Day 2: A Start

Day 2: A Start

Max was in the middle of trying to explain to his parents that he and Harold needed this trip.

“Mom you don’t understand, I am going crazy here, seeing the same depressing thoughts day after day, I need to see depressing thoughts of ALL shapes and sizes if I am going to do something amazing.”

“Max,” Said Claire (his mother), “you know that doesn’t even make a tiny shred of sense. You have a duty here, a responisblity.”

Max could tell she was not buying it, “what responsibility? I’m not Buffy and I don’t go around using my powers to save lives. Jeez you were my age once, all I am trying to do is get away for a bit, I’ll be back before school even starts and you and Dad can have the house for yourselves.”

Max’s father was part of the council dedicated to making sure that Max’s golden eyes were never put in danger. In retrospect it was not a good idea for him to leave without his father knowing, but Max was determined to find his heart out on the road. He had no idea how but he could feel his destiny calling to him. Like a soft breeze in a hurricane, just distinct enough for only him to make out. Later the next day Max and Harold piled into Harold’s old mustang and headed for the highway. They were headed for Nevada, for particular reason than to head for Nevada.

“Max promise you will call when you get where you are going.” Says Claire as she contemplates the stupid decision of letting her psychic son take a road trip with his best friend.

“I have no idea where we are going mom, but I promise to call you when something horrible happens,” Max smiled at his mother, who obviously did not appreciate his dark humor, and the two boys took off. They had nothing but the wind in their hair, and map of the states, and a collection of clothes and electronics stuffed into their suitcases in the backseat.

Harold was taking the first shift at driving and looked over at Max who was pouring over the map trying to get a feel for any place that stood out to him. Max look at the map imagine the lives of all the people living in the U.S. Their worlds all visible to him, their thoughts transparent and their minds open. He wondered if this is what God felt like, being able to look down knowing that any knowledge that others could possibly hide in the mist of their minds is yours.

“No,” He quickly thought out loud, “there’s no way god would ever look into anyone’s mind for no reason, too much dark shit amist all the fluff.”
           

Harold gave his friend a quick look over. “Jesus Max, can you at least wait until we are in the countryside to do the whole deep revelation thing? We don’t your brain exploding before this trip of ours even starts…”

Something New

The Micro Adventures of Maximus Eaves

(So during senior year of High School I had this plan to start a play…and well nothing exactly worked out. I had the idea but not the time or the skill. And now I am planning to write out a much bigger project. But I still love the idea I had, about a Boy named Maximus who has been gifted with the ability to see what others are thinking. It was a gift passed down through a royal bloodline and he is now the golden boy of his family. Only problem is, he feels incredibly depressed because he can see the honest version of the world around him and he hates what he sees. So along with his best friend/ semi-servant Harold West the two tackle everyday life through the lens of truth, in order to find so resemblance of Sanity in a dark world. So yeah, this is my writing practice. Bam.)

Day 1: Something new

          “two months…it’s been two months and is still have no idea what is happening”. Max stared out into the bay from atop the green bench that was at the end of a long walking path that started from Max’s local park. It had become his place of solitude when he was done pretending to be like other normal teens and could just rant about all the irrelevant details of life that plagued his mind on a daily basis. “Ernie,” Max said referring to the semi-polluted body of water he had grown close to, “Why is it that I can’t just be a superhero like other teens with powers? I mean I have no idea how useful I would be in the field as a mind reader, but granted im a go-getter, and I think given the chance I could be something more…dynamic than the ‘Golden Boy’.” In Max’s family line the Golden boy was chosen due to their ability to physically see the inner thoughts and intentions of others, and all of Max’s life he had been closely guarded so his power is not abused by some outside force.

“Ahh so here you are, I was starting to think that you had actually run off for good this time,” stated a mysterious voice that approached Max as he was horizontally laid out on the bench.

“Shove it Harold, if you were called to find me by my parents or some crap like that I’m not interested. Its summer and I plan on doing absolutely nothing as long as I possibly can.” Max shifts to make room for Harold on the bench, knowing full well his best friend would never sell him out.

“Well then I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in all this glorious junk-food I brought,” Replied Harold in a devilish voiced as he took out double-bacon cheeseburgers and curly friends from a large brown paper bag. Max turned to his friend, quickly taking a portion of the food for himself.

“Damn you Harold, my one weakness” Max sighed as Harold sat down next to him. “What are we doing man, two months into what will be our last summer before our final year of high school and we have done next to nothing.”

