Reactivated!

I'm back. I seized control from the high school servers. This blog is mine now, and I intend to write on it as often as I can. College life is upon me; this blog is probably going grow in it's personality as I grow/learn more about what I am going to do. So here's to reactivation.

Lets go for another walk.

A Reflection.

In all honesty, I have been putting off these blog posts because i am sad to wrap up my blog. I truly enjoyed the process of blogging. It was a very cathartic exercise for me, and it allowed me to grow in my creativity. I feel that it was a very personal and important of my senior year. Looking back, I realize that some of my posts are dark. Dark as hell. Dark as super dark chocolate on a cold wintry night with Free Throw in the background.

Senior year was a great one, but it had its pretty crappy times too. I feel as if all the worry was rooted in the idea of 'next year' and the realization that I had no great plans after school. That worried me, and I had trouble with the whole process. Eventually, I realized that I couldn't fight the system. I will graduate regardless of if I want to or not. I came to terms with the situation, and I started to look at schools with much more intensity.

Eventually I came across MMA and it was the best fit for me. It offers me adventure and a well paying job. What more could I ask for? All I want is to see the world and stay home (ironic I know).  path will let me do just that. Each day will bring with a new and exciting thing, but I know that no two days will be the same. I am proud to be going there, and I feel as if I am making the right choice for myself.

The lowest point in my senior year came in deep winter. The weather was colder than I have ever remember, and I had little direction. This is where some of my more somber writings stem from. However, I want to leave those behind and make something more of myself than just being an angsty teen in his room listening to break-up albums and writing depressing poems. Looking back, I wish I had just kicked myself in the rear end and moved on. I think we both would have been better for it.

Spring and fall were definitely a high point. Even at this crazy time in senior year (actually, almost every point in time is crazy) I enjoy the constant rush and late night fiestas in downtown Farmington. How many people can say they scooted down Front Street at one in morning? Exactly. I've done more things my senior year than I have ever done before in my life. I have really pushed the envelope and stayed out later than I ever had before. I've never ran on less sleep and I've never eaten more pizza before in my life.

To sum it all up, senior year was one of the best in my life. So many things ended. So many things started. (This is the point where my mom would cry if she was reading this) I have truly enjoyed my time at Mt. Blue and I will look back on these days fondly. It is, however, time for me to go. I have shined bright here, but I want someone else to experience the great things that I have. It is someone else's turn to be in the spot light. I've had so many great moments and I love each and every one of them.

Finally, I would like to thank Mr. Dan Ryder for all his efforts and great teachings during my time in AP lit. He has pushed me to be more than I ever thought I could be and has open channels of thinking that I didn't know existed. His teaching style and love of all things learning was always something that I looked forward to every Gold day 3rd period. I will miss his class and I will remember the movie, projects, annotating poetry, and the late night blog posts for many years to come. Thanks for everything Mr. Ryder, you're truly a great teacher, thinker, and one of the funniest people I know!


Well, I guess this it. I don't know how long  this blog will be floating around the internet for but I hope those of you that have read my posts found them entertaining and insightful.

It has been a nice walk.

-Anthony Franchetti

Boat Load of Artsy Pictures

During the production of FRAMEWORK I made sure to grab a camera and have some members of the team snap some pictures. Here are some of my favorite images from the production.

 We can see here the staging of a very awkward couple.

 No Jake, over there! 

 This is actually a very nice picture of Becky, expect her knee skin is in focus, not her whole body. 

Maybe I should have told Dan about the tripods for the lights in the car... nah

Mmm... auto focus is a nice feature. Also, a low ISO makes for pretty pictures

You can hear the shutter clicking in this scene -_-

My sound men <3

Jake was the adult and made sure that we kept on task. Love you Jake.

ADJUST FOCUS OR DIE- Aaron

What smolder Bdan. What sexy smolder. 

If this was in focus it would almost make up for the previous images

A surprised Aaron!

Who says the Nouvelle Vauge is dead? 

This is how I show the whole movie.Tripods are overrated.

The Future!(?) 

Lights. Camera. Action!

Sorry Bdan. Didn't mean to post this picture.

There you have it. Those were some of my favorite snapshots from the shoot. The whole process was a great one and I hope to be apart of another someday. 

Framework: Completed

Today we went live! The culmination of the past few  day's efforts has all been leading up to this eleven minuet project. In a way, its much like gradating high school. All this time spent in school, and what do we have to show for it?

Hopefully we can look back and be pound of all that we have done. I think our biggest and most great accomplishment is the act of growing as people. Undoubtedly, we have changed over these past four years. It comes in two forms; physical and mental. Whiskers become stubble and muscle get toned. We learn to find our voices and develop friends that will  last a life time.

The movie illustrates this point quite well, in an abstract way. All the props should go to the writing team that really crafted a well thought out story and made the film what it is. I am so very proud to have been apart of this project and it was really great to be able to see something come together through the collective efforts of about fifteen people.

Anyway, here is the movie! I hope you like it and I know that we are all proud of the product that we made. Thank you Mr. Ryder for the opportunity to make this film!

Watchmen: Complete

First off, holy balls. After nearly 30 hours of filming, editing, composing music, and all things film related (color correcting is a major pain) our film is complete. Oh, through in nearly ten hours of writing!

Either way, it is complete. It was humbling to experience the amount of work it takes to make the film. At first, I thought the process would be too long and we were too ambitious for this. I was right but with the help of my friends we were able to pull it off. I guess you're not really a senior until you stay at school until eleven on a Friday.

Wow, what the hell. I can't believe we did that. Need photo evidence?

Brendo has never looked more phptogenic 

Decoder

Hello guys. In my last post, you can find a very secret message. Know where to find it? It's in the color!

First off, lets start from the beginning. I used a text to binary code generator... to well... convert the text to binary code.

From there, you must convert the binary code to hexadecimal value.

This hexadecimal blue can be interpreted as a color using a HTML color picker.

Now, this process can be done the other way just as easy. I learned about this and how people in China use it to share information with each other in spite of a crushing right-wing government. Now you have the capacity to convert your favorite novella or song lyrics into a color. Ever wonder what Looking For Alaska would look like as a color? Me too. 

Oh, and this works backwards too. In theory anyway. 

A Very Senior Prom

Must... be... productive...

Rain today. The water falling thousands of feet only to hit the glass window a few feet from me reminds me of Saturday night. Senior prom was over, and we were in my car. The night was young, but I was more than tired. We had purchased some juice from Walmart; we sipped it with engine idle, stereo loud. Punk rock had never sounded so nostalgic and crunchy. 

The time came for you to get out of the car and walk into your domain. You gathered your things and said goodbye. The night was great and fun and platonic just like I thought it was going to be. I took the wheel in my hand and shook my head to knock out the cobwebs. The shutters felt less heavy, but soft patter of rain on metal overhead was the perfect white noise. I put the car in drive.

