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I don't know why, but I still try to smile.
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[05 Jan 2004|11:57pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 melancholy |
] |
None of my relatives support my descision to become a music education major, and it's really beyond me as to why.
I often asked them what they wanted me to be when I grew up. My mom, specifically, said that I could do anything, as long as I was happy doing it. But, I think what they really meant was "As long as you are happy and make a lot of money."
My aunt, especially, noted that the music education profession wasn't exactly a cash crop. I guess my family expects me to be a rich, successful scientist or something. What happened to being happy? My mom wants me to get a job in some kind of science. Sure, that would make me plenty happy, but I'd have to take physics, which I refuse to. I guess they want me to go to a huge state school and become really successful; screw my own happiness.
Dad, of course, is still trying to get me to go to the USNA. I refuse to join the military, so that is out of the question.
It's not like I need support from my family, but it would be nice.
And mom asked me to consider paying more attention to my appearance; she said she "wanted me to be happy with who I am, but wish I looked more 'girly', because I'm 'so pretty'.
Since when did just being yourself become so hard?
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| When I am King, you'll be first against the wall. |
[28 Dec 2003|05:27pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 aggravated |
] |
I listen to you whine incessantly for two days.
Okay, so, he ignored you at the Christmas dance. And he had a perfect right to.
You banter for at least a month about how much you like him and how you hopes he asks you to go, even going as far as "he'd better ask me."
So, he finally asks you. Everybody's happy.
We arrive at the dance. You see your friends. You completley ignored what you wanted so badly before.
So, he dances with another. You get offended. You whine and cry all night to the rest of us, trying to shift the blame from you to him. I can't believe you.
It's all your fault and you know it. You just left him, and got mad when he left you.
So, you finally realize it was your fault. Again with the proverbial waterworks. You ask me for my advice. You know what I'm going to say, I know what I want to say. I'm not going to say it. I can't bring myself to hurt you with the truth.
You accuse me of not caring. I say, "But I do."
I ask for your advice, you say "So, anyway....." and shift the conversation to you.
What kind of a person are you?
Maybe I just won't care anymore.
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| I know you, and you don't know the half of it. |
[16 Dec 2003|07:01pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 cold |
] |
It's been a long time since I updated this journal. =\ I've just been doing all my bitching and moaning on  clarinerd lately.
9 days till Christmas... I'm not really feeling the Christmas spirit this year. I know it is Christmas - I mean, the mass marketing and stupid decorations are everywhere, but I just don't feel it like I did last year. I don't know why. I kind of feel like I'm in an emotional valley, but... you know, it's normal for hormonally-charged chemically-unbalanced teenagers like myself.
I made an appointment at the counselor's office to get my schedule for next semeseter changed.
I plan on changing from McLeod's into Dunham's chemistry class. I give up with McLeod. The way he gives final grades really sucks ass, (quizzes are 80% of your grade, and I never do very well on the quizzes), and Greg keeps telling me Mr. Dunham's class isn't that complicated. I'm also looking into if my being on the swim team will cover my ass as far as swimming credits go, because I heard rumor it does. I don't think I'd be able to partake of such a sweet deal, because I'm a diver, and our stuff is easy compared to what the swimmers do. I mean... all we do is stand around, wait for a turn on the board, dive, and repeat the process. The only thing that would make it harder than swimming is the fear of smashing your head on the board when doing inwards, backs, and reverses.
... and yeah.
I still haven't asked Mr. Chenoweth about switching to french horn. But this time it wasn't because I was chicken - he gave us the old "I have to kick you out, I need to go to the middle school" song and dance.
I smell Taco Bell. I think I shall go check out some of that action.
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[08 Dec 2003|10:32pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 shocked |
] |
Okay, last night I posted this..
Something my mom asked me when I got home convinced me I was correct.
She asked me to consider moving in with my dad in Colorado.
Of course I won't, but how could you ask that of your own child?
Sigh.
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| Reflection on Fanfare For The Common Man |
[29 Nov 2003|12:55am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 nerdy |
] |
The title of the Copland composition truly fits the mood of it; when I hear Fanfare For The Common Man, I truly think of somebody ordinary - as ordinary as me, doing something truly great, and reveling in the spoils.
