Throwing a Legitimate Dance Party: A How-To Guide

Ever since I was in high school, going to homecomings and proms, I always wanted to throw my own "dance" party. Why? Well, I just didn't like the way high school did stuff the stuff they did. I did not like every one's "dancing" style around me. I did not like the indiscriminate choice of music. I did not like that fact that there were no serious refreshments of which to speak. I just thought I could do it better...

So that is what I did. Over the past year, I've orchestrated the throwing of three very successful and legit dance parties. With each party, I learned some valuable lessons and the next time, I made the relevant changes to keep the party 'raging'. Below, I have created a 'how-to' guide for this delicate, but highly rewarding process:

1. Budget

Like every good endeavor, you need to sit down and determine what you're willing to spend on this thing. If you're looking to do it right and this is your first time doing it, it's going to be expensive. (for perspective, I believe my first budget was $100) The good news, though, is that the money you spend on infrastructure here will not have to be re-spent for future parties. It might be worth it to see if you can get an interested core group of people to help fund some of the various aspects.

2. Who To Invite

This is certainly more up to the personal preference of the hosts, but one hard-and-fast rule that I've found out is that you need to keep the guy-to-girl ratio pretty even. An overwhelming number of one over the other is not conducive to a properly socializing group because guys certainly want to be with their buddies, but they also want to have the opportunity to meet and socialize with plenty of girls. The same goes for girls; girl friends are nice to have, but a party with too many girls will make them feel like they're being used. This dynamic also becomes more clear when dancing begins; what guy wants to dance with another guy? And what girl wants to only be dancing with her girl friends all the time? I cannot stress this rule enough.

3. Music

The party doesn't have a chance without music, of course. It's probably a good idea to make two playlists: one of just general party tunes and another for dance music (the reason for this will become clear later). If you do not already have all the music yourself, see if you might be able to get it from that core group of friends. In selecting music, it is good to have a genre variety. Sure, Flo Rida and Lady Gaga are modernly relevant, but what about the timeless classics like Elvis Presley, Little Richard, Spice Girls, or *NSYNC? Every one likes to get taken back to the old days once in a while, so give them that diversity. Also, I recommend splicing in some other genre types such as salsa and swing dancing numbers.

4. Infrastructural Items, Pt. 1: "Sound"

Ah, here's the point that might be a bit hard to swallow: you'll have to invest some money into this party. Not just "some" money, but depending on what your goals are, potentially "alot" of money. For a first party, this does not always need to be a giant expenditure, but that also depends on what you already have to start with. You'll need a stereo of some sort, and you'll need an MP3 player that you can plug into said stereo. This is not a bad investment, party planning aside, but it can definitely be one that sets you back a few bucks. If you do not have an MP3 player and no one else you know has one, then you're probably Amish and I'm curious as to why you're throwing a dance party in the first place. Though seriously, if this is the case, MP3 CDs work well enough. They have a higher storage capacity than regular audio CD formats and iTunes can burn in this format.

All-in-one Disco Ball; $25

5. Infrastructural Items, Pt. 2: "Lights and Special Effects"

Colored light bulb; $5

This step will also require some monetary investment. Party lighting will give your dance party teeth, beyond simply having loud music. The cheapest route to take would be to purchase variously colored light bulbs. This will create a pretty static atmosphere for what should be a dynamic party, so I would only recommend these as a supplement. There are a couple of mid-range alternatives, however, such as small disco balls. And if you really have money burning a hole in your pocket, there is some professional DJ equipment out there that will really give the dance floor some kick. And smoke machines are reasonably inexpensive, depending on what you get. The low power ones (such as the 400 watt model) only create 'smoke', which is great to project LED through because it creates an awesome laser effect. The higher powered models (such as the 1100 watt) are able to create a low-lying fog effect that you see in the movies. It requires a special fog juice to create, so make sure you do your research on fog machines to ensure that you get what you want.

