tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79311970561310826752024-03-05T23:05:32.983-06:00Bright Young WomenLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-4714872431617160762012-11-28T20:36:00.002-06:002012-11-28T20:44:12.718-06:00Cheater CheaterHello Rayna!<br />
Long time no see. But down to business.<br />
<br />
The internet is a pretty cool thing. Young and bright as we are, we've never really known a world where we can't look something up on Google or Wikipedia. These websites can be really useful tools, but they're often used to take shortcuts. For example, need to finish your english book by tomorrow? No problem! Just hop on over to sparknotes.com and you've got yourself an english paper pre written!<br />
Want to know what happened on last week's Glee, but your cable is out? Worry not! Just google it and you can be all drama'd up for the next episode.<br />
<br />
This ease of communication has had a large impact on the world of video games. Back when my dad was gaming, you couldn't just look up cheat codes or find how to get past a particularly difficult boss. You had to scramble your way through video games, playing levels again and again until you could get them right. Nowadays, we're treated very nicely by our games. Older arcade games and NES games can be extremely hard and unforgiving, and you just had to grit your teeth and fight through them. But when you finally did beat these games, I've been told that the sense of pride and satisfaction you felt was pretty awesome.<br />
<br />
Naturally, this brings me to Monkey Island.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLDfY29-Id07q8KYZN_Ki7KSTtvbmd-MZ3wPocnS1mPRkvqPnLDGwDJ-3UFsdx5MSso6A7kbC-4vUliSTmpCDWxkQbrJ_h75qNx84hWO-ytqzAht8dLb4oMHyZibuHaKSWlMlrIfpXeu4/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-11-28+at+8.40.00+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLDfY29-Id07q8KYZN_Ki7KSTtvbmd-MZ3wPocnS1mPRkvqPnLDGwDJ-3UFsdx5MSso6A7kbC-4vUliSTmpCDWxkQbrJ_h75qNx84hWO-ytqzAht8dLb4oMHyZibuHaKSWlMlrIfpXeu4/s320/Screen+Shot+2012-11-28+at+8.40.00+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Guybrush Threepwood in the original 1990 version.</span></div>
<br />
For those of you who don't know, "The Secret of Monkey Island" is a 1990 point and click adventure game published by Lucasarts, back when they did stuff that didn't always involve Star Wars. It was conceived by Ron Gilbert, who set out to create an adventure game where you could not die, thus making the focus more about exploration. You play Guybrush Threepwood, a pirate wannabe who you guide around Monkey Island on a quest to defeat the ghost pirate LeChuck. It's intelligent, funny, and just a really good game. It was re released with new graphics for the iPod touch/iPhone a few years ago, along with its sequel, and it's probably one of my video games.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaMTbggoFKMW563COGpBTqRox4hu8Ij0RrSy_ZfHB_Uy_ku-8Zcyhj2dyl1ZfJEFVUhoK1s2gqmIHYVvribl78Y3N5TuzumEHft7ujxgIOMocSh4AeRRsp1XSgTrxH3qMW6aa0XYAJEE/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-11-28+at+8.40.14+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaMTbggoFKMW563COGpBTqRox4hu8Ij0RrSy_ZfHB_Uy_ku-8Zcyhj2dyl1ZfJEFVUhoK1s2gqmIHYVvribl78Y3N5TuzumEHft7ujxgIOMocSh4AeRRsp1XSgTrxH3qMW6aa0XYAJEE/s320/Screen+Shot+2012-11-28+at+8.40.14+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Guybrush Threepwood in the new release.</span></div>
<br />
But here's the catch. It's hard.<br />
<br />
And not hard like you have to fight the same boss over and over. Hard like, "Okay, I have a rubber chicken, some breath mints, and a stapler in my inventory. How do I cross this bridge?" Also, there's a strong chance that the object that will really help you cross the bridge was sitting in a room you've been into a hundred times, but you never saw it because you were too busy trying to combine your chicken with your breath mints. This goes back to Ron Gilbert's idea of adventure. You're on your own, searching for just the right wacky combination of objects to let you succeed in your quest. There was a new Monkey Island game released by Telltale Games in which one character wants to fight her way to an answer, but Guybrush insists they do things "his way", by talking to people and solving puzzles.<br />
<br />
But anyway, when my dad played Monkey Island for the first time on the computer, he didn't have any hints. There wasn't anyone telling him what to do, he just had to figure it out for himself. This is where I feel shame. For on my iPod version of Monkey Island, there is the option to get hints. And like a fool, I asked for those hints. Now that I've realized I don't like doing that, it's easier to stay away from them. But every so often this voice in the back of my head tells me, "You're never going to beat this game unless you have help." I try to rationalize it, "I had the right idea, I just needed a little push", but that's a stupid excuse. The feeling I get when I beat a puzzle sans hints is amazing. It feels like I've really accomplished something difficult. I mean, if you read the spark notes and then read the book, it just feels redundant. You didn't really do anything, the computer just told you how you're supposed to interpret the words. That's what yer brain is supposed to be for.<br />
<br />
This urge to use the internet to take a shortcut is also why I have trouble watching shows like Buffy and Xena: Warrior Princess. I know they're fantastic shows, but they each have about eight seasons. How on earth would I ever have time to watch all that? Wouldn't it just be so much easier to find Buffy's wikipedia page and figure out what happens to her? There was one instance when two minor characters in Buffy were going out, and instead of waiting a few episodes to see what happened, I found out online that the girl dies. I had suspected that she probably would, but it just made watching more episodes seem pointless. I know what happens, there's nothing driving me to watch more.<br />
<br />
Also once right after Mockingjay came out, I went on wikipedia to read up on a character I'd forgotten about before I read Mockingjay. Only the page had been updated to include details from the new book, so I found out this character was dead meat before I even opened the book.<br />
<br />
So I guess here's what I'm trying to say. Sometimes we have to choose between what is right, and what is easy.<br />
<br />
Choose wisely,<br />
-Louisa<br />
<br />
<br />Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-68631995946873370192011-11-23T18:05:00.001-06:002011-11-23T18:06:17.014-06:00What I Have Learned from Doing (A Lot of) TheaterFirst off, I apologize for the delay. To make up for it, my post will be very, very long today.<br />
<br />
For the past five months, I have had the privilege to be a part of the amazing, talented, and dedicated cast of "West Side Story" at Northfield High School. This was my eighteenth time performing in a live theater production. It was also my favorite. The connections made or made stronger throughout the course of this play were all incredible. After doing so many plays that I can no longer actually list them all (I just have a number in my head), I have learned a thing or two. Of course, many of the things I have learned have been things like "Face the audience!" or "Never question your blocking!" or "Aqua Net does not taste good!" but theater has also taught me about people, my potential, and about life. So, without further ado, here are the top five things that theater has taught me.<br />
<br />
5) "You got it, or you don't." or "It ain't easy, but it is fun!"<br />
"You got it, or you don't" is something you will hear a lot about everything from mathematics skills to fashion sense. In acting, you can either be talented (or have the potential to be talented), or else theater just isn't your thing. Regardless of whether or not you think you would be good at theater, I recommend giving it a try. If someone had told me at age nine that, because I did that production of "The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe" I would be looking at colleges and filtering them out on the Princeton Review by best college theater program, I would not have believed you. Many people see actors on stage and think "I can do that!" but, when it comes right down to it, few people can. Nothing about theater ever has been or ever will be easy. Until they replace us all with robots, actors will be working their butts off to put on that play you enjoyed for two hours. This is, of course, not to say that it isn't fun. Theater will always draw in people of all ages because of its ability to make you laugh or cry (more on this later). If theater isn't your thing, it isn't a big deal. I know kids who can do complex equations in their heads and I still get mixed up with negative numbers! What one person is talented at, another person may find incredibly difficult.<br />
