Blog 4- Forced to Fight

This image probably triggers one of the most disturbing issues in my mind. Babies are born pure and completely innocent. In certain countries, however, children as young as four years old are forced and trained to fight in combat. Not only is this immorally controversial, but it can also be argued with human rights. Common sense will tell you that it is not natural for children to participate in war.
Parents who try to explain to children that violence is not the answer are right to some extent. It is true that a simple disagreement over who should play with which toy should not be settled by a fist fight. Nevertheless, if a child is being abducted, they should know that it is okay to kick and scream and bite and punch. Drawing the line for when and when not to use violence can be confusing to a child, but it is vital to teach them that line in order to produce a child with a healthy mindset. Enrolling a child in an organized army will only create a killing machine, capable and willing to cause more damage than aid.
According to the website of the Human Rights Watch, child soldiers participate in about three quarters of all the ongoing conflicts in the world. Of these world’s armies, the opinion of whether or not children should be prosecuted for committing war crimes is divided. This means that children are usually forced to be used in the military and then if accused to a war crime, can be thrown into jail. Children should not even be aware that a war is taking place in their country.
Some may say that this is a controversial image in protest that it is not fetuses who are being put into war, and it pulls on people’s heart strings more because it is not even a fully developed human being. I think the reason for the baby still being in the womb is to show the innocence of a child being stripped of them. Whether a baby is unborn or four years old, it still has the same amount of innocence when it comes to war. I believe that the image is extremely effective for this reason.
Child armies, which have terrorized the countries they invade, have grown up and thrived as cruel members of societies, according to BBC News. Drug abuse has been a main factor in Mr. Sankoh's Revolutionary United Front (RUF), a rebel leader in Africa. Former child soldiers say they were forced to be injected with cocaine before being sent into battle. They have gone on to kill, abduct, rape, and maim thousands of citizens from other countries as well as their own, imposing their reign of terror by hacking off the limbs of victims, including children and infants, with machetes.
This is not the way that people should act towards one another ever, let alone how children should behave. It is an abomination that anybody should be forced to commit such heinous crimes. Children being taught to are just even more disgusting. If enough people would take action to stop military use of children, it would just be one step in the right direction to end many wars around the globe.

"As you dream you shall become"

In the seven years I have known Michael McFadden, I realized how fortunate I am to have him most recently as my neighbor. He is a wonderful man who loves his wife and two sons, talking about and participating in fantasy football, and digging into the occasional bushel of crabs. Over the years I realized I share one specific thing in particular with Michael, which is we both have a strong passion for the theater. Not only do I love it enough to pursue a career in that field, but I cannot help asking question after question about the role he plays in his very own international theatrical company, Phoenix Productions, which I truly admire. When I called him up asking to come over and interview him I could feel his eyes rolling in his head, but I can’t help but want to know more about him and everything he does. As I ran across the wet front yard in my sweatpants, I realized how crazy most people thought I would be. No teenager would want to interview somebody for school, especially on a dreary, rainy day like that one. None except me, of course. I rang the doorbell and Michael promptly opened the door and led me into his dining room with a friendly smile and a bit of small talk about the weather. Offering the chair at the head of the table to me, he sat to my right. Wearing a casual navy tee and jeans, he took a whiff of the food his wife, LeAnne, was cooking in the next room and rubbed his beer belly in anticipation. I tried to interview him as quickly as possible for his benefit. As I looked around at his beautiful home and the pictures that surrounded me of his happy family, I realized the one thing Michael kept telling me throughout the interview must really be true: “Always do what you love and the money will follow.” Holding a glass of white wine he crossed his leg and asked me what my first question was.
My first question was what his actual job title is, and I asked him to describe in detail what he does. He sat up and raised his eyebrows. “Gee,” he chuckled, “so much! I guess running a company entails a lot of different things.” Michael’s official title in the business is Artistic Director, but he does a little bit of everything when it comes to staging a performance. He is the mastermind who conceives the idea of the project to pursue, and meets with the authors of the shows to get the rights for it. He hires the staff for the production, as well as does some directing of the show hands-on. Because Michael is always competing with bigger companies, he reminds me that being nice to everybody is one of the best tricks in show biz.
When I asked him when he knew he wanted to get involved in theater he scratched his head. “Everyone always asks me this and I never know quite what to say.” He smirks and then said that the main reason was how fascinated he was by how a show is put together when he was in about 6th or 7th grade. Nobody in his family was in the business, but they were all extremely supportive of him and this is the first time he mentioned to me what his father told him as a boy, “Always do what you love and the money will follow.” I smiled, knowing that I had to keep my faith in that phrase if I wanted my dream job of a stage manager. Money is not there right away. In fact, Michael told me that he did not start making a decent living until his mid thirties. He did, however, get involved at a very young age.
When he was 17, Michael got together two other friends, one musically oriented and one acting oriented, and with himself as a director he started his first theater company in Redbank, NJ. The money began to follow him rather early in his career when a very special person, to Michael's advantage, attended one of his productions: Olympia Dukakis. Mrs. Dukakis is an Emmy Award Winner who just so happened to own a regional theater in New Jersey near where Michael lived. She loved his directing and approached him afterward. From then on and all throughout college he made about $10,000 profit. He attended grad school at NYU for a bit and then graduated from Montclair State University where he earned a full scholarship.
Because Michael does what he truly loves, the changes that have occurred in the industry over time have made his job more of a struggle for him. “People used to be in theater because of the passion they had for the craft,” Michael explained to me. “Now most people I work with, especially the actors, seem more devoted to the fame and popularity aspect.” He explained to me that the performing arts have been American Idol-ized, and Facebook-ized, making people less committed, and projects more public before they are even decided. Michael used to be able to hide away in a rehearsal room and work on a production without many people finding out, but now social networking allows the public to know before the idea is even finalized.
Michael McFadden never had a plan for what he wanted his career to be. He just had a passion which he really wanted to pursue and put himself out there, knocking on doors of theaters asking for work. Getting involved is the best way, he told me, for a young person to become part of the theater industry. Being prepared not to get paid at the beginning is important, but as long as you do what you love the money will follow. Michael is a perfect example of how true that phrase really is.

