So I realize the readership that this blog used to enjoy (almost no one) has dropped off considerably (to no one), none the less, this serves as my first direct appeal to anyone actually reading this. Perhaps you know me, perhaps you stumbled on this doing a search for the perfect pudding cup recipe (which would be odd, as I don't think I've used all those words in a post up to now, though I suppose you stumbled directly onto this post which has them not only all in one paragraph, but neatly lined up next to each other). However you got here, you're here now and I want your help!
I need a long series of amusing, fake jobs to pretend to have. The key is that for a split second before they're processed they sound real, then the element of absurdity in them appears. Not too long (they shouldn't need an explanation to get the joke, just a job title) and based on some real life job but with a twist. I don't have many so far, but here's what I got:
Caddy for the local putt-putt golf course
Pork wholesaler to the Jewish district
Labor Leader trying to unionize CEOs
Professional Larry Bird impersonator (this could probably be funnier if I was clever enough to think of a funnier personality, I'm not sure if picking a black celebrity is going too far)
Training to become the first non-Catholic, male nun
I think this thing should be set-up so you can leave a response without having an account: feel free!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Beast Inside
I am almost done re-reading The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, a book I consider to be the best non-fiction book I have ever read. I just completed the rather voluminous chapter entitled "The New Order" in which the author gives the generalities of the type of rule the Nazis had planned for the world along with some specifics of actual occurrences. By complete coincidence, the last DVDs that arrived for me from Netflix before that part of my account is shut-off were the ones containing Schindler's List, a movie that up until now I had not seen. Taking in both of these pieces of media together proved to be quite an unpleasant shock to they system, even if I'd been through one before and was aware of the content of the other.
The most upsetting part, outside the destruction of lives of the Jews and other 'undesirables' was the knowledge of how many people it would take to commit acts on such a grand scale. The knowledge that there are Hitlers out there is not surprising, and we know serial killers exist. But it is apparently a truth that if we create a climate that would encourage it, there are millions of men and women who would become murders. Not soldiers, killing in a way we have deemed acceptable for some reason, but chasing down families, men women and children in the streets and shooting them in the head. Apparently these people are all around us. The SS was not made up of Himmler and a few cronies he'd drugged into submission to his will. Hundreds of thousands, men and women who were eager to bring pain and death to other human beings, they were all there before the Third Reich came to be, it wasn't around long enough to develop its own strain of evolution.
So the obvious question is: who is around us that would stand and be counted should we enter such a regime? Or more to the point, how can we know that the beast is not within us, waiting for the chance to cause pain and suffering, to spread death and misery to those whom we've chosen to despise? Could you walk down the streets in Berlin, or Munich in 1922 and point out "Oh yes, he will be with the S.D., and him, he will be S.S. This one will reject the brown-shirts and flee but she shall become a guard at an extermination camp and cut the hair of the women about to be executed"?
Where does the thing hide when it is daylight outside? How can we be sure it has to refuge in us? That feeling of hate, that desire to tear down, to repudiate the life of another, is it not in all of us to some degree? Given sufficient encouragement would it be set loose and could we stop it or would we even want to?
The most upsetting part, outside the destruction of lives of the Jews and other 'undesirables' was the knowledge of how many people it would take to commit acts on such a grand scale. The knowledge that there are Hitlers out there is not surprising, and we know serial killers exist. But it is apparently a truth that if we create a climate that would encourage it, there are millions of men and women who would become murders. Not soldiers, killing in a way we have deemed acceptable for some reason, but chasing down families, men women and children in the streets and shooting them in the head. Apparently these people are all around us. The SS was not made up of Himmler and a few cronies he'd drugged into submission to his will. Hundreds of thousands, men and women who were eager to bring pain and death to other human beings, they were all there before the Third Reich came to be, it wasn't around long enough to develop its own strain of evolution.
So the obvious question is: who is around us that would stand and be counted should we enter such a regime? Or more to the point, how can we know that the beast is not within us, waiting for the chance to cause pain and suffering, to spread death and misery to those whom we've chosen to despise? Could you walk down the streets in Berlin, or Munich in 1922 and point out "Oh yes, he will be with the S.D., and him, he will be S.S. This one will reject the brown-shirts and flee but she shall become a guard at an extermination camp and cut the hair of the women about to be executed"?
Where does the thing hide when it is daylight outside? How can we be sure it has to refuge in us? That feeling of hate, that desire to tear down, to repudiate the life of another, is it not in all of us to some degree? Given sufficient encouragement would it be set loose and could we stop it or would we even want to?
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Upcoming Trip
Here's the plan for my trip. It could change drastically depending on how I (and in particular my knee feels) which may mean lengthening it if I feel great as well as cutting it short, but this is the trip I have planned for now. I'll leave Saturday and follow this route:
1) That night I plan to reach Turpin Meadows and camp there.
2-5) The next day I leave on my backpacking trip (details below) which should last five days
6) When I get out (hopefully Thurs) I hope to be able to make it to Gros Ventre campground by the evening, but I may not feel up to it and just stay at Turpin Meadows that night.
7) The next day, Friday (assuming I'm still on target) I mess around in the Gros Ventre Wilderness, around Mt. Leidy and East Mt. Leidy. If it's a short hike I'll go to Green River Lakes that evening, otherwise I'll stay there.
8) Saturday I'll do some short day hike around Green River Lakes (Wind Rivers) and presumably stay there that night.
9-?) Sunday I either just go straight home or head down to Big Sandy, depending on how I feel. If I feel good I'll stay there at Big Sandy a couple days (all day hikes)
Whenever I think I'm done, I'll head home. The most obvious way for me to extend this trip beyond what I have written here if I'm feeling great is to spend more time in the G.V. Wilderness, but for now I don't have anything planned out there beside the Mt. Leidy thing. The other way it gets longer is if I want to do all these things, but find I can't do the hike I have planned and the transportation in a day and thus start adding in rest/driving days in between stops. So this could balloon out quite a bit, I really wont know until I'm there.
Backpacking:
1) Leave from Turpin Meadows in the morning and go along the S. fork of the Buffalo river to Pendegraft Meadows. There I'll either stay for the night, or try to go just above the Meadows to the South and camp at one of the lakes or meadows up there.
2) Go up the rest of the S. fork to where it hits Cub Creek. If I'm feeling strong, continue on the Buffalo plateau towards Marston Pass, but not very far that way.