<br />
4) "I don't want to question the director's judgement, but..."<br />
Never say this. Ever. I don't care if the director gave you a smaller part than you wanted of if he or she is asking you to dye you hair purple for a production of "Inherit the Wind". These words set off an alarm in my head. This alarm tells me to evacuate the conversation. Saying "I don't want to question the director's judgement" does exactly the opposite: it screams that you are, in fact, questioning the director's judgement. Sometimes, you won't get the lead. Sometimes, you will have to paint yourself green. Do you think that Indina Menzel said "I don't want to question the director's judgement, but do I really have to be green to play Elphaba"? Nope. Well, probably not. I doubt it. Newsflash: That's theater. Without an ensemble, plays, specifically musicals, would lose a lot of their pizazz. There would be no huge musical numbers. The most common line you will hear while doing theater is that "there are not small parts, only small actors". This is so true. If you only have three lines, but you deliver those lines with all of your energy and emotion, you will rock the house. If you give up saying "My part doesn't matter" you will suck. You will blatantly suck.<br />
<br />
3) "This dress isn't really my style."<br />
Ladies, this one is for you. You won't always be the pretty, delicate love interest. I know, I know. You wanted to play Sandy, but you got cast as her chubby friend Jan. You wanted to wear the sexy, tight, black jumpsuit or the adorable pink poodle skirt. Instead, you get glasses and fat jokes. Here's the thing. You may not be playing a beauty queen, but that's not the point of theater! You want to wear skimpy outfits, get stared at by boys, sing a pretty song, and stand around in stilettos all day? Go run for Miss America. Go ahead. I'll wait.<br />
<br />
2) "Don't call us. We'll call you."<br />
Harsh. But why didn't you get in? You sang your heart out in a song you and your voice coach have been working on for a year and you read for the part you have always seen yourself playing on Broadway! What went wrong? Honestly, it might be the way you are. As someone who has directed before, I can say that I have assigned parts to people who looked more like the character and who I knew could work to crush it on performance night. Theater is very, very visual. It could be what you wore, it could be your attitude, or it could be your hairstyle. There are so many different reasons why you might not get in. It really is best not to take these things personally. It may feel like they hate you or that people who are "less talented" (another phrase to avoid) got in, but, in reality, you just weren't what they were looking for. You may be perfect for Glinda the Good, but you might make a terrible Juliet Capulet. That's just how it is going to be. You won't get rejected every time, but you won't get accepted every time either. This is just something you need to let go. It happens.<br />
<br />
1) "Thank you."<br />
After plays here in Northfield<br />
<br />
Theater gets into the gritty, raw emotion and essence of humanity in a way that is truly unique. The gift of working with a wonderful group of young people to convey a message of prejudice, love, and loss to an audience of hundreds every night for seven nights is something that I will always remember. I will be thankful this Thanksgiving for the opportunity to do what I love with people I love. Isn't that what life is all about?<br />
<br />
Louisa, you did a wonderful job in "Little Women" this month and I hope you continue to shine.<br />
<br />
Happy Thanksgiving to all!<br />
<br />
-RaynaLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-18951364033298913502011-09-02T12:36:00.000-05:002011-09-02T12:36:42.228-05:00Keeping the Magic of Animation<style>
@font-face {
font-family: "Times New Roman";
}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }
</style> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Ever since I saw “How to Train Your Dragon” and “The Princess and the Frog” on the same day, I knew I wanted to go into animation. Something about taking paper and pencil and making a movie out of it was mind blowing to me, and there are so many things you can do in animation that doesn’t work in live action. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>But that’s not to say that people haven’t tried. Everyone remembers “Lady and the Tramp” or “Dumbo”, and who doesn’t love Dug from “Up”? These are all good movies with animals. You know what nobody remembers? “Cats and Dogs”, the 2001 movie put out by Warner Brothers. This movie was star studded! Alec Baldwin, Jeff Goldblum, Tobey Maguire, but hardly anyone remembers this one. Probably because it was really bad. Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t stand any live action movie where there are talking animals. For me, the animation just doesn’t work. That goes for live action movies with entirely computer generated characters, like “Smurfs” or “Alvin and the Chipmunks”. I mean good gracious, why do people see these movies? Much as I love Neil Patrick Harris, you couldn’t drag me into the Smurfs movie with a tow truck. Whatever happened to “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” That movie is wonderful, combining animation with live action while not really being for kids. There are some really disturbing images in it, which is more than I can say for “The Garfield Movie”. Unless of course you find Garfield frightening.<span> </span>It doesn’t help that every other line in these movies concerns one of the following: A) Pee. B) Poop. C) Butts. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Which brings me to my next topic. Now, from spending time around some of my cousins, I know that most little kids will laugh at a potty joke. I mean, even I will laugh at a well-constructed potty joke. But that doesn’t mean it’s the only thing they will laugh at. So for god’s sake filmmakers, please stop it. If Pixar has taught us anything, it’s that you don’t need a surplus of toilet jokes to keep kids interested in your movie. You don’t have to throw a bunch of colors and flashy lights at children to keep them watching either. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Sometimes, movies surprise you. For example, when I saw the trailer for “Alpha and Omega”, I thought it looked pretty good. It starred Justin Long, who I like, and the story seemed interesting. When I actually saw it, I was quite underwhelmed. The animation was chunky, the story was predictable, and the writing was boring. When I approached “The Goofy Movie”, I honestly wasn’t expecting much. However, I was pleasantly surprised. While it was by no means a masterpiece, the animation looked really nice and the songs were pretty catchy. The story, about a father trying to connect with his son as he grows up, is actually a really relevant topic. And though it’s not a perfect movie, it seemed like something parents could watch with their kids and enjoy too. It was a direct to video movie, but probably one of the best of its kind. It was nice to see that Disney had actually put effort into Goofy’s only full length movie. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>This brings me to my final point. Animation is a movie making tool. Used correctly, it can entice you with beautiful visuals, captivate you with interesting characters, and be something that you enjoy watching with your children. Used wrongly, it can be a gimmick. Something you use to draw children into your poorly constructed cliché fest of bad animation, which they will unfortunately probably enjoy anyway. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Animation is magical. Let’s treat it that way. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Rayna, here’s hoping you show your kids “Toy Story” and not “Open Season”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>-Louisa</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Louisa would like to apoligize if she offended you or your favorite movie. If you in fact did like The Smurfs movie, she apologizes for offending you and for your poor choice in movies. But really, feel free to defend yourself in the comments. Though it will most likely be in vain.