It Was A Beautiful Day

April 22, 2013

It Was A Beautiful Day

Seasonal affective disorder (SAD). According to, SAD lasts from the beginning of Fall until the end of Winter. This disorder usually results in a sapping of energy and intense moodiness…

Well, I think is a bit of a pessimist. Because I was feeling the good kind of SAD today. After I finished up a nice outdoor rehearsal with Erica and my Trinity, I went for a run and I felt myself smiling like an Idiot the whole way.

The air felt lighter, the sun was definitely brighter, the sky was clear, the grass was green, and the world was just a happier place.

It was finally Spring-y out.

Maybe the weather wasn’t the only reason I was smiling. Maybe it had a little something to do with where I was this morning and where I was last night. See, when I woke up this morning…I was definitely not in Southwest Michigan. I was in Traverse City. At 7:00 am, my groggy self was guided into a dark blue Volvo and driven 3 hours to our humble little village of Richland, just in time for my 4th block AP Chemistry class.

Why did I wake up on the wrong side of the state?


I was up in Traverse City so I could accompany my favorite red-haired girl to her Junior…MORP. She attends this private arts academy called Interlochen and, because they’re so artsy up there, they can’t call their dance: Prom. Certainly not. So they call it: MORP. “Prom” spelt backwards.

Well, MORP was a blast. A night out dancing and bowling with Ms. Carly Rae was an excellent Sunday in my book.

The night started out with some quick picture taking on a breezy balcony over a frozen lake in the Great White North. Then we took a bus to the Grand Traverse Resort where we ate a quick dinner before a night full of dancing commenced. Around midnight, we hitched another bus out to a local bowling alley filled with bumper cars, laser tag, a laser maze, and (obviously) bowling.

It was all pretty fun, to say the least. Around 1:00 am, we finally took another bus back to Interlochen Arts Academy.

And here I am, less than 24 hours later, home again with nothing but a head of buzzing memories, desperately trying to relive the awesome MORP that I was lucky enough to experience with Carly.

I think Mother Nature just knew I’d had a great night and decided to make the next day just as perfect.

Because It Was A Beautiful Day today.

And I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)


The Trinity

April 19, 2013

The Trinity

The One Act Play Festival is rapidly approaching. Rehearsals are in full swing and the Black Box Theatre is, once again, filled with PAC Rats every night.

The One Acts will be performed during the Festival of the Senses at Gull Lake High School on May 10th and 11th.

Personally, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m co-directing a play that I co-wrote with Ms. Erica Heathcote: The Pan Complex. Together, Erica and I were lucky enough to snatch up a Trinity of actors that we couldn’t be happier with.

We have the lovely Claire as our heroine’s older sister, Delilah. Claire is spunky, hilarious, and easy to work with. (Not to mention she already had most of her lines memorized by the time we got back from Spring Break.) It’s thanks to Claire that most of my terrible jokes are getting filtered out of this play and replaced by ones that the audience might actually laugh at.

Our hero, Peter, is being played by the bold Jonah. Jonah’s uninhibited, good humored, and a perfect fit for Peter. There was a scary moment towards the start of the production where we feared we might lose Jonah due to a mix-up with double casting. Luckily, Erica and I managed to leave that recasting meeting with our Trinity intact.

Lastly, we have our heroine: Eve, who’s being played by the marvelous Jossie. Jossie’s unbelievably talented but also rather modest, she’s mild with a hint of feist, and I count my blessings every night that we got her to be our Eve. Jossie and I were in a play together last year called Door to Door, which was an absolute blast.

Overall, they’re a Trinity. A brilliant, amazing Trinity of actors that Erica and I couldn’t be happier with. It’s a shame that we only have a few more rehearsals before it’ll all be over. But I’ll definitely enjoy the next few weeks as we get closer and closer to showing our community: The Pan Complex.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

The Yellow Monster

April 16, 2013

The Yellow Monster

One of the single most iconic symbols for school: The School Bus. The Yellow Monster. The horrible metallic can filled with brown, rubbery seats and BO. Luckily, being a Senior means that you don’t have to ride the bus…usually.

Unfortunately for those of us in extracurriculars, busses are usually how the school decides to transport us precious cargo. Most recently, I was aboard a bus destined for Lansing and the Michigan Interscholastic Press Association (MIPA) Award Ceremony.