3) Walk along the Plateau to the pass. If I get there early I'll camp beneath (on the South side) of Thorofare Mt. If I get there really early, I'll go down the valley a little way to camp (along the trail)
4) Walk the trail to Hawk's Rest and camp there
5) Walk Out across Two Ocean Meadow and Soda Fork (this day is a reverse of what Dad and I did this Spring)
Until I start to head down to Hawk's Rest there are a lot of way to get back to Turpin Meadows, cutting off distance, so I can exit at any point before that. I figure by the time I head down (day four) I should know if I can make it or not, and it's all on trail and pretty flat from there on.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Night Time Photography
Night time photography has become a thing for me. It started when I saw a picture of Grosvenor Arch at night with stars in the background while on vacation in Utah some months ago. Since then I've been trying to create such shots myself and it's led to a lot of discoveries about what it takes to get that night shot. My first desire was a picture like the one I saw: the landscape lit by the moon with the stars in the background. That requires just the right timing both in time of day (well, time of night) and time of the lunar phase. As a result I went out a lot at night and had to try to figure out how to take different kinds of night shots. One of the first things I encountered was lightening; which has some of the same elements but I wont get into the differences here. One of those shots is the opening image, and here's another:
The biggest problem, I discovered, was finding an area that was bright enough that it didn't just silhouette with the stars in the background. So of course my first tries ended up being exactly that. Which is OK, because that can make some good pictures too. In this case it's a lot easier to get the settings right. Set the exposure for the sky, not necessarily the exposure the camera recommends, but with a digital it's pretty easy to just try a few settings, with just a little experience it's pretty quick, and snap. Unless there's a lot of moon, the foreground will be almost pitch black. Like I said, sometimes this is just what the doctor ordered.
Color Balance:
One of the problems you'll first notice, if you're shooting anywhere near a city, is the color. Well sure light pollution will also degrade the quality of the stary scene, but that's just the way it is: no camera setting can fix that. What you'll find, though, is that the sky and anything lit by the city (clouds, reflection from the clouds onto the ground, whatever) will be red. This is because the artificial lights we use put out a very "cold" (from the point of view of physics and your camera settings) or red light. Your eyes adjust for it automatically so you can't always tell just looking at the scene, but your camera isn't quite so nimble. Sometimes red can be fantastic. I like using the color to add some mystery to my scene.
But you will at least want to know how to control it. The key here is your white balance setting. Just about any digital camera sold today (including the point-and-shot variety) have white balance settings. This is how you control what the camera thinks is white based on the lighting. Most likely if you don't know what I'm talking about yours is set to "auto white balance" which will try to guess what kind of light is being used. Direct sunlight, shade, and various kinds of artificial lights all produce different colors of light which has to be compensated for. Again your eyes do this automatically so you probably wont notice that something in shade appears a bit bluer than something in direct sunlight, but your camera does. Auto white balance works all right for normal colors outdoors but it becomes a problem at night.
If you're super sophisticated (I'm not) you'll have a white card to read the color temperature from and you can use "custom white balance" to really nail the scene as is. If you're like me and think buying and then carrying around and using a white card sounds terrible, you're pretty much stuck with guessing what the color temperature of your light is and picking from the presets. The two your camera is likely to have that will come in handy are "florescent" and "tungsten". I like the first because it does retain the mystical, red color without completely blowing out the red channel. Tungsten is probably going to be your most "photo-real" option. They both refer to what's producing the light (tungsten is the filament found in most light bulbs today) and they both emphasize the blue and downplay the red (though tungsten to a higher degree).
Exposure:
You have to choose what you want to be properly exposed. It's incredibly rare when shooting at night that all parts of your scene have the same light level. Now in a sense this is true for daytime photography as well, but the scale is much larger at night. The big thing here is that if you get the night sky at all you have the source of illumination (the stars) in frame. That's like trying to shoot with the sun in picture. You'll either blow out the stars or underexpose the foreground. The latter is what I described above: it's the easiest to set-up and still look good, but it does mean that your landscape will only serve as a horizon shape, not as any detail.
This can change if you manage to get moonlight into your shot. It's still tough to get the right amount of moon, especially since the only way to control that is pick the right point in the lunar phase, and it depends on your location how much light it's getting. In general I've found anywhere between 40% illuminated and 80% illuminated makes for good shots. One of the nice things is you can blow out the stars and they still tend to look good. So you have some freedom there, a wider range to work with.
Now when it comes to actually setting the exposure here's what I do. I figure out the absolutely biggest aperture I can use is while still getting my depth of field that I need, and then setting the shutter speed from there. The first is basically a guess, but an educated one and just depends on how deep my shot is and comes from experience (which I am still acquiring). The faster the shutter speed the less the stars move and the better image you get (unless you're going for the whole "sky rotating" thing which is an entirely different process normally requiring several hundred individual images). The stars aren't as blurred and same goes for anything in your shot that can move in the wind. All the same with my fastest glass (f/1.8) and shooting dark foregrounds I still rarely get faster than a 5 second exposure so nothing will actually be still. I find that after about 15" you can start to notice star movement (depending a great deal on level of magnification of course). 30" is about as long as I'd go if I cared at all that the stars stay still.
Use the light meter on your camera as a guide but know it's normally wrong, and often by two stops or so. Take a picture and check. It can be hard to tell in the dark with your bright LCD screen what the best exposure is but if you look to see what detail you can really make out, and the comparative brightness of different elements it tends to work all right. I normally take two or three pictures before I'm satisfied, at least for the first shot. Then I base my proceeding pictures on the settings of the first one. Always remember though that even if the lighting is exactly the same your subject isn't. How much of the sky is exposed, how reflective your subject is, etc... it can all change the appropriate exposure so pay attention!
ISO:
A quick word about ISO: 100 is probably what your camera is naturally set at (though it may actually be a little higher and then darkens the image for 100, depending on the model). ISO refers to how sensitive the film/digital sensor is, the higher the number the more sensitive and thus the brighter your image is. The drawback to the increased sensitivity is noise gain. It's like turning up the radio and the songs louder but so is all the static. Generally you want it as low as possible while still getting the image you need. In daylight 100 is normally fine. At night it becomes a different beast all together.
The only way to tell what your comfortable with is trial and error. And that means taking the photos back home and looking at them in detail because the noise that will bother you probably wont show up on your LCD screen (though if it does, you're in real trouble!). It will depend on the size and type of your sensor, your camera's software for removing the noise and your opinion of what is and isn't acceptable. When looking at samples always take pictures with dark patches in them: that's where the noise shows up. For me, I've found ISO 800 is where I'm happy and I shot almost exclusively at that setting. Every once in a while I'll bump it up to 1600 but only rarely. I basically never go lower because that mean increasing the time I have to let the shutter stay open and that means adding blur to my photo.
Choosing Location:
The biggest advantage for me of night shots is that, if there are few clouds, you know the sky will be interesting. This is the problem with day shots: the foreground can be interesting but gray or even just blue negative space in the clouds can make the whole image seem drab. So taking a shot at night ensures that there's something there that adds to the picture. However, that attitude can get one (me) carried away and take shots that aren't interesting. A good rule of thumb is: would you take this picture if it were light out? The exception to that is when you can get a good silhouette and you're just blacking the foreground, but in general if it's not interesting in daytime it wont be a good night shot either.
The other issue to think about is where your light is coming from. Unlike the nice, bright sun, the moonlight isn't strong enough to scatter and give you diffuse lighting of everything. Ideally you want the moon to the back of your shot, and you want an open area for it to work on. It's why I favor shooting at lakes (plus they're so reflective, it's much easier to get the shot I want). You don't have to do this, if there's a shot your really want that's closed in you should get that shot. But then you need to pay attention to when the moon will be where you want it to, and what the best position will be to maximize that light.