When I hear this song, I think of myself. I am a common person; average high school students with average grades, average activities, and a generally average life. I haven't done anything incredible. I am not a prodigy at this or that, I have not patented the genetic coding of a fruit fly. I have not written a novel, I have not composed a piece of music, nor have I had one of my works of art hanging in a museum.
I may not have an impressive list of accomplishments, but I have heart.
I work very hard at what I do; I wake up at 5:00 or earlier every morning to take a bus 30 miles in to school. I have my first class before the sun rises. I stay at school until long after the building has cleared, doing work or practing my instrument or at diving practice and such.
When I finally do get home, I have a quick dinner of leftovers before starting my homework.
I have a positive vision of all this being worth it, and I finally get my "fanfare".
I am by no means expecting my fanfare, but any common person deserves fanfare, I think, for being common and ordinary.
The chords, rhythms, and notes of this song have become something of a pulse to me, the song that I hear in my head.
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| a bookshelf sinks into the sand |
[16 Nov 2003|11:39pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 contemplative |
] |
I often wonder what people really think of me, and what kind of an impact I have on things. You know, like that movie It's A Wonderful Life.
I mean, I wonder... very hypothetically, if I wasn't here, what would things be like?
What do I do for the general outcome of things?
Wouldn't it be so neat to just... disappear for a few days like the guy in the movie, and be able to see things that would happen without you there?
Would Greg and Kaylee still be together?
Would Becky have so much of a reason to be so competitive in band?
Would so many things go on without me?
I wonder.
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| Give me that old time religion - or not |
[15 Nov 2003|08:11pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
contemplative |
] |
An "event" occured in chemistry the other day that caused me to rethink my desicion to just let the prayer said at the band banquet.
See, In chemistry, Chelsea Lozen said "Oh, God." and Becky of course, when all "fundamental" on her, and rather severley reminded her she needs to say "Oh, Gosh."
This is what irks me. I can't say a three-letter word because it's offensive to her, but a prayer can be said at a public school function, even though it offends me - not to mention, it's unconstituional? Hmm.
So, I am going to write that letter. Anonymously.
Why? Well, not only is it unconstituional to have a religious act such as prayer committed at a public school function, it hurts.
See, there's already enough isolation involved with not subscribing to a particluar faith, but not participating in the prayer with the obligatory head-down, eyes-closed deal.
What makes me sad is that the fact that I don't participate actually causes people to send some crude remarks my way; it even drove one girl with a particularly strong Christian faith to try and "save" me. I felt like a faith that I don't want was forced on me. If I wanted a faith, I would have accepted one by now, simple as that.
And I know not everybody in band is Christian. There's religious diversity in the band, so that really should be respected by keeping it secular, as it should be. True, we do play chorales with titles like "And Grant Me, Lord, To Do" and "Thy Sacred Head Now Wounded" and stuff, but that's musical, and we aren't singing praises.
Plus, I have respect for the faith of people like Becky. I don't hate them because they're Christians, I don't critize their beliefs (at least to their faces), nor do I inhibit or debunk the worship of their God and Christ, I just choose not to do it myself. I would that they would have the same respect for my beliefs (or lack thereof) and not try and preach to me or save me, or even lead a prayer for me.
If I had found what I was seeking when I was at the point in my life where I did think there was a God up there, I wouldn't have abandoned my faith.
Sometimes the pressure on me to conform is so great that I often think it would just be easier to give in and... start going back to church or something. But then, I would hate myself for denying my own self to conform to the popular opinion of society, which normally sucks. I mean, I'm not going to become anorexic to conform to society's ideal of "thinness is perfection"?
That's how I see giving back into religion.
I am not doing for the sake of being different; I think that if I just gave in, I'd be truly denying my own beliefs and feelings.
And you may say by not praying before eating, some Christians in band are denying their beliefs. They can pray on their own, there is no need to have a blessing said over a microphone and amplifier. I also understand that I don't have to participate, but after I did not put my head down, I felt a certain coldness radiating off of everybody towards me.
