Emily's Weblog

A Creativity Deficit? 2/8/09

         Yesterday, I was at my friend Rachel’s house, and we were talking about what it is like to live in this time period. “In all honesty, I don’t think this is a very good time to grow up in,” she said. Our generation was the first to grow up with computers and the Internet and cell phones. We’re the first to text message and the first to have Myspace and Facebook profiles. Our lives, in a lot of ways, revolve around technology—“convenience” is perhaps the word that best defines our lives, but at what cost does this come?

            An oft-suggested consequence of our high-tech lives is that our communication suffers. I can see this happening—with cell phones and websites like Myspace, we can relay through technology what might be difficult to say face-to-face. I would never use texting for sharing important stuff with my friends, but it’s really convenient for making plans or sharing funny things. On the other hand, one hears all the time about relationships that get broken up over texting or news that gets taken the wrong way because it wasn’t accompanied by a “smiley face”. Perhaps we are slowly losing our ability to relate to people.

            However, the way technology affects our relationships is another issue entirely, one that I can’t pass judgement on. What I’m more concerned about is what our lifestyle is doing to our creativity. With computers infiltrating our lives as they do, making art and music is not the same as it used to be. Many artists no longer touch traditional media; instead, they reach for Photoshop and paint with pixels and paint buckets and predetermined lighting effects. Recording an album is no longer an almost spiritual experience; the days of big recording studios are over; these days, one can capture sound with nothing but an iMac. What does it mean for us when we have machines that do everything for us? Does our vision of life, does our need to express ourselves diminish? If anything has already been injured, it’s our problem solving—since computers do everything for us, there isn’t as much of a need to explore different solutions. Take, for example, doing research for a paper. Not even twenty years ago, if one wanted information, she went to encyclopedias, to libraries, or out into the real world to seek answers. Now, she can obtain everything she needs with only one source—the computer. This is more convenient, of course it is, but in staying in her house the student doing the research misses out on the experience of finding knowledge on her own. She misses whatever might happen on that trip to the library; she misses the thrill of finding what she was looking for in a dusty encyclopedia, and instead she goes to the computer, confident that this metal box will provide everything that she desires.

            This kind of dependence must be harming us in some way. Where does simple convenience end and brainwashing begin? In the future, will our computers be so knowledgeble, so powerful, that they do everything for us? Will we, the human race, become the robots, following a set of motions without passion and without conviction every day of our lives? It scares me. We need to care a bit more. We need to create a bit more, for fun and for our own betterment. Let’s reach for a paintbrush and a guitar instead of a laptop, before it’s too late. I know we’re not lost yet, but I worry it’s only a matter of time.

Independent Writing 4– Life 2/1/09

 Maybe it’s because of the bad economy and the widespread stress about money, or maybe it’s because college seems to be looming closer and closer, but lately I’ve been thinking more and more about what I’m going to do for a living.  Jobs are scarce, the newspapers are saying, and finding employment is hardest for those who are just graduating from school. I don’t want to get out of college and have absolutely nowhere to go, but I definitely don’t want a carreer that I hate. I look at my parents. Both of them enjoy doing what they do, but they’re business people, people who sit behind desks and look at reports and go to meetings. They talk about “prioritizing their agenda.” They come home complaining about the copy machine. Their jobs revolve around talks about budget and talks about product development; they make spreadsheets on Excel and prepare Powerpoints and give presentations.

            I do not want that life. The money I might make could never equal the happiness I would get from living somewhere incredible and doing something that I loved. A big house with a white picket fence isn’t my dream. Living in New York, living in London or Paris or Rome, that is my dream. Yet, what are the chances that I could get a career in the arts that would still pay rent on an apartment and cover heating, plus food and clothes and maybe a bike or subway pass? I feel pretty much doomed (well, I can actually think of a much better word than “doomed,” but this being an educational blog and all…). A businessperson, a doctor, or a lawyer can make money without too much trouble right out of college. Painting pictures doesn’t offer the same security. I know that I need a backup plan; I only wish I knew what that backup plan could be.

            At least I know I’m not the only one in this situation. Last weekend, five or six of my friends were sleeping over and we were watching the movie “RENT.” RENT is a musical about a group of artistic friends struggling to make it in New York in the early 1990s. As we watched, half asleep from a long week of school, the characters were singing about how hard it was to pay the bills (the lyrics went, “we’re hungry and frozen—this life that we’ve chosen”). Suddenly, my friend Rachel sat bolt upright from the couch. “Hey,” she said, “I just realized who this reminds me of. These people—they’re all of us.”

            “Oh.” I responded. “Wow. That really sucks.”