Lighting the Scene Yourself:
This is tough, I've only tried it a couple times and with mixed results. You can do this using just your flash (still a multi-second exposure, but the flash goes once at the beginning) or with some other light source. A lot of people recommend car headlights but I have yet to be in a situation where what I wanted to photograph was in a position to be seen by my car's headlights. Flashlights can do the trick, and that's what I have tried. Here's the issues you need to be aware of:
Each light has its own color temperature and if you set the color for that light, some other part of the scene will be off-color:
That was taken with my flash, with the white balance set to 'flash'. You can see the sky added a lot of red.
The rule of squares is perhaps a larger problem. That is your light diminishes based on the square of the distance it shines. So something twice as close will be four times brighter if one light is used equally on each one. Making sure everything is lit the same amount becomes almost impossible to do. Your best bet is choosing a subject that's marginally far away from your camera in comparison to it's own depth (meaning a 1' deep subject should be several feet away) and then only having the one subject.
Sometimes though, you can only get the shot you want by lighting yourself.
All that said, night photography is fun and can produce some wonderful images. They make for good "wow!" shots if nothing else, and taking them is a great time. And now, here's the my personal favorite so far:
Here's where I keep all my night shots, you can see it go from crummy to... less crummy over time. :)
http://www.panoramio.com/user/5423509/tags/Night%20Shot
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Photographing Fireworks
So with the 4th come fireworks and this year I wanted to try to capture them on film. Well on digital memory anyways. Images, I wanted to have images. So I went with my Sister and Brother-in-Law to "The Love Boat", a large rock known for its bouldering possibilities that's a little over 1000' above my house from which we could see down into Folsom Field where the cities fireworks show was.
The Technical Means:
Because I was far away I set my ISO at 400, as opposed to 200 which I would've used if I was closer. I set my aperture to f/10, again I probably would've used a little smaller aperture (maybe f/16) if I was closer. I had to use my telephoto and set it to full zoom (250mm for me) I was so far away, but that ended up being a decently framed shot. I then used my remote (the camera was set on full manual, bulb exposure) and just continually set it off. I'd then watch the fireworks and after what I felt was a good image had appeared, close the shutter and start over. It took a lot of practice to figure out what a good time to close the shutter was but I did get better as time went on. Anywhere from 4 to 16 seconds for the exposure just depending on the fireworks. At the end, during the grand finale I set it on continuous burst for a 3" or so exposure and just let it go. The first way was better but didn't really work for the grand finale so the second method was pretty good there. In total I shot about 150 exposures, I'd say about 10-15 turned out pretty well. I ended up uploading three of them: and then deleting them. So I uploaded these four directly to this blog (the three I uploaded were not selected to Google Earth and even though I can have 2GB of photos that aren't selected I've become OCD about not having anything up that isn't). So here are those four (click for full size):
As per usual all my photos can be seen here: http://www.panoramio.com/user/5423509
The Technical Means:
Because I was far away I set my ISO at 400, as opposed to 200 which I would've used if I was closer. I set my aperture to f/10, again I probably would've used a little smaller aperture (maybe f/16) if I was closer. I had to use my telephoto and set it to full zoom (250mm for me) I was so far away, but that ended up being a decently framed shot. I then used my remote (the camera was set on full manual, bulb exposure) and just continually set it off. I'd then watch the fireworks and after what I felt was a good image had appeared, close the shutter and start over. It took a lot of practice to figure out what a good time to close the shutter was but I did get better as time went on. Anywhere from 4 to 16 seconds for the exposure just depending on the fireworks. At the end, during the grand finale I set it on continuous burst for a 3" or so exposure and just let it go. The first way was better but didn't really work for the grand finale so the second method was pretty good there. In total I shot about 150 exposures, I'd say about 10-15 turned out pretty well. I ended up uploading three of them: and then deleting them. So I uploaded these four directly to this blog (the three I uploaded were not selected to Google Earth and even though I can have 2GB of photos that aren't selected I've become OCD about not having anything up that isn't). So here are those four (click for full size):
As per usual all my photos can be seen here: http://www.panoramio.com/user/5423509
Monday, July 4, 2011
Another Cake, for Freedom!
Sadly, not very high quality freedom. This didn't turn out near as well as my last one, but hopefully it's at least recognizable. At first I made the top part (I don't know what that's called, the part that attaches the bell to its frame) the same color as the rest. Big mistake, I tried to fix it but by then the fix... well you can see. Anyways, here's my cake liberty bell (before and after):
Friday, June 3, 2011
It's my Birthday (Cake)
You heard me. And I made my own cake again. Last year was a piano which I thought turned out pretty well. This year I did something a little different.
The whole thing is edible, no fondant (technically edible but I don't count it) and no hidden supports anywhere. The bridge itself is made out of fudge and the rest is chocolate cake and butter cream frosting (the blue is the same as the white: vanilla but with blue food-coloring, the brown is chocolate).
Steps:
1. Make a mold for the fudge bridge
2. Make the fudge and freeze it in the mold
3. Make two cakes, each 13"x9"
4. Make two recopies of vanilla, butter-cream frosting
5. Cut the two cake and mold them so as to be a river, mountains and ridges using the frosting as glue
6. Add the white frosting as a base for the river (it needs a base because of all the crumbs it will develop) and the snow-capped peaks.
7. Turn some of the remaining frosting into blue via food coloring and use that to create the river and feeder streams. Top where appropriate with white for foam caps.
8. Make another recipe of butter-cream frosting plus whatever white frosting is left and make it chocolate.
9. Fill in any unfrosted area (most of the volume will go to the outside edge, most of the work to getting it to meet up on the inside)
10. Cut a space for and add the fudge bridge.
Not bad for someone with no training in this right? After I'd made the fudge and the two cakes it took me a little over two hours to make the frosting and put the whole thing together.
The whole thing is edible, no fondant (technically edible but I don't count it) and no hidden supports anywhere. The bridge itself is made out of fudge and the rest is chocolate cake and butter cream frosting (the blue is the same as the white: vanilla but with blue food-coloring, the brown is chocolate).
Steps:
1. Make a mold for the fudge bridge
2. Make the fudge and freeze it in the mold
3. Make two cakes, each 13"x9"
4. Make two recopies of vanilla, butter-cream frosting
5. Cut the two cake and mold them so as to be a river, mountains and ridges using the frosting as glue
6. Add the white frosting as a base for the river (it needs a base because of all the crumbs it will develop) and the snow-capped peaks.
7. Turn some of the remaining frosting into blue via food coloring and use that to create the river and feeder streams. Top where appropriate with white for foam caps.
8. Make another recipe of butter-cream frosting plus whatever white frosting is left and make it chocolate.
9. Fill in any unfrosted area (most of the volume will go to the outside edge, most of the work to getting it to meet up on the inside)
10. Cut a space for and add the fudge bridge.
Not bad for someone with no training in this right? After I'd made the fudge and the two cakes it took me a little over two hours to make the frosting and put the whole thing together.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Die Walküre: a synopsis and review (kind of) from the 2011 Met Performance
Often I've been told that the music I'm listening to is descriptive of a scene and that I should clearly be able to hear what it is if I knew how to listen. "Can't you hear the ocean there in the strings? And that trumpet that came in: that's the moon coming out between the clouds. Can't you hear it? Isn't it obvious?" No it's not, and no I can't; but I know exactly what's going on when Die Walküre opens. Many operas we're familiar with begun with an overture that is basically a sampler of the music to come. Not so here, here the orchestral prelude accompanies a man running from his foes, having been bloodied and disarmed and we know that's what happens as a result of the music. The first 3 1/4 minutes of the video below give you the prelude:
Our running hero is Siegmund, being chased through the forest by faceless foes. Lepage's great machine, the subject of much debate in staging The Ring is here perfect. The long, metal finger bend down and reflect the video images of trees as Siegmund dashes between them. Finally spent, he finds a house in the midst of the woods and casts himself down at the hearth. Enter Sieglinde, woman of the house and wife of the brute Hunding. She is struck by his beauty and when he awakes gives him drink.