6. Food and Drink

Fog Machine 400 Watt; $30

Though not nearly as fun to shop for as the items listed above, proper nutrition and hydration (or de-hydration, depending on the beverage in question) is important. It would be appropriate to call on guests to bring either a snack food or a beverage when they accept the invitation, but you will undoubtedly need to supplement that. Chips and salsa is a decent, inexpensive starter. Also, it is vital that the host(s) provide the first round of beverages. This is important because your assigned beverage bringers might not arrive on time and while people are waiting, they should have a drink in their hand, if they desire it.

7. Decorations

This should probably be the weakest link in your budget. If you're short on cash or time, this becomes nonessential, but if you just don't have cash, then creatively-used, ordinary party streamers can change the look of your place drastically and get people in the party spirit.

8. Other Last Minute Preparations

Moonflower LED Light; $60

Of course, clean your place and make it look nice. Also, rearranging the furniture will give you more dance room space. If you live in an apartment complex, you should warn your neighbors of the noise the party will generate. Give them your cell phone number(s) and ask them to call you if it ever gets too loud. This is always better than the alternative of having the cops called. Reiterate that their comfort is your first concern and that you will be more than happy to bring the volume (or at least the bass) on the stereo down.

9. Timing and Bringing It All Together

Invariably, most of the guests will arrive anywhere between a half hour late to one hour and a half late. This is not terrible news because odds are you won't be fully ready by party time anyway. If you can get that core group of friends to show up early, they can play host or hostess while you are putting the finishing touches on the evening or getting ready yourself.

When people do arrive, they will want to have a drink or two and socialize with the other guests. This is a great time to put the 'party tunes' playlist or CD on the stereo at a conservative volume. Allow people plenty of time to snack and talk with their friends. Resist the urge to be over eager in moving to the dancing portion because regardless of the scene, people will not dance until they're ready too.

When it comes time to dance, the host should pause the music and call everyone around. A toast is usually appropriate here, as well as a few thank yous for everyone that came and for the food/drink they brought. While you're doing this, a trusted friend is setting up the dance playlist/CD. After the toast and thank yous, the host announces in some fashion that the dancing portion will begin shortly. Then, the party lights, which had been off up to this point, are switched on and the music starts.

People probably won't dance immediately, especially if this is the first time you're doing this. It will take some time for people to adjust to the idea of dancing in front of other people, especially if they weren't seriously expecting to do any dancing. So just be patient. Once they start dancing, your job is practically finished. Enjoy yourself and keep your cell phone by you to receive any calls from sleepy neighbors.

Hope this helps! Good luck!

The Science of Santa Claus

As a high school junior in physics class, we were released from classes for Christmas break with a short scientific analysis of the plausibility of Santa Claus. I admit, slightly shamefully, I wish I had the personality to be able to come up with these because I really quite enjoy these sorts of reality checks. Alas, I did not come up with this one, but I repost it for your reading pleasure from another website, credited below:

No known species of reindeer can fly. BUT there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

There are 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn’t (appear) to handle Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total — 378 million according to Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that is 91.9 million homes. One presumes there’s at least one good child in each.

Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75½ million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding and etc.

This means that Santa’s sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, 3000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest manmade vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second — a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN times their normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload — not even counting the weight of the sleigh — to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison — this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance — this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer with absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

 From http://www.chainreactionbicycles.com/santaclaus.htm 

My conclusion to all this: it's more plausible that God became man, remaining both fully God and fully man, and that a virgin conceived this child and gave birth to him, all throughout this process remaining a virgin, than Santa Claus existing.

The Going-Away Party

Maxwell had killed his sister. It was a pretty efficient murder at that; and Sir Maxwell Stewart prided himself on efficiency, whether it was with closing a business deal or doing away with nosy siblings. Although, the business deals were a significantly more common occurrence than the occasions that required the snuffing of relatives.

It had been efficient because she had consumed enough wine at his going away party that she did not feel the slight pin-prick of a syringe as it injected its lethal payload of insulin. Maxwell was a diabetic and his sister was not. The overdose had quietly put her to sleep on the sofa of the mansion's parlor. It did not take much.

The silent killing was also an excellent method of murder because it left no crime scene clues, should the body ever be found. There were no lacerations, no stab wounds, no bullet holes, no broken bones, or anything else of the gory and ghastly sort typically associated with the dark deed. She was indeed very old and by all appearances, it would seem that her poor, ailing heart had simply given out and her soul had flown to the heights of that holy Paradise.