</b></span></div>Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-15453762069824189242011-05-27T18:54:00.000-05:002011-05-27T18:54:51.010-05:00A Message for Young and Old<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Welcome back, Louisa! :) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This week I have had the wonderful opportunity to work with forth and fifth grade students at Prairie Creek Community School and to help them with their year endeavor called "Village". It took my class about two days to define "Village", so I will try to sum up the process to the best of my ability. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Village, in short, is a game where, for give or take a month, forth and fifth grade students organize their own society that revolves around their alter egos called "Peeps" (represented by tiny clay and pipe-cleaner dolls). Through this, the students learn things about government, economics, customs, and society that I just learned a few years back. It is an awe-inspiring experience and it makes me wish I could have gone to school there so I could have been a part of this. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are, however, a few students there that make me think in a way that is not questioning my own education. Instead, they make me ponder our need to grow up or, at least, to grow up as quickly as we do.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Today at recess as I played "Store" with a gaggle of kindergartners, first graders, and one fifth grader, I overheard a few girls sitting on a rock playing a clapping game. "How cute," I thought to myself. "I remember the days when a new game like that would have kept me busy for hours." It was not, however, until an adult came over and spoke to them that I realized that they had been chanting the following rhyme: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Apples on a stick <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Just make me sick. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Make my stomach go two forty-six. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Not because I'm dirty.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Not because I'm clean.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Not because I kissed a boy behind a magazine. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Hey girls! Wanna have some fun?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There goes (insert name of undesirable male classmate here) with his pants undone!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He can wiggle<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He can wobble<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He can even do the splits<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But I bet you fifty dollars he can't do this!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Close your eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Count to ten.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Make a mistake<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You gotta marry him!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(Here the girls close their eyes and try to maintain the beat with their hands without messing up.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Not only did I suddenly realize how inappropriate this was for their age group, but I also felt a bit funny as I recalled singing that same song with my friends at their age. The difference was that, where I went to school, the adults present would have paid it as much attention as I did at first: none. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was with this memory in my head that I went to help set up for painting (the kids get to paint a house they build themselves for their Peeps). This was my third day and, being within earshot as I am, I have noticed a lot of things.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">There are a few girls who seem to be in an awfully big hurry to grow up. I remember there being girls like this at my school, too. In fact, I am certain that every school has things like this happen all the time where a girl undergoes some right of passage (be it a training bra, permission from her parents to bike to school alone, or the memorization of her times tables). I have heard a lot of girls talking about these "special" girls while I help out and it fascinates me to observe what these girls (the so called "popular" girls) seem to think of themselves as compared to what others think of them. While a girl may show up to paint with the air about her that everything should stop immediately because she has just shown up to school, as soon as she leaves a girl might say to a friend that they think that the girl who just left is mean and the friend will agree. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The point of this story? The fact that I have never once seen a young lady retaliate or do anything intentionally harmful to another in my time at Prairie Creek and that I don't see girls scrambling to become the friend of a girl like that. Instead of the petty things I observe in high school every day I see people moving on with their lives. I see students, male and female, creating beautiful fantasies from thin air, then bringing that which only they can imagine into physical being with the precision and care that makes it possible for everyone to enjoy. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">In conclusion I would like to send the following messages:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Youngsters: Don't hurry to grow up. Someday, you will regret throwing that Barbie you loved so dearly away or tossing those Hot Wheels into the trash. Someday, you will look back on your time as a child. Do you want your memories to be ones of begging Mom to buy you lip-gloss or do you want them to be of frolicking in a field of dandelions?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Louisa, may your days be filled with moments of reflection, awe, and appreciation concerning everything that surrounds you. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I am so happy we are blogging again and I can't wait to read your next entry. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">--Rayna</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-59827548249473763362011-05-15T17:50:00.003-05:002011-05-15T20:05:33.119-05:00Late? Who's Late?<style>
@font-face {
font-family: "Times New Roman";
}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }table.MsoNormalTable { font-size: 10pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }
</style> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> Dum de dum de dum. (Insert painting noise here). Oh my goodness! It’s finished! It’s finally finished! They said it couldn’t be done, but it has! I have successfully proven that a tree WILL make a sound when there’s nobody to hear it! I’ve done research, I’ve done sketches, I’ve even painted this life sized tree, and now I finally have the proof I need! MWAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!! </div><div class="MsoNormal">(Insert phone noise here)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Hello?</div><div class="MsoNormal">-Louisa? It’s Rayna.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh, hi Rayna! You’ll never guess what I just—</div><div class="MsoNormal">-WHERE ARE YOU?</div><div class="MsoNormal">Huh? </div><div class="MsoNormal">-Your last post was in MARCH. Stop watching Fringe and get your act together!</div><div class="MsoNormal">(Dial tone)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Christopher Columbus! With all the research I’ve been doing I totally forgot about my blog! Sorry Rayna, I guess it just slipped my mind. Well, I’ve got to talk about something, but what? It should be, um, thought provoking but funny, smart but sarcastic, and really really awesome. But how? What can I talk about that I haven’t already? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’ll tell you what I can talk about: tutu-wearing monks playing air guitars. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Okay, I lied. I’m not going to talk about that (though I hope to have a reason to someday) But I am going to talk about books! </div><div class="MsoNormal">(Scattered applause) </div><div class="MsoNormal">Oh come on, you know you love books!</div><div class="MsoNormal">(Mingled noises of half hearted agreement) </div><div class="MsoNormal">… I’ll talk about you guys too. </div><div class="MsoNormal">(Wild applause) </div><div class="MsoNormal">Sigh. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> You know when you’re trying to tell a friend a story, but you forget something so you have to mention that that happened and then go on telling the story. But then you realize it doesn’t make sense and you have to re-explain it, and by the time you’re done your friend looks really confused? Kind of like that sentence I just typed? That’s what it’s like to write a novel. You know you have a great story. In fact, you have an amazing story. But if you can’t say it the right way people are just going to end up annoyed and confused. This is the burden of a writer, trying to make everything fit together in a way that is interesting, fun, and easy to understand. It’s striking that balance between wordiness and action, between Pride and Prejudice and Sin City. On another note, has anyone checked for crossover fan fictions between those two? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Anyway, this sort of hit home for me as this week I twisted the entire plot of a story that I’ve been working on for years. I’ve had the plot very well outlined in my head and some on the computer, but I realized recently that the first book (It’s a trilogy) is really boring. You know the first part of Percy Jackson when he arrives at camp and learns how everything works there? That was basically the first book. So I changed the plot of the first book to bring evil scientists that were previously unseen into the foreground. Also they make these kids with super powers battle each other, an idea that probably sprung from my recent reading of Ender’s game. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> This brings me to a crucial thing about writing; it’s always changing. Something I always tell myself when I’m stuck on an idea is that I am the god of this world. If I wanted to make a group of vegetarian T-Rexes burst into a retirement home and eat their way through all the buffet tables and fake plants, those retired folks better watch out. If something needs to happen, I can make something happen. I can change the entire setting and mood of my trilogy in one day, even though I’ve been thinking about it one way forever. There’s only one thing I have trouble changing, and that’s names. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal"> See, as an author I grow attached to my characters. These characters especially since I’ve been working on them for so long, so when I realized that many of my character’s names ended in –en, I wasn’t going to do a thing about it. That’s why names are very important for me to get right, because I probably won’t be changing them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Anyway, I’m sorry for being so late with this and I hope it was at least somewhat interesting. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Rayna, I hope to see you soon! </div><div class="MsoNormal">Louisa</div><div class="MsoNormal">P.S. Did you know that Word doesn’t recognize the word “Blog”?<br />
<br />
UPDATE: Checked Fanfiction.net. No Sin City/Pride and Prejudice crossovers yet, but I did find ones with Doctor Who, Bones, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, X-Men, and Starcraft! </div>Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-43276344196319073172011-03-29T17:30:00.000-06:002011-03-29T17:30:23.070-06:00Movies UnscriptedWe have all seen the part of a romantic comedy where the two main characters discover that they were meant to be together. Typically, one of them (usually the male) does something extravagant or meaningful to prove their love for the other person. <br />
<br />
Be it holding a boom box up outside a girl's window or sweeping her off her feet and off into the sunset on a stallion faster than the wind itself, men in movies have been known to proclaim their love for women in ways that would almost never happen in real life. While I love a good chick flick now and then I think it is time we all take a step back and examine how these things could go. To do this, I have broken it down into three components of romantic action: the serenade, the "What are you doing here?", and, my personal favorite, the inside joke. <br />
<br />
Part One: The Serenade<br />
<br />
Whenever this happens on TV or in a movie I swoon. I mean, come on! A guy showing up at your house late at night, tossing small pebbles at your window, and then playing or singing a song for you is pretty romantic! However, while I am swooning, I can't help but wonder how perfect it all is. Now, when I say "perfect", I don't mean the "Why isn't my life like that?" kind of perfect, but instead I'm talking about the "That's a little TOO perfect" kind of perfect. What if she had been asleep? In the bathroom? With another man? There are so many ways that this proclamation of emotion can go wrong. Just once, I would love to see the girl open her window only for the boy to realize that he has the wrong house. Don't get me wrong. When Darren Criss's character on Glee sang to the guy in Gap, my inner girly-girl fainted from an overdose of attractive and when he was shot down I wanted ot grab that guy by the long, blond hair and yell "YOU JUST GOT SARENADED BY DARREN FREAKING CRISS! DO YOU REALIZE THAT I WOULD GIVE ALMOST ANYTHING TO BE IN YOUR SHOES RIGHT NOW?". It is just that I think if someone tried this in real life, they might be not-so-pleasantly surprised at how it might go. <br />
<br />
Part Two: The "What Are You Doing Here?" <br />
<br />
This is where one of the two people in the relationship shows up somewhere to see the other person. Be it their place of work, their apartment, or the corner they walk their dog by every day, I find this move adorable, especially if the place is outdoors and it is raining. No matter where this moment takes place, the person being surprised almost always asks "What are you doing here?" when they spot the other person. While this is also a common expression in horror films, romantic comedies take it to a whole new level by using it to emphasize that the person who is doing the surprising is going out of their way to a place where they would never be in order to see the one they love. When I watch these scenes, I often think about what would happen if the person being surprised called in sick, went to run errands, or didn't walk their dog that day. You have to wonder how many people have tried to immatate this move and instead found themselves in an empty office or on a vacant street corner. <br />
<br />
Part Three: The Inside Joke<br />
<br />
When someone remembers something you say, it is pretty thoughtful. This move typically is used in the funnier movies. What happens is this: one of them makes a joke about something (in this case, let's say that the girl said she loved both cats and dogs and wished there could be an animal that was a magical combo of both) and the other one applies it to their show of love (the guy goes to the store, buys a stuffed cat and a stuffed dog, takes them apart, and makes them into two different cat/dog combos and gives them to her). To anyone walking by on the street, a grown man standing outside a house holding a bizarre, hand-crafted stuffed animal with the head of a cat and the body of a dog would seem very strange. However, to the person receiving the gift as well as to the viewer of the movie, it seems like the most romantic thing in the world. <br />
<br />
I am just going to say that, for the record, I absolutely love a good chick flick. I love seeing the romantic gestures, the awkward situations, and the moment when the two leads begin to develop feelings for one another. <br />
<br />
This makes me think about what movies would be like when applied to real life. If we took the actions and behavior of people in a movie, but did not determine what would happen next, we would have very different results than those that are projected onto the silver screen. We might see a guy with a boom box in the middle of the night pulled over by cops for disturbing the peace. Rather than having people go about their daily lives as the two leads act very strangely in public, they might get yelled at by an old lady on a bench or given strange looks by passers-by. <br />
<br />
Evaluating romantic scenarios like this does not diminish the feeling I get when I see Jack holding Rose at the bow of The Titanic or when I hear Humphrey Bogart tell Ingrid Bergman that they will always have Paris. Instead, it makes me appreciate them more. It makes me value every moment of romantic bliss that takes place on the screen. So many things have to go right to have the two leads share the perfect romantic scene that you can't help but think that they were meant to be together; that they were meant to share that brief moment in time. <br />
<br />
Louisa, I hope, nay, I know that someday you will find the male lead to your very own love story and I cannot wait to read your next post. <br />