The two speak briefly, clearly both enamored of each other but soon their dialog is cut short by the entrance of Hunding. He commands dinner be made from him and their mysterious guest. Over dinner (in which the unhappy relationship between wife and husband is clearly shown) we learn that Sigmund was separated at birth from his twin sister and spent his life wandering with his father fighting off enemies. Now his father has vanished and he has been beaten and is being chased after trying to defend a young woman forced into marriage (who has died in the midst of the fight incidentally). Hunding reveals that he is one of the men called to hunt Sigmund and that this is the task he was returning from when he found the stranger in his home. Because he has been welcomed as a guest Hunding tells him that he has the night in deference to hospitality but come morning Hunding will fight and slay Sigmund.
Well it's all getting rather fraught, isn't it? Hunding goes to bed, aided by a sleeping draught Sieglinde has slipped him and the two love-birds talk. Sigmund bemoans his state: his father had promised him that in his hour of need he would find a sword and would win victory with it. Surely now, unarmed in the house of an enemy the time has come! Sieglinde tells him that on her wedding day a strange man came, shoved a sword into the tree that stands at the center of their house and left. Since then no man has had power to remove it. Sigmund takes the sword out and rejoices, he and Sieglinde are in love! Once more, they discover they are brother and sister which only compounds their joy.
Yes, it's weird but that's the way it goes in mythology, and particularly in Wagner's portrayal of it. The rather incestuous plot is greatly helped by some stunning love music, started by a lone cello and caught up into the orchestra and the voices. In the Met's production no singer is anything but stellar, and though this isn't the act in which each will show their magnificence the music swoops and soars, and carries us through to the end when Sigmund and Sieglinde run off together, knowing they will soon be chased by Hunding and his kin.
Perhaps this a is a good time to mention James Levine. The primary conductor at the Met (who has many titles there), chosen at incredibly young age to lead the world famous opera house he has become one of, if not the most renowned opera conductors today and is especially noted for his interpretations of Wagner. Recently he has suffered back problems and had to recuse himself from all summer performances. It is rumored that he may never return which would make this particular performance his last in the Met. A sad day indeed, but suffice it to say that this showing was worthy of him, and worth seeing as a final hurrah should that be what it is.
Well again and orchestral prelude opens us into Act II. It's another wonderful piece of music and shows the wait leitmotives (musical themes that represent people, objects, emotions, or ideas) can be used to tell the story. Hear the Walküre theme at the end? You'll recognize it from the Ride of the Valkyries.
Here is Wotan, king of the gods and our first view of the connection between Die Walküre and its predecessor, Das Rheingold. In comes Brünnhilde, daughter of Wotan and the Valkyrie of the title, though she has eight sisters who will appear later. Deborah Voigt sings the title role and does so in a world-class fashion. Her voice is spectacular, and as is becoming more and more a concern in opera, her acting is also quite good. She is jovial and war-like, she loves her father and her task: to bring fallen heroes to Valhalla where they can help Wotan defend the gods themselves.
Well in comes Fricka, wife of Wotan and goddess of marriage and contracts. It is by her that Wotan is able to rule, and she is quite upset at the breach of contract he is making! It turns out that, unknown to the children, Wotan is father of both Sigmund and Sieglinde and has planned from them to kill Hunding and go on to preform a task he needs done to rescue him from his poor choices in the past (long story guys). Well Fricka points out that they have both committed the crime of incest and broken the covenant of marriage, thus he must reverse himself and kill Sigmund as punishment for his crimes. Stephanie Blythe is Fricka, a renowned Wagnerian singer, and she is sublime here in her basically 20 minute long nag aimed at Wotan (presumably stolen from Wagner's wife at the time, Mina).
Wotan slinks away, having agreed to perform the deed. A wonderful piece of music here highlights the change that will come over the opera. He orders Brünnhilde, who he just told to save Sigmund, to have him killed and bring him to Valhalla. She is outraged but Wotan flies into a rage, orders her to proceed and exits. He does so after having run over the whole plot The Ring up to this point, which fills in holes if you aren't familiar with Das Rheingold and some holes that that opera left as well. In addition, it fills the listener in on all the important leitmotives that accompany each event or object. When he speaks of the ring of power, there is the music for the ring. When he sings of Valhalla here is the Valhalla theme. A good way to get caught up: listen closely!
Brünnhilde, loving her father, goes down to Sigmund who is standing beside his sister, the two in the process of running from Hunding and Sieglinde fallen asleep with exhaustion. Brünnhilde informs Sigmund that he is to die but that she will take him To Valhalla where he will be in the company of heroes, his father and served his every desire in the great hall. Sigmund seems excited but then asks the big question: will Sieglinde be there? No, Brünnhilde replies, she can not come. Then Sigmund is determined to kill her and himself and walk in hell together rather than be separated in the heaven of Valhalla. A wonderfully lyrical piece of music here accentuates Sigmund's longing for glory and his is even greater love of his sister Sieglinde.
Well, Brünnhilde is so touched by their love she changes her mind, defies her father and tell Sigmund that she will save him. And she tries when the fight begins but Wotan himself appears and shatters Sigmund's sword: allowing him to be run through by Hunding, who Wotan than kills in disgust. Brünnhilde, frightened for her life and Sieglinde's, takes the woman with her and flees from the wrath of her father who is incensed that she disobeyed him. The curtain falls on his anger.
Ah, Act III, one of the most spectacular pieces of opera ever created. It opens with one of the most famous works of art in the Western world: The Ride of Valkyries (it's important to have a recording with singing).
This passage is so incredibly moving that I was brought to tears and remained in them for the final 15 minutes of the opera. It is a powerful scene from the storyline alone, but the music is without equal.
The whole opera was one of the more intense experiences I've ever had with a work of art of any kind. With two long intermissions it clocks in at over 5 hours, so it is not to be undertaken lightly, but it is well worth the time invested, and the Met's production is simply superb.
Our running hero is Siegmund, being chased through the forest by faceless foes. Lepage's great machine, the subject of much debate in staging The Ring is here perfect. The long, metal finger bend down and reflect the video images of trees as Siegmund dashes between them. Finally spent, he finds a house in the midst of the woods and casts himself down at the hearth. Enter Sieglinde, woman of the house and wife of the brute Hunding. She is struck by his beauty and when he awakes gives him drink.
