Saturday, February 7, 2009
Puppets and Battlestar Galactica
The other day my friend Joe and I (pictured) preformed our first puppetry project of the season. Yes, I am taking a puppetry class. It is sort of the best thing in the world. If I had known puppetry was a major at this school four years ago, I would probably be a puppetry and English major. However, I don’t think I would have made it far in the puppetry major. Too many acting classes.
Notice the Polaroid features of these pictures?
That would be because my awesome friend Beth gave me a Polaroid camera for Christmas. These were actually the fist two pictures I took with it. There are only 10 pictures in a pack of film and the film is really expensive to buy online because it is not made anymore. It’s a real shame because Polaroid cameras extremely fun. Every Christmas list from now on is going to include Polaroid film.
I have had a lot to read lately. Unfortunately all for classes, fortunately cool classes. So far this semester I have read Plato’s Symposium, Edward II by Christopher Marlow, Frankenstein and Jurassic Park. On top of this I am trying to read the fist Sandman comic and Stardust by Neil Gaiman. He is going to be at this English convention I am going to in March, and I figured that I should probably read some of his stuff. He is the coolest guy ever, I am a huge fan and I have not even finished one thing he has written yet. English major’s have little time for pleasure reading. But that’s ok; I would have never made it in any other major, or been as happy.
I really want to write a non fiction piece about two questions; where were you on 9/11 and where were you when Heath Ledger died? I feel like, for my generation anyway, those are the two questions that will be asked of us the most. However, I think it may be too soon to be making 9/11 jokes (not really a joke, just a question, don’t freak out) or bring up Heath Ledger for that matter. It’s been almost 8 years since 9/11 happened and almost exactly a year since Heath Ledger died and both feel like they happened yesterday. I think it would be an interesting essay.
On 9/11 I was a freshman in high school and did not know anything about anything. Not to say that I know much of anything now, but I know a heck of a lot more than I did then. I was in Sign Language class when I found out. That year we had sign language in the German teacher’s classroom (I remember his name but can’t spell it). Every day we showed up and learned American Sign Language in a room covered in maps of Germany and posters of German this and that.
One such day we had just gotten to class when an announcement came over the loudspeaker. “The school will be immediately under lockdown until further notice in response to terrorist attacks.” Our whole class started to laugh. It was not exactly worded like that, but that was the general point. It sounded ridiculous, the thought of terrorist coming all the way to Valley to attack us. One person who was not laughing was our teacher. She finally shouted above the roar of laughter “you mean you all don’t know?” No, we did not know. What happened? Tell us tell us.
Then she told us and we all shut up real fast. At some point in the day I got a hall pass to the bathroom and snuck down the theater/music hallway to find a TV. Standing in the door way to the Black Box (theater classroom) I watched the towers smolder and the Pentagon being put out by fire trucks. I ended up in the band room, my class completely forgotten, and sat in my tuba cubby for a while thinking. Too many friends and family members worked in or around DC. I never got to see the Twin Towers and always wanted to. The one emotion I remember feeling the most in the days after 9/11 was anger. I was so angry and did not even know who to be angry at. It was an awful day.
That year we went to New York City on my first band trip. We got to see Ground Zero.
This would be the part in the essay where I would make some awkward transition from 9/11 to Heath Ledger. I would probably include other people’s experiences and stories because lets face it, who wants to read only what happened to me? No one, not even me.
I found out about Heath Ledger in a text message. It was on a Tuesday, my busiest day of my junior year spring semester. I had classes from 9am all the way until 9pm with a few hours break when I was at work. Tuesdays were annoying, I did not get to go back to my house at all and there fore had to carry everything I needed for the entire day all day. If I forgot anything, too bad. I would just have to go without it.
That night found me at the CAC as usual, going to Concert Band. Once again, I was in place where music happens, interesting. In my essay I would probably try to find some meaningfull connection there as well, but I will spare my blog readers. Any who, that night I was walking through the lobby, about to descend down into the music floor, when I get this text message. It reads the following:
I was confused. It was from my dear friend Molly from back home, which made a little more sense. We both share a love of Ledger and watched A Knights Tale about a million times in high school. Thinking hard, trying to remember if I should know what she was talking about I decided finally that I shouldn’t and replied “What about him?”
I stopped walking. I don’t remember if I responded, I thought she was joking, but who would joke about that? Downstairs in the band room my fears were confirmed. I spent the evening reading horrifying articles online about drug overdoses and watching A Knights Tale with a whole new perspective. This was the fist time that an actor I truly loved had ever died. Sure, lots of actors I have liked have died or have been dead for ever, but Heath Ledger was so young. That’s what got me. If one of my old man loves (and there are quite a few) were to die, I would feel just as sad, but not nearly as shocked.
The end of my essay would try to tie everything together somehow. Herein lays the problem. How do you tie those together? I probably couldn’t, and would instead be bashed for comparing something as God awful as 9/11 to one man dyeing. Well, whatever. These are but a few reasons this essay will probably never be written.
Oh goodness look at the time! I have to go, Battlestar Galactica is on! Oh boy.
“Shove it up your ass; I don’t need a frackin lawyer.”