Next came a knocking on my window. I was startled by the noise and at your presence. She must have forgot something. I rolled down my window with a friendly smile and I looked to my right to look for the potential lost object; wallet or shoe perhaps? You tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned to look at you. You kissed me. Out of the blue. Unexpected. 

My premonitions of a mostly platonic prom-evening were upstaged by a moment shared in the rain. As you took a step back you said something like "I can't believe I just did that"  but it wasn't meant to spite or inflict any kind of hurt. As you opened the door to the complex I muttered somewhat inaudibly Me neither.  It was just a strange yet very teenager-esque moment that took us both completely by surprise.

Needless to say, I had a very senior prom. The dance and all accompanying pre-rendezvous were all what they should have been. Happy moments shared with friends and family. The moments were whole and there are no fragmented questions left remaining. If I were to give this day a color, it would be 

Prawner's Nostalgia

Spotify. What an amazing music application. The ability to share music and musical tastes is so important to the growth of so many thing, friendship included. A person's music taste says more than just words; it can define who they are and what they want from the world. 

After looking around on Spotify for a while, I stumbled across my friend Z's page. Z is a kick-ass musician and even better friend. He goes to some art school a few states over yonder, but keeps in touch with his friends back home. He is known for his somewhat 'unknown' musical taste -he likes bands most people have never heard of before (and has seen most of them in some of the most sketchy venues imaginable). His playlists are comprised of songs wracked full of angsty teen anthems and shoegazey sadboy rock operas. 

After some searching, I came across a song that didn't really fit Z's usual musical mold; sad, sad, and more sad. The song that stood out so much was Prawner by the Polar Bear Club. Musically, it stayed within the style that Z would like, but its lyrics stood in stark contrast to the this genre.

"I've got to take a grab at something great" 

As I heard this, I suddenly felt a sense of validation; I realized that everyone is trying to achieve this simple goal. You see, we sometimes wander from disaster to disaster aimlessly driving in circles asking ourselves what we are doing with our lives. Days seem to go by too fast yet they tend to drag on. There are some days where the two mix together and you can't tell if you want this moment to last forever or slip back out of the limelight. 

But then this song came on. My plans for next year are my own, albeit somewhat lofty and seemingly impossible at times, will take me to places I've never been. I've often wondered if this was what I truly wanted from college, and if this was the lifestyle I wanted. I've asked myself so many times what if this doesn't work out, will I be a failure, and how will this work? Honestly, I have no idea if this will work out, but it is worth a try regardless. 

That is the point. I'm reaching for something that is bigger than myself; something that makes me more afraid and excited than I have even been in my life. In the end, I know that things won't be easy and I will be challenged everyday. At this time next year, I will but cut off from the outside world and will be at sea for ninety days. No internet. No mail. My friends will be home for the summer and probably gathering around a campfire, enjoying each other's company. I'm not trying to make the shipping experience sound like its going to suck; I can't wait to see the sea and take a life of adventure. My point is that I will be trading the life (or a piece of it) for something new and adventuresome. I know I will miss everybody, but that is the price of the sea.

Ultimately, we will all go down our own path. Each way is different, twisting, narrated by different voice actors, and surrounded by different types of nasty things that make you want to walk away from it all. In a year, our lives will all be drastically different. We will all be on our way to life and the nostalgia that makes memories last. 

So, I leave you with the song that brought me here in the first place. Music has truly been one of the most influential things in my life, and I hope that it can have the same effects on you as it has me. 

Watchmen EMP

After sitting in on a fantastic speaker this afternoon (the most cool @andybloxham ), I wondered what we were really trying to accomplish in our Watchmen project. Are we trying to tell a clouded narrative that has more twists and turns than the road to Winnipeg, or are we trying to ask our viewers a question?

Much of what we have read this year in AP lit was literature rooted deep in questions. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein questioned what it meant to be human and questioned humanity's reactions to itself. Cormac McCarthy's The Road and Yan Martel's Life of Pi are question what it means to survive in a world that is indifferent to your own demise.  Watchmen is no different in its questioning of what it means to be good and morality (among a few thousand other things). Ultimately these works carry their gravity in their narrative, but their questions are what make them so intensely interesting.

As readers, we put ourselves (theoretically) in the same situation as the protagonists. As we venture into storytelling, I feel that if we can truly make our users think about the question we choose, we have made something powerful. After looking at story-bible and scene descriptions, I know we have a great opportunity to make something that will have a lasting impact. The writers (and all those who have helped them) have done an incredible job, and as we grow nearer to filming I know the story will really come together.

I can't wait to start filming!

A Year From Now

A year from now
I will be long gone
     -on a sea somewhere far away
miles from home
an insurmountable distance from home

A year from now
you will be coming home
to see your parents
and your friends,
a job and a break

A year from now
the sea will rage at night
and I will want to come home
Dramamine by the bucketfuls
'Down the hatch!"

A year from now
I will be pulling into a far away port
a new land-
foreign, different, awesome
expensive and indifference to my existence
much like the spinning clock is
to the fly on the shorthand.

I will miss the essence of summer
but I trade it for a life of adventure
a commitment to
adventures' memories
Travel in exchange for the feeling of
what home is

My only hope
is to see the world
- a year from now
I will be doing it
and dreams I
will stay true
     -nevertheless.

Comics are Cool

I finished Watchmen. First of all

HOLY BALLS

I will do my best to not spoil the whole freakin book for you.


Okay, now that that's out of my system, we can talk about Rorschach.  After reading D's post, I really feel the music he included really characterizes Rorschach correctly. The haunting music coupled with the maddening swirling of Love Shack gives us insight into what Rorschach's mind must be like. His unequivocal dark outlook on life and his speech pattern leave little doubt into what kind of person he is; one that wants all the bad in the world to burn.

However, does this make him an evil character? Yes, he has killed and is know for his brutality, but he does it for the right reasons. Ultimately, his need to do the right thing surpasses every other desire. His insanity, or perhaps the comedy of the situation is that Rorschach does the right thing the wrong way. His killing, pain, and outlook on life is extremely dark, leaving little room for him to find the good in the world. Regardless, he looks for the good and supports innocent humanity constantly. He is a walking insane paradox far too complex to synthesize in one sitting.

In the end, I feel that the contrast in Rorschach's being can be symbolized as black and white. So many of his motifs are clearly evil, but are clouded in the ability to do the right thing.  Much like his mask, he is open to interpretation. Was he truly insane, or did he just see things that much more clearly than the rest of us?