At 6:40, the Newspaper and Yearbook crews arrived in Mrs. Jolin’s room, ready to head out. By 7:00, we found ourselves crammed into our very own Yellow Monster. I sat next to a good friend of mine, Shelby. Both of us were exhausted and immediately began searching for the easiest way to sleep.

I think the creator of the bus did his best to make the seats impossible to sleep in. I also think that the creator of the bus succeeded in that endeavor. Shelby and I shifted into a million different positions and couldn’t find a single one that was sleep-worthy. Our attempts to find comfort rapidly became more and more absurd and I’m pretty sure we tried to stand on our heads at one point, to no avail.

The other problem with sleeping on a bus is that the shock absorbers are just Slinkies. Honestly, that bus was so bumpy I felt like I was gonna projectile vomit all over Shelby.

People say: “It’s the journey, not the destination.” This rule does not apply to bus rides. With bus rides, the destination is all I can ever think about. Thankfully, we did finally arrive at the MIPA Award Ceremony. I was on this trip as a member of the Gull Lake Reflection’s Newspaper Staff because this blog is technically part of the school newspaper.

Well, The Life of an Idiot was submitted to compete against other High Schooler’s blogs across the state.

And…it came first. Which is kinda nuts. I’m still not entirely sure if I believe it.

Anyway, the bus ride back wasn’t as bad as the bus ride there…My spirits were considerably lighter.

And you know what I did that night before I went to bed? I snatched up the certificate from MIPA…And I pinned it up next to my rejection letter from Western’s Theatre Program. I don’t even know why I did it. I don’t have a dang clue. I don’t see much of a connection between my blog and my theatre endeavors…But it just felt right.

Now I fall asleep every night looking at defeat and victory.

Life is good.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

College Bound

April 13, 2013

College Bound

I talk about college a lot. What Senior doesn’t? I think it’s the thing we’d all rather not think about, but it’s also the thing we have to talk about.

Personally, I’ll be attending Western Michigan University when the Fall of 2013 rolls around. And that fact became very, very real the other night when I signed up for housing and orientation.

As far as housing goes, I’m pretty excited to be rooming with a good friend of mine, Brady. Of course, I’ve heard that rooming with your friend is a bad idea, but I think Brady and I will be able to coexist peacefully. Brady’s a pretty laid back guy and easy to be around. The only possible issue I can foresee is that we’re both Messy Marvins. But neither of us seem to mind the mess…So, when our room morphs into a nuclear fallout zone, it’ll only bother our suite-mates.

And then there’s orientation. A whopping two day orientation spent on Western’s campus. There’ll probably be all sorts of gubbins about tours and dorms and cafeterias and classes and…God knows what…But that’s not really what I’m most interested in. What’s really got my attention is the fact that I’ll be signing up for my Freshman Year classes.

That’s pretty nerve wracking.

I took a little glance at Western’s Undergraduate catalog…It’s over 800 pages long. Granted, it’s not only a class catalog, but that’s a large portion of it. How am I supposed to choose between all of those classes? The toughest class decision I had to make in High School was whether I wanted to take “Creative Writing: Children’s Lit & Short Story” or “Creative Writing: Poetry”. Now, it’s like I’ve got to choose between “Creative Writing in Medieval Times” or “Creative Writing About South American Butterflies” or “Creative Writing While Standing on Your Head” or “Creative Writing in American Sign Language”.

And I’m just sitting here like: “Can someone else make this decision?”

I suppose I’ll just have to listen to the good ol’ gut. It’s gotten me this far. Hopefully it’ll carry me a little further as I set off…College Bound.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

The Home Stretch

April 9, 2013

The Home Stretch

Spring Break is over. It’s only Tuesday and it already seems like it’s been an eternity since I was in the Sunshine State’s pan handle. But now…oh, now we find ourselves in The Home Stretch.

If I’m doing my Math correctly, which I’m probably not, we have 35 school days left. From what I’ve heard, we get out on Thursday, May 30th. How about a little more Math? (I have no idea why I’m voluntarily doing Math. Heck, I get enough of it in Pre-Calc. Oh well, only 35 days left. I suppose I can handle a little more.)