The two speak briefly, clearly both enamored of each other but soon their dialog is cut short by the entrance of Hunding. He commands dinner be made from him and their mysterious guest. Over dinner (in which the unhappy relationship between wife and husband is clearly shown) we learn that Sigmund was separated at birth from his twin sister and spent his life wandering with his father fighting off enemies. Now his father has vanished and he has been beaten and is being chased after trying to defend a young woman forced into marriage (who has died in the midst of the fight incidentally). Hunding reveals that he is one of the men called to hunt Sigmund and that this is the task he was returning from when he found the stranger in his home. Because he has been welcomed as a guest Hunding tells him that he has the night in deference to hospitality but come morning Hunding will fight and slay Sigmund.
Well it's all getting rather fraught, isn't it? Hunding goes to bed, aided by a sleeping draught Sieglinde has slipped him and the two love-birds talk. Sigmund bemoans his state: his father had promised him that in his hour of need he would find a sword and would win victory with it. Surely now, unarmed in the house of an enemy the time has come! Sieglinde tells him that on her wedding day a strange man came, shoved a sword into the tree that stands at the center of their house and left. Since then no man has had power to remove it. Sigmund takes the sword out and rejoices, he and Sieglinde are in love! Once more, they discover they are brother and sister which only compounds their joy.
Yes, it's weird but that's the way it goes in mythology, and particularly in Wagner's portrayal of it. The rather incestuous plot is greatly helped by some stunning love music, started by a lone cello and caught up into the orchestra and the voices. In the Met's production no singer is anything but stellar, and though this isn't the act in which each will show their magnificence the music swoops and soars, and carries us through to the end when Sigmund and Sieglinde run off together, knowing they will soon be chased by Hunding and his kin.
Perhaps this a is a good time to mention James Levine. The primary conductor at the Met (who has many titles there), chosen at incredibly young age to lead the world famous opera house he has become one of, if not the most renowned opera conductors today and is especially noted for his interpretations of Wagner. Recently he has suffered back problems and had to recuse himself from all summer performances. It is rumored that he may never return which would make this particular performance his last in the Met. A sad day indeed, but suffice it to say that this showing was worthy of him, and worth seeing as a final hurrah should that be what it is.
Well again and orchestral prelude opens us into Act II. It's another wonderful piece of music and shows the wait leitmotives (musical themes that represent people, objects, emotions, or ideas) can be used to tell the story. Hear the Walküre theme at the end? You'll recognize it from the Ride of the Valkyries.
Here is Wotan, king of the gods and our first view of the connection between Die Walküre and its predecessor, Das Rheingold. In comes Brünnhilde, daughter of Wotan and the Valkyrie of the title, though she has eight sisters who will appear later. Deborah Voigt sings the title role and does so in a world-class fashion. Her voice is spectacular, and as is becoming more and more a concern in opera, her acting is also quite good. She is jovial and war-like, she loves her father and her task: to bring fallen heroes to Valhalla where they can help Wotan defend the gods themselves.
Well in comes Fricka, wife of Wotan and goddess of marriage and contracts. It is by her that Wotan is able to rule, and she is quite upset at the breach of contract he is making! It turns out that, unknown to the children, Wotan is father of both Sigmund and Sieglinde and has planned from them to kill Hunding and go on to preform a task he needs done to rescue him from his poor choices in the past (long story guys). Well Fricka points out that they have both committed the crime of incest and broken the covenant of marriage, thus he must reverse himself and kill Sigmund as punishment for his crimes. Stephanie Blythe is Fricka, a renowned Wagnerian singer, and she is sublime here in her basically 20 minute long nag aimed at Wotan (presumably stolen from Wagner's wife at the time, Mina).
Wotan slinks away, having agreed to perform the deed. A wonderful piece of music here highlights the change that will come over the opera. He orders Brünnhilde, who he just told to save Sigmund, to have him killed and bring him to Valhalla. She is outraged but Wotan flies into a rage, orders her to proceed and exits. He does so after having run over the whole plot The Ring up to this point, which fills in holes if you aren't familiar with Das Rheingold and some holes that that opera left as well. In addition, it fills the listener in on all the important leitmotives that accompany each event or object. When he speaks of the ring of power, there is the music for the ring. When he sings of Valhalla here is the Valhalla theme. A good way to get caught up: listen closely!
Brünnhilde, loving her father, goes down to Sigmund who is standing beside his sister, the two in the process of running from Hunding and Sieglinde fallen asleep with exhaustion. Brünnhilde informs Sigmund that he is to die but that she will take him To Valhalla where he will be in the company of heroes, his father and served his every desire in the great hall. Sigmund seems excited but then asks the big question: will Sieglinde be there? No, Brünnhilde replies, she can not come. Then Sigmund is determined to kill her and himself and walk in hell together rather than be separated in the heaven of Valhalla. A wonderfully lyrical piece of music here accentuates Sigmund's longing for glory and his is even greater love of his sister Sieglinde.
Well, Brünnhilde is so touched by their love she changes her mind, defies her father and tell Sigmund that she will save him. And she tries when the fight begins but Wotan himself appears and shatters Sigmund's sword: allowing him to be run through by Hunding, who Wotan than kills in disgust. Brünnhilde, frightened for her life and Sieglinde's, takes the woman with her and flees from the wrath of her father who is incensed that she disobeyed him. The curtain falls on his anger.
Ah, Act III, one of the most spectacular pieces of opera ever created. It opens with one of the most famous works of art in the Western world: The Ride of Valkyries (it's important to have a recording with singing).
The Valkyries (Brünnhilde's sisters) are riding up to a great mountain top with fallen heroes aboard their horses. Here the set and direction of Robert Lepage is wonderful, with the Valkyries actually riding the set itself down onto the stage, bucking and galloping the whole way! The sisters great each other in joy and discuss their exploits. They note that Brünnhilde is not here, where is she? Ah, there she comes! But in great haste, and who is aboard her horse? She appears with Sieglinde and begs her sisters for help. Give her a new horse that she may flee father! Her sisters are too loyal and too afraid of Wotan to do so.
Brünnhilde then turns to Sieglinde who is depressed to the point of being catatonic. She wishes she had died with her love Sigmund and does not have any special thanks for Brünnhilde. That is until she's informed that she is now pregnant with Sigmund's child (who will become Sigfried: the hero and title character of the next opera). Brünnhilde instructs her to go the woods to the East where Wotan fears to go and their give birth to the great hero Sigfried. Sieglinde is newly inspired and thanks Brünnhilde greatly with music of astounding beauty. Here we hear the redemption theme that will come to cleanse the world two opera from now. These few lines of Siglinde's are a demonstration of the incredible power of Eva-Maria Westbroek's voice.
Sieglinde is off with the ruins of Sigmund's sword, and just in time for here comes Wotan! Brünnhilde's sisters try to hide her for a time from the wrath of her father but they are soon chased away and the daughter and father left to sing one the final scene in the opera together: the most beautiful part of an opera packed with astounding music. In his wrath he curses Brünnhilde to lie sleeping until some mortal wakes her and becomes her master in her now limited life. Brünnhilde argues that she was only fulfilling Wotan's true will with her actions and does not deserve such a punishment.
The predicament reminds me of Jephthah from Judges who has sworn in haste to sacrifice the first thing that comes out of his house to God. One must ask what he thought would exit, was his dresser surprisingly mobile and apt to run out to great him? Of course his daughter appears and is subject to his rash promise. Here to Wotan, not just now but through-out his life, has made rash contracts which have bound him down until he is given no escape. He has just been forced to kill his favorite son (Sigmund) and now must remove the immortality of his favorite daughter and giver her to a mortal man.
