Death: An Enigmatic Occurrence

Last week marked the year anniversary of a devastating event that shattered the lives of the students and faculty at my high school. Several students had been driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, drunk, at speeds close to 90mph. They hit the side of the road and their car spun out of control, flipped, and crashed. I remember going to school that morning; only hearing about a horrible car crash on the news. The realization came that the people in the car were students from my high school once I got there that day. We watched the news, only to hear that the driver had died, and it was unknown what the fate of the other passengers were. Tears, sorrow, grief filled the room, the school. That day was silent, quiet; just an unspoken common acknowledgement of what had happened. It was heard that one of the passengers went into a coma. The others survived but were injured. A simple mistake, but there it was. Our school was a media frenzy that day; news reporters were circling the school. The event became just another statistic to the arrogant police chief who was more than happy to use it as a shameless way to spread the "problem of teenagers" on the news.

Sensitivity seems to escape those on the outside looking in. There was a candlelight vigil for the driver that night. I watched the news: one reporter said that they wanted to respect the privacy of the students and wouldn't ask for comments from them. I later found out from another student that the same reporter had been harassing students for comments, none would, and our principal had to ask him to leave. Other reporters were shoving cameras into students' crying faces. Everyone had an opinion about what happened: everywhere from "it was an unnecessary tragedy" to "they deserved it". It didn't matter though what it was. It was there, and it affected our lives.

I bring this up, because this past week, one year from that accident, a student who graduated from my high school a few years ago crashed on a street not far from my house and died. I can never hear a story about someone dying without me being affected by it; especially those who die young. I don't know why. I guess I always think that it could be me. Maybe not in the crash that happened last year because even if I were to drink, I would never drink and drive. But that doesn't protect me from being hit by a drunk driver, like the Anaheim Angel's pitcher, Nick Adenhart, and his three friends, Courtney Stewart, Henry Pearson, and Jon Wilhite, this past week. In fact, it almost did happen. Just a few months ago, my friends and I were driving and we were going through an intersection, the light was green, everything was fine. Suddenly a speeding car comes through the intersection headed for our car, I was in the back right seat, and my friend was in the front passenger side, the car came from the right; the two of us were in panic thinking it was going to hit us. My other friend who was driving didn't notice, which was a good thing; if she had, she probably would have braked and the car would have plowed into us. It just missed our car, we were lucky. Some aren't.

Why though? Does luck have anything to do with it? I mean Death can be so random; it is the reverberating effect of the very fabric of life itself. Are events ever just coincidental or part of a greater enigmatic design, unknown to anyone except for the very force controlling the universe? I guess we’ll never really know for sure. Do I just keep on living knowing that death is imminent, I guess I have to, but do I live in fear or live in joy, or neither. Where does death bring us, why does it happen? I guess it gives life meaning, but what is that meaning for? Do we live to die or die to live?

NPHS Art Show

Today I went to my High School's annual art show. Seeing as my University is on spring break, I thought I would attend. I was a participant in the art show last year, a requirement for IB art candidates. You see, at my high school, Newbury Park, we have the International Baccalaureate program, which is like AP, but different, I guess. Anyway, as part of the program, all IB art students have to display their work in an art show. Last year, we had to produce 12 pieces of detailed art work, and fill about 50 pages of sketchbook, with well documented and intricately detailed notes/sketches of our artisitc journey, all of which must be centered around a theme. My theme was art in an urban setting. I slaved away all last year to display that work, labor that payed off as I passed the IB test and gained college credit in the process.

This year's show seemed a little different from the one I was in. For starters, there were a lot fewer students who participated, about 20 fewer to be exact. To fill in the extra space of the exhibition, which was held in the school's cafeteria, the work of AP photography students was displayed. Such was the case last year, however there were less previously than there were tonight. Regardless, much of the artwork was superb. I find that young artist's seem to have the most innivation and creativity in regards to visual arts; fresh ideas are floating around.

I did find that last year's work had more innovation to it, with students turning the flats the art was displayed on into installation art pieces themselves, me being one of them. A girl brought in squares of grass from a home and garden store to add to her collage/ instant art display (which included a peice of work she through a raw egg at). One student through trash all over the ground in front of his flat which was focused on recylable art. Another hung music notes above her flat, for her artwork was based after famous lines from popular songs.

The art this year wasn't bad, one of my favorite pieces however was the callaborative exquisite corpse piece shown to the right. Exquisite corpse is an art "game", if you will, where one artist starts the peice and passes it to the next artist, creating an eclectic work of art.

I think it was just a little weird to be back at my high school. I mean, I feel like coming to college, I've let that part of my life go. That it's part of my past now. I feel like I so badly wanted to escape the daily routines of high school, of my family, of my life, but I am constanlty pulled back into that world...that world that I worked so hard to escape. I also feel like, in a sense, that I no longer belong. I don't know, it's almost like I miss certain parts, but those aren't found when I try to go back. Maybe I just need to keep lookimg. Anyway, the art show is all this week, if you're around Newbury Park, then check it out.

Spring Awakening!