So, 35 days. We spend about 6.8 hours in school every day. That’s 238 hours of school left. Or 14,280 minutes. Let’s take out passing time and lunch, shall we? 12,530 class-time minutes until the Seniors leaves Gull Lake High School. (Granted, I didn’t take into account the early-release day we have coming up. Or the half-day that we’re going to have. So…maybe it’s not that accurate. Gimme a break.)

Okay, well that’s all fine and dandy…But let’s take this a step further.

Let’s say that we truly attended school for 180 days every year of our schooling career. Obviously, that’s not true. We’ve had snow days, we’ve been sick, we’ve gone on vacation. Whatever. Just go with me. That means we’ve completed 98.50% of our time at Gull Lake Community Schools. For those of you who are Mathematically challenged like myself, we’ve got 1.50% of our schooling career left. (Until college, that is.)

Alright. That’s kinda nice to see all laid out…But let’s go one step further.

Keeping with the above assumption that we truly attended school 180 days each year, we’ve gone to school 2,305 times. Those measly 35 days we have left? Well, we’ve already attended 35 days of Gull Lake 65 times…If that makes sense. What we have left, we’ve already done 65 times (almost 66 times, truly). So, one more time is like…nothing.

There’s a million different ways to look at it. But the bottom line is that our Senior Year is rapidly approaching it’s close. The Year of Lasts will soon have it’s Last Day. There could very well be people walking the hallways of Gull Lake High School that I’ll only see for 35 more days. People that I’ve already spent 2,305 days with. People that I might never see again. It is the greatest Truth and greatest tragedy of anything that comes to a close: People that you may have once called friend become nothing more than memory.

But I suppose it’s nothing to worry ourselves over. Because it’s just part of Life. Nothing lasts forever. We’d be foolish to think anything to the contrary. Especially when we’re being stared in the face by the conclusion of the largest aspect of our Lives thus far.

35 days.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

Senior Spring Break

For my Senior Spring Break, I was given the amazing opportunity to join the Snow and Hostetler family in their trip to Pensacola Beach, Florida. Truly, I couldn’t possibly thank them enough. Their generosity and their patience exceeded even the most absurd expectations. I mean, I was down there with eleven other kids, all of us running around like chickens with our heads cut off…I don’t know how they put up with us.

I can still remember the first day, when we pulled up to the beach house we’d be staying in. My jaw dropped. The house almost looked like Atlas, holding the sky upon it’s shoulders. It was raised up on high stilts and the frame of the house seemed to be reaching upwards. Balconies were attached to nearly every room and they looked like hands, supporting the clouds. It took all my willpower to help unload instead of taking off in a dead sprint to see the inside of the house.

When I finally did see the inside, my jaw dropped even further. I must’ve looked like some of the fish we’d be eating later that week. The house was amazing. I didn’t think I’d have any trouble spending a week there.

A Senior Spring Break comprised mostly of boys meant a few things: Primarily, crude jokes frequently resounded throughout the already noisy house. Secondly, farting and belching suddenly became everyone’s favorite pastime. And thirdly, food disappeared from the cupboards like we were hosting very crafty mice. (Although, Mikayla and Kylee probably had something to do with that third thing.)

Mikayla and Kylie Makin' Bank

Reflecting upon the week, I still remember certain highlights with a warm fondness. Like when we took to the skies and went parasailing. Or when we went with Mikayla and Kylee down to the Boardwalk and had them hula-hoop for money (they made $22). Or when we made a sand sculpture in front of our house that resembled a very voluptuous woman. Or when Ben, Brady, and I went into the ocean on a windy day and got tossed around like dolls in the rough surf. Or even the rainy day that we spent inside…playing Pokemon and Super Smash Bros. Brawl. There were so many moments during this break where I just had to look around for a moment…and appreciate that these were my people, these were my friends, and these were my teenage memories that I was making. And it was in these brief moments that I found myself smiling the fullest.


