If I Just Had the Patience.. and Brains

Spending ten years to become an expert in something is a pretty long time, if you’re not sure that you’ll love it. I want to automatically write that I want to become an expert at theater-but that’s a tough one, because it’s such a subjective art form. I guess I would spend ten years or more even, studying theater history, acting techniques, film etc. BUT I am kind of already in the process, so if I could REALLY become an expert in ANYTHING, it would have to do with making this world a better place. I would want to be an Environmental Human rights Doctor. I have always wanted to travel around the world, and I would get to if I was going to save it. I’d want to go to the Middle East, Africa, Asia, South America, Russia and even America. I’d fight for human rights, I’d cure and prevent sickness, and while I am busy with that, I would save earth. I would make a firm that grew lots of algae, and then take the algae and make ethanol out of it- then use the ethanol as gas. That way the use of gasoline would stop poisoning our planet (keep trying dad!) I would take all of the trash in the ocean and melt it, then compress it and make it into houses that homeless people could live in. I would go to places where people don’t have anything and teach them how to read and write and grow vegetables. I would fight for women’s rights in Iraq, Iran, Turkey and Palestrina. I would fight to stop Capital punishment in the United States; I’d fight for same sex marriage, for democracy, for equal rights and for love. I’d create programs where people would learn to use love as a tactic for a better world instead of violence.  I would want to learn everything I can about the human mind and body in order to save and understand people. Becoming all of this would probably take a lot longer than ten years and a lot longer than 10000 hours, however if this was the goal I could always spread the message and have people do these things after I die. Learning to save the world is a pretty awesome thing to do, and if I had the opportunity to do so in just ten years- there is no doubt in my mind that I would leave theater and do this instead.

Peace and Love

“The Matthew Effect” from Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell challenges how one thinks of success; at least in the field of sports. Gladwell uses the example of hockey and how the sport has tradition of making the cutoff date January first- which gives the kids born in the winter the advantage of getting more and better training than the summer kids. One does not usually think that most successful people today have accomplished the things they have because of luck, or because they happened to be born earlier in the year. I guess babies born at the beginning of the year have a head start.. In sports. But doesn’t it all come down to what one thinks the definition of success is? I mean, isn’t it a bit sketchy thinking about a toddler (practically) choosing to play hockey. Isn’t it something their parents chose for them? And if so, how do you know that is what they actually want to do? Is it because they were raised into believing that hockey is what they were meant to do, but in reality no one would ever know if that particular winter child was actually in love with the idea of sewing or painting or acting for that matter? What is success? Does it mean fame, fortune and wining a lot of trophies or- yes I am actually going to write this (sorry America) is being happy what defines one’s success? Is it being content with a family and a garden and loving partner? Is the fame and the fortune and all the other things merely things that make one seem more powerful?  Alright, I am not saying that I wouldn’t like so one day win an Oscar and a Tony, and be in films where I can make money so that I can travel and get all my groceries at Whole Foods BUT I don’t know if that makes me a more successful person compared to a man or a woman who live on a small farm with a lot of kids who are happy? It would just make me richer and more famous.. But why do those things always equal success? Are all the hockey players born in January happy? And are the ones who were born in August actually spared from a life full of competition and stupid hockey dads? I completely think that Gladwell makes an excellent point, however the Matthew Effect hasn’t really influenced me ever, and I was born in August- Maybe it’s because I grew up in Denmark  J But I know a lot of people who were born later in the year who are a lot smarter than many people. It is super interesting to read about and it brings up some good points about luck. I definitely think where one comes from has a huge influence on what they do later in life- however, I also think people nowadays are obsessed with the notion of being better than everyone, with the notion of competition and wealth. More than ever do I see people in the United States stress over things like college and grades and sports and money, when in fact we forget to be good human beings and do what we truly love.

The time writing failed me

When I was in third grade, I wasn't a very good writer. I wasn't a very good reader either. You see, in Denmark, children do not really learn to read and write before the first grade. That is obviously very different compared to the U.S where kids can read the Gettysburg Address flawlessly before reaching preschool. Anyway, I was a late bloomer. I loved being a kid, and I didn't like things I wasn't good at. I was not good at sitting down and focusing. I was good a running around and being funny. However, by third grade I was required to know how to write, except I didn't.. Not really. So we had this assignment where we had to write a fairytale, and the day it was due we had to read it out loud to our class mates. I was really nervous about the assignment, and I was too scared to ask anyone for help. I had a really good story in my head, I just didn't know how to put it on paper. The day it was due, I still had nothing. Just a piece of paper with lots of doodles. One by one, each of my classmates went up, in front of everyone and read their fairy tale. It was almost mine turn. Two more students ahead of me: Peter Jakobsen and Josephine Hansen. They made me nervous. I was shaking in my little seat. What was I supposed to do when it was my turn? Just go up there and say "I didn't do it because I suck and I don't know how to write"? God, why did stupid little Josephine have to be the best writer and reader in our class? and WHY was I, of course, right after her? No one could top her fairytale, not even Hans Christan Andersen himself. Sh&*%4#* it was my turn. I slowly walked up to the front of the class with my notebook. I saw my teacher smiling at me from across the room. I saw my classmates eagerly staring at me with their big judgemental eyes. I saw Josephine smirking her little stupid mouth, as she gave me a look of "Ha, I'm better than you." Suddenly I knew what to do. I was not going to let anyone think that I didn't know how to read or write. I looked at the bedoodled page and I started to pretend to read. I "read" my fairytale as if it was actually on the page. I got so into it, I acted out every word, and I felt everything I said. It was like a one person show! My classmates laughed and hauled and cried! (well maybe not cried). When I was finished with my story, everyone stood up and clapped. It was amazing! Until...My teacher said "Thank you Ida! that was wonderful. May I see your fairytale?" I stood still. I didn't know what to do. Should I run? should I refuse, should I spill milk on it? Apparently I thought about this way too long, so my teacher got up from her chair, walked over to me and yanked the notebook out of my hand. She flipped through the pages of the notebook that had no writing. The classroom was silent. The teacher looked at me with a disappointed expression. "Have a seat Ida.. And your parents can expect a phone call from me later." I sat down amongst my speechless classmates. I caught myself smiling a little, as the next person went up to read their story.