<br />
Happy Endings to All,<br />
RaynaLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-68151307318206510882011-03-23T06:36:00.001-06:002011-03-23T06:37:04.071-06:00The Character's the ThingThey say that once you begin a book, the characters write themselves. Authors have talked about having characters just walk into their head, and start telling them what to say.<br />
"No no, you need to have me go <i>through </i>that tunnel, and then I'd say something snappy, like 'Guess the only way out is through.' There you go, yeah."<br />
<br />
As an aspiring novelist, and a winner of National Novel Writing month, I've gone along with this little idea.<br />
That is, until yesterday, when I decided I disagreed.<br />
<br />
See, I am of the opinion that if characters wrote themselves, it would be a whole lot easier to write books. In my overarching book project, I have reworked and re-identified more characters than I can remember. And let me tell you, if the characters had just given me all this info about how to write them, I'd have whipped out a stunning trilogy and be working on the screenplay.<br />
<br />
Here's how I think about it: when you start working on a character, you have a basic idea in mind. See, it's sort of like a lite brite. Remember those? Well, they were basically these things that you would poke bits of colored plastic through to make a picture. Look them up, then come back so we can keep going. <br />
<br />
You back? Great. <br />
<br />
Anyway, it's like when you have that first idea about the character, you stick that one colored piece of plastic into the picture. It doesn't look like much just then, just a little baby idea. But as you write you begin to stick more pieces in, and not because the character told you so. You use backstory to figure out current emotions, and use emotions to figure out backstory. It's very circular logic, which is why you can't just get the answers from some person who invaded your brain. You have to really think.<br />
<br />
For example, say you had a character named Betty. Betty lives in a house with her mom, her dad, and her little brother. Alright, you say, where can I go with Betty? So you figure out her appearance, and maybe what she likes to do at school. These are just things you can make up, and you don't really need to know the character to get them. But then, what's the conflict of your book? Ah, zombie vampires. Classic. And this is when your brain gets working. "Perhaps she doesn't like the ZVs, ooh, or maybe she <i>does! </i>Maybe she's an activist for ZV rights! Hmm, but why would she be? Oh! Maybe she saw one get hit by a car, and she felt bad. Because maybe her cat got hit by a car!<br />
<br />
And so on, and so forth.<br />
So Rayna, from one novelist to another, I advise you to kick the shins of the next person who says writing characters is that easy.<br />
Because let me tell you, it's far from it.<br />
Rayna, I hope we can be NaNoWriMo buddies again next year,<br />
LouisaLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-21456181985797286442011-02-15T18:18:00.000-06:002011-02-15T18:18:32.199-06:00Are you there, Fate? It's me, Rayna.For those of you who do not own a calendar, yesterday was Valentine's Day. I walked into school happily, even though I am currently single. I had just finished convincing myself that I didn't need to have a boyfriend to make Valentine's Day fun and that I was going to have a fun day with my friends (the vast majority of whom are also single). I dropped my coat off at my desk and went to talk to a friend in another room. As I approached I heard a ramped waterfall of complaining. It was a girl a year older than myself talking about how Valentine's Day is overly corporate and about how it is just a day to make single people feel bad about themselves and to put pressure on people in relationships. <div><br />
</div><div>This was the first of many heated discussions that took place yesterday in my school. </div><div><br />
</div><div>My personal favorite conversation that I had was with two of my guy-friends who are both single. It wasn't about love, but started out as a conversation about whether or not everyone has a soulmate. This conversation then turned into a discussion on the existence of Fate vs. Free Will. One of the two guys believed whole-heartedly in Free Will and thought that the idea of a large man on a cloud determining our every move seemed silly and ridiculous. The other thought that God has a plan for all of us. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I, however, had my own personal view. I think that we have Free Will over our actions, but that said actions are more important than we give them credit for. For example, let's say that you took track in high school. You loved it, so you continued running as an adult. One day, your shoes break after you go running in the rain. You go to get new ones and pick out a snazzy pair of blue Nikes. A passer-by sees them and wants them because he loves blue. He then goes home, sits around, and decides to go out for a jog. He feels alive and chooses to sign up for a marathon in town that weekend. While running, however, he steps in a pothole and twists his ankle. When he is taken to the hospital, he meets a nurse. He and the nurse fall in love. They get married and have a daughter. That daughter grows up to become the person to discover the cure for cancer.</div><div><br />
</div><div>BAM! You could easily go around thinking to yourself "I just cured cancer! Well, not single-handedly of course, but I contributed!" but you have to keep in mind all of the factors. What if the baby had been a boy? What if the girl's first science teacher had been a jerk so she didn't like science enough to take it up as a profession? What if the nurse and the runner had broken up?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Thinking about all of the variables in our lives makes me grateful for my life. If my family had moved to Hawaii, how would my life be different? Would I still be the same person? Would I still even be alive? </div><div><br />
</div><div>This is why today, and in the future, I want you to think about the ripples the pebbles of your actions are causing in the deep ocean that is existence. Driving drunk? Negative ripples. Donating to charity? Positive ripples. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Which are yours?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Louisa, I loved your last post and I can't wait to read your next. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Happy Valentine's Day, gorgeous! </div><div><br />
</div><div>-Rayna</div>Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-15166558638231626022011-01-21T22:41:00.002-06:002011-01-21T22:52:30.577-06:00Wisdom From My Seventh Grade Science TeacherWhen I was in seventh grade, my science teacher gave us a small speech on what she called the "crap trap." She said you had to think of the crap trap like a large gaping hole in the middle of your road to success. It was filled with wonderful things like makeup, boys, gossip, everything that would make a steryotypical high school girl squeal with joy. But once you fell down into it, it was really quite hard to get out. As I've progressed through my school years I've seen girl after girl tumble head over heals into the crap trap, and I think I know why. You see, when you go to middle school so many things are different. You're given more responsibilities, you have more teachers, and the world around you is changing so fast you feel like you have to change as well. You feel so much more grown up than you were before, and some people believe that this means you are officially grown up. So suddenly it's okay to date, and wear make-up, and wear playboy bunny pajama bottoms to school (sadly, I've seen each and every one of these.)<br />
<br />
This all came to my mind at my yearly Northfield Youth Choir snow days retreat. See, I love choir. Not only do you get to sing, but I feel so comfortable with myself there that I don't mind letting myself go and being the wacky geek that I am. Anyway, it was a fun retreat, and I found myself not wondering whether I should wear my awesome nerd glasses but where they were, because so many people wanted to try them on. Then, right when I was feeling most confident, the eighth graders hosted the talent show.<br />
<br />
<br />
