Scales are among the most important tools in the toolbox of any musician, especially if that musician plays jazz. On the first day I went to jazz band, I worried about how I would fare in the context of a large band like that. Jazz is a very active kind of music. Jazz isn’t like rock and roll or pop, although it did represent the popular music of its time. Jazz requires an immense understanding of music in general, whether that be by feeling or by textbook knowledge. One has to be able to play the wrong notes correctly while also playing the correct notes in the right context. One of the easiest ways to do this is through scales. If I know the scale that a jazz chart generally follows, I don’t necessarily need to know the notes and I can follow however I feel the music should go. In jazz band, I play the bass guitar, and I had never played jazz before or even read music with the bass. I had played both the electric guitar and the bass guitar in bands previously, but neither of those required that I actually knew notes or understood music theory. As such, I walked into our first jazz rehearsal completely clueless. Never had I been in a band that required that I know the arpeggios of different chords. It’s worth mentioning that the bass guitar is not an instrument that is prone to soloing in a jazz band because its role is primarily to keep the rhythm of the band along with the piano. The bass can’t solo because whoever is soloing needs the rhythm that the bass provides. Yet, there was one time, during a song called “Blue Monk” by Thelonious Monk, that I got to solo. Mr. Felver called out my name. “What do I play?” I asked. “B flat blues scale!” Mr. Felver called out. These were words I recognized. Scales were the most important tools that I knew for soloing on a guitar, and a bass is just a guitar with only four strings. So, using the same tuning as a guitar, I was able to play the blues scale and say that I successfully played a blues solo in key. Word Count: 375
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Since the introduction of video games into popular culture, the use of violent language has changed dramatically. Fifty years ago, it would have been very incriminating for a high school student to say that they dismantled a bomb, shot down a plane, and got thirty kills in a single night. Yet, today, this is typical language for the average teenager that plays video games, especially violent ones. As video gaming has grown to be acknowledged as a real hobby, there has risen a need to differentiate between the virtual world of a game and the real world that we live in every day. This is especially true of chaotic games such as Grand Theft Auto Five, which has reigned as one of the most popular video games since its release nearly a decade ago. With the rise of violence in video games, there has also appeared the question, “Do video games encourage violent behavior?” One of the first famous first-person shooter games, “DOOM” was released in 1993. At the time of its release, the internet was still a relatively recent addition to world culture. Thus, DOOM was reserved primarily for video game nerds and coders. However, as video games have advanced in graphics and content, such video games have skyrocketed in popularity, producing video game franchises such as “Call of Duty” and prompting DOOM to become a full-fledged franchise. Although these video games have a rating that recommends that only certain ages play them, these guidelines are very often ignored by children and teenagers that can convince their parents to allow them to play such games. As a child without such persuasive skills, I had to find other ways. To access video games above the rating level of “T for Teen,” I would exploit the advertisement tactics of game studios to play first-person shooter games despite my parents’ strict rules regarding what I was allowed to play. The first instance of this strategy introduced me to the Call of Duty series. At the time that I was entering my teenage years with a perception that I was far more mature than I actually was, Call of Duty: Black Ops 3 became free on PlayStation’s online play subscription service. I had played Black Ops 3 at friends’ houses before and there was something freeing about the style of play. This was only amplified by the widespread perception among boys that first-person shooters were cooler than calmer games like Minecraft or Sonic the Hedgehog. I downloaded the game in secret from my parents, and I quickly fell in love with a multiplayer feature that the game still remains famous for–Call of Duty: Zombies. The story of Call of Duty: Black Ops 3 Zombies was called “Shadows of Evil” and it carried a jazzy atmosphere that resembled the 1920s, although the weapons present in the game were far too advanced for it to have been in that time. The main objective of Call of Duty: Zombies has remained pretty consistent across the franchise. A group of up to four players is placed into a zombie-ridden world where they must put up barricades, defend themselves from aggressive zombies, and progress through various checkpoints across the map. These checkpoints require points, which can be gained from accomplishing the first two objectives. The zombies come in waves, and each wave of zombies is significantly more difficult than the previous one. I had been playing multiplayer video games consistently with a small group of friends that almost perfectly made up a party of four when all of us were available, but this was different. I found that it was much more likely for my