Speed Overpowers Quality

I always knew that time is of the essence. My sister tells me every day as I try to choose an outfit. My SAT proctor told me as I expediently searched for the right answers. It’s even said on my favorite TV show, Friends. But what I realized while watching the drive thru window at McDonald’s made me look at that small saying in a different light. Not only is time of the essence, but to most people time is the only thing of the essence.

It’s actually one of the most boring things I have ever done. Not because of the assignment, but because of how redundant this specific place was. Each car stopped for about seven seconds at the first window to pay, then moved about four feet to the second window and then were handed their delicious fast food in about four more seconds. The lady at the second window said “have a great day” to every single driver, and they drove away. So, in less than half a second, a hot meal was handed to each customer and they could move on with their lives. No problem right? Wrong. From the smell of the grease alone, you can tell that food can’t be even a little healthful for anybody. Any food that takes that short an amount of time to get handed out can’t be of a decent quality, especially those containing “meat products.” The fact that the outside of the building looked to me like a chunk of blue cheese with a red roof didn’t exactly say “yum” in my opinion either. I guess the fact that it is quick to grab Mickey D’s makes it worth the while to people.

The idea of a fast-food drive thru is the most American idea; drawing in and appealing to people of all ages. The middle of the day during of the week leaves the playground completely deserted, but you can tell that many a children run and play there. And right in the middle of the play area were three flags. The center one, The American flag, was taller than the other two, which were both the same height. One was the Maryland flag and the other was a red flag of the golden arches. It really stays in a kid’s head when they see McDonald’s on the same level as their state. That was probably the thing that is going to stick in my head if I have to choose the one thing I got out of this assignment. I don’t understand the need for the flag of the big “M”. I mean, from where I was sitting, which was outside of the building, I counted thirteen “M’s.” I thought that the one place where you would not have to advertise for a business is actually at that business.

Yes, time can be of the essence. The quicker you go the more you get accomplished, but sometimes people go too fast and lose sight of what is important. When speed takes place of health it is obvious that a line has been crossed. Most other countries take multiple hours to have meals, and here in the U.S. it takes less than 60 seconds. There is definitely a connection to this country’s ongoing health problem and fast food chains. To most people, time is the only thing that is important, and if we can find a way to change that then the world will be a much happier and healthier place.