See, every year at snow days we have a talent show hosted by the eighth graders. If you've never met the eighth graders in our choir, you don't know wacky. Now I love all of them, but they're not the people you want to spend a week with unless you're fond of going insane. One of them, who I'm going to call Beatrice, is probably the ringleader of the bunch. I like her because she really is just being herself, and doesn't try to act pretty and air headed. She's loud and spunky, and she'll let you know it. The thing is, the eighth graders are all really girly. This is something I cannot stand for more than a weekend. The night of the talent show, there was makeup everywhere. One thing that concerned me was that a girl was dressing like Ke$ha, and we were at a christian camp. Probably my favorite eighth grader (who I'll here call Annabeth) is the least girly and will talk with me about books and other down to earth things. Being an eighth grader, she was roped into the makeup. She looked very pretty in the dress she was wearing, though she looks pretty anyway, so I didn't see what the point was. Probably my favorite moment was when Beatrice came up to Annabeth and said, "Well, you could try this eyeshadow. It's skin colored so it really won't stick out." And then I gave her a look and said, "So what's the point of it then?" And she just told me to shut up in a way that told me she knew I was right. I pretty much let them do there own thing, occasionally throwing in a comment about how they really didn't need the make-up from across the room. But I drew the line when one girl (lets call her Pansy) came in with a tiny little girl trailing behind her.<br />
<br />
Think of the cutest little girl you can. Now double it. Keep doing that until you reach infinity, and you'll know how cute she was. It turns out that she was actually not that young, but she was so petit and adorable that she immediately became my favorite person on the retreat that I didn't know. So imagine my horror when Pansy announced that this adorable little girl "wanted" us to put some make-up on her.<br />
<br />
Something inside of me snapped. I stood up off my bunk, and firmly told them no. I wasn't going to sit there airily shooting out comments about inner beauty while they barbie-ized the face of a little angelic child. One or two of the girls tried to argue, but I put my foot down. There are some things I won't stand for.<br />
<br />
And that's the thing, you know? Make-up. Hair product. Revealing shirts. Is it worth it? Each and every one of those girls was pretty exactly the way she was. So why couldn't they see it? It's the unseen plague that creeps its way into every girl's heart and stays there, whispering at your proudest moments, shouting at your weakest. It's the thing that makes you wear a hat when you're hair doesn't look good enough, or not wear pajamas on pajama day in case no one else does it. We as a species are afraid to be different. It's the reason I have to think before I wear my nerd glasses to school, and the reason I still haven't worn my overalls there.<br />
<br />
The school doesn't help either. They put up posters to try to show us that real beauty comes from within, but went about it the entirely wrong way. The posters showed a "beautiful" face and a normal one, and by doing so forced us to compare them. Wasn't that exactly what they were trying to stop? Comparisons?<br />
<br />
But when I successfully draw a hand, or when I'm onstage, or when I finish the first draft of my novel, <br />
it's times like that that you could call me every rude name you can think of, and I wouldn't care. That's when I feel beautiful. Not when I'm wearing dresses, not when my hair looks fantastic (though that doesn't hurt), just when I feel most happy. <br />
<br />
That's the real reason make-up bugs me. Covering your face doesn't make you beautiful. It's showing your face, being who you are that makes you stand out from the crowd and shine. That's why my favorite people are the ones who don't say "one second, let me fix my make-up" or "does this make me look fat" or "that hat so does not go with your shoes." It's the people who say "look at this awesome hat shaped like a chicken!" or "I've decided to paint my hand green" or "who's Gucci?" Those people who will be themselves, and not put on a mask to hide from the world.<br />
<br />
So as I watched the eighth graders preform, I felt a little sorry for them. I know how it feels to be trapped in a world where putting colored powder on your face is normal, and red dots on your face must be covered at all costs. But I also know that the people who will judge me for those things aren't people I want to know. And as for attracting boys, I have a feeling that there's a difference between being attracted to you and being attracted to your cleavage. That's what we at BYW call an "unhealthy relationship." As John Green once said, "The Venn diagram of the boys who don't like smart girls and the boys you don't want to date is a circle." <br />
<br />
And so I leave you with this thought. When we buy make up for ourselves or for loved ones, what are we really doing? Giving a kindly gift, or unintentionally sending a message straight to the voice in every girls head. "You're not pretty enough." I for one know that the only time my daughters will be wearing make up is when they're up on a stage, being beautiful. <br />
<br />
Sorry for the lack of posting lately, but after finals things here at BYW should pick up.<br />
Rayna, I think you're really pretty :)<br />
<br />
~LouisaLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-33980378303007392572010-12-31T15:41:00.001-06:002011-01-22T11:49:39.059-06:00American Girl Dolls: All Grown UpHello, all!<br />
<br />
I just deleted a full post of apology, then realized how boring and unhumorous (shut up, SpellCheck! It is a word it I want it to be!) it was, so I will just say that I am very sorry for not posting and go on with my blog entry. Here is is:<br />
<br />
<b><i><u>I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"> </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></i></b><br />
Alrighty. So now what I want to talk about is the Mall of America and, in particular, a very strange place inside of it. For those of you who do not know, the Mall of America (or MOA) is one of if not the largest mall in the nation. It is rather remarkable, though those of us who live in the arctic up here in Minnesota tend to take it for granted. Now that you know this mall is not just any ordinary mall, I can continue.<br />
<br />
I was at the MOA on Wednesday with my family. Around noon we met up with two of my three cousins for tea at the American Girl Place. As a young one, I had to go to Chicago to experience the overwhelming displays of tubby, bucktoothed dolls from different eras in American History. If you do not know what American Girl dolls are, they are (in a nut shell) dolls from American History. There are seven books to a doll (at least that was the case when I was into them) and for every book the girl has an outfit and accessories. When I was but a little first grader dressing like my doll and bringing her everywhere with me, the concept of American Girl was astounding. A doll WITH books?! SPLENDID!<br />
<br />
As a teenager walking through the two-story shop with two little girls who are permanently shocked by the outside world, a mother who misses the days of dolls painfully, a father who used to be a stand up comedian, and a little brother who, and I quote, could "feel my manhood slipping away" with every minute spent in the crimson, star-filled complex, I was less appreciative of the dolls themselves than I was with the marketing strategies around them. For example, when I was younger, you could not get modern outfits for your doll. It was classic clothing for the era or nothing. Nowadays, you can have your doll be a flower girl with you in a wedding, take her horseback riding with you, or even dress her up for all of your favorite sports and hobbies. You can also collect charms that come with certain sets and pieces of furniture. Oh. I should also mention how expensive these dolls are! Parents spend a hundred bucks a pop for dolls that their daughters will outgrow in a few years.<br />
<br />
As I realized this, I got to thinking about how awesome it would be if they could reach out to an older audience. I mean, there are girls in my grade who think that the pioneers are a football team and that the great depression was cured by the invention of antidepressants. It wouldn't kill them to get hooked on collecting dolls and reading books about our nation's past. That said, the makers of these dolls would have to drastically change their approach to marketing these things.<br />
<br />