And it sucks.
I often wonder what Christians pray for when they pray. I suppose it depends on the person or the occaision..
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| This method acting; I call it living. |
[10 Nov 2003|10:16pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
contemplative |
] |
These long days are really starting to wear on me.
I get up at five a.m. after five or six hours of sleep, then I take a bus into town with loonies, serious loonies. I get to school at 6:30, with an hour or and hour and a half to spare, depending what day it is. I put up with a full day of classes and extracirriculars. Diving, drama, band performance obligations - it adds up fast and creates a hefty burden to bear.
On the rare occasion that I get home at a reasonable hour, I do a lot of homework. Mostly writing papers for english. And I practice my clarinet, which takes a lot of time in itself - I dread doing it, but often find I'm having too much fun to stop.
Most of my meals these days consist of school lunch and sodden, microwaved remains of dinner from last week. Mother has seemingly lost the ambition to cook anything, because my stepdad took a second job and works until nine or ten at night. So, I haven't had a proper meal in about... two weeks now?
And I often have to ride the bus home, too, because my mom doesn't want to waste gas to come pick me up. That means walking a over a mile from school to downtown, and then more loonies and now - elementary school kids. With large orchestra instruments. Cellos and basses. Die.
And through all this, all I feel like doing is sleeping because I'm so lacking in sleep all the time.
I'm not quite sure why I just don't wave the white flag already. There must be some motivating factor behind all this. I don't know what it could be - I don't have a religion, no Christ or God to live for.
As far as I'm concerned, I don't really have a life anymore.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop.
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| Don't move, don't talk out of time, don't worry, everything will be just fine. |
[06 Nov 2003|10:56pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 irate |
] |
Everything's going to shit? Why is that? Well.....
1. As much as I try and try to do for band, I don't know if it's ever enough. At least... spending a good hunk of summer vacation that I wasn't at camp for.. I was in the bandroom, sorting endless piles of sheet music, and it's earned me a position in band as librarian. I still haven't gotten much.. I don't know, thanks or recogntion. By no means am I doing it just for the recognition, but a sign that I'm appreciated would be nice. It sort of feels that I'm just working in vain right now.
2. Clarinet choir is going to shit. I know for a fact some people have the time, because I see one of the girls who always puts up the most fight with scheduling.... I see her in the lobby for hours at a time afterschool everyday just screwing around with her boyfriend.
Not only that, but Greg actually suggested I nix the idea altogether, because scheduling was too hard. Bull. fucking. shit. I'm just as busy as everybody else, but as Greg put it, "It's on the bottom of everybody else's priority list."
3. The band banquet was bad. Mr. C had Becky lead everybody in a prayer before we ate. This not only is unconstituional (as it is a public school function), but I was really offended. I don't personally subscribe to the Christian belief, and when a prayer has things like "Our Heavenly Father" and "The One True God", I think that's pretty fucking Christian. True, I didn't really have to listen, but still... there has to be some law against this somewhere. I'm sorry, it's just my personal opinion.
Thing is, I don't know if I should let him know I was offended or not... in turn, I might offend some. That's not my intention at all - what do I do?
4. Sally told me all about how she, Jake, Adrienne... and... *choke* Drew went to the movies. *crycry*
5. I can't go to CMU's clinic. I've been waiting a whole year to go, because last year I wasn't eligble, because Freshman weren't supposed to go. (I say supposed to go because Mr. C took Becky, because "they needed to fill an open spot." But I presume that would have... kind of allowed other freshman to go, yes?) I cannot believe how I'm still mad at something from a year ago. Roar. But I am!
How am I supposed to wait until next year? Stupid fucking Bye Bye Birdie.
6. Even Adrienne doesn't understand how I got a B in jazz band.
What the fuck is going on here?
I told Mr. C that I wrote the essay.
"It was a good essay..........." he said, his voice trailing off as he swiftly moved away from the bandroom door and down the hallway. A little faster than usual, noted the Sad Girl.
Yep, I definitley think that everybody thinks I'm psycho.