Maxwell knew that it was her blood sugar, not her heart, that gave out, and that her soul was actually rotting in the circle of Hell reserved exclusively for prying, gossipy nannies. She had invented this grand conspiracy theory that his business empire was somehow built on lies and cheating, all claims were woefully unsubstantiated, of course. Doubtless she had concocted this inconceivable foolishness to tarnish his sterling reputation and ruin his going-away party. Maxwell had tolerated his sister's ignorance on a variety of other subjects, but it seemed to him hardly fair that he should suffer her vague fantasies of corruption and sleight-of-hand dealings when his good name was at stake.

However, his reputation was the furthest thing from his mind when this cake knife in his chest was the closest thing to his heart. James Ironsides, his American business rival, had put it there. Just like his business manners, Ironsides had no tact: no silent poisons or macabre premeditation. He just walks right up to you and plunges the cake knife unpretentiously into your chest. He did not even have the decency to wipe the icing from the blade.

Anyhow, things were beginning to feel very cold for Sir Maxwell. He could not tell if it was the two feet of snow in which he was lying or the icy caress of death stealing over him. Whichever the case, he was alone. Ironsides had not even had the decorum to gloat over his dying form. He could have at least thanked him for inviting him to the party, yes, thank you it truly is marvelous, is this wine a special vintage? of course, most excellent, are you finished with that cake knife? here Maxwell, let me pin this thank you note to your blazer with this cake knife, comfortable? well, I must be going, lovely party, let's do this again sometime.

But it was not so, and Maxwell felt the chill of his fate long before he arrived at that frozen circle of Hell reserved exclusively for dishonest, sibling-murdering businessmen.

Was, Is, and Ever Shall Be, Chapter 1

Finished with Morning Prayer, Cale shut the breviary and put it back in his pack. He had spent the night at the edge of a small pond and a light fog surrounded him in the early autumn morning. The sun had just risen over the edge of the plain, but it had not yet penetrated the thick copse of rusty trees that concealed the pond. Cale had chosen this spot to remain concealed.

Arising from the half-rotten stump that served as a stool, the young deacon grabbed his empty plastic water bottle and knelt by the edge of the pond. He scanned the area around the pond, from the edge of the water to the line of trees, and then submerged the bottle in the murky water to fill it. Clean water was difficult to find in the Wilderness. Ingesting bad water this far from any sort of medical aid would be fatal, making proper drinking water crucial. After filling the bottle nearly to the neck, Cale returned to his sack and extracted another small plastic bottle of commercial household bleach and a roll of duct tape. Just a drop of the bleach would purify water to proper drinking standards. Who would have thought bleach would have become so essential?

Screwing on the cap, Cale laced his worn boots and wrapped a sizeable length of the duct tape around the boot’s toe and sole, wrapping the two together. The left boot had long ago come apart at this spot and the right boot was not far behind. This finished, Cale donned his dirty-white cowboy hat, picked up his pack, and headed for the edge of the copse.

The copse was only a few trees thick, but it had fulfilled its purpose of hiding the light of his small evening campfire from others. Although this area was largely deserted, some farms were still inhabited, and the residents might not have taken kindly to squatters on their land. Cale, however, was only passing through, and in a few steps, he emerged from the tree line and beyond.

The sun was now well above the perfectly flat, barren landscape about him. Corn had once grown on these rich plains, but the land now lies fallow and untilled. It had been some years since man had nurtured this area. The rains fell and the still sun shone on this beautiful land, now overgrown with high grass and some smaller trees. The earth here had mostly forgotten man’s past husbandry, now a fading memory of its youth that becomes more difficult to recall with each passing year.

Still, the paved highway remained cutting across the untended lands. A scar down the length of the open landscape, this was the most difficult memory for the land to suppress. Great fissures had formed in the asphalt, from which courageous shoots of the high grass had arisen. The bright painted lines were now all by sun bleached and gone. The surface eroded, little by little with the passing rains and occasional flood waters, but a highway, it continued to be. It was empty of any vehicles though. Neither car nor truck had driven on this road for some time, and with the circumstances of the state government, repairs were out of the question.

