Category: Uncategorized

Napoleon Bonaparte once said, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Though during his lifetime capturing images usually required an easel and a paintbrush rather than a digital camera, images of all mediums provide a gateway into a specific moment in time. Paintings, photographs, drawings etc. serve as a form of social commentary. They can be a rather specific (and sometimes spontaneous) narrative of the times in which we live in.

Yearbooks, I think, are the most fascinating presentation of visual art. My interest in these personal photographic exhibitions started innocently enough. I began flipping through a stack of yearbooks in my dorm with the hopes of finding my football and personal idol Tom Brady (yes, I AM a Patriots fan and yes, I refuse to acknowledge that the Ravens beat them yesterday). As I flipped through the glossy pages of the leather bounded book I was struck by the images of carefree students lounging on the Diag with captions such as “squirrels mingled with students as they rested in between classes or during a lunch break.” These colorful pictures painted a simple and uncluttered commentary and description of the college experience. This sentiment was even more apparent as I began looking at older yearbooks. Yearbooks that dated back to the beginning of the last century showed a more unified university life. They participated in traditions such the pushball contest (which entails exactly what you think it entails… pushing a large rubber ball) and spring contests.

Though certain yearbooks touched on the unfortunate events of the day (i.e World War I/II, Vietnam War, etc.), what was really astonishing about these books was the transformation between generations of Michigan students. As I “traveled” from the early 1900s to the 60s and through to the present day, I was intrigued by how complex our lives have seemingly become. The simple pleasures of field days and dances have for better or worse given way to beer pong and frat parties. Though I whole-heartedly support the progression of society’s ideals and standards, I found myself longing to be one of those students standing in a long line on registration day, rather than anxiously waiting in front of a computer screen in my room. Maybe it’s just me, but I would rather be hanging out at Swift’s in a poodle skirt and cardigan set, than at Starbuck’s in skinny jeans and a North face jacket.

Take a look for yourself and see- flipping through yearbooks is a great way to enjoy a study break! Don’t forget to leave your comments below and enjoy your first full week of classes (as hard as that may be 🙂 )!

There are a lot of good things about living in Ann Arbor; the Arb, lots of sushi places, a wonderful public library, and a variety of venues for concerts and plays. There is something going on practically every day, campus sponsored or not, and that makes it really hard for me to go home for the holidays. My town has only three stop lights and only own business street. With no McDonald’s on it, which will really be a pain because I’ve gotten myself addicted to their eggnog shakes.

But the 24/7 MickeyD’s on Washtenaw is not my favorite part of Ann Arbor. I’m an art junkie; I love anything to do with all mediums from the rich sounds produced by a piano to the broad stokes of charcoal stick. And having not just an art program, but also music, dance, and theater programs at the University means the best thing of all.

Free art programs.

Come the end of the semester, Fall or Winter, many students have to perform and while some plays and dance recitals do require tickets there a good deal that do not. On Wednesday, the Michigan Mobile Phone Ensemble performed a concert using mobile phones as instruments and this past weekend also contained several showings of the play O Lovely Glowworm as a senior directing thesis. Saturday and Sunday were filled with student recitals, ranging from voice to piano to percussion.

Many of these events have already transpired, but there are still more coming up this week. Click here to see the schedule. On Monday, two students are giving a concert and the University Philharmonia Orchestra is playing in Hill Auditorium. And Thursday is also playing host to a couple of musical events.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always wished that I had the money to see many of the programs that University sponsors. Now I don’t have an excuse to not go, and truthfully many of you don’t either. Everyone needs a study break.  Plus who knows, that student violist you go to see might being the next classical music star. You should go to get their autograph, it’ll be worth something in seven years.