For this reason, I have compiled a list of four tips for them to use to sell their products to a wider audience. They do not even mean changing the dolls that much, just maybe have a back room for the older kid stuff. That way the magic isn't ruined for the young ones, but those of us who miss the times of sitting on the floor for hours playing with dolls would also be willing to give them our money. The list is as follows:<br />
<br />
1. The doll from the 1970's (Julie) should come with pot. Just sayin'. Also, she should have hairy armpits, not wear a bra, smell like oil, and come with feminist picket signs. She should have beads in her hair and her books should come with a few chapters of hallucinations.<br />
<br />
2. Molly (the WWII time period doll) should fall in love with a soldier who is about to be shipped out. Pregnancy due to this brief romance is optional, but encouraged.<br />
<br />
3. Kaya (the native American Girl) should be changed completely. Firstly, she is from the 1760's (before America was technically a country). Secondly, things were not peaceful and happy for tribes of Native peoples at this time. They were driven from their land, infected with deadly illnesses that wiped out entire populations, and were no longer able to get as much food as before due to lack of bison and the need to run away rather than follow their food. If these things were incorporated into the books, they would not be appropriate for young audiences, but they would be more accurate.<br />
<br />
4. Give the teenage dolls boyfriends! Add a little romance! Also, you could sell the boyfriend dolls and appeal to the demographic of "little boys who play with dolls". I know more of them than one might think. Of course, Julie would not have a boyfriend. She doesn't need a man tying her down! Plus, she might be a lesbian. She should, however, have a gay best friend. His name should be Butch. 'Nuff said.<br />
<br />
<br />
Well, that is it for now. If you know anyone who works at American Girl, pitch the idea for me, would ya? I have to go now, but I promise to be more diligent about posting form now on.<br />
<br />
Happy New Year, Louisa!<br />
~Rayna<br />
<br />
P.S. HOLY CRAP CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT IT IS ALMOST 2011?!Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-60529400759734662312010-12-26T11:49:00.000-06:002010-12-26T11:49:19.283-06:00The Santa Dilemma I should start by saying that if by some chance you are under 13 years old, you won't like this blog post. This post is your worst nightmare. We're talking monsters, homework, mowing the lawn, politics. Trust me, you'd be much better off pounding your head against a brick wall than reading this post. Run away while you still can.<br />
<br />
Are they gone?<br />
<br />
Great. Let's talk Santa Claus.<br />
In elementary school I was always a believer. I remember insisting point blank that Santa had been to my house, no question about it. I refused to believe he wasn't real. I can't pinpoint the day I figured out the truth, but I do remember thinking about the sleigh with the reindeer and suddenly realizing how silly it sounded. How impossible it would be for reindeer to fly. I think that's why last Christmas wasn't quite as magical as all the others had been, and I remember feeling disappointed that that part of my childhood was over.<br />
<br />
But of course, what could I do? With two younger brothers in my house I had to keep my mouth shut. There was one time when my parents asked me if I knew, and it was all very surreal. Now that i've been let into the secret, to talk of Santa Claus's realness has become rather taboo. I've never been able to ask my parents how they do it exactly. I've guessed that they don't always buy the presents together, so they can be genuinely surprised when we show them some of our gifts. I suppose there are some times when I could've asked them about the intricacies of preparing Christmas morning, but it seems like talking about it would just lessen the magic even more. Being naturally sarcastic, I worry that i'll be the one to give away the Santa charade. <br />
<br />
All this came to my mind as we crept downstairs Christmas morning, ripped open the one large present under the tree and found a shining red Nintendo Wii. I couldn't have been more surprised if a baby had popped out, started to tap dance and sung the national anthem. My parents had always insisted that there was no way in a million years that we would ever, <i>ever </i>own a game system. And for me, i'd accepted that long ago. Besides, we have neighbors a block away with every game system imaginable, so my brothers and I often traipse over to their house after completing our homework. So naturally, I was rather shocked. My parents like to quote how I said "We haven't been THIS good!"<br />
<br />
But now I had a million questions. What had changed their minds? What had spurred them to go against everything they'd ever said and buy us a Wii? But naturally, I had to hold my tongue and exclaim about Santa's kindness and good will with the boys. I tried to see if I could get something out of my parents by whispering comments to them about why Santa had brought us a Wii, but to no avail.<br />
<br />
It did get me thinking though. What about when I have kids? What am I supposed to tell them? On one hand, I'm sure Christmas would be just as magical without all the secrecy. Is Santa a Christmas lie? It seems like a rather sinful thing to do on Jesus's birthday. Then again, the magic of Christmas was wonderful while it lasted, and I won't forget the wonder of listening for sleigh bells and footsteps on the roof.<br />
<br />
I'm still not sure what I'm going to do. I've got a long ways to go before I decide, but it's something that I think is going to play on my mind for years to come. But it was rather adorable when I heard one of my tiny relatives say "look what Santa got me!" and show me her little Tinkerbell purse. <br />
<br />
Who knows? Perhaps in the near future scientists will build a robotic Santa, and we can all go about Christmas without worrying that our children will find us putting toys in their stockings. <br />
<br />
Merry Christmas :)<br />
~LouisaLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-48295873378768276702010-12-24T10:43:00.000-06:002010-12-24T10:43:47.366-06:00Of Harry Potter and GleeAs I sat in the movie theater waiting to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the third time, I thought about what had led me to this point. Who's responsible for getting me so obsessed with this book series? Personally, I think it was 5% my curiosity in a book I'd never read, and 95% my dad's willingness to read it to me. There are so many reasons why I love Harry Potter I can't name them all, but sitting in that movie theater made me think of a few. For example, not only was I at a movie with friends, I was also in the company of my friend's 88 year old great uncle. It was he who'd wanted to go to the movie in the first place, and I was allowed to tag along. I love Harry Potter because it doesn't have restrictions. It transcends gender, race, age, everything except religions where witchcraft is not tolerated. But I try not to think about that.<br />
When the movie starts, I discover more reasons why Harry Potter is my favorite. As any of my friends can tell you, I'm a huge Ron/Hermione fan. I can't tell you exactly why, just that I think they're the most adorable thing since my puppy. And my puppy looks like this:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNegZKmAV8XKWhDwueGctQRGIe0kiyIwefTzxQVdB1jQbBCVioPmVWg-G4LhPG05nqqw6Vlp-aOzGMiir7KrAF1iWmtkjbhZvSftNBvpHNpvwcoN0s8LqG2nRb2YY95zGZzRSPonW720/s1600/IMG_3797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNegZKmAV8XKWhDwueGctQRGIe0kiyIwefTzxQVdB1jQbBCVioPmVWg-G4LhPG05nqqw6Vlp-aOzGMiir7KrAF1iWmtkjbhZvSftNBvpHNpvwcoN0s8LqG2nRb2YY95zGZzRSPonW720/s320/IMG_3797.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
But really, I don't just love Ron and Hermione. There isn't a single character in Harry Potter that I don't like. And as I watched Ron destroy the locket I realized why that was. We've all been pushed around like Neville, or stressed out about a test like Ron. Harry has the same relationship problems we have, and Hermione's the part of us that wants to study hard and get good grades. It doesn't matter that they go to a magic school, they're still teenagers. No matter how many spells they can cast,<i> Harry Potter</i> is still a story of a boy growing up, and we can relate to that.<br />
<br />
Which is more than I can say for Glee. Glee is set in a school, just like Harry Potter, and it involves some kids growing up, just like Harry Potter. Sadly for Glee, that's where the similarities end. I have many problems with Glee, but I can narrow them down to three key things. Rachel, Will, and the school.<br />