At least Night Owl has his mind together... oh wait

Night Sky (Part 1)

The night sky is opening slowly; I stand in your wake. The moon reflects emotions of yesterday's character sketches. The leather on pavement echoes longingly down the ally. The detectives cigarette is smoldering despite the rain; the embers fell into the ally only to be met by a puddle and instant extinguishing.

Many days he came into work and filed reports about unimportant situations. Parking tickets, drug busts, and the all to often event of kids smoking pot behind buildings. If the youth are what make us... what the hell is next then? Indeed, is his outlook was not a cheery one. He was, however, weary of for the future fore he knew the cycle of drug addiction well. His old wounds hung heavy; he needed his pills to make it through the day.

Of course the doctors knew he was in pain, but the refills never came fast enough. Before the rain, he prided himself on his fortitude- the ability to say no. The rain, the damming rain kept coming for days on end. The world has never seen rain like this; three months continual. The flooding caused the city to shut down. Only the upper section of the city was free of water. The high plateau serves a similar purpose as the prophetic ark did all those years ago.


END PART 1
*as we grow closer to the end of senior year, I have felt myself slip away from blogging. I intend to write a short story (or at least try to anyway) with the time I have left. Each week, I will add a part to this story. I hope to create something that I like.

67676767676767676767676767676767

Looking back I ask myself
if I would do it all over
and I say yes to my yes
and no the my biggest no

I now understand how
how I never really saw
myself in your shadow.
Sometimes I feel you looking-

I'm not your hero now
It was never meant to be
the way it went down; sorry
but they are calling louder

I can't ignore the yelp
Presently, it is nothing
more than brakes on tires
leaning forward- new bruises

Call it what it is; gone
forgotten 'till next summer
I will be at sea; sail
Goodbye now, until next fall

Rough Rough Rough Cut of SPEECH

First of all, I would like to express my gratitude to all the people here in this room. I wouldn't have been able to be where I am today without the guidance of so many that are here today.

Growing up in this area and going to Mt. Blue has meant the world to me. Being from this area, we are exposed to a culture that values athletic determination, musical excellence, and most of all its successful students heading into a world all their own. 

Indeed, the place we are heading will be compared to the days of yore. Our generation will face fair share of challenges; albeit ubiquitous and taxing, however, we can look back to time more strenuous than and learn from our forefathers. For example, we can learn from our grandparents and the struggle they endured.

I often times think of what my grandmother Franchetti and Fortin when I think of endurance. Both of these ladies were born into a world that had nothing; the great depression was in full swing, the crops seemed to struggle once more, and in far off places a man was elected and gathered a following unmatched to this day. They knew nothing of the luxurious we have today; each winter they would walk their respective schools through harsh winters and were always expected to be on time regardless.

Once they reached their high school years, the man in Europe had invaded Poland and Americans everywhere were affected. Rationing, the draft, and the sheer weight of war hung heavy over the heads of many youth, but their spirit never wavered. They shook hands with adversity, and made the best of what now seems like one of the most adverse moments in the American Continuum.

In a passing conversation about days gone by, my grandmothers....

They both abided by strict rules that carried into their own households

In a time of seemly unending financial struggle, our community game a great gift its youth.

The Recipe of the Thinkers is as Follows:

2 cups all purpose over analyzation

1/2 teaspoon festering questions

1/2 teaspoon awkward conversation

3/4 cup movie narration

1 cup unsalted interior dialogue

1/2 cup over zealous imagination

1 tablespoon ability to create

1 egg


Preheat notebook to 400 degrees. Be sure to fill pen and open Spotify.

Combine Over Analyzation, Awkward Conversation, Interior Dialogue, and Ability to Create in separate bowl.

Add remaining ingredients one at a time (except egg). Make sure to keep blender on highest speed as to whip the mixture together.

Once throughly mixed, place ingredients in notebook.

Wait about 30 minutes. Be sure to proofread finished product.

Finally, take egg and throw it against building for which you have the most adolescent disdain.  Upon the splattering of yolk, begin process once more. Make sure to take a photograph.

A Conversation

Instead of the usual eight minute block devoted to all things maths, I was sent to the forum for a free period. I was told that I could either stay or flex my senior privileges and leave. I decided that I would stay and do my best to fill out a few more scholarships (God knows I could use it). After about three more applications were canned, my favorite substitute walked through the double doors and greeted me with a crushing handshake and warm smile. He asked if he could sit down next to me; the seeds of a great conversation had been sown.

We stated off talking about my brother and his purchasing of a home, his girlfriend, and how he was generally doing overall. Eventually we moved on to talking about what my plans for the future are, and what employment opportunities I have in front of me. Eventually we moved to his college days of hard mental labor mixed with a steady hand of discipline; he didn't leave out any detail about how hard it was. The work he put in during his schooling was paramount; while others were out "doing what you're supposed to do in college" he was studying. By no means was he the brightest student at school, but he was the hardest working and most driven. He told me that his mother was forced to leave school and never graduated high school. She was the reason why he worked so hard. Education was his way to make something of himself.

As the conversation went on, I realized that this man had seen the world and worked in places some could only dream of. His work ethic and sheer grit allowed him to break down barriers that at one time seems miles high. Near the end of our conversation, he look over at me and said

"Kid, this world is yours-albeit very different from my time- it is yours. You are lucky to be where you are right now, and you've been blessed with a good family, athletic prowess, and most of all a good head on your shoulders. You'll go far, I'm sure of it."

These words had a profound effect on me. I realized that I really had a direction in life, and I wanted to do what I am going to do. The culmination of all the doubts, worries, wonders, and excitement had all come out during this conversation, and it felt good. My decisions and his stories seemed to line up; I learned much about the opportunities out there.

To leave you with a final thought,

"Always talk to the old people. They've already done it."

A Throw Back

This was a piece of writing I did last summer. I remember writing it on my way home from Winslow after a long day moving furniture for my grandmother. Anyway, I hope that this shows how much I've grown over the past year (and I will still continue to grow!). So, here's to nostalgia.



It was a beautiful day, and my family went for an ice cream in mother’s hometown.
The smile on your face greeted me with an unmatched warmth that I’ve never experienced before. What set you apart from every other member of the service industry was you first words to me. They were far from the typical demands for patronage, but a simple “how are you today?” My reply was of the same brand of simplicity, but heartfelt nonetheless. You laughed and smiled. I laughed and smiled too. But time wasn’t on our side; business was at hand.

When you asked for my order, it was as if you waited for more than just a simple flavor. You looked longingly into my eyes, and I looked back with the same passion. When the flavor escaped from my mouth, you listened for more than just the correct cone. 

As I handed you the correct amount of paper currency, your fingers lingered upon mine. I wasn’t expecting you to do this, but I welcomed the action and reciprocated with laugh-smile combo. As you broke my ten, the change bag zipper acted as if it were cemented in its position. Eventually you wrestled it free, and out fingertips met again with the exchange of the correct change.