            It isn’t so far from the truth. My friends and I are artists, actors, musicians, writers. We want to live in New York in our twenties. In ten years, the run-down appartment on the TV with the moth-eaten couch and trashcan fire could conceivably be ours. In the next scene of RENT, one of the characters is playing drums on a street to pick up some change. “That’s me!” says my friend Neil triumphantly. Neil’s a singer, and a great one, but who knows if he’ll be able to make a living doing what he loves. How will any of us make enough doing what we love? Sucessful creative careers are so hard to come by because art, music, and theatre—though vital to our culture—are more expendable than jobs in business, medicine, and law. No one ever died from a lack of art, after all.

            The next scene introduces the character Collins, the only member of the group that has a successful career. He offers to pay for dinner. My other friend Rachel, the only one of us with a somewhat practical plan (she’s really into business), tells us that that’s who she’ll be. “And if you guys ever need to, you know, live with me, you could all move in,” she assures us. “I woudn’t mind.”

            Who knows what our lives will hold for us after college. Perhaps the economy will improve. Perhaps our interests will change alltogether. One thing we do know, though, is that it would be better to live a purposefull, creative life in the center of the World than a dull, monotonous one in the suburbs—even if the heat in our apartment is not as present as we would like it to be.  Having a three car garage is overrated. La vie Boheme!

Independent Writing 3– How can teens save money? (This is a SERIOUSLY LONG POST. My gosh.) 1/22/09

This was actually the topic that many people wrote about last week, but I’m doing things all out of order, so I thought now was a better time than never to talk a little about being thrifty. 

            Money, especially for teenagers, is a very personal thing. To some extent, it feels like we are judged on what we can buy—the best phone, the newest ipod, the nicest clothes—and this makes things tough for any teen whose parents are struggling in the current economy. After all, it’s irritating to be that friend who declines going to movies or says no to eating out because of the cost, and right now there are more people than ever who find themselves in that situation. So what little things can students, most of whom have limited means in the first place, do to find a little more money in their pockets? It’s all about saving a little bit at a time and finding creative solutions to problems. From eating out to buying music, here are some of my ideas:

1. Eating

            Yes, I realize that being a junior and having a car and a license is pretty amazing, but it can’t be denied that with these new privileges comes an alarming cost. Besides potentially having to pay for a car, insurance, gas, or a combination of the three (everyone’s parents are different in this case, I’ve found), food is one of the biggest expenses that rides on the freedom of driving and going off campus. When I go off to eat Monday through Friday I can easily spend thirty dollars on lunch alone, an enormous amount compared to what I spent freshman year (two dollars for a lunch in the Commons—such innocent times).

             Many people will say that, to save money, an upperclassman should bring a lunch to eat at or buy a school lunch. I say, let’s be realistic. Juniors and seniors are not going to abandon the freedom of leaving the school just to repeat the monotony of hours spent in the Commons. There are smarter ways to save money and still feel full and happy. One option is for students to go to places with large portions, like Chipotle, and split a meal with a friend. I’m being honest when I say that I rarely eat more than half of those monstrous burritos, and I know very few people who could finish one, so sharing makes perfect sense. This way, we don’t waste food, and we halve the cost. Sounds good to me.

            There are countless other things one can do to save on food costs. Students with two off hours could bring a snack to eat during one free period, therefore eliminating the need to go off both hours (this saves gas money, too). Or, why not just go to a friend’s house and cook up something delicious? Alternatively, go to a grocery store and buy snacks in bulk that will that a long time. Lunch doesn’t have to singularly mean Chipotle, Anthony’s Pizza, or Taco Bell. Pretty soon, eating cheap will be easy.

2. Buying Clothes

            I know how it is. Now matter how broke one might feel, no matter how small the last paycheck felt, it can be so tempting to, say, shop for new clothes online at midnight. Or to pop into the mall “just to window shop” and come out with more than the idea of that really cute sweater. And every time I buy something I always think to myself, “What are you doing? Why did you buy that? You have no money!” Blah. Buying new things is fun, but being broke is not. Luckily, there are some ways to get a lot for only a little.

            One of my favourite things to do is to shop at thrift stores. ARC, Goodwill—they get a bad rep, but I’ve found some amazing things there. There was this dress, for instance, that was ten dollars, and it said on the tag that it was made in 1910. I don’t know if I’m ever going to wear it, but you have to admit that’s beside the point. I found a skirt from the 1960s with a hound’s-tooth pattern for six dollars, too, and I actually wear it.  If you can navigate around the shoulder pads and light-wash jeans from the 80s and dodge the underwear and shoe section (disturbing, really), there are some amazing deals. I don’t know about Goodwill, but ARC has half-off sales all the time. Always a plus.

            If you can’t stand the thought of wearing clothes that have been on someone else, than try somewhat cheap but cutting-edge stores like Forever21. I bought my homecoming dress there for nineteen dollars, no joke. Also, buy basics like t-shirts or tank tops more often than particular pieces like patterned tops or skirts. You can wear solid, basic things more often without getting sick of them. What else can one do to save money? Trade clothes with friends. It sounds weird, I know, but it’s completely free, and it’s especially convenient if said friends go to a different school—no one will ever know. I’ve been giving my cousin clothes that I’ve grown sick of since I was five, and she’s never complained.