Rachel is essentially as far from relatable as you could get. She's insanely self centered, and wants the spotlight to be on her all the time. If anyone gets in her way, she will go as far as giving them false directions to a glee club meeting that actually lead to a brothel. She's rude, and mean, and only cares about herself. And somehow, she has a boyfriend. I don't know why the writers think this is likable. Furthermore, I don't understand why she's liked. Rachel is the lead girl singer, and no matter what she does people seem to like her. I'm convinced that she could run over a competitor with her car and still have fans.<br />
<br />
But Rachel's not the worst. Not by a long shot. Rachel achieves second place in the "Glee people who get on my nerves" race because of one man. The Glee club director, Will Schuester. This guy started out married to his high school sweet heart, trying to have a kid, while he harbored a crush on the school guidance counselor. That was fine with me, I didn't like his wife and I liked the guidance counselor. But as the series progressed, things took a turn for the stupid. See Will broke up with his wife and started going with Emma, the guidance counselor. But then he made out with this other women, and Emma found out, and I didn't really pay attention after that. Basically, Will can't be alone with a woman without making out with her. He had the kids preform Rocky Horror to impress Emma, and then she got married, and I think Terri (his wife) came in at some point and messed things up. The point is, Will is really a jerk. I'd tell you not to take my word for it and watch it yourself, but I really wouldn't want to subject anyone to that.<br />
<br />
The last thing the bugs me is the school. The Glee kid's high school is so far from the truth it is astounding. Nobody throws slushies at glee club kids. Nobody throws slushies at anybody. The groups are also incredibly overplayed. The jocks are clearly jocks, the geeks are clearly geeks. The message they're sending is "Be different, even though you'll be called a geek and get slushies thrown at you, and you'd probably be better off being someone you're not." I don't believe that's the case. I am proud to call myself a geek, a nerd, whatever you want to call it. No one has ever thrown a slushie at me because of that. I maintain that where there is a nerd, there will always be more nerds to join forces with the first nerd, drawn together by obsession and love of being different. The only reason that the Glee kids stick together is because they're sadly the nicest kids in school, which makes me weep for their district. Many of them don't even like each other, but they hang out anyway. I just don't understand it.<br />
<br />
So as I sat in the theater, watching the credits roll by (my entire family are proven credit nerds) I thought about Glee, and why it was a phenomenon. We need more Hermiones in this world, and less Rachel Barrys. There should be more Nevilles and Ginnys and Lunas, people who are different and strong and not afraid of getting a slushie to the face. Why is Glee, the show with less strong female characters than a Cartoon Network show, popular with people across the nation? Yes Glee has songs, and I admit I enjoy the music, but music alone cannot save a show. A Very Potter Musical has plot and songs, and Darren Criss, and used all of them better.<br />
<br />
So this Christmas, don't be a Will Schuester or a Santana or a Brittney or an Archie. You can do much better than that. Be smart and strong and likable. Be a Hermione, be a Ron. Be a Harry.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas Rayna,<br />
~LouisaLouisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-54620918734677025112010-12-22T18:39:00.000-06:002010-12-22T18:39:46.786-06:00Wise Words from a Wee MouseHello! If you are reading this, I have a reader! It also means that you have something to do while deliberately not doing your homework, your holiday shopping, or socializing with people. What a win/win situation! I think that Louisa covered everything in her marvelous introduction to this blog, so I will just get started with my post ere I bore you to death. <div><br />
</div><div>Today my family went to see the latest Narnia movie: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. Now, I went to see this at midnight when it premiered because I am a nerd and I am darn proud of it. For those of you who are not as into these books as I am or, even worse, asking yourself "Who is Narnia and why is she looking for someone who walks in the morning?" I am afraid I will have to ask those of you from the latter category to please leave and go back on your MySpace to upload more pictures of your reflection that you took with you phone. Go on. I'll wait. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Alright. Now that they are gone, the rest of us can continue. Ok, then. Well, I quite frankly grew up on these books. They were more a part of my imaginary games than any television show, doll, or movie. I was Susan in my first play, and it was then that I knew what my passion was in life: acting. I loved this movie, though, as one of my friends who was with me at the midnight showing said, "It was a great movie. If you go into it expecting for it to be word for word like the book, you will be disappointed." If you go to see your favorite characters brought to life or to see a wonderful story of childhood played out before your eyes, you will love it. As my personal favorite Narnian, Reepicheep the mouse, says in the movie, "We have nothing, if not belief." </div><div><br />
</div><div>These words struck me today as I sat in the almost empty theater with my parents and younger brother. It made me think that Reep was right about belief. I am not a religious person (I am agnostic), but I <b>believe </b>that there is something more out there. I can't prove it at all. Klingons, Heaven, who knows? </div><div><br />
</div><div>During the rest of the movie, I thought about the idea of belief and came to the conclusion that it plays a more prominent role in our lives than we think. For example, I recently underwent a rather severe knee surgery and, as a result, I am currently in physical therapy. Though I hate physical therapy with the flaming passion of Apollo's chariot, I know that it is for my own good. In the beginning, I had nothing to compare what I was doing to. For all I knew, that was as good as it got. Now, three months later, I am half way done with my physical therapy. If I had curled up in a corner and refused to leave the house, I would still be using a brace that looks like a bad fat suit and crutches that are always cold as ice. Instead, I believed that I could get better. I was not praying or meditating, but something told me that, even though I could barely get out of bed, I would some day run, climb stairs, and bend my knee again. I like to think that this was my belief-filled inner child who, if asked, would still insist that Santa could deliver his gifts to our house even though we have a fake fireplace. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Whether or not you are thinking of religion, love, or even just getting back in touch with your own inner child this holiday season, I leave you with this quote: </div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">“</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">”</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div>I am sorry this wasn't a very humorous entry, but it was what I have been thinking about today. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Louisa, I look forward to reading what you have to say next time.</div><div><br />
</div><div>~Rayna</div>Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7931197056131082675.post-20638526867423278512010-12-21T13:43:00.002-06:002010-12-21T14:00:02.742-06:00An Introduction<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">High School. It's loud, it's difficult, it's messy, and if you play your cards right it can be amazingly fun. Naturally the perfect place for teenagers, right? Teenagers like me, Louisa, and my friend Rayna. We go to High School in Minnesota, and we're here to tell you about us, our experiences and any peculiar thought that drifts into our heads during math class. Bright Young Women like ourselves gotta stick together. So prepare yourself for a whole lot of awesome as we blog back and forth throughout our High School years. And who knows, we might just be funny. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This is Louisa, signing out. </span></div>Louisa and Raynahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03099073601314933220noreply@blogger.com0