Just a Small Fish

The town I have lived in for my entire life, Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, is relatively small. No matter where you go you will always find somebody you know. I was never able to gain perspective of how large the world really is until spring of 2008 when I traveled to Paris, France with my family. My experiences have always told me that I was a big fish in a small pond, but I quickly learned life is in fact the complete opposite. I learned this in about ten minutes.
After taking a small van to the hotel in Paris, we decided to just drop our luggage in our rooms and head to our first attraction. It was France’s largest war memorial, Les Invalides, and we had to take the Parisian Metro in order to get there. The echoes of the fast moving train the troubadour’s accordion became white noise blended with the mumbles of Parisians and tourists surrounding me. I felt like such a minority, being American, which is the extreme opposite of how I felt in Stroudsburg. I am comfortable and it feels familiar there, but not in Paris.
Every time I exhaled I breathed on somebody forced to be squished up against me. In front of my face were people standing and grasping thin, metal bars attached to the ceiling. The myriad of the colors, patterns, and fabrics reminded me of a rack of clothes on clearance. The only resemblance they had to one another was their swaying in perfect tandem from the slight movements of the train. It was the first time I was in a public place where absolutely nobody was speaking, as if they were all strangers to each other. My family and I were separated by others, so I figured maybe other families were not talking for the same reason.
Through the forest of torsos, I attempted to glance over at the three people sitting on the metallic bench opposite mine. To the far left of the bench was my Dad sitting with arms crossed. He was gazing out the window at the grey cement wall flying by, and his eyebrows were raised in a surplus of amusement. In the middle was my aunt, wearing her funky shirt covered in Swarovski crystals. Noticing my admiration of her top she flashed one of her famous and comforting smiles my direction and blew me a kiss. On her other side was my uncle. He was busy performing a magic trick for his three-year-old daughter, Lucy. She made him do it over and over again until they, myself, and the rest of the people on the train were all suddenly forced forward as the train screeched to an abrupt halt. Glancing over at my family slightly hidden from my view, I noticed how insignificant they were to all the other people. My family is my reason for living, yet the strangers surrounding from them never even gave them a second glance.
A recording of a female Parisian’s voice declared the station, “Invalides,” and the doors glided open. My family rose in unison, as if we were all attached by strings like marionettes. The swift, quick movements of the people who buzzed by me felt similar to how they would move while swimming underwater, and it was dark and cold, like a medieval dungeon. I felt almost like I did when I was seven years old and lost in a department store. It was a total awakening for me, stepping onto that that busy underground sidewalk. I never felt so out of place, like I was on a different planet.
I turned around and noticed my Dad and uncle making their way up the steep, cement stairs leading to the frenzied streets of Paris, ahead of the rest of us like usual. Only a few steps in front of me, my sister and aunt were both pushing the pink, floral strollers holding my two cousins. I rushed in front of them, dodging the people, and grab the fronts of both carriages, helping them carry the strollers out of the Metro tunnel. As I reached the top I feel the cool, crisp wind slap my back. We picked up our pace to catch up with the men, but they had already stopped walking a few feet away. My Dad’s neck was arched back and his eyes gazed up. I traced his line of vision, and across the flooded field of brown grass and beige pebbles was the tall, taupe building with three stories of large columns and real gold decorating its exterior. The intricate designs snaked up to an immense dome with a sharp needle at the very top. As all seven of us made our way toward the entrance, Les Invalides seemed to grow larger. It was the most beautiful building I had ever seen.
Weaving through the crowds of other families, we became just another addition to the swarm of tourists and natives. In my eyes, I saw the people in my family, my life, differently than the rest of the people we were walking through. However, as I looked over my shoulder, I realized this swarm of people from all over the globe proved how unimportant the people in my life really are. The things and people I love, the things I value, and I myself are all just a very small fish in a very huge ocean.

Life's too short, I'm not

If I had to create a bumper sticker that modeled my philosophy for life it would be "life's too short, i'm not." This means that you should just go with the flow, roll with the changes, and take what life gives you. This was originally said by a Broadway actress, Kristen Cheoweth, who stands only four feet and eleven inches tall. I too am vertically challenged, being only five feet and three inches tall. This is my newest philosophy because not only do I personally relate to it, but it also is positive and cheerful, which describes me perfectly.
Complaining about not being the way you want, like for instance being too short, is so not worth it because it is not going to change anything. Life goes by way too quickly to care about silly things like that. I learned to accept my flaws, and so should everyone else. Do with what you have rather than just dreaming for it to be different while sitting on your butt.
Believing things can happen in your favor is the first step to actually accomplishing it. I stopped wishing to be taller a long time ago because wishing for it doesn't make it happen, it just made me sad. Staying optimistic will make you feel a million times better in every way possible!