I can’t stop thinking about the movie Into The Wild and it’s sort of driving me crazy. I tell everyone about it...look, you really need to see this movie. He had dreams and ideas that didn’t conform to those of the people around him. He wanted a life that some people live, but not usually by choice. Furthermore, most of us could never be selfless enough to live that life. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m one of those types, I can’t imagine saving, oh say, $24,500.63, just to give it all away to charity. I don’t foresee being in that situation though.
Anyways, I’m going off track. As far as I’m concerned, the movie was very well made, and, as an added bonus, features a complete soundtrack by Eddie Vedder. That’s enough in itself to qualify as a good movie. As we all know (from many long hours locked in a depressing classroom), the difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra! The little extra for this movie is the lessons learned and the mystery of this man, Christopher McCandless, whose story has made so many people stop and think. I think that his fatal flaw was his drastic underestimation of nature. Maybe he was looking too much at the beauty of nature and not thinking about how violent it really is. People in Alaska think it’s ridiculous that somebody could die of starvation in the middle of summer 20 miles away from the highway. (I read that somewhere, and I’m almost certain i’ve paraphrased it all wrong, but you get the idea) Nobody really knows what happened to him or what he was thinking, but we are a society that loves to speculate.
The bottom line: he went for it. He lived his life the way that he wanted and that’s very respectable. I think it’s very important for people to live without worry of how people would judge. Dream big and go for it; even if it kills you, you will, at the very least, have died living your dream.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Bigger is Better.
So I lost my job and now I've lost my apartment. Luckily, my sister is taking me in...again. Thanks sis!
When I made the big switch from Elementary school to Middle school I had to make a choice between Physical Education (PE), Choir, or Band. I pictured PE as an hour long sprint that would no doubt leave me sweaty for the rest of the day so it was quickly dismissed. Choir seemed pointless because I had already logged hundreds of hours in front of my mirror singing with my headphones on...no teacher could teach me to be a better singer I was sure. Band seemed like a great choice, my parents didn't force me into piano lessons as a child so this was an opportunity to be able to say, "Yeah, I play _____, no big deal."
So before 6th grade started we had to go to the big metal building that was used as the band room and select our instrument. I had already decided I wanted to play drums because my Dad bought me a set for Christmas one year and I had yet to teach myself how to play them. (Even with the Metallica book I had begged him to buy me.) Unfortunately, all the boys with brothers in band had snapped up the four spots before I got there. Then I was ushered into the flute room. This just pissed me off, why would they think I was ok with playing the flute instead of the drums?? No, surely there would be something that would suffice my need to play the coolest instrument in the band. American by birth, I firmly believe BIGGER is BETTER! So, I chose the largest instrument available...the baritone. The baritone is the little brother of the Tuba, I was promised that I would move up to the tuba in 7th grade band. So I was happy, I wasn't playing the drums but I had a huge horn and I was excited for the year to start so I could learn how to play it.
I got to take my baritone home that night and I was ready on the First Day to get it back into the band room so my parent's tax dollars could pay for my lessons. The bus pulled up and I grabbed my horn, ready to board. WHAM! It wouldn't fit through the door so I had to turn it on it's side. I climb up the stairs and quickly search for a seat. I would need a completely vacant one because my horn and I wouldn't leave much room for another body. Mine was the last stop on the route to school so there were no empty seats and the seat with the most room was located at the center of the bus. Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack! My horn smacked against every seat on the way. Getting off the bus was just as bad except the person in front of me was the only one who got hit. By the time first period was over I was sick of lugging it around. It would be another month before we were allowed to keep one at home then use another at school. Luckily, my sister got a car about a week into the school year so the students on the bus only had to deal with the baritone assault for a few days.
The year went by smoothly and I excelled in band. I believe I only sat in the Second Chair once, I was the only girl in my class but I got along with the boys alright.
Band camp was mandatory to make the move to 7th grade band and I was ready. It would be my first time on a college campus and I couldn't wait to see where the "College Kids" lived.
I was horrified. The rooms were filthy...communal showers?!? Also, the school was built with tons of different buildings to accommodate classrooms instead of one big building. I was way out of my element. I hadn't planned to carry that awful baritone around a college campus. It was in the middle of the summer so it was about 100 degrees and 100% humidity. I spent the whole week of band camp drenched in sweat and angry about carrying that instrument. I didn't return to band in 7th grade and I learned that Bigger is certainly NOT Better.
When I made the big switch from Elementary school to Middle school I had to make a choice between Physical Education (PE), Choir, or Band. I pictured PE as an hour long sprint that would no doubt leave me sweaty for the rest of the day so it was quickly dismissed. Choir seemed pointless because I had already logged hundreds of hours in front of my mirror singing with my headphones on...no teacher could teach me to be a better singer I was sure. Band seemed like a great choice, my parents didn't force me into piano lessons as a child so this was an opportunity to be able to say, "Yeah, I play _____, no big deal."
So before 6th grade started we had to go to the big metal building that was used as the band room and select our instrument. I had already decided I wanted to play drums because my Dad bought me a set for Christmas one year and I had yet to teach myself how to play them. (Even with the Metallica book I had begged him to buy me.) Unfortunately, all the boys with brothers in band had snapped up the four spots before I got there. Then I was ushered into the flute room. This just pissed me off, why would they think I was ok with playing the flute instead of the drums?? No, surely there would be something that would suffice my need to play the coolest instrument in the band. American by birth, I firmly believe BIGGER is BETTER! So, I chose the largest instrument available...the baritone. The baritone is the little brother of the Tuba, I was promised that I would move up to the tuba in 7th grade band. So I was happy, I wasn't playing the drums but I had a huge horn and I was excited for the year to start so I could learn how to play it.
I got to take my baritone home that night and I was ready on the First Day to get it back into the band room so my parent's tax dollars could pay for my lessons. The bus pulled up and I grabbed my horn, ready to board. WHAM! It wouldn't fit through the door so I had to turn it on it's side. I climb up the stairs and quickly search for a seat. I would need a completely vacant one because my horn and I wouldn't leave much room for another body. Mine was the last stop on the route to school so there were no empty seats and the seat with the most room was located at the center of the bus. Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack, Whack! My horn smacked against every seat on the way. Getting off the bus was just as bad except the person in front of me was the only one who got hit. By the time first period was over I was sick of lugging it around. It would be another month before we were allowed to keep one at home then use another at school. Luckily, my sister got a car about a week into the school year so the students on the bus only had to deal with the baritone assault for a few days.
The year went by smoothly and I excelled in band. I believe I only sat in the Second Chair once, I was the only girl in my class but I got along with the boys alright.
Band camp was mandatory to make the move to 7th grade band and I was ready. It would be my first time on a college campus and I couldn't wait to see where the "College Kids" lived.
I was horrified. The rooms were filthy...communal showers?!? Also, the school was built with tons of different buildings to accommodate classrooms instead of one big building. I was way out of my element. I hadn't planned to carry that awful baritone around a college campus. It was in the middle of the summer so it was about 100 degrees and 100% humidity. I spent the whole week of band camp drenched in sweat and angry about carrying that instrument. I didn't return to band in 7th grade and I learned that Bigger is certainly NOT Better.
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