Most fondly, though…I remember the balconies. There was something about those balconies that really stuck with me. I think every beach house should have a million balconies. The more obvious reason is that it provides everyone with an outlet to see the ocean, which is always a plus. But as the week progressed, I began to see another reason. Almost every night, I found myself on a balcony with our group of Senior boys. In particular, we liked to stand on the highest balcony, the one attached to the roof. It was almost as if we had to physically express our current state of elation. All of us were filled with such high spirits, we could’ve touched the moon…And when we climbed to the highest balcony, we were saying: “Why not give it a try?” I think every beach house needs to be A House Full of Balconies because anyone who’s on vacation in a beach house…

Well, I’m thinkin’ they’ll wanna try and touch the moon, too.

You wanna know the funny think about this blog post? I wrote it Friday morning as I lay awake in bed, waiting for Brady and Zach to wake up. We hadn’t left Florida yet. And I made that comment about wanting to touch the moon, right? Well, Friday night we were out on the back porch when suddenly Austin said: “Look at the ocean! The waves are neon!”

Sure enough, the ocean waves were glowing.

It only took a few seconds for the entirety of our Spring Break crew to be down on the beach, looking in awe at tiny, blue, glowing specks that littered the water and shore.

“It must be some kind of fluorescent algae,” Mr. Snow observed.

Whatever it was, it was amazing. We immediately began playing with this latest discovery. Digging a hole in the shore resulted in a pool of water and a high concentration of the glow being left behind, as opposed to it being swept away by the waves. Scooping up a bucket of water and splashing it anywhere created a sort of “ground firework”.

The thing that really stood out to me, though, was when I scooped up a small handful of the algae covered sand…the tiny blue spots on the dark sand made Zach say:

“It’s almost like you’re holding the night sky.”

So, we didn’t quite touch the moon. But we got the next best thing:

We held the stars.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

Goodbye, Glitter

March 29, 2013

Goodbye, Glitter

For four years now…I’ve been an MC for Gull Lake High School’s talent show: Glitter.

And I’ve loved every single year.

My Freshman Year, I was a scared little scrawny kid riding on the coat-tails of absurdly confident Seniors like John Jacobson. We did skits about Julia Childs and American Idol and…Cheerleaders.

My Sophomore Year, I was joined by one of my best friends: Jeremy. That year, there were eight MCs…And all were boys. That year, we did skits about Lumberjacks and British Men.

My Junior Year, Jeremy and I were MCs again. There was nine of us, that year. That was the year we pushed the envelope and made jokes about Jeremy being Lebanese. That was the year we had an MC Dating Game and introduced the Voice and that was the year Charmaine became the Glitter MC Coach.

My Senior Year…was an absolute blast. With seven Senior guys as the show’s MCs, I couldn’t have been happier. We had too much fun coming up with skits about Teacher House Parties and Sasquatch Hunting, about Girls Peeing and Canadian Men.

Every year came with new challenges and new excitements. Whether it was my Sophomore Year when we found ourselves without a Coach or my Senior Year where we had to…contain our outlandish behaviors, we faced difficulties. But the world of “show-biz” is basically one huge problem solving exercise…And I think, looking back over the past four years, that Glitter MCs have usually done a pretty good job of solving problems.

For four years, I’ve been an MC. For three years, I’ve MC’d with Jeremy. For two years, I’ve been Coached by Charmaine. But every year has been filled with immense amount of joy and (thankfully) laughter. Honestly, I couldn’t be more grateful that, for some reason, I decided to audition my Freshman Year.

Because being a Glitter MC has always been one of my favorite parts of every year.

Because it has been a great honor to be known as: a Master of Ceremony.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

A Call to Arms

March 23, 2013

A Call to Arms

This upcoming Wednesday, the Performing Arts Company will hold auditions for the 2013 One Act Play Festival.

Personally, I think that the One Act Play Festival is one of the most fun and fulfilling things that a kid can do at Gull Lake High School. The plays are 100% student created. They’re directed by students (usually Seniors, like yours truly). They’re performed by students. And all of the tech is run by students.

This Monday from 2:45-4:30 in Mr. Nott’s Room, we’ll be hosting an Orientation where students who are maybe a little hesitant about auditioning can come and learn what we’re all about in the Performing Arts Company. It’s open to everyone in every grade. The Senior Directors will talk a little bit about what it’s like to audition and what the different technical crews are.

On Wednesday from 2:45-5:30 in Mr. Nott’s room, we’ll be hosting our auditions. These auditions are open to everyone in every grade and there’s no experience necessary. It’s always great to see fresh faces at auditions, so I encourage any budding thespians that may be reading this to come.