The minutes that ensued the transaction were filled with speculation. I wrote down my number on a napkin, but the true question remained. Was I going to give it to you? As you handed out the cones, the number rested in my pocket. I missed my chance, but you still put a smile on my face.

Isn’t that what is important?

Dancing in a burning room

"Holy Sh- Look at that sun coming closer and closer!"

Indeed my friends, we are hurtling towards the sun

faster than we ever have before-

BUUUUUTTTTT

The dance party that is going 

on in the parking lot is amazing!

All music is now free to download 

because of doomsday, so 

we literally have more good times

than days left!
"Turn that sh- UP!"

Have you ever had that feeling?

Your world is about to burn to bits 

and you,

standing where you are 

smiling 

move closer and closer to the speakers

to draw a breath-

of escape! 

If only this moment could last forever!

My legs on fire (from both the heat of 

Armageddon and the pulse of trumpets)

and I see you dancing across from me

*High Five* 

Wooh! Now your eyeballs are melting 

but we both smile because of the 

memories we made

when the water wasn't boiling.

All those warm summer days

spent on the diamond 

playing in the haze 

and in the sand.

All the ska-punk adventures

and massive scootering gangs! 

Damn, we had some great times! 

So bring on the heat

bring on the fires 

and bring on the change! 

We will dance in the face of your 

flamethrowers! 

Excuse me now, the house is 

in flames! I need to change my CD! 

Escape To Disconnect

"I need you to relax. Please, I can't hold you down while we do this. Pam, please calm the boy down. I can't risk hurting him anymore" a hand runs though my hair. "Shhh son. You'll be okay, I promise. Go to your happy place. Go far away from here...

As I look over my shoulder

I see you

and the sunset

your hair dancing in the wind

The strands do a red tango

across an invisible dance floor

and you whisper something 

in my ear- 

I can't quite place the color

but I couldn't care less.

You laugh at the joke

I crack, and roll over

on your side

messing up the blanket

spread out on the grass.

The wind is picking up-

the dancers are in cut time now

and twice as amazing.

I take a blurry picture 

of you

You laugh at how awful 

you look-

But I couldn't care less.

We see the sun kiss

with the horizon-

and the beach is empty

except for the squirrels above in

the big pine

This is perfect

this is a moment I never want to end

But-

My fingers are afraid

but yours are not

They find me first and 

intertwine like the few
fleeting moments we spend
in each other's shadow.

You stare into the eventide

and you have never looked 

more red-yellow.

I say to myself 

'What a wonderful-'

"You can relax now; the tube is in and you should see that bag fill up with fluid. Call in a nurse when it reaches that line. I know you'll be tough, but we gave you some of these to take the edge off a bit. We're here to help you pal, so don't hesitate. You've got quite the story to tell."

Stars

When you look to the sky at night
do you see yourself?
-or the countless opportunities for
change; something omnipresent
or something tangible and real?

When you lay you head down at night
do you feel happiness?
-a resounding symphony of fireworks
exploding in unison
at the snap of your fingertips?

When you see their face
do you see the smile grow?
Or do they pretend not to see you
searching for their muddied glance?
You yearn for a response
-but you know it wont come
no matter how hard you pry.

Honestly, what were you thinking?
You knew it was never meant to be
the differences too great and
the time you never had.
You were in over your head, champ.

Forget about it, right?
Move on. Move away (soon enough).
Maybe it isn't them, maybe it what
they made you feel
-something you haven't felt
in such a long long time since.

Months later, you still miss
that feeling, and you pray to
God that he helps
and he does in his own way.
You understand this,
but you don't understand this
but you don't question this
-its not who you are.

Who are you, anyway?
Besides what you see in the mirror,
who are you?
You are a star up above
an opportunity
a chance to breath new air
and exhale a thousand crystals
more valuable than diamonds
more valuable than gold
more valuable than that feeling
you once had.

Just breathe!

3x3s For Poetry Compilation

Great Balancing Act 

Will Remain Strange 

YOU'll MOVE MOUNTAINS! 

Oh The Places You'll Go 

Companionship Reamin Unwavering 

Loving Licks Await

Come Home! WOOF

If Feeling Isn't in It 

Prototype Mark V.1.0

This graphic is supposed to be a rough-cut of what we could put on the side of our Jenga Block creation. I know we have moved away from that a little bit, but I still wanted to pursue this idea a little more deeply. As you faintly see, the entire "Poem" by Lucy Ives is sprawled out throughout the graphic. However, the writing is very faint and hard to make out. On the left, you can see the three by three I distilled from this poem. The rest of the graphic is up to interpretation for the viewer! I understand that this poem was not exactly the most happy in nature, but I just wanted to get a sense for what could be done.

Either way, I enjoyed the process.

AF

What Passion Looks Like

Below is one of my essays that I wrote recently.  It is about something I love with all my heart and will always love as long as I am on this earth.


Football has always been more than a game to me. I’ve truly grown up around the sport, and I owe many great moments to it. This game has shaped me, and allowed me to be the person that I am. I was first introduced to the game through my brother,(Senior Captain) Garrett Strout, and my father, Peter Franchetti. My Dad was the offensive line coach for Gary Parlin at the time, and my brother was the center for the 2003 and 2004 Mt. Blue Football team. I can remember watching my brother put on his helmet and my Dad patting him on the shoulder pads, giving him a nod of approval.

After my brother graduated and I grew a little bit older, my Dad asked me if I would like to be the waterboy for the JV games (he also called the plays for the JV team). I will admit I was a little tentative at first; the hulking masses of beef stood almost double my height and sometime four or five times my width, but I eventually replied with an earnest yes.

From that point on, I carried the water for the Cougars. The flashes of blue and gold were constantly rushing around me. Everyday after school I would catch the bus up to the high school to see my long time friend, waterboy, coach’s son, and teammate Isaac Collins. Together we would watch our fathers mold young men into football players. Summers came and went; each brought new faces and seemingly bigger bodies. Friday nights came faster, and the time spent under the lights felt more and more like home. Each game, Isaac and I would do our part to help our big brothers win. Our commitment to the team never wavered. We would be steadfast; in good times or bad we were always Cougars and we bled blue and gold.

I remember one Friday night vividly. I couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. The Cougars were taking on the Rams (from Bangor). We were down at the half, and some of the boys looked defeated. At that moment, a group of seniors stood in front of the team, addressing them on the opportunity they had. The Seniors reminded them of their teammates who were hurt, and may never play again. They reminded them of the work they put in during the summer, and of all the hours in the weightroom. A new look came over the team; they looked excited. They realized what the leaders were telling them. Mt. Blue sang the school song that night on Caldwell Field. They came back from brink of defeat, and pulled out a victory.