3. Music

            Itunes is expensive, man. So are CDs. I realize that musicians need to make a living too, but I have a hard time getting excited about paying one dollar per song when the stock market is crashing around us.

            There are better ways to get new music. The best method, I think, is burning CDs and then sharing them with friends. Blank CDs are not that expensive, and each disk can hold about twenty songs. If everyone in a group of friends burns albums for one another, everyone saves money. Plus, one gets a variety of music tastes on his or her ipod. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of techno, even for a classic rock fan.

            In addition to that, it’s a good idea to check the library before going out and buying a new CD. Front Range Library has a lot of classic rock and probably a lot of other genres too, and it’s easy and free (and ethical too, I’m pretty sure) to download a checked-out CD onto itunes before returning it. And then—yes!—you have that music forever. Score.

            These methods, though requiring a bit of creativity and thinking outside of the norms, can end up saving lots of money. Of course, having to cut back on these little luxuries is far from a serious problem, no matter how irritating it can be. Eating at home instead of Chili’s on a Friday is nothing compared to the stress and pressures that family arguments about finances can bring, and that is what many teens are dealing with. To put things into perspective, plenty of families out there are struggling to make rent, to clothe their children, or to buy food. Things are pretty bad for a lot of people, a fact that many of us at Legacy have a hard time recognising because of our school’s demographics. If you find yourself with an extra twenty dollar bill every once and a while, consider donating it to a foundation that helps out kids or single parents. It’s also not a bad idea to take out old clothes, furniture, and books and donate them to a charity like ARC. I mean, in times like these, why not exercise some compassion? Giving feels good, and knowing that someone was helped out by donated goods can feel even better than seeing that new movie. Ultimately, I think that as a nation we can get out of this economic crisis faster by helping those who need it. And if we can save a little money along the way by being a little smarter, well, that’s awesome. 

Independent Writing 2 (or really, 1 for me, because I didn’t do the last one)–Why I don’t like skiing 1/15/09

This weekend, my mom, my dad, my brother, and I went to Keystone for a little skiing adventure. We stayed in a condo Friday night, the best part of which was the heat lamp in the bathroom and the satelite dish TV. We started at eight-thirty in the morning, putting on every layer of fleece, wool, and water-proof gore-tex we could scrape up, layering mittens over turtleneck sleeves (“you can always take it off but you can’t put it on,” my mother is fond of saying) and ski pants over ski socks and into ski boots. Clumsy with out newfound load, we waddled and stumbled over ice and through brown slush until we reached the base, where we were greeted with the rest of humanity. I strapped heavy skis into heavy boots, nearly losing my family in the process in a crowd of neon 80s snowsuits. The chairlift loomed before us, a monster of polyester and iron, and before we knew it we were sitting on it. It whisked us up the mountain, through blowing snow and tall pine trees. It was kind of pretty. It was really cold. “We don’t need the safety bar,” my dad said.

          When we got up to the top, well, each was on his own. There was no time to pause before the blustery mountain, poles in hand, and think, “why am I doing this?” There was no answer to that question, and besides, taking the time to think about it depleted time that could be spent doing a variety of activities, preferably those not enjoyed at the top of a montain. So, I tore down the hill, skidding over ice and through powder (my thighs screaming in protest), around bare patches and slower skiers (“whoa there,” a man exclaimed; I think I whacked him with my pole) until finally reaching the bottom of the run. Here is where the information is midleading. I hear “bottom,” I think, “we’re done!” but, no. It is not the end. It isn’t even the bottom, more like the middle, and before I can even open my mouth to complain we’re up the chairlift again, sailing through snow (the wind has picked up) until we stop and swing on the spot; once again, my dad has no need of the safety bar. Across from the lift, fifty feet up in the air, I see that someone has tossed a pair of swim trunks into the branches. I’m too cold to appreciate the irony. The ride is long; the lift passes out of the treeline, into some kind of frozen tundra, like Mars, like the Moon. The chairlift dumps us at the top (I wanted to stay on it, but apparently that isn’t allowed) and circles back toward the bottom without a care for other skiers or trees or rocks. I watch it go. We repeat the process; I hit a stump and lose both skis. I won’t bore anyone with the details.

          After about five cycles of this, my family decides that it’s about time to call it a day, and we lumber back towards our rented condo, ski boots feeling like lead encasing our feet. After eating chili for dinner (what else does one eat when they ski, honestly?) my brother tenetively brings up the idea of night skiing. I immediately develop a massive headache and, regretfully, have to pass.

          Skiing. It’s not as fun as I make it sound. More expensive, too.