Brünnhilde convinces Wotan to place a ring of fire around her, and that only a man who does not feat Wotan will be able to cross it: ensuring that at least the man she is bound to will be a great warrior. Wotan agrees and says good bye to the daughter he knows he will never see again. Summoning fire to encircle Brünnhilde , he sings the opera to its close.
This passage is so incredibly moving that I was brought to tears and remained in them for the final 15 minutes of the opera. It is a powerful scene from the storyline alone, but the music is without equal.
The whole opera was one of the more intense experiences I've ever had with a work of art of any kind. With two long intermissions it clocks in at over 5 hours, so it is not to be undertaken lightly, but it is well worth the time invested, and the Met's production is simply superb.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Here again
Ah Church, I'm here again. For some reason I feel happier entering the family ward than I did the Singles'. Probably some B.F. Skinner effect though I can't think of any particularly happy event that's happened here, not beyond the everyday, Church experience. No matter, even if it's irrational at least it's positively irrational. I thread my way through the crowded hallways towards the chapel. I'm early, but with this being the second service here today I have to be careful not to step on or run into the numerous children from the last meeting who are scampering about. I finally make it to the chapel doors and peer in.
On my mission I had figured out the rules that govern seating in a family ward. Perhaps rules is too strong a word; patterns then. Unfortunately, I've forgotten a lot of them in the intervening years. I know if you chose wrong it's easy to get displaced by a family who thinks you've taken their (obviously reserved) seat. One of the advantages of being a missionary was the excuse it gave you to stand at the door until services began and then nab whatever seat was open in the back.
Really my biggest goal here is to not sit directly in front of rowdy children. Besides the added noise I always end up getting pummeled from behind and find myself unable to deal appropriately with it. Typically I sit their quietly pretending I don't notice the saliva encrusted hands slugging me in the back. "What's that?" my body language seems to be saying, " I had no idea I was being pounded in the back and will now have to have my suit dry-cleaned." My body language is quite well spoken.
I slide into a seat on the side, far enough over so others can join me, close enough to the aisle so as to avoid the appearance of having sequestered myself alone, against the wall. A few moments later a young family seats themselves directly behind me. The children began the traditional ritual of back pounding and I sigh. Oh well, he tries, he fails, he'll have a go again next week.
As I studiously ignore the fist of fury that have entrenched themselves behind me, an elderly lady comes over and sits beside me. I know her! Despite about one third of this ward inexplicably knowing who I am, I know 3 of them, 4 tops, but she's one of them!
"You probably don't remember me," she begins.
Ha! I try desperately to keep an incredibly smug look off of my face. This is my big chance to pretend to know someone without having to actually pretend! "No, I remember" I interrupt in what I fervently hope isn't an incredibly condescending voice.
"Well" she goes on to explain, apparently unaware of my mighty triumph, "we have a grand-niece in town..."
Uh-oh. My recent victory quickly drains away, most likely along with just about all the blood in my face. My mind races, but being unemployed, good excuses to avoid this stuff are hard to come by. She's about to try to pair me off, I just know it. And here it come...
"..I don't want to play matchmaker" uh-huh, "but I think she'd really like to spend time with someone her own age. She's just here for a few months staying with us, all these old people and..."
This woman really is a very sweet old lady, there's no question about that. Sadly all that is forgotten as I listen closely, ready to pounce at the first mistake she makes. I don't do blind dates, certainly not with someone's grand niece. "Someone her age", what age is that? She's probably 17 and her grand-aunt just has no clue how old anyone under 60 is anymore. But she's still talking.
"..and anyways I really think she'd enjoy spending time with someone her own age" there it is again "so we'd love to have you over after Church for dinner"
Ha! I found her mistake: she said dinner! After Church would really be 'lunch' in my lexicon but she said dinner. Advantage me!
Appearing both crestfallen and yet strangely eager, I respond "I'm terribly sorry, I have dinner" (ha!) "plans with my sister and brother-in-law". (Pull it back, your voice sounds like you just received news that your whole family went down in a terrible helicopter crash after having attacked Chicago in what's already being described as "the next 9/11"). I'm realizing here, in a moment of personal clarity, that all in all I probably wouldn't make it as an actor in Hollywood, better end this soon. "So I would like to, and that's very sweet but I guess I just can't today. Thank-you though."
I do kind of have a dinner date with my sister and brother-in-law. Close enough anyways, and I don't feel the need to explain to my parents that I wont be home for supper due to having a date with someone while being chaperoned by a couple somewhere in their 200th year of marriage who apparently set me up while I'm at Church. I'm pretty sure their view of Church is dark enough without that image to go with it. Some more pleasantries and she heads back to her seat with Church about to start. Whew!
During the sacrament hymn, another family joins me on my pew. Young children again but the parents seem to be in better control. The father sits next to me and subconsciously (apparently) keeps his little ones bound in between himself and his wife, using his leg as the corral boundary. Suddenly I realize the hitting has stopped. Kids behind me and to my side and I'm being left alone! Well excellent, I guess when it rains it pours.
Sacrament begins. It's surprisingly quiet. Almost all the children there are talking, but it's amazingly in whispers, or quiet talking I suppose. No shouting or screaming: I'm impressed! This is quite pleasant, at least for a family ward. Oh, maybe I should be focusing on the sacrament at this point. Good thing my attention span lasts for at least three second. I look up to the stand where a member of the stake presidency is sitting. I know him, he seems to appear at whatever ward I attend. I can never remember his name but it's easy to recognize his face. He always looks like he's staring out at a sea of people in the process of eating their own children. Honestly, how can he look so disgusted with the world all the time? Even when he's smiling he looks disgusted, I don't know how that's possible. Maybe this is the result of forcing the WWII generation men to watch their wives give birth. They just weren't ready for that sh**.
I continue my 20 second cycle of paying attention and getting distracted through the remainder of the service. The first talk is actually quite good, a little humor, a good message well portrayed by someone who clearly isn't overly comfortable with public speaking. Oh, are we standing up to sing the intermediate hymn? All right, I could use the stretch, I stand up to watch the rest of the congregation slowly get to their feet, apparently under the impression that this is the worst thing humanity has forced upon itself since that fateful decision to air Jersey Shore. My pathetic attempt to sing the bass line to a hymn I don't know finished, we sit and listen to that Stake Presidency member deliver his recitation.
The thesis of his talk is apparently that we don't have a good enough appreciation for how horrendous Christ's suffering was. This is going to be good, I can tell. He begins a delineation of the horrors of the Crucification, along with a bunch of medical jargon about just how painful it would be. Ugh. This is like listening to someone read the script to a Saw movie. I imagine, I don't go to those things because I don't like them. I don't think having a disgusted looking octogenarian read the script would be much of a step up though. Why am I not getting distracted now? Isn't there some perfectly innocent movement in the crowd that I can over analyze and then demean in my own mind? Apparently not. I'll just have to concentrate on not vomiting until he finally steps down. They should bring those airline-baggies with them if they're going to go into this kind of detail. Also, don't tell me to think about this next time Christ comes up in my mind. I want to be able to pray again at some point in my future life and I wont be able to if this is the image that pops into my head when I try.