friends to be available when I was asking them to play Call of Duty: Zombies. Some of the most genuine teamwork I’ve ever felt happened while I was playing shooter games. Typically, in shooter games, teammates that lose all of their health do not die, but are considered “downed.” In Call of Duty, the avatar of the player expresses this state by crawling on the ground, waiting to be revived by a teammate. Zombies do not attack downed players, making it more difficult for the other teammates to survive. Despite Call of Duty’s apparent violence and prohibition in my household, it provided me with some of the most intimate memories I have with my friends. Whether I was killing zombies with a submachine gun (and friends) or reviving my friend so we could both live to fight another day, the killing may have been fake, but the gestures, the brotherhood was real. I can still talk with my friends and ask, “Remember when we fought those banshees?” and we’ll laugh as we remember the time that Ethan accidentally started a challenge in the game that resulted in all of our deaths at the hands of an onslaught of demons. These first-person shooters allowed us to feel the bonds created by a mutual struggle without feeling any kind of suffering in the real world. Even though it gave me nightmares as a kid, Call of Duty: Zombies is partially responsible for the strength of my greatest friendships. I give Call of Duty: Zombies four stars. Word Count: 861 The following is an abridged excerpt from a story I am conceptualizing titled: “The Outlier.” I believe that it captures a moment in which a character must push past his lack of motivation to continue on his path. “But you’re almost there,” the eel’s crackling, faded voice said in Thomas’s head. He hadn’t realized that it was still there, infecting his thoughts. “Shut up,” Thomas said out loud, holding his knees to his chest in the dark comfort of the tunnel. Outside, the sound of grinding metal rang through the arena, reverberating into the walls and shaking Thomas’s very core. The mechanical basilisk slid across the stone floor, searching for any sign of human life. After a few moments, it occupied itself with the footprints of Thomas’s fallen friends, searching for vital signs that had long been exterminated. “It’s done,” Thomas said as he kicked the key further down the tunnel, plunging its golden shape into darkness. “This can all be over soon,” the eel whispered. Strangely, it didn’t sound as malicious as it had before, when he was under city control. “Just say the word,” the mechanical voice said. “Give me a minute. 60 seconds, start now…” Thomas said. “60 seconds, sta–” the voice of the eel was suddenly overtaken by radio static. “Time?” Thomas asked. “I wanted to record this in case you die before you reach the end,” headmaster’s voice came through the eel’s internal voice in Thomas’s thoughts. “I’m afraid you’ve been misled…” headmaster said, “This has not been a test for you to complete for some sense of accomplishment in our city. Should you have completed your task, you would not have gained status, glory, nor any form of riches. In fact, you would not have even been allowed back into the city with your knowledge of the outside world. To all knowledge outside of your own, you’ve been dead since you were sent away those months ago… But I know better. Which brings me to my next point. You are far from the first to undertake this mission. Many have tried before, and many have disappeared from our city just as you have. In fact, I trust that you may have met some of these outliers on your journeys outside. Truthfully, those who sent you out there have not been outside. You have been sent to explore a world we’ve long thought lost, what we once called ‘Earth.’ You were not sent to complete a test. You were sent to see if there’s still any chance left of restoration. And I speculate… that you were sent to die.” The eel’s voice returned, “Five, four, three…” “Stop count,” Thomas said, lifting his dust-marred face from his arms. “Well, look at you…” Thomas stood up, looking down the tunnel where he had kicked the key. “Still a slave to the path chosen for you?” the eel’s voice said, its malice returning. “No,” Thomas said, taking a step into the darkness. “Yet, you choose not to walk away,” the eel kept its composure, but genuine confusion could be heard in its robotic voice. “‘Before me is a choice between life and death. O, call upon these fates of chance and find for me an answer, which path leads where, which to take?’” Thomas quoted from the Archaic–the book which he had studied for years before being banished from the city in which he lived. “I know that this path has been chosen for me. I know I’m not meant to find its end.” Thomas kneeled down in the murky water that had collected in the darkness of the tunnel, splashing around with his hands as he searched for the metal frame of the key. “But if my choice is between death, a selfish act in this case, and continuing on the path I know that I’ll fail…” Thomas’s cold fingers wrapped around the key, which he triumphantly lifted from the water. “I’ll fight… but not for you,” Thomas said, speaking directly to the eel in his skull. “What point do you have if not what was given to you?” the eel replied with disdain. “I’ll fight for me…” Thomas said, standing at the edge of the tunnel, glaring down at the basilisk below him. As the beast’s glowing green eyes noticed Thomas, he readied himself, and leapt down from the tunnel. Word Count: 724 “Chat, Can you write me a story?” One of the most prominent stories