I found myself wondering, not for the first time, whether my house had been a rushed job. The chipped bathtub, the stair rail that had been sagging threateningly, the cracks in the ceiling, the uneven toilet paper dispenser—all in a house that had been less two years old when my family moved in. I found my suspicions confirmed when the door to the master bedroom fell off its hinges—rather, one of its hinges.

My mother pondered. My sister stared vacantly. They both turned and looked at me expectantly.

I had already used what little spackling compound the last family had left behind to patch holes in the unfinished-looking closet under the stairs. Rather than visit my neighborhood home improvement store, I drummed my fingers on my cheek as I tried to think of an easier solution. When the door hinges creaked, I had used baby oil instead of grease—I could certainly find a fitting substitute for spackle

So the first time, I tried caulking. It was sturdy, relatively long lasting, and dried white. It worked for all of three days before falling apart. Plan B. I had no Plan B. I had expected Plan A to work.

In a moment of desperation, I thought of blasting the hole in wall with glue and waiting for it to dry. Then I remembered reading in the newspaper that baking powder and glue or toothpaste could easily patch up small cracks in the wall. I was not about to try filling a hole the size of a golf ball with my fresh mint-flavored, cavity prevention toothpaste. This cavity was too big. I checked the cupboards—we had baking soda and school glue. They would have to do.

I unscrewed the bottom hinge and most of the dried caulking came off with it. I used my eyeglass screwdriver to scrape the rest of it out. I stuffed the wall full of my strange new mixture, which was already starting to cake up, and left it to dry overnight, using packaging foam to keep the door from swinging on one hinge. The next morning, I screwed the hinge back in and was delighted to find that the new wall was as hard as the old one had ever been. But I kept the packaging foam in place.

Now, nearly four months later, the packaging foam is gone but the door is still up. But that top hinge has been looking squeaky lately …

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Easter's Blog: http://www.livejournal.com/users/happyeaster/

posted - 10:46 PM

There is no one Mr. Krone-Schmidt reminds me so much of as James Caviezel. Perhaps Caviezel is more attractive, a better actor, and a generally worthier object of idolatry, but the resemblance is there.

In my humble opinion, Caviezel usually delivers a solid, moving performance that contributes to the overall quality of the movie. I never notice him, even as the main character, but that fortunately does not change the excellence of his acting.

Krone-Schmidt serves as an effective foil for the smoldering sexuality Not quite the image I was striving for of Hayden Schneider’s Hal Carter. The physical disparities in themselves were successful in conveying the reasons for Madge’s infatuation with Hal and not Alan, but Krone-Schmidt carried the reality further with more subtle indications. His disintegration, from the educated son of the richest man in town who knows he’s the perfect to-be son-in-law to a disillusioned young man who realizes all that he is and has accomplished means nothing to the woman he loves, who prefers a husky ne'er-do-well to him, is riveting to watch.

When Krone-Schmidt first walks into Picnic, swaggering in his quieter way, he has everything in the world. He speaks with filial affection to Annie Fernandez’s Flo Owens, and brotherly fondness to Jennifer Kang’s Millie Owens. But his “eyes lit up,” so to speak, when he saw Chasta Nechvatal’s Madge Owens. The politeness gave way to love and pride, love because that is what he feels for Madge, and pride because she is so beautiful, and completely his. Well, that’s about to change.

As played by Krone-Schmidt, Alan appears to be the most human, the most realistic character. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly how he expresses these qualities to the audience, but he does. The way Krone-Schmidt comported himself with these three women clearly demonstrated his thoughts on each. A straightening of posture and careful attention for Fernandez, bending lower and smiling indulgently for Kang, and a transformation of being for Nechvatal.

If there is such a thing as responsible passion, then Krone-Schmidt has it bad there has to be a better way to say this for Nechvatal. When Schneider interrupts a ... ahem … private moment, the expression of mixed annoyance at Schneider and yearning to continue what he has with Nechvatal is perfect.

When he was first reunited with Schneider, the man-to-man talk was utterly hilarious. He, the sensible, reliable college man, giggling with a shirtless guy about Schneider’s unfortunate robbery by girls, was, I thought, extremely well done. Underneath that suit might be a great bod—I mean—a mischievous boy, adding another facet to Alan’s character other than that of the stable, I-will-probably-be-dumped-even-though-I’m-blond boyfriend.

I wrung my hands in sympathy and my nose in irritation as an abject Krone-Schmidt somberly entered and asked to speak with Nechvatal. His subdued strength as the wronged boyfriend came across superbly. As Kang confesses her illicit passion (actually just a girlish crush) for him in what could have been a silly and awkward scene, Krone-Schmidt takes the news quietly, maintaining the tension and adding to it another component. He was probably thinking, “At least somebody likes me.” I liked him!—his performance, of course. Keep my personal opinions to myself, please.