So I had started this blog on Wordpress a while ago and never kept up with it, here is one post from it, enjoy:


First off I want to say that no words can truly describe the experience Of Spring Awakening. I saw it in November and it was an amazing show. There is just something that’s bugging me. I’ve been wanting to see this musical since I found out about it a year and a half ago. I first discovered it by a happy accident. I was home sick one day and flipping through the channels. I changed it to MTV where it was showing one its attempts at airing actual music videos. They general have one of their VJ’s hosting it, but they had a special episode where the cast of Spring Awakening was taking over the show. They showed a brief clip of "My Junk" and I was in awe. The cast was all young, some were my age and they were singing about things that I was actually going through. After I got over the initial amazement, I went to the computer to look up what I thought the name was. Sure enough I found the web sight. In it they had a music video for "The Bitch Of Living" which I watched, and the complete "Totally F*cked" song. Just the pure shamelessness of the song’s names immediately gravitated me towards the musical.

As I got my brother to enjoy this newfound obsession, we listened to the soundtrack. Since then, I have read the reviews and the complete summary of the show. I knew everything about it and I hadn’t even seen it. I was excited for the 2007 Tony’s for it was nominated for 11 awards, including Best Musical. I was waiting to see the performance and even taped it. I watched that over and over again for a few weeks. Anyway, it won and I knew I had to see this thing. When I found out at the end of the school year that it was going on tour and would be coming to a theater in LA (The Ahmanson) that I had been to before, I was ecstatic. My brother and I begged our parents to go see it. After they heard from a friend how good it was, they decided they wanted to see it too. My dad bought the tickets in August and I waited until Thanksgiving Break to see it.

We got to the theater early and waited. I get bad anxiety, and for some reason I was extremely anxious, my heart was pounding. I realized that I had extremely high expectations for the show. When I heard that the person playing Melchior was being replaced by the understudy I got even more nervous, “Would this be as good as I thought it would?” I asked myself. The cast came out and the sound department made some kind of mistake and my heart sunk, would this seem professional with the young cast? But as the show went on my doubts went away. The music to me is haunting and inspiring. It’s contemporary style, the product of the brain behind the operation, Duncan Sheik, resonates so well with the youth of today. The set and costume design as well as the choreography all add to the fluidity and movement of the play. Spring Awakening was based after a 1890s German play by the same name. Obviously, it was highly controversial and criticized for it portrayal of sexual discovery, abuse, homosexuality, rape, abortion, and various other themes, elements, and plot devices that were seen as obscenities at that time and place. Even today some of its themes are taboo. A story where teenage sexual awakening is shown in a tasteful manner is rare, but Spring Awakening achieves it. I also strongly agree with the messages the play displays. As a strong child advocate, I feel that America needs to reform it sexual education. First parents need to have open discussions with their kids. In Spring Awakening, the character of Wendla asks her mom where babies come from. Her mom tells a lie saying that a woman gets pregnant when she truly loves her husband. This results in Wendla unknowingly making love and getting pregnant. She asks her mother why she never told the truth and is replied with a slap in the face by her mother. After this she arranges for Wendla to have an abortion, Wendla dies during the operation.

Sexually repressed Germany can still be seen in America today. The themes of the musical, as well as the messages it sends should not be taken likely by the audience. Teaching "abstinence only" is not enough, and not teaching children about sex is just plain irresponsible, even though it still happens today. As one starts puberty, undeniable and inevitable changes occur. Urges arise that cannot be stopped. Though religious fanatics and conservative parents would rather ignore this, it does happen. Teenagers are going to have sex. Something needs to be done to prevent the consequences. Ignoring it and teaching abstinence is not going to make it go away.

With that all said, the musical did reach my expectations. I would have liked to have seen the original cast, for they are who I was familiar with, but I still thoroughly enjoyed it. The thing that’s bugging me is that it’s over. I saw it and that’s it. There’s nothing more to it. Since it ended its run on Broadway in January, I don’t know if I will ever get the chance to see it again. I feel like there is more to it, and maybe there is, I just have to find it.

What am I doing?

Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. Not in the moment, but what I’m doing with a situation, an event, an idea. What have I gotten myself into pops into my head again and again. I always make things harder for me than they have to be. It’s easier to lie than to tell the truth. Easier to deny what has happened than to explain what has. It’s not, but I feel like it is… easier. Sometimes I can’t control it. It’s like a wave is crashing over me, the immovable rock. I lie before I have a chance to even realize the truth. But once the lie is told it becomes the truth in my mind. Am I a pathological liar? I don’t think so, rather a convenient liar. I lie when it suits me, when it gets me out of trouble. Yes, it’s a lot of work but I get a strange sadistic pleasure from doing it. Once the lie has run its course, the relief I gain is so powerful, that I guess I don’t mind the pain caused during the lie itself. The pain, I mean, is guilt. I never make a lie that I know I can’t hold. I only make lies that keep me going in the moment. A lie about a homework assignment, about what I did in my free time, what I did at a party, what I’m going to do. Will it stop, I don’t know, but I don’t think it will. I don’t believe that honesty is the best policy. I think whoever truly believes that doesn’t fully comprehend the complexity of the human race. Which means that if god condemns it, well… I’ll leave it at that. Lying, bending the truth, they all can help people just as much as it can hurt. But again it’s not the lie that hurts, it’s the truth.