Don't sleep through 'U> roductions M any of us come into Ann Arbor thinking that we are cultured, or at least somewhat in touch with spheres of society other than our own. We think that we live on the cutting edge of diversity and artistic expres- sion. We think that we have our eyes wide open to the spectrum of little worlds that make up the entire society. We think we know what life's all about. Coming from south-suburban cago, I thought I knew what was gng on. My parents taught me well. I thought that I was in touch with the latest in living culture. From the clas- sical concerts to multicultural events, I thought I had it under control. How wrong I was. What a shock it was to come into Ann Arbor and be put in my artistic place, so to speak. When it comes to the world of the creative arts, this *n, city, community or whatever it is that you want to call it, has no artistic limits. It's .,4 taken me a while, but I have sfinally learned my lesson. From the step KRISTIN com petitions that LONG are performed State of the throughout the S syear to Generation APA, an Asian Pacific American culture show that showcases everything from hip hop dance and lyrical dance, the students and the University community at large beam with amazing talents. The dances, the music, the words of what these performances represent are siesn so intrinsically unique that Nfines a crucial aspect of local life. The culture of this campus isn't limited to the ethnic productions either. From the Woman's Glee Club to the State Street Poetry Project, student talent consumes our lives, whether we know it our not, and the result is exquisite spectacles of tal- ent and creativity. There is but one problem: The peo- pie who don't take advantage of these tments, and let the performances pnthem like sports cars on South State Street. The people who "forget" to go or "don't have time d C'mon, you know who you are. You are the one that says, "That sounds cool to go to (insert performance at issue). I'm definitely there. But then when the day of the event comes, for some reason you forget to go. One time it's too much homework. *n another, you think it'll take to much time, or you're too tired or, now here's the kicker, you're just too lazy. Then, Monday comes around, and so-and-so friend, who happened to have something to do with the show, asks you if you were there. All you can do is smile and nod, and hope that he doesn't notice the sweat on your brow, and respectfully, and I mean respectfully, weasel your way out of this mess. How do I know you so well? It's all t~use I speak from experience, silly foks.; I know how terrible the guilt is to say, "Sony pal, I just couldn't make it' It's such an awful scene. But you move on, wipe the sweat from your brow, and try not to ever go through that again. One of my friends is an aspiring comic, and when I attended his shows, I have to admit, he was simply wonder- After the first performance I attend- tried to make all that followed without missing a minute of each. In all of his productions, he worked with other students, and while at times the audience wasn't rolling on the floor with laughter (not from my friend, of course, he was amazing and near per- fect), it was simple, good, old-fash- ioned fun. No, not lame, fun, good fun. The local musicians who are either in a band that plays at venues like the League or Rick's, or those who play in