The audience can experience the conflicting emotions in him: loyal, frustrated love for Nechvatal, and a newfound hatred and jealousy for Schneider—that lasted for five seconds, the duration of the time he first looked at his once-friend after Revelations. Afterwards, it was the good guy who is a great good but not a good bad. That’s not good. Neither are these snapshot sentences.

The weakest part of Krone-Schmidt’s performance came, I felt, when Schneider confronted him about his lying to the police. Again, I’ll protest that I was not in a desirable position as regards to my seating, so I did not receive the maximum benefits of seeing him 3D. I can only surmise that his anger must have been wholly on his face, because the rest of his body did not demonstrate the range of emotion I had become accustomed to. Until he began accusing Schneider of pretty much ruining his life and dreams of happy matrimony with Nechvatal, I couldn’t see or feel that he was angry. This was probably a cheap complaint.

For the first time, the greatest strength of his performance, the natural fluidity of his movements, faltered and even looked faintly contrived as he pushed and shoved at the rock-solid wall that was Schneider. He huffed, and he puffed, and he fell down.

If I sound sarcastic concerning Krone-Schmidt’s considerable dramatic gifts or qualities, I apologize because in truth his performance rent my susceptible heart. The look on his face when Schneider beat him to a grease spot on the floor was painful, especially from my disadvantageous view of the back of his head. (Darn the people in the middle seats and their unhindered sight of the stage!) But what I mean is that his body language, the way he slowly got to his feet, unable to look at Nechvatal after being soundly trounced in front of her, said it all.
Despite the merriment of Keri Werlinch’s Rosemary impromptu marriage to Alex Choi’s Howard Bevans and the resulting titters of the audience, the mirth of the play is tempered by Nechvatal leaving her home to be with Schneider. The Pulitzer-prizewinning play "Picnic" captured our hopes of what we want, what we never had, and what we never will. I sound like the voice on a movie trailer.

On a lighter note, I’m unsure of who is the bigger loser, Krone-Schmidt’s character of Choi’s, one who lost the girl (such a girl!), the other who got her (what a woman!).

Choi looks lost, in a funny stupefied way, when next to Werlinich, who overwhelms his settled middle-aged state in matrimony. He looks lost when he sees Chasta Nechvatal as beautiful Madge and ruefully accepts that he’s no great catch. And finally, he looks so lost—behind his makeup. What a lot of blush! The effect is sidesplitting.

Keri … must not … mention … Keri …

Werlinich simply glinted with frantic brilliance. The projected image of stuffy schoolteacher quickly surrendered to the reality of an aging woman who is desperate to find meaning in her life and seeks it in marriage. It was nearly impossible to imagine the glowing, lovely Werlinich as such a character, but with her acting I managed, just barely. It was very hard.

It is soon made clear that her high-nosed disapproval of the vigorous Schneider only masks a fear of her own youth slipping away. Unlike Krone-Schmidt, who floors me with a lift of his blond eyebrow, Werlinich favors the dramatic—expansive movements and a voice that runs the gamut from low and despairing to frenzied and high-pitched.

Martin Victorio, who played Bomber the dynamite-throwing newspaper boy, was such a loud, cowardly cartoon that he had me in hysterical tears.

At the moment when the lights dimmed and Nechvatal paused on the steps as she heard the train, I nearly bellowed, “Freeze, for the love of something that’ll freeze!” I sneezed instead, and people around me stared, but my focus was on the exquisite young woman with the face of Kristin Kreuk who wanted more than the town life. What a gorgeous, poignant picture.

In ending, I must extend my most sincere compliments to the talented cast and its superb director, Mrs. Krell-Oishi. Picnic was wonderfully performed, and I have only the greatest respect and admiration for those who had a part in its production. Did I overdo the plum sauce?

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Winnie's Blog - http://hicsepultus.blogspot.com/


posted - 8:23 PM

Why does everything sound so stiff and stilted? I really needed to loosen up.

Lacking proper management, today's youth may create a poor tomorrow. By means of human contact a young man is nudged in conflicting ways, and if those light touches become shoves of a bad sort, the youth can be likened to a bud that has been shredded before it has blossomed. It is imperative that at the crucial time of youth, he is shown his limits in detrimental areas and loosely but surely led to the constructive aspects of life. This sympathetic supervision can be offered in a positive teacher-student relationship occurring in a school setting. "...occurring in a school setting." Who says that? The teacher allows the student to fulfill his potential by providing ample space for the growing of his faculties, and in return the student gives to the teacher the respect and deference due to his advanced experience.