Few, it's over. Closing hymn and we're off to Sunday School. I settle down into the back and studiously don't say anything as the class filters in. With no one to talk to I'm always to these classes early and it can make for some awkward moments. I find it's a lot less awkward if I appear to be doing something really important, rather than sitting there pretending not notice anyone. Which of course is exactly what I'm doing.
The class opens up and it's time for introductions. Luckily I got mine out of the way last week, so I'm in the clear now. Oh, there's the elderly lady from before with her husband. Wait, who is she sitting by? Oh my gosh, this isn't who I think, is it? "This is our niece, visiting us for a few months before she goes back home." She says, shattering my idealistic hopes. That was who she was trying to set me up with? I'm mean she looks fine I suppose but she's at least 45 years old! I guess I was right when I figured she didn't have a good grasp of age, but in a very wrong direction. Oh goodness, do I look 45? I always thought I looked young for my age, at least when I shaved. Do I appear to be in her age group? Am I really "someone her age"? This is highly unsettling.
I make it through the rest of class without blurting out anything inappropriate. I'm asked to read but I made it through college and grad school, I can read aloud without thinking, which is perfect for this moment right now. Because I'm certainly not thinking about John 6, I'm just trying to reassure myself that at 25 I don't appear to be twice as old as I actually am. Honestly, I never thought I'd have to the problem of worrying about looking old, I thought I was above that type of shallow self-absorption. Turns out I have a breaking point too. And that point is being set-up with a freaking 45 year old.
Class ends and I slink innocuously off to my Elder's Quorum meeting. There's only 5 other guys there, including the one running the meeting. He seems to be very conscious of that fact and tries cracking jokes about it for upwards of ten minutes. I think I might have heard someone laugh but that could've been the pew creaking. This is fun. Finally he turns it over to the instructor for the day. His lesson is on honesty and he begins with a series of very odd hypotheticals ("imagine you're a sixteen year-old girl whose Mother is a drug addict" umm, OK). No one wants to respond to any of them. Finally someone raises his hand to bring up someone everyone's more comfortable talking about: women. Of course it's the classic: "if your wife asks you if she looks fat, what do you respond". Ah-hah! I know how to answer this one, and if I'm going to be here for an extended period of time I should probably at least try to make some inroads.
I start to blather on and on, even I stop paying attention. This is not good, only two people are looking at me and they're both looking bored. Shoot, better wrap it up. Wait a second, did I just call all their wives fat? Uh-oh, I think I did. I'm not that dumb though, right? I'm mean surely they realize that's not what I meant, right? Probably not, I start to back-pedal. I don't think it's working, though I have to admit more of the guys are looking at me now. Finally the instructor cuts me off and moves the lesson on. That went well. I certainly made some inroads.
The class ends in a series of contradictory statements from all involved along with an admission of torrenting mp3s from the instructor. Always a nice touch. We're out a little late. I better hurry to my car, gotta get ready for that dinner appointment with my family tonight! That went really well I thought.
On my mission I had figured out the rules that govern seating in a family ward. Perhaps rules is too strong a word; patterns then. Unfortunately, I've forgotten a lot of them in the intervening years. I know if you chose wrong it's easy to get displaced by a family who thinks you've taken their (obviously reserved) seat. One of the advantages of being a missionary was the excuse it gave you to stand at the door until services began and then nab whatever seat was open in the back.
Really my biggest goal here is to not sit directly in front of rowdy children. Besides the added noise I always end up getting pummeled from behind and find myself unable to deal appropriately with it. Typically I sit their quietly pretending I don't notice the saliva encrusted hands slugging me in the back. "What's that?" my body language seems to be saying, " I had no idea I was being pounded in the back and will now have to have my suit dry-cleaned." My body language is quite well spoken.
I slide into a seat on the side, far enough over so others can join me, close enough to the aisle so as to avoid the appearance of having sequestered myself alone, against the wall. A few moments later a young family seats themselves directly behind me. The children began the traditional ritual of back pounding and I sigh. Oh well, he tries, he fails, he'll have a go again next week.
As I studiously ignore the fist of fury that have entrenched themselves behind me, an elderly lady comes over and sits beside me. I know her! Despite about one third of this ward inexplicably knowing who I am, I know 3 of them, 4 tops, but she's one of them!
"You probably don't remember me," she begins.
Ha! I try desperately to keep an incredibly smug look off of my face. This is my big chance to pretend to know someone without having to actually pretend! "No, I remember" I interrupt in what I fervently hope isn't an incredibly condescending voice.
"Well" she goes on to explain, apparently unaware of my mighty triumph, "we have a grand-niece in town..."
Uh-oh. My recent victory quickly drains away, most likely along with just about all the blood in my face. My mind races, but being unemployed, good excuses to avoid this stuff are hard to come by. She's about to try to pair me off, I just know it. And here it come...
"..I don't want to play matchmaker" uh-huh, "but I think she'd really like to spend time with someone her own age. She's just here for a few months staying with us, all these old people and..."
This woman really is a very sweet old lady, there's no question about that. Sadly all that is forgotten as I listen closely, ready to pounce at the first mistake she makes. I don't do blind dates, certainly not with someone's grand niece. "Someone her age", what age is that? She's probably 17 and her grand-aunt just has no clue how old anyone under 60 is anymore. But she's still talking.
"..and anyways I really think she'd enjoy spending time with someone her own age" there it is again "so we'd love to have you over after Church for dinner"
Ha! I found her mistake: she said dinner! After Church would really be 'lunch' in my lexicon but she said dinner. Advantage me!
Appearing both crestfallen and yet strangely eager, I respond "I'm terribly sorry, I have dinner" (ha!) "plans with my sister and brother-in-law". (Pull it back, your voice sounds like you just received news that your whole family went down in a terrible helicopter crash after having attacked Chicago in what's already being described as "the next 9/11"). I'm realizing here, in a moment of personal clarity, that all in all I probably wouldn't make it as an actor in Hollywood, better end this soon. "So I would like to, and that's very sweet but I guess I just can't today. Thank-you though."
I do kind of have a dinner date with my sister and brother-in-law. Close enough anyways, and I don't feel the need to explain to my parents that I wont be home for supper due to having a date with someone while being chaperoned by a couple somewhere in their 200th year of marriage who apparently set me up while I'm at Church. I'm pretty sure their view of Church is dark enough without that image to go with it. Some more pleasantries and she heads back to her seat with Church about to start. Whew!
During the sacrament hymn, another family joins me on my pew. Young children again but the parents seem to be in better control. The father sits next to me and subconsciously (apparently) keeps his little ones bound in between himself and his wife, using his leg as the corral boundary. Suddenly I realize the hitting has stopped. Kids behind me and to my side and I'm being left alone! Well excellent, I guess when it rains it pours.