Personally, I can’t wait to see what sort of kids come audition and I can’t wait for Erica and I to find that magical trinity of cast members that will make up: The Pan Complex. The ball is beginning to roll and I’m sitting expectantly on the edge of my seat.

So, this is A Call to Arms. I’m calling out to any and all Drama kids hiding at Gull Lake, requesting that you come help make this year’s One Acts the best ever.

On a very slight side note…Glitter’s tonight. Doors open at 6:30. Show starts at 7:00. There’s still some tickets left to be sold at the door.

Fingers crossed for a successful One Acts and for a successful Glitter.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

A Letter From Me

March 17, 2013

A Letter From Me

Friday, Gull Lake High School finished out the 2nd Trimester. With the Seniors facing their final trimester in High School, there is a lot of talk about school ending. Heck, Spring Break’s only two weeks away and then we’ve only got a short 8 weeks left of school. Well, with all this talk of graduation, I’ve been reminded of something I’d almost completely forgotten about: Our 8th Grade letters.

At Gull Lake, every 8th Grader writes a letter to their Senior selves. At the end of this school year, the English teachers will start passing everyone’s letters back. Every envelope will contain something different. Some kids put money in theirs. Some kids put pictures. Some put unopened letters from their friends. But everyone will have a letter from their 8th Grade selves.

For the Life of me, I can’t remember what I wrote in my letter or any of the letters I wrote to my friends. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

Anyway, as I think about what 8th Grade Brian will tell me, I also find myself thinking about what I would tell him. If I could somehow write a response to 8th Grade Brian…What would I say? I think this is where mankind’s fear of the unknown really shows it’s true colors. See, if I said anything to 8th Grade Brian, I don’t think I would tell him to change some past event. I’m pretty happy with how things are now and I wouldn’t dare risk changing it to something unknown by telling past me not to do something…Of course, now we’re getting into the more Sci-Fi, time paradox sort of time travel, while this question was originally posed to be a mere hypothetical.

So, all time paradoxes aside, what sort of advice would you give past you? I think I’d tell 8th Grade Brian that if he didn’t Live the next four years exactly as I just did…I’d kick his butt. I’d tell him to just go with the flow because sometimes the current will be fast and sometimes the current will be slow, but all rivers lead to the ocean. I’d tell him to relax and to not be so anxious. I’d tell him that everything will work out exactly as it’s supposed to and all he can do is smile about it. I’d tell him that all anybody can ever ask of him is his best…but that he better always try to try his best.

And so, here I sit…eagerly awaiting a letter from Middle School me…wondering what sort of advice he’ll have.

I just hope 8th Grade Brian isn’t as much of an Idiot as I remember him being.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

Super Powers

March 10, 2013

Super Powers

If you could have any Super Power, what would it be?

I think that’s my favorite rhetorical question to ask. It’s also a question that I entertain when I find myself struggling to fall asleep at night. If I could have any Super Power…What would it be? What would I do with that Power? Do other people have Powers in this fantasy? What Super Powers fit the personalities of my friends and family? What would they do with their Power?

If I could have any Super Power, I’d probably want to be able to fly. I realize that’s an unbearably typical answer, but I can’t get over how much fun that would be. Takin’ flight and zipping through the sky whenever you want? Not to mention how fast you’d be able to get everywhere. Well, given that you could fly quickly. How awful would it be if you were suddenly gifted with the ability to fly…but only very slowly. Like, what if someone could walk faster than you could fly? What a bummer, right?

Anyway, I’d want to fly. Because I think it would be the cat’s meow. The bee’s knees. The fish’s pajamas. But that’s not totally what this blog post is about. This is a post about Super Powers…but of a different sort.

While humans probably won’t ever develop supernatural abilities, I think we all have a sort of “Super Power.” And now we’ve arrived at the point of the blog. Let’s start with the idea that everyone is good at something. Not necessarily spectacular, not necessarily a master…but everyone is good at something. And that something requires some part of the persons body, soul, or mind. Soccer players need feet, artists need hands, mathematicians need brains, pianists need fingers…so on and so forth. And that part of them, I think, is sort of special…it’s Super. It’s not like everyone else’s.