A teacher has a tremendous impact on the educational experience of a student, possibly determining whether it be rewarding or a trial. A good teacher is supple in his methods and inflexible in his goals, accommodating the student in such a way as will elicit the most mental profit specifically for the one to whom he is imparting knowledge. He will encourage the student not to deflect information back but to absorb, process, and make it his own by drawing his own conclusions. Truly interested in the progress of the student, the teacher is unaffected and refrains from condescension, realizing that the learning path is equally significant to the final destination–that of wisdom. By his character and actions the teacher exudes a sense of direction, a purpose to what he does, and communicates that motivation to the student.

When a student is acknowledged to be a capable, albeit not fully mature, individual, to keep the good opinion of an esteemed mentor he will strive to become the image a brighter future promises him he will be. The student sees in the teacher qualities he himself would like to possess, such as patience, kindness, tolerance if not support, fairness, and a confident buoyancy that permits him to survive any hardship; even more importantly, to him the teacher is a human being whose aim is not to make him suffer but to guide him to look beyond recognized horizons. At encounters the student will bring a receptive mind and an optimistic attitude to complement the teacher's enthusiasm and love for his subject. Through this interaction the student will gradually find his values apart from that of the teacher and continue to grow independently of formal aid. A very boring person this student would turn out to be.

The compassion of a teacher for the human frailties of his student far surpasses the support a poster on the wall could provide, or any other unreachable model the student may have chosen. Depending on the class, a teacher is in a position to know the workings of the youthful mind by its physical productions and with that familiarity decide how best to assist him in development. To the student, a teacher is a responsible adult, separate from the intimacies of relation and yet near enough to understand the difficulties of emerging into maturity. With the teacher as a listening counselor, the student's needs are being appropriately expressed before they metamorphous into monstrous, unsolvable barriers obstructing a healthy and full life.

It would be unkind, if not cruel, to consent to dilatory and reckless behavior on the part of the youth. Better to discipline the delinquent now than later, when the employer will not be so forgiving as a restrained teacher. The role of the teacher is not merely to educate academically but also, in addition to the parents, act to build character and move such tendencies as speaking when others have already begun, to a more suitable vocation, as in a free debate. That's a lot of responsibility. Thus the student is fully armed to confront life with all it complexities, able to intelligently deal with problematic situations and, owing to his mental refinement, overcome them. This powerful arsenal will open Blast open, really numerous doors to him, and because of his teacher the former student will have attained, not the teacher's standards, but his own and become a productive member of society. And this is the ultimate goal...why?

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posted - 7:10 PM

Chains never change, only those who wear them; the chain of command, from the President to the illegal immigrant, from the World Controller to the Epilson, clanks heavily, pealing clanging louder than the bell of freedom. - Was thinking about this during the essay. Don't feel like explicating now. Not important to essay. Really, it's not.

Marks from Winnie at a later date. Please feel free to comment further on improvements. This essay (I use the term loosely) needs a lot of work on structure and form.

Existence in Aldous Huxley's Brave New World eerily echoes the life in the United States today, redolent as it is of selfishness, misguided deification, a mad scramble for artificial happiness, and a futile search for escape from it all, as shown in the attitudes toward pleasure, sex, consumerism, and drugs. This is a very long sentence. There must be a better, more concise way to say this.

First, the World State demands that everyone should empty their pockets for the frivolous and unnecessary, and the McDonaldized and Walmarted United States concurs in this objective as it loyally supports its companies, even opening "Windows" for them to the rest of the world. Convinced as they are by clever advertisers that luxuries are in fact necessities, for the duped consumers, the buying never ends. The sole purpose of commercials is to make the viewers unhappy with their current situation, and to convince them that, in order to return to their happy state or even leap to the next orbital, they must purchase the product. No transition No one should be able to do anything for himself; machines will do everything for him. People, of course, will not mind the less work as they are wholly occupied with the exhausting pursuit of indulgence. In the competitive arena of the market today, the compelling evidence of music artist Shakira swigging strange verb a bottle of Pepsi convinces us that we too should swallow the drink. That this makes no sense, that there exists no plausible connection between Shakira and Pepsi means no difference, because the point is to feel, not think-appreciation of her beauty for men, and jealousy of it for women. Build more on this idea Whatever the evoked sensation, people will buy because they are stimulated. Hypnopædia eliminates the need for advertisement as the desired result of people endlessly buying for no reason has already been attained to brilliant perfection. The manufacturers of acetate mean for it not to last; utterly impractical, it bears an uncanny resemble in sheer purposeful uselessness to the creations of famous designers who drape their fabrics on Hollywood's willing victims. Make more obvious that these are examples The bike has become an obsolete mode of transportation for the growing child and has "scooted" over for a certain motorized mini-vehicle. Whenever one visits the Hewlett Packard or Dell computer site, an upgrade link lingers invitingly in the corner. More space, more memory, better graphics and sound-the limit yawns far away. Tie back to more buying While the World State frowns on improvement and focuses on the maintenance of the present condition, its relentless clamoring for the consuming of clothes and transport ends on the same note of "a thriving economy." All this constant taking and grabbing has an unremarkable aim, mainly one's personal happiness, or the temporary and counterfeit achievement of it. Why does the government want this, or does it?