( Survey.Collapse )
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| I mean, why wait around, if it's just to surrender? |
[02 Nov 2003|05:29pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
sad |
] |
As devoted I am to band, I have proof even that devotion can waver.
Before the band concert today, I came in to help Mr. C set up. But he wasn't there.
I wandered the hallways of the school, thinking something along the lines of "I'm dead tired. I've not been home all weeked. I'm at school early for seemingly no reason. Why do I do this so often? I swear, this could be considered as some form of self-abuse."
I looked at the pottery and paitings in the display cases in the Commons, and thought that if I quit band, maybe I can have a more normal day and I'd be able to take art classes again.
No, I could never just hand in my instrument and give it up. I've become too immersed in it to just drop.
But the funny thing is, when Mr. C got there, he asked me how one could change the way highschoolers think, because band isn't "cool" enough. I was on the verge of tears, because I had crossed momentarily into what caused him agony, and he did look agonized.
How does one change the way high schoolers think?
Quick Poll: Who thinks I should tell Chenoweth that I wrote The Band Is A Family? He probably needs to know that there are those of us are still with him 100%.
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| I'm lost in a crowd, I hope that you'll pick me out. Oh, how I long to be found. |
[26 Oct 2003|07:53pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
uncomfortable |
] |
( The best song ever. I order you to download it.Collapse )
Sigh. We have a test in jazz band tommorow. I'm not feeling too good about it. See, I can't take my instrument home to practice. It's just too big. I would probably be able to if my parents took me to and from school, but I go to school and home on a public transportation bus. It's just not fesabile to take it home. If I could, believe me, I would. I really could use the practice. I need more time than 3 hours a week to get the feel of my positions and get the pitches in my head. But unless I do it after school, I don't get any practice time. I'm not like Becky, who was a young sax prodigy and in the high school elite band when she was in 7th grade - she never takes her sax home. It makes me angry that she has the capability to take it home, but she won't and that I really want to take it home, but can't.
That's taking practice for granted, and thereby... that's like taking your spot in jazz band for granted, aye?
*sigh.* We'll see.
But hey, I got all the homework done this weekend, how hardcore is that? Well, I didn't work on my research project like, at all... but oh well.
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| Wow. |
[26 Oct 2003|12:42am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 accomplished |
] |
FALL
Those bright colors simply are a mask
The death of the trees and decay of rotting leaves
Taking final rest on the ground with the rain
I begin to see their fate is mine
As the apples rot and fall
The air is cold, just as cold as blood
Sitting in the veins of a dead man
Soon the winter comes
A blanket of white is your funeral shroud
Sitting in the coffin, the earth is cold and lifeless
Until the spring rebirth
Then the summer comes
and it all dies again.
I stand amongst the leaves,
dead as the dirt they will soon become
I take a deep breath in and think
"Any breath could be my last, I will cherish it.
and wait for the cycles of the seasons.
and wait for my springtime."
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| Half Sane Posting |
[19 Oct 2003|01:12pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 depressed |
] |
In short, this is one of those times, if I was of age..
I would probably just drown my sorrows in alcohol and hope the pain is numbed.
But I can't do anything like that, so I'm just left to suffer through it.
What I can do is drown my sorrows in leftover Italian food and peach tea. But all it leaves depressed with a strong urge to hurl as well.
If this doesn't kill me, it will definitley make me stronger.
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| Yeah, you hurt for it, work for it love |
[19 Oct 2003|02:02am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
crushed |
] |
You know, I wish I hadn't scared Drew away by giving him the first impression that I was a psychotic girl that was crushing on him.
After Adrienne told me he knew, I got so embarassed... I went into jazz band on Monday and had absolutely no feelings for him, I was completley apathetic. It was like "Drew? Drew.. who's that. Oh. That Drew. Whatever."
But now all I want is a friendship with him.
I'm so jealous of Adrienne, they're friends automatically because Jake is her boyfriend and Drew's best friend.
All she talks about anymore is Drew, and how much fun all the people I wish I was friends with have.
Get it?
It hurts. What do I do?