I think that’s kind of a cool idea.

As horribly cliché as it sounds, I think it’s important to sometimes take a moment and realize how Super we all really are. We’re not just boys and girls toddling around aimlessly. We are men and women put on this Earth with these Super Powers to do great things.

And I think that is pretty darn Super.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

Ah, Tubing!

March 9, 2013

Ah, Tubing!

The other day, Coach Hawkins gave us this assignment in AP Lit where we had to write a vignette (essentially a short, short story) and present it to the class. As I was writing mine, I realized it sounded a lot like a blog post. So, I figured I might as well post it. Why not, right?

Let’s jump right into it…

“Are you ready?” Kelcey asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” I attempted a grin, but I probably just looked gassy. I was pretty nervous.

“Let’s go!” Kelcey jumped into the chilly, clear water of Gull Lake and began swimming over to the tube.

Time to be a manly-man, Brian. Time to look manly. You can do this! Gotta impress her! My motivational thought-speech didn’t seem to be convincing my body, however, because I was still firmly planted on the boat.

“C’mon,” Kelcey called from the tube she was masterfully mounting. She’d obviously done this a lot. Quite a bit more often than I had.

Oh, what the hell. I thought to myself as I plunged into the water. I doggy paddled over to the tube and yanked myself up next to Kelcey in a manner much less graceful then her.

“We’re ready!” Kelcey called up to her aunt, the boat’s driver.

We are? I thought, grabbing hold of the tube’s handles for dear life.

Suddenly, the tube was being slowly pulled along the water’s surface. Before I knew what was happening, her aunt gunned it. Fear constricted my throat and nothing more than a croak escaped my lips while Kelcey hooted and hollered like a wild child. I’d like to think it was the fourth or fifth turn that I fell off…but I’m pretty sure it was just the first.

Even after several more attempts on the demon-tube, I still wasn’t able to generate a more definite grip. Kelcey seemed to be disappointed in my lack of masculinity.

Gotta be manly! Gotta impress her! I thought to myself as I recovered from another embarrassing wipeout. This next one! This next one I will stay on, no matter what! I took my place on the tube next to Kelcey and nodded that I was ready to go. The driver seemed to be trying to take it easy on me now, because it felt like we were going a little bit slower than the speed of light. Kelcey seemed pretty bored, though. I think she started filing her nails at one point.

Suddenly, the boat was turning.

I will stay on! I will not fall off! I will stay on! I thought to myself, steeling my grip on the tube’s handles while Kelcey started to take a quick catnap.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t my grip that I really needed to worry about…it was the rest of my body. The force from the turn sent me rolling into the water.

Do not let go! Do not let go! I gritted my teeth as I was dragged through the water, holding onto the tube for all I was worth.

And then…I felt my trunks get yanked off by the water.

Let go! Let go! Let go, you idiot! I quickly abandoned ship and began a fervent search for my swimsuit. The boat was slowly turning around and heading my way. If I didn’t find my trunks soon, Kelcey would be seeing more of my “manliness” then I ever had planned for this sunny, summer day.

Luckily, fate decided to have a little bit of mercy on me and I was able to find and don my trunks before Kelcey was close enough to see me.

I hate tubing, I thought to myself. I really do.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

15 Plays Later

March 7, 2013

15 Plays Later

When this trimester began, I was put in a class called: “Guided Study”. This class was created to give students who struggle with classwork some extra time to study. I’m there as a member of NHS and I help the kids with their homework when they need it.

When they don’t need it, however, Mr. Nott and I discuss plays that he’s assigned me to read. Since the trimester started, I’ve read 15 plays. And they’ve all been so unbelievably good.

Death of a Salesman


The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-In-The-Moon Marigolds

The Runner Stumbles

I Hate Hamlet


Moon Over Buffalo

Mother Hicks

Step on a Crack


Dark of the Moon

The Miracle Worker

The Glass Menagerie

Wait Until Dark

And The Foreigner

I’ve visited rural, southern towns plagued by superstition in plays like Mother Hicks or Dark of the Moon. I’ve been taken to fast-moving, city apartments in Moon Over Buffalo or Wait Until Dark. I’ve laughed at absurdly satirical comedies like I Hate Hamlet and Fools. I’ve been intrigued by thought-provoking dramas like Equus and The Glass Menagerie. Mr. Nott even had me delve into the world of plays for children with works like Selkie and Step on a Crack. He told me that: “Plays for children must be better than plays for adults. Kids have an ability to understand great Truth, more than we think they can. Most kids nowadays are malnourished, they aren’t given the kind of entertainment that helps them grow.”