I learned something about the game that night. I learned what a good leader is, and how to lead by example. I knew I wanted to be like my brother and the captains that day. Some school kids dream of wearing a police officer’s uniform, or becoming an astronaut. All I ever wanted to do was to wear the colors of the school and be a Cougar.

The days spent dreaming walking out of the Cougar Cave, down onto the parking lot, and onto Caldwell field were over. My freshman year was finally here. All the time spent playing youth football had prepared me for this moment. I remember the first day of summer practice. My Mom was about to send another son to football, and she had prepared me a breakfast like no other. It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, and she smiled as I walked out the door. When my Dad and I got to the field, he patted me on the back and told me that now it was my turn to to wear the blue and gold. I felt extremely proud, and I marched into the locker room.The practice went well, but then came conditioning. I learned another valuable lesson; never eat too much before practice. The ride home was also filled with smiles, but this time it was my Dad’s face that was grinning ear to ear.

This pattern has stayed true during the span of my football life. My freshman year, I broke my wrist in the first scrimmage of the year. I was out for most of the season and I had never been so crushed in my life. I would have gone insane if I hadn’t been a kicker. As my the coaches told me, “Your wrist is a long ways from your leg.” The next year, the team won a State Title and I claimed the school’s record for most Extra Points in a season. The title was a dream come true, and I could write a thousand page book about the season. However, I also injured myself that year. My shoulder came out of place that year for the first time. I never outran this injury, but I vowed to never let it sideline me. My Junior and Senior years were spent persevering through the pain of this injury. I never missed a practice because of it. There were times that everything in the world was telling me to stop playing the game that I loved so much, but I wouldn’t let anything get in the way. My brothers and I were a unit; a family that shared a bond. We needed each other out there on the gridiron. We vowed never to let each other down, and thats what we did. We all played as hard as we could for as long as we could. Together, we regret nothing.

I would not have been able to get as far as I did without the team and family that surrounds me. Football has always taught me to push myself as hard I can. I’ve carried this notion from the field to the classroom. The honors classes and AP classes became harder and more challenging, but they were equally rewarding. The work put into these classes matched the time spent on field. Football has made me push myself in this regard. As Coach Collins would say when the Cougars were up big, “Never be satisfied!” An eighty-five was never good enough. This attitude allowed me to gain high honors through my schooling career. I am thankful for the teachers that also pushed me to more than I ever thought I could be.

Giving back to a community that has given me so much was also (and still is) paramount to any football player. The team would often times go down to local nursing home and visit with the elderly. It was truly a rewarding experience to meet with the men and women that were in my position many years ago. I was also fortunate enough to be able to volunteer and eventually be hired by the Town of Wilton’s Recreation Department. I am currently a certified swim instructor and work in a program that has about one-hundred to one-hundred fifty kids a year. I was once a participant in this program, and to go full circle is one of the best things I’ve ever done (and hopefully this attitude will continue).

To desire is to need. To persevere is to continue in tough situations. My career as a Mt. Blue Cougar has shown me every facet of the game, and has allowed me to be more than just a football player. It has shaped me into a young man that has a better understanding of how the world works, the difference between right and wrong, and the understanding that hard work comes with rewards. I’ve done things the right way and I have no regrets with either my football career, my schooling career, and in my life. This game has shown me what it means to “do things the right way.” I am so blessed to be apart of this family, school community, and community at large. These moments have meant the world to me. Now it is my turn to go full circle, and be apart of something I love. My hope is to make the same positive impact as the community, coaches, teammates, and family has made on me.

$$$ vs B')

The deposit has been sent. I repeat, the deposit has been sent.

It's official, I have chosen a college and I have never felt more relieved. The copious amounts of stress I have been feeling have run off my back. The burden of decision is far gone and distant. I feel confident and genuinely excited to move on to the next stage of my life. I have a direction. I know where it is. I have goals and wants that are attainably albeit lofty in some respects.

But what about the rest of senior year?

Oh, thats right. I don't graduate tomorrow. I don't leave for school moments after the diploma. I still have one last summer to enjoy before the reality of adulthood falls into my lap. What am I going to do with this summer ahead of me? (Their are two sides to this story)

Firstly; I need to work. College is soul crushingly expensive. Unfortunately, my school of choice is not known for its gratuitous amount of student aid. However, you reassured a high paying job upon graduation; an investment to put it plainly. In order to defray this cost, I hope to make as much money as I can as soon as possible to get a head start on this debt. I have applied to the mill (you know, the big smoky dying thing that somehow stays afloat...) for summer help. The work I would be doing wouldn't be fun or remotely emotionally rewarding, but it would be extremely well paying. We're talking about making a solid fifteen to twenty thousand in one single summer. It comes with a price though. Shift work (twelve hour shifts plus overtime) wears down the worker. Almost all of my uncles have worked in a mill of some sort, and they all have told me that the work 'sucks' but the money is 'wicked.'

If I am accepted, my summer life would change so much. I love to be outside and to play baseball, but working in the mill will take all that away in exchange for some green paper. In addition to all of that, this will be the last opportunity I will have to be a true teenager of summer: camping trips, road extravaganzas, baseball games, tan skin, the smell of fresh cut grass and scorching beach days. This was the essence of last summer, but when it comes down to it I worked my ass off and only made two thousand buckaroos.

Basically, it comes down to "When do I want to grow up and make an adult decision?" Money is important and so is happiness. The future is important, but so is the present. Yet again, I find myself at another crossroads. One fork leads down the path to adulthood and less total debt, the other an overwhelming debt and teenage freedom. Either way I will be one poor sum'bitch.

Growing up is weird.

Óœµę

In D's post  we feel at home in this county. Foster relate so much of his personal emotions to the geography of where he is and how he feels that writers use this technique. The landscape can tell us much about what the land has gone through, but when used in writing it can almost certainly lead us
on to something more.


The reason I chose simplistic images was to make the viewer infer as to what the pictures mean. I chose a picture of a house to start off, because we all hail from one kind of home or another. Like D said in his post, seasons represent age. As we see them come and go, we grow older.


Eventually, we will have to leave home and search fro something new. The physical building that we lived in for so long will one day be sold; we will have to find a new home away from our parents. Thus the next image.


We search for a home to put our door on, yet it may feel like there will never be one. But we keep searching- casting ourselves out into the blankness to seek a place to call our own.


 Finally, the last image represents how vast the world is. There is bound to be a home for us out there somewhere. 

No, not just a building, but the feeling of being home. 



Will I ever feel that again once I am gone? 

Where will I hang this open door?


We will find out.

AF

81396

Have you ever had that feeling of not being able to turn your phone off at night? Its not because of your lust for the latest update on social media. It's not that you are waiting on an important email or text from a college. The only real justification you have is the four alarms you have set for yourself in the morning. You can't be late again.

