It's blog time babies.
Injuries sustained since previous entry: sprained pinky, sore calves.
Yesterday was the last day of my playwriting class. Everyone in the class wrote a 10 minute play as the final project of the semester. My teachers then casted the plays with some student and hired actors. Last week I got to talk with the actors and run through my play with them and yesterday they performed it in front of about thirty people. I have to say watching my stuff come to life in a play was way more exciting than just turning in a 20 page story or something. The story is Andre 3000 teaches Joel about love. It’s called Xplosion and is greatly inspired by Stankonia and The Love Below. The final draft is due next week so there are still some leftover notes for the actors and a few other things that need fixing, but I think it's pretty good. It was a completely satisfying assignment.
I also had to act in one of the plays. One of my co-actors and I totally improved an empathic hive-five while on stage. Success without preparation is like sweet sweet money.
What am I going to do this summer? The sun has been shining brightly lately, bringing everyone to life. Will someone please make me a mix cd?
Hello world. I'm off medication and have started to live again. The turning point came last Friday when I gave a great presentation in my American Lit class. As a student I don't often buy the books given as required reading or put myself in a position to do well on exams but I can reshape the worlds of others when I'm giving a presentation. It's always important to start off with jokes so you begin speaking with the audience already in the palm of your hand. That way if anything goes bad later on they won't care because they've already decided they like you, which should remove any fears you have about screwing up with the material. My presentation was about the impact a letter written from Emerson to Whitman had on Whitman's success. I was arguing that the letter was responsible for pretty much the entirety of Whitman's fame (interesting stuff, I swear. Ask me about it). I opened by saying "I'm here to present about a letter, because I think letters are important, but first let me read you a letter I received from Professor Reiss a few days ago."
Joel,
You are the best student I have ever had. I like you way better than any of those other kids in my American lit class. They could learn something from you. I know you're Whitman presentation is going to be awesome. You rock.
Signed,
BR
Things rolled from there. I look back and see this lecture as one of my best performances, academic or otherwise. I decided to test whatever kind of mojo I was working with that day and made a return to the gym for some light ballin. When I arrived at the courts I encountered a scene of discrimination that I sometimes have to face as a 6 foot 1 white basketball player living in the hot south. I had also gotten a super short haircut two days before and was wearing a dorky strap around the back of my head so my glasses wouldn't fall off. I was looking like an extreme nerd loser. I decided to get in a little 5 on 5 action, and joined a couple of bros and a couple of honkies waiting to play the winner of the current game. We were up to play and suddenly the guys try to tell me that they are picking up another guy and that I'd have to wait and play in the next game. I saw this coming and knew before these kids opened their mouths they didn't know who they were talking to. I may not have looked it but I had balled with much tougher thugs than these scrubs. I was like, "No, I'll play. I was the fifth one here." They tried a few more times with the old school playground "hey we gotta make sure we don't get the shitty white guy on our team" stuff, but I told them how it is. These guys were mostly sophomores, so I scored a few quick points and they were like, fine he can play a little. Our team got a lead in a game going to 15, then we started getting tired and slipped on the defensive end. I took the ball with the score at 13-13, stood about three feet behind the three point line, looked left and right, showed a little footwork. The guy guarding me gave me some room, so I rose up and shot what felt like the perfect three pointer, the kind you feel all the time when you get hot in practice but rarely feel in games. The ball floated slow-motion-movie style in flawless rotation and dropped through the center of the hoop, barely even touching the net like shots you only see from Steve Nash or Kobe Bryant. Another clear "yes" from the basketball gods is always a great feeling, especially when earned. The tallest bro gave me some skin and said "I like that," while the honkey said “That shit was wet as hell.” Some dude from behind me came on the court and said, “That's why I love basketball.” The lesson here is to use discrimination stuff to your advantage. Never show your hand until you've already won. But because we won played in the next game and a month away from the game had made me massively out of shape. I was spent half way through this game, huffing and puffing with a bright red face. They scored a bunch of fast break points and I went home and collapsed.
Another fun thing I did that confirms that I am alive happened last night during halftime of the NCAA championship basketball game. Our schools' gym had some big screens set up for viewing pleasure and handed out some pop and pizzas with the other half of the court open for shooting hoops. I watched Corey Brewer help confirm my prediction of Florida's repeat on TV while I practiced my jumper. At halftime the organizing people said "Everybody who wants to play knock out get in line." I took my place as third in line while the rest of the people in the gym lined up behind me. The line was long and took about 5 minutes to get back to me for the second round. I'm calling it "The 100 man game of knockout." I finished in fifth. I got knocked out by a chick who ended up in second place.
Speaking of chick domination, a team of two women won the national debate championship for Emory last night. It's our first title since 2003. Braaaaawkk! Eagles!
I don't miss facebook at all. It's clear to me that the information that is tossed around that website is not cool. You don't believe me? Ask Matt Smith!