While every single play has been amazing…I don’t know if any of them topped The Effect of Gamma Rays. If I had to choose a favorite, that would be it. In fact, if you ever come across a copy of the play, snatch it up. Read it.

Unfortunately, the trimester is rapidly coming to a close. Pretty soon, I’ll have to say good-bye to the kids. Luckily, Mr. Nott and I have discussed letting me continue my play reading even after I leave the class. I mean, he’s got this huge crate full of all his favorite plays and I’d love to read them all…There’s only one problem…

With this trimester ending, more and more Seniors are talking about the end of High School. And it’s made me realize that I can postpone thinking about the end all I want but it’ll still be there. I can keep reading plays in the third trimester…But that’ll end eventually. So, maybe the crate will go unfinished.

While that could be a depressing thought…I suppose I should just be happy that I was given the amazing opportunity to (somewhat) have an Independent Study of Drama in my Senior Year. What PAC Rat wouldn’t want that?

For now, I’ll just ask Mr. Nott to keep piling the plays on. I’ll deal with the end when it gets here.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)


March 4, 2013


Is it weird that the person we see the least is Ourself?

Granted, there are probably people on this planet that I’ll never see and there are people on this planet that I’ll only see once or twice. But I mean like the people that we know well. Or even the people that we only somewhat know…Maybe that should be some kind of qualification for friendship. “The point at which you’ve seen a person more than you’ve seen yourself is also the point at which you can call this person your friend.”

Perhaps I should explain what I’m talking about.

Picture an average day. How many times do you actually see yourself? Three, maybe four times? The only time you look yourself in the eye is when you’re hopping out of the shower or brushing your teeth or going to the bathroom. Even then, you’re only seeing yourself in passing.

So, let’s try to do some math (a scary thing for me to do.) Let’s say I take every day that I’ve Lived: 6,442 (as of March 4th, 2013.) Now, let’s say that every day I see myself for a total of…90 seconds? That means that I’ve seen myself for a total of 161 and a half hours. That’s not even a full week. Of the 920 weeks that I’ve Lived…not even one of them was spent viewing myself. That’s only about 0.1% of my Life.

To clarify, this is not meant to be a narcissistic post and hopefully it is not received that way. Mostly, I am merely speculating. Which is what I do here in my man cave.

Anyway…Isn’t that weird? Of all the people that we come to know on planet Earth…We see Ourselves the least.

Sometimes, and maybe this will seem unbelievably narcissistic, I hesitate before I leave the bathroom after brushing my teeth. Sometimes I take a quick second and I look at me and I think…”That’s Brian Wiegand.” And It’s almost like seeing a stranger. I’ve never seen that boy in the mirror laugh like I know he has. I’ve never seen that boy in the mirror joke like I know he has. I’ve never seen him talk. I’ve never seen him Live Life. But it’s me. It’s definitely me in the mirror.

And, really, if you really want to get into it…We never truly see Ourselves. We only see reflections. I’ll never get to truly take a look at Brian Wiegand. Not in this Lifetime.

Oh, well.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

A Sister Like Molly

February 27, 2013

A Sister Like Molly

Last night, my family and I went to a production of Hair at Miller Auditorium.

The treacherous, snowy roads did little to dampen our spirits as we made for a little restaurant called the Roadhouse, just five minutes from the theatre. After a quick dinner, we hurried off to see the show.

The show itself was great. I enjoyed the music and I thought the singing was really good  The play was interactive and the audience was responsive, which is always fun. The story followed that of a free-spirited tribe and their struggle with one of their numbers being drafted into the army.

The highlight of the night, however, was during the curtain call. The cast members took their bow and then started to pull audience members on stage to dance with them. Molly and I laughed as we saw Mom get pulled up. A few seconds later, another actress reached out to us across a few rows of chairs.

“Oh, boy,” Molly chuckled.