on the news this past year of 2023 was the strike performed by the Writers Guild of America as well as other writing unions. This strike was started by writers to negotiate with the film industry for better pay and job security for writers, especially in the age of A.I. With the sudden rise of Artificial Intelligence utilization in the workforce, there arises the question of whether or not writers will even be useful in the near future. Can a computer write just as good, if not better, of a story than a person can? I’m here to tell you that this cannot be true. As an aspiring writer, not only do I depend on it not being true, but I cannot wrap my mind around seeing stories produced by an artificial intelligence. This is because, while a computer can compile stories and take aspects from each of them to make something new, a computer cannot create an original story with its own morals, its own emotions–its own character. By definition, modern artificial intelligence works by learning solely from that which it is fed. Now, one could argue that humans work the same way–that we are each a product of the things that we experience. By this definition, humans must only be capable of producing things that are products of things that have already been created. However, if this were true, how would anything past the simplest necessities for survival ever exist. If one needs to experience art to create art,then art could never exist in the first place. Otherwise, how else would the first productions of human art be created? Thus lies the philosophical question of whether or not A.I. can truly replicate human art and creation. An A.I. can compile the entirety of stored human records and use the information from this to create a story that meets all of the requirements for being successful. However, an artificial intelligence cannot create in the way that a human does–by combining a mixture of experiences, memories, inspirations, and emotions. I believe that there is something to our lives as humans that is greater than our current scientific knowledge can understand. Whether you wish to believe in a higher power or simply something that we haven’t discovered yet, I believe that there is a greater aspect to our being than just our mental and physical attributes, which I believe is expressed through our creations. Unless humans choose to somehow give A.I. such a similarity to humans (which would be very dangerous,) A.I. can never create something that is truly original. Therefore, A.I. will likely not have the capacity to replace human writers for a very long time. Word count: 466 Many people throughout history have perceived success as a personal endeavor of improvement only to be achieved by the most diligent and disciplined of souls. However, success has also been associated with proving oneself to be better than those who may have doubted them. This mentality, though motivating and powerful due to its tendency to be fueled by anger, can lead to disappointment later in life when that “success” has been achieved and the one proving themself is left with their goals complete–with nothing else to do. In the context of achieving success through recognition, Steve Martin’s quote–“Be so good they can’t ignore you,”--is powerful in its meaning that, to achieve success, one needs to be better than any chance of not being recognized. Yet, when taken in the context of proving oneself to be better than one’s doubters, it should also be taken with caution… Some successful people have attributed their motivation to vengeance or the idea of proving themselves to be better than any doubt that they may have received. However, it has been shown that this mindset can later lead to a sense of disconnection with the success due to the fact that it was not achieved as a result of one’s desire for betterment, but for recognition to combat the doubters of the past. Those who attribute their success to this kind of motivation may find their inflated egos to become burdens later in their lives. Nonetheless, I believe that proving doubters wrong is an important step in all kinds of success, the problem only arising if you let the desire for vengeance consume you, leading you to rash decisions and a life of anger. If you can allow the doubt to push you further without it being your main driving force, you can allow that doubt to push you further. One of the best examples of this was the pop-punk band “My Chemical Romance.” The band was formed in the early 2000s after the lead singer, Gerard Way, witnessed the terrorist attacks of September 11. Way, after witnessing the victims of the attack leaping from the burning World Trade Center, decided that he wanted to live a different life. He decided that he wanted to express the fear and despair that he felt through music. Thus, the band was formed, releasing their first album in 2002. The story of My Chemical Romance becomes relevant to the topic of revenge in their aptly named second album–”Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge” released in 2004. The album follows the story of a trapped soul doomed to wander the earth with the task of killing 1,000 evil men in order to earn back his freedom. The visceral lyrics and music of the album reflected the band’s appeal to their audience of misfits, providing an outlet for all who felt that they didn’t fit in. The most popular song from this album, titled: “I’m Not Okay,” describes the feeling of being outcast and hurt by the imposing opinions and doubts of others. The album’s vengeful character appealed to all who felt the