It was this highway that was Cale’s practical guide. He only possessed a road map and a compass, as this area had not yet been mapped for travel by foot. The map was simple enough to read; simply follow the roads and you will reach your destination. This had always concerned Cale, however. He had grown fond of following natural dirt roads and paths, and the idea of leaving himself exposed on such an open, though deserted, landscape while following a government-made road was unsettling. Therefore, Cale located the road and walked alongside it, close enough to the high grass should the need for a hiding place arise. But no one would see him here.

Cale used the sun to get his bearings and ascertain his direction. Then, adjusting the pack on his shoulder and tipping his hat forward, he headed north, in the direction of the destitute city of Chicago.

Within an arms length of the high grass, the going was fairly easy for Cale.   The earthy sloped up to the level of the pavement of the highway, creating a shallow trough for the traveler to carry on in. He not only had the high grass close enough to use for cover, but anyone traveling on the highway would have difficult spotting him. The only thing visible was his lean torso, his broad, but skinny shoulders and his pack, the rest of him hidden behind the trench wall.

Cale stood taller than most men. However, men were not as tall now as they had been, so he had heard. It appears that the lack of organized nutrition made proper growth a difficult thing, and though he was counted among the tallest of the remaining population, he amply moved through doorways and buildings constructed by mankind in previous times.

His shoulders, though wide in build, were lean and a bit scrawny.  Cale’s body had suffered greatly  from the effects of starvation only two years previous, and he was still on the road to recovery. Thus, his naturally large frame was left covered with only sparse muscle tissue and even less body fat. However, despite his lean appearance, Cale possessed a dangerous, frantic strength that derived from his unbreakable will of iron.

His curly, dark brown hair crowned his face, accented by his forceful green eyes beneath thick eyebrows. His nose lacked both prominence and distinction, but his chin and jaw compensated imposingly with an impressively square characteristic. He was mostly clean shaven, the typical appearance for members of the clergy, and only a short stubble dotted that angular jaw line. This, he scratched at thoughtfully, as he peered over his shoulder to check the road behind him.

He had only one pair of boots which he tried to keep in the best condition possible. Once those wore out, his ability to travel would be greatly diminished, unless he opted to proceed barefoot. Certainly, this was a mortification he would gladly undertake for the salvation of souls.  However, it would slow his progress and, if carried on for too long, could result in some hapless injury, rendering him unable to walk at all.

On his back, he wore a short, black leather jacket, provided to him by the diocese. Scuffed and beaten in outward appearance, it kept the warmth in and the damp out well enough. Beneath it, he had on a brown, moth-eaten sweater that smelled musty, but was enough to supplement the jacket. His jeans were faded and well-worn, ragged at the hemming and devoid of much of their original color. The white hat he wore completed the picture of something akin to a modern day cowboy, full of swagger and adventurously dusty, but beneath this visage trudged a scrawny young man, struggling just to put one foot in front of the other.

Yet each step he took brought him closer to his assignment. The Diocese of Southern Illinois had sent him on a missionary trip to the long starving city of Chicago, in which the Church had no formal presence. Since the earliest affronts against her, the Church had found it increasingly difficult to maintain established dioceses in the cities. The state government, now only an extension of the national government, used legislation and taxes to bend the Church to its will by compromising her beliefs or else destroy her. Unwilling to bend to tyranny and unable to die, the Church was outlawed, resulting in the diocesan authority’s exodus into the countryside to avoid arrest and criminal punishment for defiance of state law. From there, they continued to lead the remaining faithful while still sending missionaries in an attempt to reclaim souls within the cities. The Archdiocese of Chicago was now the Diocese of Southern Illinois, and due to a very sparse Catholic population in Illinois, the wilderness diocese had its hands full with all the land between Missouri and Indiana.

Cale had travelled from Centrum, the headquarters of the wilderness diocese, and there resided the bishop, The Most Reverend Patrick Grayson. The community was the largest in the state and was still growing. To maintain the secrecy of diocesan capital’s location, Bishop Grayson appointed some of the more experienced priests to establish parish communities elsewhere in the nearby wilderness to keep Centrum’s population at a manageable level. The bishop also held a strong desire to return lost souls in the large towns and cities, especially Chicago, and to this end, he assigned able missionaries to the task. Travelling in pairs, they usually consisted of priests or deacons accompanied by a willing layman. Women were not allowed to aid in these assignments, due to the dangerous and morally depraved conditions of souls in the cities and the harm they could inflict.