Next, even as citizens of the World State use casual sex as an immediate satiation of their desires, people in the U.S. are increasingly fixated on sex-casual or based on ignorant idolatry. Images of celebrities and models in "sexy" poses are plastered on shiny plastic poster reminders of sex, as obvious a sign as a condom but more alluring. Too flippant? The World State ordains that relationships must be temporary and based only on physical lust; hence, human beings are treated as meat to be devoured and not sentient creatures to be cherished. Life is a great feast, and people of the World State gulp it down rapidly and shallowly so as not to savor the bites. Americans concentrate on the outward beauty, the quick excitement of sexual arousal rather than the slower-to-build, longer-to-endure This was a very long description appreciation of intellect and mutual companionship, and the intrinsic value of being human vanishes How is this important? Tie back. People of the World State are mere objects, important while they are considered useful and even artificially altered so that they always contribute to the needs of Society, as decided by the State government for the duration of their shortened lives. Correspondingly, even as we shower monetary reverence on those people armed with never-meant-to-released "personal" home videos (Paris Hilton), talented public relations men, and even a modicum of sexual appeal, we essentially treat them as things to talk over and talk about. The pedestal on which we have placed them, by our own magic of false worship, shoots up into the sky like Jack's beanstalk, far beyond our reach. The highly stratified World State needs no publicity for the virtues of the higher castes, and they with all of the intellectually limited Society, pant the question, "What was sex with the Savage like?" The "hotness" of today's youths is not a matter of life and death-it is far more serious than that. The eagerly awaited, if dubiously created, lists of "The World's Most Beautiful People" and polls on the sexiness of men and women, disregarding character, actions, and personal acquaintance, indicate U.S. society's obsession with appearances and the importance of the exterior-the significance being namely sex. More in-depth on what we depend on to make us act the way we do

Finally, people of the U.S. today use drugs to relieve their stresses and troubles, and those of the World State take soma for the same, albeit muted reasons. From the innocuous Tylenol to the pain-relieving marijuana, drugs provide an outlet from reality and its aches. It may be surprising that, based on the hedonistic life the World State citizens lead, they might have problems, enough so they must leave the unpleasant world for soma holidays. It will be an earth-shattering shock that we, the fruit of a thriving democracy, the gleaming citadel on the hill, the deserving rulers of the earth in an ironically egalitarian society, could possibly manage to be unhappy enough to destroy our lungs-not to mention our breath-with smoking and our liver with alcohol. Drugs alter our moods, manipulate our feelings, and perhaps eventually, corrode our character. The people of the World State experience no physical pains; soma guarantees their mentally oblivious compliance with the wishes of Authority. America definitely doesn't use drugs for this purpose. In addition to using drugs for medicinal purposes, people of today also take them to escape a terrible world, often of their own making. That's very judgmental What we and the World State's people want are the profits bereft of penalties. When in the frenzied, euphoric madness of sex, violence, and drugs, we break our lives into slivers and fragments. Often we run and let others be cut as they "pick up the pieces" in our stead. This avoidance of responsibility creates the need for the gateway to flight, and many times, yet more drugs become that door, ever-open and ever-widening, tempting people to enter a place without sacrifices or mortal agony. The stresses of today's fast-paced life grind people's faces into the granite floor of failure, and they would rather fly away on drugged carpets, their cotton shields held up defensively to soak up blood. Way too much imagery/conflicting metaphor. Stick to one idea or it makes no sense. Numbed with the mindless pleasures of soma, World State chooses to forgo joy and the worship of God so that it might not experience devastation or Hell on earth. Some kind of literary/historical reference might help here Similarly, passion for worldly material so consumes us that, like ants, we cannot see much higher than the ground; we have lost sight of the loftier planes and the greater heavens. The Brave New World does not acknowledge death with respect, or life with veneration for the precious quality it is. In essence, humanity has been pummeled to unconsciousness by a void to make way for nothing. Clarify the conclusion sentence so ties back better

A Tower of Babel stands today and in Brave New World as a symbol of defiance against God; the steps ascend to mediocre, "imbecilic happiness." Tower of Babel also stands for individuality. The ladders of faith are burnt to ash; the only prospect for most is to "get high," be it from pleasure, consumerism, sex, or drugs, and float like a released balloon, up, up, up, to the very turrets of Babel but no further; heaven eludes us. Need better reason for citing Tower of Babel In our wooing of the World, we find ourselves irrevocably wedded to it. Elaborate more on this idea The World State can be likened to a time-tarnished reflection of an age that Americans, in the Sonic Boom of self-absorbed irresponsibility, are fast approaching. Uh oh. I'm going to fail this essay.

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posted - 4:46 PM