Sacrament begins. It's surprisingly quiet. Almost all the children there are talking, but it's amazingly in whispers, or quiet talking I suppose. No shouting or screaming: I'm impressed! This is quite pleasant, at least for a family ward. Oh, maybe I should be focusing on the sacrament at this point. Good thing my attention span lasts for at least three second. I look up to the stand where a member of the stake presidency is sitting. I know him, he seems to appear at whatever ward I attend. I can never remember his name but it's easy to recognize his face. He always looks like he's staring out at a sea of people in the process of eating their own children. Honestly, how can he look so disgusted with the world all the time? Even when he's smiling he looks disgusted, I don't know how that's possible. Maybe this is the result of forcing the WWII generation men to watch their wives give birth. They just weren't ready for that sh**.
I continue my 20 second cycle of paying attention and getting distracted through the remainder of the service. The first talk is actually quite good, a little humor, a good message well portrayed by someone who clearly isn't overly comfortable with public speaking. Oh, are we standing up to sing the intermediate hymn? All right, I could use the stretch, I stand up to watch the rest of the congregation slowly get to their feet, apparently under the impression that this is the worst thing humanity has forced upon itself since that fateful decision to air Jersey Shore. My pathetic attempt to sing the bass line to a hymn I don't know finished, we sit and listen to that Stake Presidency member deliver his recitation.
The thesis of his talk is apparently that we don't have a good enough appreciation for how horrendous Christ's suffering was. This is going to be good, I can tell. He begins a delineation of the horrors of the Crucification, along with a bunch of medical jargon about just how painful it would be. Ugh. This is like listening to someone read the script to a Saw movie. I imagine, I don't go to those things because I don't like them. I don't think having a disgusted looking octogenarian read the script would be much of a step up though. Why am I not getting distracted now? Isn't there some perfectly innocent movement in the crowd that I can over analyze and then demean in my own mind? Apparently not. I'll just have to concentrate on not vomiting until he finally steps down. They should bring those airline-baggies with them if they're going to go into this kind of detail. Also, don't tell me to think about this next time Christ comes up in my mind. I want to be able to pray again at some point in my future life and I wont be able to if this is the image that pops into my head when I try.
Few, it's over. Closing hymn and we're off to Sunday School. I settle down into the back and studiously don't say anything as the class filters in. With no one to talk to I'm always to these classes early and it can make for some awkward moments. I find it's a lot less awkward if I appear to be doing something really important, rather than sitting there pretending not notice anyone. Which of course is exactly what I'm doing.
The class opens up and it's time for introductions. Luckily I got mine out of the way last week, so I'm in the clear now. Oh, there's the elderly lady from before with her husband. Wait, who is she sitting by? Oh my gosh, this isn't who I think, is it? "This is our niece, visiting us for a few months before she goes back home." She says, shattering my idealistic hopes. That was who she was trying to set me up with? I'm mean she looks fine I suppose but she's at least 45 years old! I guess I was right when I figured she didn't have a good grasp of age, but in a very wrong direction. Oh goodness, do I look 45? I always thought I looked young for my age, at least when I shaved. Do I appear to be in her age group? Am I really "someone her age"? This is highly unsettling.
I make it through the rest of class without blurting out anything inappropriate. I'm asked to read but I made it through college and grad school, I can read aloud without thinking, which is perfect for this moment right now. Because I'm certainly not thinking about John 6, I'm just trying to reassure myself that at 25 I don't appear to be twice as old as I actually am. Honestly, I never thought I'd have to the problem of worrying about looking old, I thought I was above that type of shallow self-absorption. Turns out I have a breaking point too. And that point is being set-up with a freaking 45 year old.
Class ends and I slink innocuously off to my Elder's Quorum meeting. There's only 5 other guys there, including the one running the meeting. He seems to be very conscious of that fact and tries cracking jokes about it for upwards of ten minutes. I think I might have heard someone laugh but that could've been the pew creaking. This is fun. Finally he turns it over to the instructor for the day. His lesson is on honesty and he begins with a series of very odd hypotheticals ("imagine you're a sixteen year-old girl whose Mother is a drug addict" umm, OK). No one wants to respond to any of them. Finally someone raises his hand to bring up someone everyone's more comfortable talking about: women. Of course it's the classic: "if your wife asks you if she looks fat, what do you respond". Ah-hah! I know how to answer this one, and if I'm going to be here for an extended period of time I should probably at least try to make some inroads.
I start to blather on and on, even I stop paying attention. This is not good, only two people are looking at me and they're both looking bored. Shoot, better wrap it up. Wait a second, did I just call all their wives fat? Uh-oh, I think I did. I'm not that dumb though, right? I'm mean surely they realize that's not what I meant, right? Probably not, I start to back-pedal. I don't think it's working, though I have to admit more of the guys are looking at me now. Finally the instructor cuts me off and moves the lesson on. That went well. I certainly made some inroads.
The class ends in a series of contradictory statements from all involved along with an admission of torrenting mp3s from the instructor. Always a nice touch. We're out a little late. I better hurry to my car, gotta get ready for that dinner appointment with my family tonight! That went really well I thought.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
It's not a beard
I have this discussion a lot. It's not that I'm growing a beard, at least no more than any post-puberty male is always growing a beard. It's just that I'm not shaving right now, they aren't the same. Or I don't think they're the same, clearly it's not unanimous opinion. With an electric shaver I went daily, it was easy and the shave wasn't great so I couldn't go longer without some obvious side effects anyways. When I transitioned to the straight shave I found I could go multiple days before shaving again. Skipping one day was a max if I wanted a clean look but the shave was so good that I could at least do that, and more if I didn't care too much about stubble. The problem was when I removed it from my daily routine it got easier to rationalize extra days.
Well all that came in stride until I finished school and couldn't find a job. I also moved and outside my family still have literally no friends. Or none within a few hundred miles anyways. I didn't go to work, school, nor did I go out socially. The only reason to shave for appearance sake was Church once a week. Which I quickly transitioned to. Only I don't make it to Church every week. I'm not skipping or anything, not directly anyways. But I take trips (mostly camping trips) that will often go over the weekend and find myself in the woods rather than the chapel on Sundays. I haven't missed that many Sundays, but when I do that adds a week to my lack of shaving. I've just finished the longest stretch for me since I started shaving. I went with my parents on a trip (see below) that covered two Sundays. The next weekend was general conference, so that was three Sundays missed and I missed each shave with them. I did finally pick up the blade today but the beard had gotten rather long, to the point I stopped believing the "not growing a beard, just not shaving" argument myself. Ah well, it's gone now. Here's a before and after set:
Well all that came in stride until I finished school and couldn't find a job. I also moved and outside my family still have literally no friends. Or none within a few hundred miles anyways. I didn't go to work, school, nor did I go out socially. The only reason to shave for appearance sake was Church once a week. Which I quickly transitioned to. Only I don't make it to Church every week. I'm not skipping or anything, not directly anyways. But I take trips (mostly camping trips) that will often go over the weekend and find myself in the woods rather than the chapel on Sundays. I haven't missed that many Sundays, but when I do that adds a week to my lack of shaving. I've just finished the longest stretch for me since I started shaving. I went with my parents on a trip (see below) that covered two Sundays. The next weekend was general conference, so that was three Sundays missed and I missed each shave with them. I did finally pick up the blade today but the beard had gotten rather long, to the point I stopped believing the "not growing a beard, just not shaving" argument myself. Ah well, it's gone now. Here's a before and after set:
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