So just turn it off. Set the alarms elsewhere. Take the plug out! Its so simple but you just can't do it. The act is so simple, yet you can't bring yourself to do it. This bothers you. It irks you. It bites you to your core. You thought you prided yourself on being indifferent to others' opinions.

But apparently, you're not the rock of Gibraltar. You have just as many flaws as everyone else even though your painted in creme white. You have indeed kept your nose clean; not a single smudge on your record. You have always stayed true to your parents and respected their trust. You've listened in health class. You have done everything right up to this point.

Yet they slam you for it. They exclude you from their friend circle. The populars don't really like you; during whatever sports season it is they root for their prized horse. You are just the stable boy that mucks the stalls and feeds the steed hay. Thats only what they perceive though. In reality you (and the fifteen to thirty stable boys) are just as important as the golden horse itself. People see only what they want.

You have friends though. Dear friends that will be with you forever. You were lucky enough to stumble upon them last year. It was some of the best times you had in school, getting to know them and spending time with them. They are all good people and have made a great impact on you. Without them, things would be the same. They are the people that make you happy. They are the people that make you feel like you can be you, no questions asked. They are the people that accept you for who you are. You cherish the time you have with them, and look forward to the next hang out.

So tonight, you decided to count your blessings instead of black marks. Things are going to be like great guitar solos of history; epic. The bad times will only be as bad as you let them to be. Sure, you still want to keep up appearances. You will still be friendly and say hello, despite the accusations of being the world greatest kiss ass (You are still thinking of the proper retort to that one...). Either way, you will be ok, and the sun will rise once more over the western mountains.

Tonight is the phone sleeps just like you do.

More Questions

Have you ever wondered

What if?


What if I stayed a few more minuets?
What if I opened that present?
What if I waited just one more second?
What if I said no?
What if I knew what I wanted?

Or Why

Why is it like this now?
Why can't we be friends?
Why do you avoid me?
Why do you pretend not to see me?
Why can't I turn my phone off at night?

Or How

How would it have ever worked out?
How didn't I see it coming?
How far away can I go?
How much money do I have?
How much is enough?
How will I stay in touch with whats around me?

Or When

When will I go?
When will this feeling go?
When will I move on?
When will I see the light of day for what it is?
When will I find out what the next step is?
When will I be able to leave?
When will I be what I want?

Or What

What do I want?
What is it that is holding me back?
What do I need to do to move on?
What does this all mean?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the meaning of love?
What is the point of either of those two things?

Revafegw- Medical Term

Another disease to add to my colorful medical history. Revelafinis (The feeling of anticipation, anxiousness, excitement and nervousness that occurs when the end of a comfortable routine is near) is plaguing me. I feel it in my bones and in my entire being! Senior year is about to end, and I'm so far from being ready to graduate.

I understand that many people feel that they have this disease at the end of their senior year, but more likely than not they have felt it before. Remember the first day of school, the place where you met some of you most dear friends? It must have been scary to us because it was new and not the place that we had lived for so long.

The only thing we are guaranteed in life is change. From the day we are born until the day we die, no two days will be exactly the same. We are fortunate enough to live a life that has variety. At time we feel that change is scary, but do we really want to go to high school for the rest of our lives? I have enjoyed my time here at Mt. Blue, but I don't think I could go another year here (as a student anyway). So many things are starting to bug me; high school feel like a safe meadow, but I want to climb the far mountains.

So, thanks Mt. Blue for everything, but I'll be ready to peace out when the time comes.

Wilton: What am I going to Do?

Apparently, the existential crisis that is senior year is a widespread phenomenon. I found Jenny K's post really seemed to strike home to this idea; What the actual f@#$ am I going to do with the rest of my life? It is somewhat reassuring that I'm not the only senior experiencing this feeling and (believe it or not) it's really nice to know that the region one lives in doesn't make a difference.

When I think of The city I think of industry. Opportunities. Skyscrapers. Businessmen/women in suits. Apartments that are way too expensive. Hustle and bustle. Money. Something to do.
This idea of the city may wrong; I've never set foot in the town or known anything more about it than what is on various form of media. I'm from a small town in western Maine; we have more trees than people. However, comparing it to where I am from makes it seems like an economic wanderland.

You see, my hometown of Wilton was once great. It had multiple manufacturing plants (all within walking distance from each other) that employed the town. The town had some worth- granted it was the boom of the industrial revolution and business was booming. Immigrants (mostly Italian) were pouring into the town to cut the stone in quarry one town over and to work in the plants. My dad's family came to Wilton during this time, roughly the early 1900s. They came from Northern Italy and worked just like all the other Italians in town; hard and without rest. The years that followed proved just as prosperous, in spite of the quarry reducing in size.

Wilton was still a nice town when my Dad was born. The plants were still around and business was still strong. Main street had its own Men's and Woman's clothing store, barber shop (my grandfather's) and grocery store. Things were good and wholesome. People had pride in their lives. A house never went into disrepair and it was considered a sin to let your lawn grow too long. Those were the golden years of Wilton. All was good in this little immigrant town. Too good. Nothing gold can last. 

Every time you wear Bass shoes, think of Wilton and the hundreds of other towns like us. 

My Dad talks of G.H. Bass moving the shoe (manufacturing plant) overseas like it was the rapture. It was the first time he saw his grandfather cry. The man knew what was coming, and he had all the reason to be upset. One by one, the businesses started to leave the area. They dried up like a puddle in August, slowly at first. Then poof! Gone. Time hasn't helped the town any either.

Now to present day. The once pristine houses have fallen into disrepair and are now a shadow of themselves. The town has little industry (don't get me wrong, there are some businesses in the area, but how many pizza shops does it take to employ a whole town?) and is classified as a slum. The town has turned into a dive and is unattractive to business. The area that was once prime tenements has evolved into houses that are constantly dark and need to be torn down.

Not all of town has changed so greatly, but it is undeniable to say that Wilton is the same as it once was. There are still nice parts of town, especially on the lake. However, the difference between the have and the have-nots is much greater than it has ever been. I am proud to be from Wilton and to have the history that I do, but there is huge question that looms over me everyday; how can I stay in this town that I love so much?

Fosters' Mill is still half torn down. No $$$ to finish the job. 

Jenny K, this is where you and I have some similar feelings. I really want to stay in this town, but I don't know how it will be possible. Right now, there are three big employers in the area. They are the Paper Mill (hasn't made money in over ten years), Hospital (narrowly avoided bankruptcy... patients can't pay bills), and the school (if both the mill and hospital go... well shit). There is no industry here anymore. There is no way to make money in the town that I love.

I must leave the place that I want to stay in.

