So on Saturday I attended Starfest 2010. It is a collection of events and people that probably are lucky to have escaped their parents basements (and I am positive alot have still not made that escape), various degrees of armpit odor, outrageous costumes, and the eternal war of trekkies vs the overwhelming power of the Force. It also had in attendance one Miss Summer Glau, which had fanboys everywhere (to include myself) nervously waiting their place in line to take photos with her. I have met a few stars in my lifetime, Brad Pitt ( who was extremely cool then of course this was pre angelina days), Julia Roberts (ahem stuck up), George Clooney (stuck up) and Marina Sirtis (Chain smoker). All of them you could tell were actors and used to a certain amount of attention. Nothing could ever prepare me for Summer Glau. She was the most insanely down to earth nice actress you could ever meet. Not only that but she genuinely seemed to enjoy being around her fans.
After waiting in line for the better part of two hours, When I walked around the corner to get my picture taken, I was fully not expecting to get a huge smile, and "hey, how you doing nice to meet you. Not only that but she thanked me, yes thanked me for waiting to take a picture with her and apologized for the long wait even though she showed up an hour earlier then posted to get pictures started. Its been my experience from other years of seeing people get their photo taken the actors and actresses would let you stand near them but there was no contact. Not Summer, she just wraps her arm right around you and says "Here get closer" for the photo and smiles at you".
By the time I waited again for my autograph, She did not disappoint in the slightest, striking up conversation and taking photos again with people and their kids despite the starfest's coordinators irritation. I heard one of the staff members grumbling that she should not do that, that she should be charging for the photo, but Summer just looked at the staff member and shooed them away and went right back to taking photos with folks. She complimented me on my tattoo and even took time to give me best wishes on my fight against MS (earlier at the photo shoot one of the people had asked me to remove my cane crutch and glasses for the photo and I explained I was too unsteady and had to wear the sunglasses in order to not retain the image of the camera flash for the next 20 minutes, it wasnt to be cool it because of my MS. ) Summer had remembered me from the photo shoot and even paid attention to something that wasnt even mentioned to her directly but instead to one of the staff. Color me impressed!
In the end it made Starfest one of the best experiences of my life. I got to meet one of my favorite actresses from Firefly and Serenity fame as well as Dollhouse and Terminator:SCC, but I got to see them not as some hollywood idol but instead as just a regular human being. Despite the fact I had to leave earlier then intended due to the immense amount of body heat from everyone there making my MS fatigue flare up, I still consider it a worthwhile experience and will look back fondly on it. I realize Summer Glau will never read this, but for whats it worth I hope she never stops acting and I hope she never loses sight of what makes her so special to her fans.
And in case you didnt know
Spock sucks, may the force be with you!
Chris
Monday, April 19, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
The circle
I have often tryed to decide how life could be defined best. Its odd how some of us, as humans feel the need to define everything around us by placing it in neat little categories. Sometimes, I think this is due to the fact our brain is divided up in the way it processes certain things, so subconsciously we do the same thing with our observations. I ,until a few months ago, use to relate life to a long hallway with windows. I think like most folks as we age, or perhaps as we experience things (because after all experiences can age a person faster then a calendar can) we change how we percieve our own realities.
As time has gone on, I have began to amend my previous thoughts about life. I think life is a hallway that is circular in shape. Yes there are still windows. The windows on the outer ring represent our lifes as they are, once again still the good parts, the happy parts, the memories if you will. The windows on the inside represent our dreams. There are fewer windows on the inner ring, the area is much smaller. We spend our life walking around this circle perhaps because life really does repeat itself, even if it is in the smallest ways. I think as we age, we tend to look more out the windows on the outside ring and less to the windows on the inside ring. There are those among us who still can constantly focus on the inner ring, no matter how old we get (I suspect Robin Williams is one of those people) But I think by and large as we age, our heads are turned more to the outer ring because we look more to our happy memories and less to our dreams.
Never fret, this is not a bad thing. You see, I believe as we age some of those dreams become reality, and thus move from the inner ring of windows to the outer ring. I also think there are alot of things we view favorably over time that we never thought we would. In the end our "reality" or memories end up being more treasured and we stop wanting to live "what if", and start wish we could live "rememeber when". I realize I am kind of babbling so I shall provide an example.
My parents sent out 4 packages filled with some of my old stuff. One of the things that was sent out was a wooden rattle type thing with a ring around the center. My grandpa lewis made the wooden thing for me when I was very young. I dont remember why or when he made it, I know I wasnt a baby anymore, perhaps it was a birthday or christmas present. What I do remember was the wood shop in which he made it, a dark building made of cinder block, that always smelled of that wood meets metal burning smell and More cigarettes. I remember how ominous my grandfather was to me at the time. He hobbled around his workshop sort of like a wise old Indian chief, and he always seemed very serious. The wood shop was poorly lit and very cluttered with all sorts of wood and projects and tools he worked on as well as various tv parts etc. It reminded me of a mad scientist's laboratory.