“Nothing?!,” Harold cried, “You know damn well that’s not true. In these past few months we have reunited a homeless man with his long lost daughter, helped the police find the hideout of a convicted serial rapist,  assisted our local youth center in creating a summer program that does not strain the city’s budget to heavily, and rescued a little girl’s puppy from the death of a speeding minivan.”

          “Ahh…yes the minivan, I think that may be my proudest moment yet, but we need to do more that. We need something bigger, something that will keep us occupied, something new..” Max said, lost in deep thought.

“Well my good sir what do you have in mind?” Harold was amused now, Max was not neccesarliy known for having thoughts on the level of a normal human being.

“Hmm…I think it is time for a road trip Harold, time to pack up and find something that will really wet our fancy, you have exactly one week to think about it.” Max then finished his food rapidly, jumped up from the bench, and proceeded to run home to inform his parents of his next micro-adventure.

Reflection For a Dance Class

So I did an Exercise where I just started writing, I tried not the think and just released how I felt into words. Hope it works.

     As we push along in the semester I find myself wondering am I actually improving in my dance ability and I question my own growth as a dancer. The class is wonderful but I have a tendency to interrogate all of my actions to the point where there are times that I completely ignore any talent that I might have acquired in a certain field. With Dance however it is different. With you are playing music and you miss a note, you know exactly what you did wrong and can correct the source of your error before you play again. With dance you can listen to a song for 3 hours straight trying to make a routine and nothing will click. This has always been my challenge. I am a very confident freestyle dancer but my skills do not hold when I am told to make a piece that requires structure. So throughout these two months I have imeresed myself in trying to make choreography without simply making stuff up. At first it was terrible, I could not adjust to the idea of structure and I hated myself for not being good enough. However after reading Art and Fear and starting Wild Minds I realized that I have been fighting someone else’s battles. In the words of the author of Wild Mind, “Some people are stalkers and some people are dreamers.” I have discovered finally that I am a dreamer.

            Structure is nice and what have you but when it comes to my mind I think in color. There is never a straight path in my life because there are so many things I want to do, and this is reflected in my dance. So I tried this. In class I did not think about trying to contain myself, instead I let myself go and do what I do best, but I simply did bigger moves at certain parts and smaller moves at other parts. To my surprise I could remember a dance better when I do not try and plot out everymove, for that is not how I learn in general. I have to shotgun information and stimuli and then choose whatever works best for me. This seems like common sense but nowadays our generation is not given enough room to creatively breath, we are told that the world is order and structure so we are taught in that fashion. Being a dancer who loves freedom but thinks in a foreign concept is extremely frustrating to say the least. Now for the first time I feel like I have a chance to make or make something beautiful, something worthwhile that tells people who I am and how far I have come as a dancer and a person. This is the reason I chose to study dance in college, this very class, so that I could be surrounded by people who have found their way, and also others who were still lost like me. It makes all the difference to not just be in a class where a professor lectures and occasionally makes jokes to keep the class awake. Hands on experience and the opportunity to be able to make a mistake without it affecting my final grade is just…unreal.

            We spend so much of our day just thinking. Thinking about work we have to do or the jobs we have to perform, and it seems we never take the time to just live. Not like partying your heart out and screaming YOLO at the top of your lungs, but just dancing or singing for the heck of it. The most creative things happen we do not want them too, because the world rewards those we take their time and do not try and force a masterpiece out of themselves for no reason. I am starting to see just how capable I am, not just as a dancer but as a human being. So I will continue to dance, and make pieces, and write, and enjoy myself, because that’s how my creative mind functions. Through my readings and the experience I have had in Dan 278 i have taken time to appreciate the little details that dancers cannot be taught. The feel of a certain move, the joy of making something unique, and the pain of a dance not being the way you wanted it fueling you to do better next time.

            I had no idea how this paper would turn out, I just started writing and let my expeience lead me, which is one of the greatest lessons anyone can learn. Let your experiences lead you, because they account for a lot more than you would think. All of your anger and disappointment at yourself as well as your joy and achievement’s are all wrapped up in your experience, so letting them guide you is a skill that is irreplaceable. I dance not to impress, but to express and give back to the world that has allowed me to grow into who I am. So as we push along in this semester and I question my abilities as a dancer I will allow myself to indulge in my past experiences and learn from them, so I can become the dancer and person I want to be.