Throughout my life, I have spent a considerable ammount of time lurking in dark, forgotten corners of America's social society, biding my time and waiting quietly for my chance to fit in. I was always the wierd, reclusive kid that hung out with stoners and had a generally disfunctional family, but still managed to read eight-hndred page books in less than a week. I even tried to be "popular", but I could never manage to talk to people without sticking my foot in my mouth. One of my problems was my blatant honesty. If people asked me what I thought, I just told them, and they would look at me strangely and back away. I also had an inferiority complex, which still occasionally gets in the way, but I've beaten it pretty much to death.

Finally, at the ripe old age of sixteen, I have found someting that makes me happy. I am enthusiastic on this subject and will talk about it for hours if no one tells me to stop. This is something that I can do for the rest of my life, either as a hobby or as a proffession. It always changes, and I work with a variety of different people depending on where and when I am working.

At the beginning of my Junior year in high school, I took a technical theatre class. Within the first ten minutes, I was hooked. I immediately started asking my teacher what I could do for the upcoming production of Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. He suggested that I talk to the Stage Manager, and I ended up timidly accepting the position of Assistant Stage Manager. I was terrified. I didn't know if people would accept me, what I would have to do, what would happen to me if I messed up, etc. Within the first three days, I was confident and happy in my work, doing all that I was supposed to do, and even learning other little technical tidbits along the way. I had found something that I loved, something that I was good at besides playing the guitar and reading. I had found my place.

I'm currently involved in a production of Beau Jest at St. George Musical Theater. It is the first show I have worked on outside of school, and I was worried when I first started working there that I wouldn't have anything to do and that everyone would hate me (there's that inferiority complex again), but it's wonderful. I'm working with some wonderful people, some of them very accomplished actors and technicians, and I'm loving every moment of it.

This is where I belong.

My Poor Rusting Brains

WRITING IS FRUSTURATING

I think that is probably the bottom line for me at this point. I sit down in front of a book full of beautifully clean, creamy, off-white pages, a pen ready in my hand. But, alas! It's as if a faucet has rusted over from years of unuse, and I can't seem to clean all of the grime out of it. I

have so many thoughts and feeling, inspirations and destinations, it doesn't seem fair that I can't write them all down easily and effortlessly.

I know people, some I'm related to, some I'm glad just to know, that can write like a flood. They sit down, and twenty minutes later BOOM! they've created some poetic, eloquent piece of art that defines their feelings exactly.

See? Now I don't know what to write anymore. I have just collided with a mental block.

Last Thursday, Dad's friend Chris arrived from Ann Arbor Michigan to stay with us for a week. It is now Thursday again, and he left about two hours ago. I have acquired several things as a direct result of his visit.

a) I now know how to juggle fairly well
b) I have a guitar (given to me by Chris)
c) I feel as if I have gained several IQ points just from being in his presence

He is one of my father's best friends. I have been looking forward to meeting him for a while now and was glad to get to meet him. Because of the possibility of nuclear fallout this summer, Chris might not have come, but the testing was postponed indefinitely. Hopefully, I can leave this accursed hellhole (Utah) before they decide to unearth several trillion molecules of nuclear waste into the atmosphere.

Anyway, I am so glad that Chris was able to get out here. He has a pink Volvo convertible, but he took the train out here, as the car might not have made it.

Just an aside: he has a very cool voice. It is off-key most of the time, but I really enjoy listening to it. He has exercised his vocal chords enough that he is a good singer. By definition, he wouldn't be a good singer, but he is past that to the point that I could sit and listen to him sing all day because I truly enjoy his voice. It's very odd.......

Right now, I'm missing Ann Arbor like crazy. Talking to Chris about names, places, streets and events that we both knew about was great. I haven't talked to anyone who has been to my hometown since I moved to Utah, and it was such a relief to reminisce about beautiful, green Ann Arbor with someone who knows the place like the back of his hands.

HippieKid

There are two major contributors to this particular blog entry. The first is an inordinate ammount of Billy Joel, and the second is Radio Paradise. RP is a lovely little radio station where I can bask in the glory of an amazingly eclectic repitoire of my favorite songs, artists, and types of music. On this website, there is a forum called "What was the first concert that you ever went to?" I wrote about my first concert, which was Barenaked Ladies in 2000 on Y2K day. It was amazing. I had the privelege of riding in a limo to and from that show, and for a nine-year old kid, that's some pretty high-end entertainment.

After posting, I went back and read some of the other posts from other users, and I suddenly realized how young I am. I am sixteen years old, and I am hanging out with a bunch of people who were my age in 1970. I read their forum posts, and familiar names jumped out at me. I recognized Tom Petty, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, Eric Clapton, B. B. King, The Beatles, The Grateful Dead, etc, and I felt very sad. I realized that I was born four decades too late to actively be involved in things like the original Woodstock, war protests, and Timothy Leary (lol). I am too late to watch some of my favorite music being born into the world, because much of it has been dead and gone for more than 10 years. Some of the artists are still around, but they have either become so drug-addled (Ozzy, Elton John), or they have completely stopped performing. Robert Plant is still wandering around somewhere, but the Grateful Dead will never be the same without Jerry Garcia. That was where the downhill spiral began, anyway. I will never see Jimi Hendrix in concert because he's DEAD. That also applies to John Lennon. They both died before I was even the remotest chance of a possibility.

I wanted to weep, right there as I was reading that forum. i wanted to put my head in my hands and cry for my loss. I feel like some poor, lost time-traveler in this generation of skanky rap music, low to nonexistant integrity, and iPods. iPods are interesting enough, but I would give them up in a New York minute (less, actually) if I could somehow bring back the energy and peace that the sixties and seventies communicate to me.

The closest thing that I have found to a bunch of hippies that are somewhat close to my age are all in Michigan, going to Rainbow Picnics and traveling from far and wide to go to the Gathering every year. The feeling that permeated those picnics was absolutely amazing. Everyone was so respectful towards everyone else; it was person to person. Also, everything was everyone's. We ate off the same plates, the older hippies passed a joint around a circle of 20 some-odd people in it. I watched all of this in awe. I had found this culture where the men and women, black and white, old and young, treated eachother with love instead of hate, respect instead of bland, cold tolerance, and I was home.

I suppose, more even than Ann Arbor, that is where my home is. Those people, those that I have met, those that I will meet in the years to come, and those that I will never meet, hold my heart. Someday, I will go home.

First, though, I am going to buy a short bus and paint it.

Friday, March 24, 2006
No Gay Marriage for George Bush
US President George W. Bush has again derided gay marriage, saying “I believe society’s best interests are met by defining marriage as between a man and a woman.” And to underline his point: “That’s what I believe.” His comments at the White House news conference were in response to a journalist pressing him on how society’s best interests could be served by the courts nullifying same-sex unions, as had been done to thousands of couples in San Francisco. The National Stonewall Democrats called Bush’s comments an “affirmation of marriage discrimination.” In contrast, “the Democratic Party supports extending equal rights and responsibilities to same-sex families,” said Eric Stern, the group’s president. A bill to amend the Constitution to ban same-sex unions is currently before Congress. 19 US states have already written similar amendments into their state constitutions and seven more have ballots on the issue forthcoming this year.

George W. Bush is a fucking bastard.