This realization has shook me to my core. The only way I can one day buy in Wilton is to get a job outside of the area. This isn't easy to swallow, but its reality. When choosing my major, I took this into consideration, and was fortunate enough be accepted to my first choice. My major? Marine Transportation and Operations, basically learning how to one day be a captain of a ship. When that day comes, I'll be shipping out for about three or four months to be at sea. When I return Wilton will be waiting for me.

I hope things are better where you are J.

Seniors, Listen Up!

Ah, the real world. You are something that very few of us Seniors really know anything about. Please, ask us to calculate the mass of the sun, but God forbid that you expect us to clean up our messes and look you in the eye when we talk to you. Sure, we are still juveniles and some of us are still sixteen (for four straight years in a row). We haven't been know to be the most tight of classes, and I don't have an answer. WhatI do have, is a broad insight into many different groups of people that seems to spread themselves out across the school. I digress. Back to the issue at hand. 

The social structure of the school is not rigidly divided, but the division is apparent. Why do we separate ourselves from one another? Simple; people tend to flock to others with similar interests. For example, some people like to play baseball on the weekends, while others enjoy the company of others for 48 straight hours and show up to school with spots on their liver come Monday. This puts our class a odds with one another. We are so diverse in nature and interest we tend to separate ourselves and compartmentalize our "friend groups". 

Another issue that is rather prevalent is our lack of identity. Honestly, look at out class as a whole. You can't! Its so divided and sectarian that no one can be sure of who we really are. This stems from our years as underclassmen and our role models form those years. As is typical of a high school, an underclassmen is often exposed to various forms entertainment, some of which are far from the wholesome scruples we like to think we have. 

But, is this any different than what every high school faces? No, I don't think so. I feel as though it is a natural process of growing up; you grow apart with some people and close to others. We were never really close; even in middle school we seemed to stray from one another. Now that we are in our final year of schooling together, we realize that the time spent ignoring the uncool lame f** was time wasted. Well, I hope you realize that, because if you don't you've really missed the point of your time at this school.

Aside from academics and extra curricular activities, high school is supposed to make you grow as a person. Maturity so vital, and this is what we lack. Unfortunately, so many of us tend to think of the class as revolving a nucleus; one singular point. I am guilty of this, and I'll admit it. I have had my fair share of not-the-best moments in high school, but I can step away and acknowledge it. This is important to be able do. Its humbling. It allows for you to grow as a person. It makes you think about others.

The solution to the problem of our Senior class' lack of empathy? To put it bluntly, grow up. Think of others and try something new. Reach out to the people you wouldn't usually see. I'm not telling you to take a stranger out on a date, but a simple hi-how are you? can go a loooooooong way. So please, think of the positive change that came come of this, and for the love of God, try to make a difference. 

Years in Rearview

Walking into school this morning, the boy had a sense of wonder and astonishment in his eyes. Was this to be my home for the next four years? Indeed, he was correct in this notion, but he did not realize what vast change he would experience. Little did he know that the constant in his life would be the swirling of the storm; no two days were ever alike. 

That first year was the hardest. The long time friends felt somewhat distant and he had some trouble adjusting. He enjoyed the freedom and liked that no one was on his back, but the freedom came at an expense. The worst part of his day was the time spent in between; the feeling of being stuck in a place with no escape. You see, the boy only knew how to work hard. He spent most of his time studying for the next test or doing that nights homework. It was difficult at first, but the pulse of the school was robust and secular; every freshmen was more fodder for the fire. 

The second year came much easier. The food chain had grown and he had escaped the worst of construction. The old school was decapitated and something new was beginning to form. The ghosts of years past manifested in other far away places now; the new building seemed to breath new air into the lungs of those who weren't smoking butts in the porta crapper. He seemed to relax more this year, albeit keeping the rigid focus on sports and academics. His relationships with friends began to grow, yet he didn't really have a crowd to call his own. He didn't really feel comfortable hanging out with the jocks in his class; they were pretenders (at the time) and didn't respect the game the way he did (and still does). They wanted the glory without the work and this has remained true up to this day (another post).   Anyway, he was apart of something that he will never forget and he loved every second of it. Schooling was something that was hard for him this year. He had never been more responsible for his own learning habits. He was gaining his independence. The influence of others was starting to loose its zeal.

The third year was the year of great change. He remained in all the activities he was in from years past, and then joined more. The music that he exposed himself to allowed him to grow more than he could ever imagine. The music gave him another way to express himself while being apart of something bigger than just one person. These days are much longer he often thought. Indeed, he was correct. The time spent in practice followed by rehearsal was undoubtably draining, but worth the expended energy. Similar to the music and sports, he continued to study without stop. The school work only seemed to get harder and more confusing. He often swore at his chemistry book and through it across the room, all the while taking notes with his left hand and playing the harmonica with his toes. The third year also gave him more friend than he could ever imagine. Many late night pizza-fueled hangouts were had. He learned more about Smash Bros and Mario Cart in those days. Oh! He almost forgot; he now had his license. He had more freedom than he ever had before. The days of home equating to a prison were over. He could leave/go/escape wherever he wanted (within reason) and he did.

The fourth year presented more challenges than the boy had ever faced in his life. By this time, the boy was more like a man; he had experienced a myriad of convoluted issues that pried at his inner self. The decisions he made during this year were so important to his future; he can only guess at the next phase of his life. He had never been more scared and ready to feel what he should feel. Again, he maintained the activities he had done for the past three years and somehow managed to add more to the plate. School seemed less difficult than before. His Damn, these math classes actually mean something attitude seemed to inspire him to apply himself more in that department instead of complaining about it in his english papers. He pushed himself, and hopefully he worked hard enough to excel in the real world. 

We shall see. 

Bib

Mmmh, nothing says blog post like being asked to tie in Biblical references to modern works. Prepare yourselves. Strap in.

The bible (among other various religious texts) are often drawn from for inspiration. This could be to mankind's infatuation with the unknown, or perhaps the deeply rooted fear/wonder that stems from these texts. Lets face it, there are few things as feared as the end of the world and being cast into hell for eternity. Conversely, a life in heaven is much nicer to think about. I realize that not all people are religious, and thats fine. However, most people are familiar with (at least) the story the books posses.

So why are they so prevalent?

They strike a (E major) chord in us. For example, The Road makes many a point to the bible. For example, there are many instances of biblical references thought the work; weather it be the days in the tomb (the bunker) or the fact that the father sent his son into the world alone (final scene). The fact that McCarthy did this is the best part of the book. The biblical references help create the solidity the sense of unabashed fear. What is more mortifying? The end of the world or life after the end of the world?

The poem The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock by T.S. Elliot also has undertones of biblical proportions. The most prevailing notion of religion come though in the second to last stanza of the work.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Can you find God in this stanza? Is he hiding behind the waves or is he with the mermaids? Being a war poem, we know that the speaker more than likely wishes to be close with his spirituality, however, couldn't be farther away from the teaching of peace and neutrality. Nonetheless, one can find the highs and lows of spirituality throughout this poem.

