15 January 2013

Do You Hear the People Sing?

Here in Utah, we pride ourselves on having "The Greatest Snow on Earth".


This great and fantastic snow often comes as a minor inconvenience to people.
The snow was bad enough this time around that they canceled school on Friday for the first time in decades, and it was the first snow day for just about every single kid in my school.


I went ahead and made the most of my three day weekend. I spent a large portion of my time cuddled up with my mom on the couch, watching Arthur. Honestly, I can't imagine much better of a way to spend a snow day than with my mom.


But the days were in fact long, so in the afternoon Aerielle and I wanted to seize the day in an attempt to build a snow man! However, while Utah powder is ideal for skiing and snow boarding, it doesn't really do any good when it comes to snow man making. Or snow castle making. Or snow cave making. Or snow couch making. 
As a matter of fact, the only thing we really found a use for it in was just to jump around like kindergartners. Which really was a fantastic use.


I love my mom, and we had the opportunity yesterday to celebrate her with yummy cake and ice cream.


As might be surmised by the title of this post, tonight I had the wonderful opportunity to watch Les Misérables. 

It's been nearly 3 years since I first read Victor Hugo's novel in my sophomore seminar English class. And yet with each interpretation I am moved. Particularly with this one.

I'm an emotional boy, and winter is hard for me. I feel more or less trapped into warm indoors unable to simple meander through to where I am going. I feel trapped in the monotony of school and work life. I feel trapped by the anxious waiting for what will come tomorrow.
Winter is just not my favorite season.

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing a song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

With in the limits of my human existence, I will not be a slave again. 
I will not be a slave to the monotony of emotional melancholy. I will not be the slave to an immature dissatisfaction of my surroundings. I will not be the slave of having to hide in the closet. I will not be the slave to any inferior, sublime or degrading thought that I might willingly entertain even ever so briefly in my mind.

Because I know that there is a life that is about to start, when tomorrow comes.


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