same feeling of alienation, causing the band to experience a rapid increase in popularity and success, leaving them with the expectations for their next album… The next album provided a sense of context to the message that the band was trying to convey in its career. “The Black Parade” released in 2006, sang about a patient faced with the terror and sorrow of death as he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. This album, while carrying the visceral rage in its beginning, progressed into an anthemic realization that traveled through all five stages of grief. The Black Parade, in contrast with its previous album, was not a story of vengeance, but a story of success and growth. As the patient of the story recounts his life and all that came with it, he finds himself more driven and motivated to survive despite the hardship that has been placed upon him, not for anybody’s sake but his own. The Black Parade and its following tour revealed the lesson that the band had always been trying to teach to its audience–that the best revenge is to live well… Joseph loaded his pack, ready to continue his journey out west. He had been told of a supposed shortcut that would lead him straight to San Luces in three days flat by a fellow traveler, leading him to the path which he now traveled. Being a skilled hunter, Joseph figured that he would find no trouble in surviving out in the untamed wilderness. The first day was quiet, providing Joseph with little difficulty in the ways of navigation or survival. However, there was something quite strange about the forest which he traversed. He had walked through arachnid caverns and mythium mines without so much as a glance over his shoulder, but he couldn’t shake a feeling of dread. For there were no sounds to echo among the lonesome trees. Not a bird sang, nor a squirrel chirped, nor was there even a breeze of unusual weather. The sky looked clear, yet gray, as if the entire sky had changed colors. Joseph didn’t like the eerie aura of the woods, but he found himself brushing his worries off with a beverage he had received in a game of Rats back in Santa Santana. He put his stetson hat over his eyes and fell asleep behind a fire he had made from the still, dead wood of the trees around him. It was the night that first planted the fear in his heart… Screams and cries from the darkness crawled across his mind as they seemed to get louder and louder, filling his thoughts with horrors unimaginable. He had heard tales of terrifying beings of the night–beings that could carefully remove the skin of a human being, peeling every inch with surgical precision while the victim was still alive. He didn’t enjoy the thought. The next morning brought a new surprise. As he heard the screams from the night before getting quieter and quieter, hopefully with distance, he looked around to see unfamiliar surroundings. As he continued to look around, he saw differences… Not only in terrain, but in smell, in atmosphere. After a moment of careful consideration, he knew. He had woken up in a different place than where he had fallen asleep. Word count: 362 Throughout the history of storytelling, the most compelling of lessons have been taught through great adventures undertaken by heroes. The different types of heroes we have seen range all the way from the powerful superman to the imaginative Bastian, who went on a journey to save the NeverEnding Story. This feeling of adventure has been showcased especially in film. In fact, some of the most important, influential films showcase smaller adventures taken by ordinary people. This is why adventure films are one of the most influential genres in cinema–the movie’s ability to put us, the audience, into an adventure. Through the characters, we can learn lessons. We can feel deep emotions. We can defeat the bad guy and achieve a happy ending that may not be what we expect, but what we need. The first great film that comes to mind when I think of adventure is Richard Donner’s 1985 film, “The Goonies.” The Goonies is a wonderful story about a group of children who are faced with the terrifying prospect of being separated from their homes (and therefore, each other) due to plans for a new country club to be built where they live. One day, as the group of young adventurers is looking in the attic of the protagonist(Mikey), they find an old treasure map from an old pirate known as “One-Eyed Willy.” The group follows the map to hopefully find treasure that can be used to pay whatever the cost is to keep their home. This story provides a wonderful vehicle for beautiful messages of friendship, truth, and bravery. Not only does the story do phenomenally at providing the perspective of a group of young teenagers, but it shows a wonderful maturity in the characters when they are faced with challenges that they know could lead to their death. Above all, this movie is a wonderful benchmark for what many would call a perfect adventure movie due to the brave, adventurous spirit shown in each of the characters. The bravery of the characters when faced with dire situations allows the audience to translate this bravery into their own lives with their own challenges and adventures. Adventure movies mainly consist of a somewhat ordinary character who is somehow called to action because of a secret skill that they hold. The protagonist is typically a “Chosen One” of sorts. The audience can then relate to this character as each of us feels like the protagonist of our own story. Each of us is waiting for our call to adventure–something that will take us away