of an idea, or whatever the case is, is satisfying.
I look at the end of this year, and I sort of feel the same as I did last year (http://2015blogger.blogspot.com/2012/06/don-know-what-to-write-centralia-and.html), but in a different sense of becoming those older people, and realizing how much has actually been accomplished.
I have yet to do finals, but already I know this much: sophomore year is over. And even though I may not have done so great in chem, and struggled writing research papers for social studies and English I've learned a lot - about the world around me, as well as myself.
I've learned a bit from everything ranging from how to put on an arts festival of sorts, using a studio, how relationships work, how to work in a lab, and ultimately where I plan to go. We'll see how this all pans out.
I can't wait for this summer to come, because I plan to go to Delaware (which I can never spell), and I want to get lost in the awesome of downtown Pittsburgh again, and do so many things... I don't know. I am just excited to be where I am now, and to be moving forward.
For the record and for those keeping track at home, this brings the count to roughly two years until this blog becomes relevant. Thanks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)