An equally cryptic and real kick ass post (my pal A's post) explores the feeling of what it is like to have something for so long. Much like the root of this posts, I often think of how life changes. No one knows this better than the ancient Hebrews, and the first born sons that were killed during the first passover. Life changed for all the people effected after that; everything the knew (or though they knew) was reversed. Life was drastically changed out of need. A, I feel as if you're experiencing some change. Hopefully, nothing as drastic as having your first born son killed in the name of God or converting your religion, but either way change is a somewhat scary thing. You will get through it pal, you always do.

Midday Naps Make for Midnight Blog Posts

To Whom it May Concern,

I am writing this to you, late at night (because I took an afternoon nap and can't fall asleep) from my bed.

A few days ago in class, the topic of my blog posts came up. I was flattered; practically all of the comments were positive and my classmates genuinely seemed to like what I post. After some joking around, the question of why my posts "run so long and so deep" came up. A fair question without a doubt. Most students would write (pun) this blogging assignment off and only do the minimum amount of work possible. I understand this notion, but I don't agree with it. 

When I learned that we were to have a blog and update it weekly, I groaned. More hoops to jump through, no? Indeed I though Mr. R was some devil sitting atop a mountain with pitchfork and thesaurus in hand, yearning for the opportunity to rain down the fires of red-pen (or the digital equivalent) upon the meekest of students. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The blogging assignment soon became one of my favorite things to do. Honestly.  I took advantage of the opportunity to write and express my feelings in ways only the written word could depict. I'll admit the tone of my posts range from sardonic to content, insightful to damming, and perhaps even black to white. Oftentimes I don't think of what I write until I am seated at my desk, with headphones over ear. When the tunes start ah'flowing, the writin' starts ah'goin'. 

Now, to address why I write so much.

After a sickness I was confined to my house with no physical activity for six months. For a fourteen year old boy, this was like being sent to the hole in prison. The hours spent alone seemed to outnumber those with company. My days were routine and ran way too long. Sometimes I did my homework twice; an empty house and long hours of inactivity does strange things to an active mind. There came a point when I wrote three different versions of the same paper only because I was bored out of my mind and needed something to do. 

And that was the first month. 

Upon the suggestion of a teacher, I began to write to express what I felt. Prior to that point, I had been a somewhat mediocre writer that really stuck to the tried and true tropes of the genre, but after that conversation I realized that I could get more than a grade form a piece of paper; personal fulfillment was a few thousand words away. So I wrote. I wrote about how I felt. I wrote stories about aliens. I wrote papers on music and Elvis and how middle school girls would impersonate them in their bedrooms. I wrote because it was therapeutic. It was the best thing that I could have done with my time. Its given me another outlet that I can't graduate from. 

In short, I write to make myself a better person and to let my ideas flow freely. I use this blog as an opportunity to get thoughts onto paper, and express how I may feel at the time. I know that my audience is somewhat limited, and it doesn't bother me at all. It is gratifying to see the number of views rise, but I would write even if Mr. R didn't check to my posts or even if no one saw what I wrote. 

I guess I just like having a blog. 

Regards,

AF

To Blank

A short story about what next year may be like.

To see.

To feel.

To smile.

To walk.

To ponder.

To smile.

To reach out.

To hug.

To squeeze.

To hold.

To cry.

To say goodbye.

To feel.

To compartmentalize.

To walk.

To sit.

To feel the rain

to warm a memory.

To be proud.

To leave.

To be homesick.

To want

to return.

To hope.

To wish.

To enjoy freedom.

To learn new things.

To explore.

To be homesick.

To realize things are going to be different. 

To be okay with it. 

To grow up.

To worry.

To feel.

To drive hours

to see familiar faces. 

To rock out all the way home.

To see.

To feel.

To smile.

To walk.

To ponder.

To smile.

To reach out.

To hug.

To be home. 

Who knows, my experience may be a lot different than yours. Either way, I plan on drinking a ton of chocolate milk and jumping off the bow of a ship. Here's to next year

Drug-Induced-Self-Exploration-Though-the-Grand-Canyon (DISETTGC for short)

Ah college, what a wonderful time to be at ease. Senior year is full of easy decisions! Haha, no. Not true at all. A's post really gets to the point of what so many seniors are feeling.

The pressures of life really begin to push down on us seniors as we come down the home stretch of school. I have a pathetic amount of post on this topic... Either way, it's important to feel what you are feeling" at this moment A-dawg. You're only a senior in high school once (well, if you can pass the first time 'round). 

This is the point when we learn so much about who we are as a person. I get that senior year is is not some drug-induced-self-exploration-though-the-Grand-Canyon , but rather a common of age story similar to Boyhood (ABSOLUTELY GREAT MOVIE). 

Anyway, we will learn who we are and what we can do though experience; living life and taking risks far greater than we have ever encountered. I'm so excited to move on to the next step in my life, albeit a little apprehensive to leave the life I've known for so long. 

So A-dawg, we will learn about who we are in the next few years to come; hopefully we can meet up and chill despite our busy and sometimes ungodly schedules. 

Rational

When it comes to the topic of movies, specifically short films, every shot counts. Some really stand out in one's mind (the torture scene in Rambo, Tom Hanks' farewell in Saving Private Ryan to name a few). Nothing was left to chance in these shots (pun!);  everything happened for a reason. We tried to have a similar approach for our Hamlet project.

My favorite shot in the entire short was the zoom out to the candle, that also showed the bodkin. I liked that the candle followed the exact rule of thirds and added some great character to the whole shot. The lighting was also fantastic: nothing symbolizes passion quite like fire!

Another shot that I think we all liked was when Hamlet (B) threw off the covers whilst saying "Ay, theres the rub!" Inner eight-grader aside, I think that this moment really depicted unbearable emotion that was held inside of Hamlet. Put yourself in his shoes. You are so exhausted from the days trials, and you finally come to your haven. The bed is calling your name, and you respond with falling onto its padded surface. The warmth of sleep raps around you and make you feel whole, yet the unbearable thoughts of the days injustice seem to burn though the drapes of sleep.

So Hamlet, seared with passion, gets out of bed, and walks over to the fire (symbolizing his passion). As he stokes the flame, his passion only grows deeper, and the thoughts become even more unbearable. He needs fresh air to calm down, so he walks down the steps, and outside into the cold. He brings with him a flame; not only to see but to symbolize the tiny bit of heat that he still carries with him. At the conclusion of the soliloquy he walks back in, a fire still burns within him, yet his thoughts are complete. He has plotted enough for one night. Now it is time for rest.