I turned to Molly and grinned. As a thespian to an artist, as a brother to a sister, I said:

“C’mon. We’re goin’ up there,” I grabbed her hand and pulled her down the aisle until we reached the stairs to the stage.

We trotted up the steps and took our place amongst the dozens of other people dancing.

“I hate you,” Molly laughed.

It was amazing. The phrase: “Too much fun” comes to mind. I felt so unbelievably unabashed, even though I’m sure my dancing was terrible enough to make the shows choreographer cry. Lights were flashing, music was playing, and a huge crowd was cheering loudly for us.

It was in that instant that I realized how lucky I am to have A Sister Like Molly.

Molly and I were like every other brother-sister pairing when we were younger. We despised each other. She still occasionally brings up the fact that I used to be a little bit of a biter. But it wasn’t too long before that attitude disappeared. In recent years, I’d say Molly is one of my closest friends. That doesn’t mean, however, that she’s not afraid to chase me around the house, pin me down, and Charley-Horse my leg whenever I tease her.

But I owe Molly some thanks for a lot more than the countless bruises she put on my leg. When I was entering High School as a Freshman, I was pretty clueless about a lot of things. It was thanks to Molly that I didn’t completely embarrass myself on multiple occasions. (For example: When I asked a girl to Homecoming.) To any parents out there with younger children, your second child’s best chance at having a successful High School career is their older sibling. The first child’s just gonna have to tough it out on their own.

Luckily, Molly is plenty tough enough to handle anything Life throws her way.

Molly is a kind, caring, funny, relatable sibling. She makes me look at countless classic siblings and smile…because I know what it feels like to have a friend like that.

I know how Ron feels about Ginny.

I know how Jem feels about Scout.

I know how Orville feels about Wilbur.

I somewhat have a slight idea about Kim’s feelings towards Kourtney.

So, while I suppose I’ve always known that I was fortunate to have A Sister Like Molly…it sometimes takes dancing on stage together in a touring Broadway show to fully realize it.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)

My Closet Door

February 25, 2013

My Closet Door

Due to the effect of Michigan weather, we Richlandites won’t see Spring take over our environment for a while, but Spring is certainly approaching…rapidly.

Spring is a busy time for an Idiot like me. Spring means Track…Spring means One Acts…And Spring means Glitter. Glitter auditions have already come and past, the Call Board was posted just last week. This year will be my fourth as a Master of Ceremony. There’s a opening Track meeting tomorrow. And just today, Mr. Nott updated the Call Board with information on One Acts.

So, I’m very aware that my final season of High School will soon be upon me.

Just the other day, I was looking at My Closet Door and it hit me just how close we are to the end. See, my closet door has these four panels. On each panel, I’ve placed a poster and a playbill from that year’s PAC events. The problem with this decoration is that once it’s finally finished…I won’t be around long enough to appreciate it. With One Acts on the way, My Closet Door will soon be complete.

Well, shoot.

Anyway, the non-morbid part of Spring is that it’s always fun. Busy…But fun. And I can’t wait to try my hand at Directing my very own show.

I haven’t talked about it for a while, but The Pan Complex will soon be presented for the community to see. While Erica and I may have been slacking slightly in our author-ly duties, we’ll have the play done before it’s due…this Thursday.

I think the most exciting thing about The Pan Complex is that it’s being invented 100% by Erica and I. We wrote the play, we’ll cast the players, we’ll decide the movements, we’ll design the set, and I’ve even asked a good friend of mine, Brady, to make the music. For four years, I’ve been under the direction of Mr. Nott or Mrs. Stahr or some Senior…But this year, I get to grab my megaphone and see what I can do with the right side of my brain.

It’s the compilation of everything I’ve learned in four years of PAC and High School packed into one 15 minute show.

Spring means a lot of things that I can look at morosely…my last Track season, my last trimester of High School, my last Glitter, my last PAC Show…Or I can realize that I’ve been blessed to have these opportunities given to me. And I’m lucky to still have a little bit of time to make a splash at Gull Lake High School.

So, here’s to the completion of My Closet Door. Here’s to Spring. Here’s to Track. Here’s to Glitter. Here’s to One Acts. And here’s to Peter Pan.

-Brian Wiegand (An Idiot, A Superman in training)