After a quick drink from his water bottle, Cale checked the road map again. The flat terrain had begun to dip, and before him the highway descended into a thick wood of brown and yellow autumnal color. Somewhere within the wood was the settlement of Occulta. To maintain secrecy, there were no markings on the road map to indicate its location, but a large amount of preparation for the priesthood and deaconate was spent memorizing the locations of the various wilderness parishes. Therefore, Cale knew well enough where to find it, though he had never been there himself.

Replacing the map back into his pack, he hoisted the pack over his shoulder once more and descended into the wood.

Fight to the Death

A few days ago, I watch the 2012 film, "The Grey", starring Liam Neeson and directed by Joe Carnahan ("The A-Team"). It's the story of a former special forces soldier, now working for oil pipeline company in Alaska/Canada, whose plane crashes in that region leaving only him and a few others as survivors. Together, they must brave the cold, the hunger, and the pack of nearby ravenous wolves that seek to pick the off, one at a time. A quick glance at the synopsis might not interest you immensely (it didn't interest me), but upon seeing the film, it felt more like a horror-thriller film than a boring "Cast Away" survival film. It was a very frightening film, but one, I believe, that offers a happy, through realistic ending with an emotional soundtrack and stunning snow-capped, evergreen visuals to match.

I do not usually cry during films (why should I? I'm a man). I used to just get caught up in the moment of "wow, this is an awesome scene!" and that was the extent of my excitement. But there are a few elements of cinema that, if properly portrayed, bring free-flowing tears to my eyes. One element of which is the notion of fighting to the death. I will not explain exactly how this relates to "The Grey", because I hope that this post will convince you to see an amazing film without giving any revealing details.

A number of films exist in which the "fight to the death" theme exists. A few that spring to mind include "The Lord of the Rings", "Henry V", "Gladiator", "Cinderella Man", and, though no actual fighting occurs, "The Passion of the Christ". It is a concept that is nonexistent in our society because we are so obsessed with immortality and preserving our own lives. The American culture is obsessed with extending life by whatever means necessary. Acceptance of death is considered a disastrous defeat. No matter what the challenge, there is always the hope that there will be a way that we can defeat the threat and still live at the end of it. There has to be a way that we can achieve a "happily ever after" ending where everyone lives, right?

Death comes for us all. Ready or not, it comes for us. People are afraid of death because they do not know what they will find on the other side. It is not a welcome event because if we have lived our whole lives the way we wanted to and not the way we ought to have, then we make a gamble. The unknown of death, whether it be Heaven, Hell, or just oblivion is terrifying to the one without a clean conscience.

When Death does come for us, there is no more running, no more hiding. We have been caught out in the open, ragged and exhausted from our frantic flight and the end is inevitable. What more worthy thing can we do? The film "Gladiator" suggests "Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back".

The only thing we can do is gird our loins and face our darkest terror with courage and resolve. While other men will despair or beg for mercy, a man of true-spirit gathers himself up and stands his ground, despite the challenge ahead. Sometimes, we are afforded a moment of reflection. All options run through our head, and our vain hope that we could make it out of this grim circumstance alive is forever on our thoughts. But after breathing deeply and turning our eyes to our ultimate fate, we realize that there is only one thing to do. At this point, success and failure are irrelevant: our focus has to be on completing the task at hand, mustering all forces of body and soul for this one purpose.

Then comes the moment of clarity. All of the struggle and confusion of this world melts away and there is only one thing that remains: the purpose. It is finally apparent that everything that has happened to you, everything you have endured, everything that has filled you with joy and sadness in your entire life was given to you to prepare you for this moment. Now, what will you do with this precious gift of a single moment? The passengers of United Flight 93 on September 11 knew. There would be no returning from that flight, but they saw past the despair at the end of their own lives. Instead, they held onto the most critical thing to do at that moment, and if they did not do it, who would?