Your free event loving blogger,
Jenny

Directed for a senior thesis, the 3 hour long play, O Lovely Glowworm, was probably one of the highlights of my week.  It’s quite a strange play.  Firstly, it is narrated by a stuffed goat.  Secondly, a jumble of events take place that leads the viewer a bit confuzzled and confundled but ultimately very happy at the simultaneous humorous and insightful endings.  It wasn’t the typical play that one would imagine– a cast of 6, performed in a small studio theater in the Walgreen Drama Center, it began with a soliloquy by a stuffed goat with an Irish accent who does not know it is a stuffed goat.  For the next few hours, we partake on a journey unraveling the true identity of this suffering creature, who bespeaks of a pain so deeply felt yet unrecognizable.

I have a friend performing in the play and to see him perform was quite an interesting experience.  I have previously seen a lot of my friends in theatrical productions, playing this part or that, and every time, it takes some getting used to.  As good as they are in their roles, it is still difficult to separate the person that I know from the person that I am watching.  In the first moments of this play, I encountered that same difficulty.  When he was the character, sleeping, I had to stifle a giggle, seeing as he sprawled out on the set, acting the part of a humorous, lounging soldier.  But as the play went on, my vision of my friend as the person I know was replaced by the performance of the character I did not know.  And with that, I became a lot more entrenched in the many facets, rivets, and turns of the production.

The play’s plot in itself is hard to convey– as previously mentioned, it centers on a stuffed goat’s imaginative thought process in reaching the solution to his true identity as a stuffed goat.  He placed himself in various roles– a mother, a dog, a grandfather, etc– and along the way recounts the tales of those whose lives are unknowingly intertwined and all of whom suffer through some kind of unspeakable tragedy within themselves.  Of course, this explanation makes the play sound like some Grecian tragedy where everyone dies in the end, but no, it’s not.  It is extremely hilarious and witty and viewers can’t stop laughing, even in the saddest of moments.

O Lovely Glowworm is play, however, that yet again teaches something so subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) to humanity, inviting the audience to endure and persevere in their own lives, to suffer and live through the worst moments in their lifetimes to reach the happiness that could be at the end.  To live for those things other than oneself, to have faith in that which is not visibly apparent nor scientifically evident, to be at peace with what and whom one is instead of always striving to be something or someone that one is not and perhaps shall never be.  In a season where Christmas quickly approaches and Winter sets its snow in ice, O Lovely Glowworm was a wonderfully befitting story reminding us that to be human is to love and be strong.

Does anyone remember these old B&N bags before they decided to shift emphasis to a more “let’s endorse our store colors” look?

My dad use to bribe me with money when I was still into the The Chronicles of Narnia hullabaloo (circa ‘97). He said that if I read all the books on the front of this bag he’d give me $50 and another $50 if I read all the books on the backside. Now, let me remind you —$100 at that age was like winning the lottery so I took this very seriously. I read To Kill a Mockingbird because for something reason or another, I thought that once I read that book, no doubt I would’ve won the respect of all my elders and I could just die in peace. I managed (by some miracle) to meander my way through Of Mice and Men and a part of Death of a Salesman (depicted on the other side) by the age of 11. I feel certain that at the time I was hopelessly oblivious to the notion of “classic, canonical literature”; I did, however, know that Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban was not categorized as such. Ultimately, I never finished all the novels on this Barnes and Noble bag and I never did get that $100. I’m still short two or three of these books at the age of 19.

But nowadays, I couldn’t be bribed with enough money to not read them all.

What we need are books that hit us like most painful misfortune, like the death of someone we loved more than we love ourselves, that make us feel as though we had been banished to the woods, far from any human presence, like a suicide. A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.

— Franz Kafka

Alas, books. I’ve monopolized the 200 square feet of dorm room space with a series of these fascinating specimens; an alphabetized avalanche leans against one of the walls. Come my fortieth birthday, I will be encased in a house constructed of books and accompanied with a select number of cats, plants, and telescopes. (The likelihood that I will become that proverbial cat lady has soared through the stratosphere. I have embraced my fate long ago.) Most likely, I will stumble upon these memories of my boisterous college years and laugh at how scant a pile of books this was and how meager and few the ideas I owned were and how naïve I was when I felt my life’s significance diminish under the weight of the unknown Universe and what terrible food I tolerated… and this stream of memories would be a nice token of remembrance to have. But these were the kernels of ideas that constitute me and encouraged me to think on my own accord and to try, standing on the shoulders of giants, to bring truths that I have discovered and have yet to discover, to light.