from the monotony of life and into a world of fun, diversity, and peril. Adventure movies often provide this escape, encouraging us all to find the adventure in our own lives and seize the day. Word Count: 461 It is often said that practice makes perfect. I do not believe this to be true. However, I do believe that practice allows for a personal connection between the practice and the one practicing. To be able to do something consistently every day for the sole purpose of improving one’s skill in that thing can be a liberating experience, especially when that practice pays off. In order to reach this point of freedom through practice, consistency is key. Every day, when I arrive home from the day’s activities, the first thing that I see upon entering my room is my guitar–a Fender Bullet Stratocaster with a HSS pickup configuration. When my father first bought it for me about four years ago, it cost us about $150 (which is very cheap for an electric guitar). Since buying it, I have replaced the strings with those of a higher gauge and quality, improving the sound output of the instrument. Despite the relative quality of this guitar, it feels more like home than any other instrument that I have ever played. Through years of practice and dedicated passion, I have honed my skills and playing style to fit the music that I want to create. The guitar (which I often call “The Squier”) is placed right beside the desk that I typically work at. It is out in the open on a stand so that it can be easily accessible, leading me to pick it up every day. I stand up to allow the Squier to hang below my waist from a long strap that goes over my shoulder. The practice begins with a tuning session–starting with my trained ears before moving to a tuning machine for extra precision. On the occasion that I practice with an amplifier, you would be able to hear me if you were present. I would warm up with a few power chords–likely the beginning chords of a Green Day song or “Spiderwebs” by No Doubt. After I finish that, I would let the guitar take me where it wants to go in terms of music that I already know. The guitar listens to me. It feels me. It knows me better than any person could. I do not choose to play a song that I like. The guitar knows what I like and, in combination with how I feel, simply makes sounds that please me. If I am sorrowful, the guitar arpeggiates and slowly strums, while anger prompts the powerful punk riffs that resonate through my body, being expressed through a dance. Occasionally, I’ll sing. You may hear the sounds that I make and wince, should you dislike the kind of music that my guitar enjoys. The Edge always used to say that every instrument has songs locked within it, and it is up to the artist to find these songs. While I have yet to find all of the songs locked away in the Squier,the practice allows me to explore it. I may not know how to find the songs yet, but practice will act as the map. The more that I practice, the clearer the map is and the closer I get to finding self-expression. word count: 531 This week will be the first Cross Country meet with Ripon High that I will be in attendance of. Thus, I will get my first chance this school year to wear the Ripon Cross Country jersey, showing that I am a part of the team and that I am willing to represent that team at all times when wearing this jersey. As Coach Mcpherson made clear to us when we received the jerseys, we wear our school’s name across our chests and down our backs. So, if we do anything stupid, people will know where we are from. I’ve always found the idea of a jersey interesting since I first received one in recreational soccer when I was in third grade. I decided to join a soccer team because everyone at my school knew how to play soccer. Soccer was the “cool thing” that all of the elementary school boys wanted to be a part of–that I wanted to be a part of. Receiving that red jersey gave me a feeling of belonging–a feeling that, because I dressed like my team, I was a part of that team. The feeling didn’t last. I was one of the less-skilled members of the team, leading me to feel isolated from the team members who were serious about the sport. Nonetheless, I continued to play soccer, training with my dad during my free time and going to practice on the designated days. After all, I had already received the uniform. There was no turning back… Eventually, I stopped playing soccer in the rec league. I took a hiatus from the sport until eighth grade, when a girl that I liked at the time encouraged me to get back into the sport. So, I joined soccer once more. I got another jersey. This one was blue and silver–the colors I had been wearing every Friday for the past seven years. This jersey gave me a similar feeling of belonging (this one feeling more permanent). The most important jersey that I feel that I have ever worn was the Cross Country jersey for Ripon High School. The significance of this jersey (and the sport, for that matter) was not in the unity brought by the clothing, but by the comradery between the people. Even without the jersey, I felt like the Cross Country team was a place where I could belong, where people would accept me regardless of how fast or fit I was. The jersey became less of something that made me feel included and more of something that encouraged me to include others and find my people. Word Count: 330 |
James WilkinsI enjoy writing creative stories, but I find it refreshing to express my thoughts through blogs or journals. Archives
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