As all this imagery hit me I realized I was holding the wooden toy to my nose and inhaling the slight smell that came from that wood shop. It has been probably 25 years since I set foot in his wood shop, now I know it is gone due to some unfortunate circumstances. But that memory for good or bad is ingrained (haha ingrained its a wood joke) in me. And when I look back on it I feel pretty nostalgic. When I look at the pencil holder he made me I think of his impossibly gnarled hands thick and calloused from years of hard work. I remember how he reminded me of a tree sometimes by how tough his skin was and how rough his hands would feel. Even when he got older and infirm, his grip was still like iron. It was a different sore of iron, not like the iron I felt in my fathers hugs which brought a measure of safety and respect, but instead with him it was more you could feel how tough life had made him. I got all these feelings, emotions and thoughts from a sniff of a wooden toy and seeing the words "Handcrafted by Lewis W Bishop" on the bottom of the pencil holder. Some folks would look at my memories and think it was scary, but in truth now they are in a very special place called Remember when. A place that sometimes when I am feeling down and I look out those windows, I wish I could go.
As I drive down colorado blvd here, and see all the rolling farms, the cattle ranges and the familiar smells of growing corn and soybeans, I am forced to realized that I moved here to Dacono for many reasons. Most importantly, because inside of me there is still a boy riding his ugly blue schwinn 3 speed bike as fast as he can down spearsville road at 6pm at night, smelling all the earthy smells, feeling the summer heat with the gentle breeze and waiting for the next shaded dip in the road so I can build up speed to be hit with the next batch of new smells and sounds. Its all I can do to keep from letting go of the wheel and throwing my arms out again for that brief moment of superhuman flight and invulnerability you feel at that age riding your bike along on a nice summers day. Kind of funny, but I think in the end, those windows onto my memories are in some way better then my dreams could ever possibly be.
till next time
Chris
As time has gone on, I have began to amend my previous thoughts about life. I think life is a hallway that is circular in shape. Yes there are still windows. The windows on the outer ring represent our lifes as they are, once again still the good parts, the happy parts, the memories if you will. The windows on the inside represent our dreams. There are fewer windows on the inner ring, the area is much smaller. We spend our life walking around this circle perhaps because life really does repeat itself, even if it is in the smallest ways. I think as we age, we tend to look more out the windows on the outside ring and less to the windows on the inside ring. There are those among us who still can constantly focus on the inner ring, no matter how old we get (I suspect Robin Williams is one of those people) But I think by and large as we age, our heads are turned more to the outer ring because we look more to our happy memories and less to our dreams.
Never fret, this is not a bad thing. You see, I believe as we age some of those dreams become reality, and thus move from the inner ring of windows to the outer ring. I also think there are alot of things we view favorably over time that we never thought we would. In the end our "reality" or memories end up being more treasured and we stop wanting to live "what if", and start wish we could live "rememeber when". I realize I am kind of babbling so I shall provide an example.
My parents sent out 4 packages filled with some of my old stuff. One of the things that was sent out was a wooden rattle type thing with a ring around the center. My grandpa lewis made the wooden thing for me when I was very young. I dont remember why or when he made it, I know I wasnt a baby anymore, perhaps it was a birthday or christmas present. What I do remember was the wood shop in which he made it, a dark building made of cinder block, that always smelled of that wood meets metal burning smell and More cigarettes. I remember how ominous my grandfather was to me at the time. He hobbled around his workshop sort of like a wise old Indian chief, and he always seemed very serious. The wood shop was poorly lit and very cluttered with all sorts of wood and projects and tools he worked on as well as various tv parts etc. It reminded me of a mad scientist's laboratory.
As all this imagery hit me I realized I was holding the wooden toy to my nose and inhaling the slight smell that came from that wood shop. It has been probably 25 years since I set foot in his wood shop, now I know it is gone due to some unfortunate circumstances. But that memory for good or bad is ingrained (haha ingrained its a wood joke) in me. And when I look back on it I feel pretty nostalgic. When I look at the pencil holder he made me I think of his impossibly gnarled hands thick and calloused from years of hard work. I remember how he reminded me of a tree sometimes by how tough his skin was and how rough his hands would feel. Even when he got older and infirm, his grip was still like iron. It was a different sore of iron, not like the iron I felt in my fathers hugs which brought a measure of safety and respect, but instead with him it was more you could feel how tough life had made him. I got all these feelings, emotions and thoughts from a sniff of a wooden toy and seeing the words "Handcrafted by Lewis W Bishop" on the bottom of the pencil holder. Some folks would look at my memories and think it was scary, but in truth now they are in a very special place called Remember when. A place that sometimes when I am feeling down and I look out those windows, I wish I could go.
As I drive down colorado blvd here, and see all the rolling farms, the cattle ranges and the familiar smells of growing corn and soybeans, I am forced to realized that I moved here to Dacono for many reasons. Most importantly, because inside of me there is still a boy riding his ugly blue schwinn 3 speed bike as fast as he can down spearsville road at 6pm at night, smelling all the earthy smells, feeling the summer heat with the gentle breeze and waiting for the next shaded dip in the road so I can build up speed to be hit with the next batch of new smells and sounds. Its all I can do to keep from letting go of the wheel and throwing my arms out again for that brief moment of superhuman flight and invulnerability you feel at that age riding your bike along on a nice summers day. Kind of funny, but I think in the end, those windows onto my memories are in some way better then my dreams could ever possibly be.
till next time
Chris
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