On another note, I’d love to be introduced to your favorite books. Let me know. I’d be eternally grateful.

Sue majors in Neuroscience & English and tends to lurk in bookstores.

Yesterday, I ate my first snowflake of the season.

I figured it was about time.  What I like the least about Michigan winters (at least on this side of the state) is that we always have the cold necessary for snow and then we never get it.  I didn’t even get the chance to go sledding last year! And the first glorious snowfall I experienced this year did not even coat the ground.

Bound and determined to have some snow around here I gathered up my packet of printer paper and scissors and made my way downstairs into the living room and started folding and cutting.  Only to realize that my great snowflake making skills simply produced giggles from my roommate and a mess on the carpet that will take forever to clean with the vacuum-whose-motor-is-smaller-than-my-camera.

But that’s fixed now and I bring you a Snowflake How-To:

1) Start with a square piece of paper.  If you don’t have one, make one.  Fold the sheet into a triangle.  There should be some extra stuff hanging off the end.  Just cut it off.

2) Fold into smaller triangles. The only limit is how many times you can fold the paper.

3) Start cutting random shapes into the sides of the triangle.  If you want a hole in the middle of your snowflake, cut the tip off of the triangle where it doesn’t open.

4)Unfold the paper and congratulate yourself!

Variations:

If you want a more delicate snowflake, cut out a large chunk of the triangle’s center.

If you want a more rounded snowflake, cut off the end of the triangle so it’s curved.

Enjoy! Put them on your windows and doors, or even your roommate while they’re sleeping if you’re feeling a little too nice this holiday season. ^_~

And if you lack the paper, you can always make some online here.

Your snow loving blogger,

Jenny

(WARNING: Twilight fans beware… May contain offensive content)

Twilight is quickly becoming the new Harry Potter for female fans from the ages of 12 to 52.  What is it about this crazy wacky novel that has these ladies going so over the top to get their own sparkling Edward?

Not knowing anything but the simple basics of the story, I accidentally happened upon a link on my friend’s facebook site (“Why Breaking Dawn should be made into a movie”) and read a very sarcastic ending of the final book of this series.  I wasn’t expecting such a comedy, honestly.  I mean, the idea of sparkling vampires was amusing enough and could be somewhat endearing, but this series seems to have taken a scary turn.

Is this what our younger generations should be reading?  Initially, I played it off as a fantasy romance novel for teens, a little strange but innocent enough.  Yet the more I heard some of my Twilight-reading friends talk about it, the more I became aware that it wasn’t as innocent as I had thought.  Even they, too, were conscience of the sexuality and rooted physical tensions of the series.  The content itself is not what is being posed as a problem (after all, writers are free to express their creative energies as they wish); rather, it is the simple fact that in the beginning, Twilight was marketed to teenagers– even tweens.  This target audience was thereon exposed to a wide range of subjects that does not seem too appropriate for them.  Especially in the newest and last book when it speaks of Edward and Bella’s consummation and Jacob falls in love with a newborn child.  Is this something girls 12 years of age should be reading?

In this current day society, people cannot and should not be held back  from their own personal liberties in freedom of choice– the choice to express, the choice to decide what to read, what to consume all remain rights in a democratized and capitalized society.  Censorship is considered to be wrong.  Perhaps the fault lies not in the creators or consumers of this content or products, but in the intermediaries– the market, the marketers, the businesses who choose which content to place where and what products to sell to which customers.  While the Stephanie Meyer’s agent or publicist or marketers may not have known the direction that this series would take, was it their social responsibility to rework the promotion of Twilight to better fit its natural audience (ie older, more mature young adults)?  Particularly in this period where young mothers are increasing in statistics and children engage in sex from the ages of eleven or twelve?  Could the insistence on Twilight’s younger generation audience have social ramifications on its impressionable readers?