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| To you, whoever you are. |
[12 Oct 2003|01:05pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
distressed |
] |
To you -
Of course I like/liked you. And you know what, I didn't really even meant to. I had no intention of crushing on you, I was just hoping to become good friends with you, you know? I don't know how it happened "the other way", but I probably seem like some kind of psychotic mental patient. Don't worry, I can assure you I'm just as sane as everybody else.
I know you knew, and frankly, I'd rather not find out how you know. I'm just really, really embarassed about the whole thing.
I'm sorry if I scared you, or creeped you out a little (I'm guessing I did - I would be if some random dude in one of my classes started crushing on me.) And I probably deserve the embarassment, actually. Actions have reprecussions, and this is my just desserts.
I think you'd be a really good friend, though. You're confident, pretty easy to talk to, and you know how to make people laugh.
But just know that I'm sorry I weirded you out, or whatever I did.
- From me
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| help me through this one... |
[11 Oct 2003|01:12am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
depressed |
] |
I've decided that sophomore year sucks. There's so many damned requried classes I have to take but don't want to, like Health and swimming. I'm not too fond of most of my teachers this year... Ms. Bannan is boring, therefore drives me up the walls, and Mrs. Marchetti is a fucking bitch. I can't stand geometry and chemistry, for the plain and simple fact I believe I'm tanking in those subjects and hate them anyway. Health is not only a waste of time, it's a waste of paper. We never any of the notes we take, most of them are just self-inventories that we don't turn in or anything.
Jazz band is not such a good way to start the day anymore, because I cannot stand Jared's show-offiness (which is Mr. C-endorsed; I mean, he told the kid to take two solos in one focking song, probably just fuel to the mass halocaustic fire that is his ego.)
Even band is inducing minor nuerotic tendencies. It's just the freshman in the class. Almost all of them don't know or care what they're doing, and they're constantly asking really stupid questions.
And I find myself defeated by the habits I can't break. My poor eating habits are making me fat, my poor study habits are bringing my grades down (even though they worked fine last year), and my personality itself is alienating me. I'm just too violent. When somebody says something about me, I immeadiatley resort to kicking them. Even when it's intended to be playful, I never realize how hard I really do.
I'm kind of in a self-hatered mode right now.
You know... I wish I could just re-live freshman year forever and ever.
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| AUGH |
[27 Sep 2003|12:06am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 pissed off |
] |
You know that saying "You always miss 100% of the shots you never take?" I think that's complete bullshit.
Look at me. I've been trying my heart out.. always, and I can never seem to reach it.
Just a faceless band geek, not the Drum Major I want to be. Just a minor part in the school play, not in the main cast.
I'm trying my hardest all the time, but I can never seem to make it. Just for once I want to know what that spotlight is like.
Also, I do have a complaint tonight. This morning in jazz band Mr. C kept telling me to play out and turn up the volume on the amp so the upright bass' sound comes out. Problem is, I'm sharing an amp with a Carlos Santana Wannabe/Show-off, and 'Mr. I'll Just Play This Song Even Though I Don't Know How'. I can't compete with them. Plus the other bassist has an electric bass, which is definitley going to win out over my acoustic bass. =\ And when I turn up my volume, we're all on the same amp so thiers goes up too.
And the other bass player has no idea what he's doing. He doesn't understand the concept of alternating songs, and he even tried to play a song he didn't have the sheet music for. Two different parts were going on and it sounded terrible. I tried telling Mr. C, but he told me he wants Josh to read as much as possible.. but he's not reading. He's playing songs he doesn't even have music for. He even took one look at "Things Ain't What They Used To Be" and saw some of the patterns I have and told me he couldn't play it.
I hate my section.
Goodnight.
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| North and south of the river......... |
[15 Sep 2003|05:26pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 happy |
] |
It would appear that everything has returned to normal.
Mr. C is nice again...
My friends aren't ignoring me outright..
I stil don't get geometry...
Yep. Life is good.
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| Give me one more chance, and you'll be satisfied |
[13 Sep 2003|11:39am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
rejected |
] |
So many people these days have done to me the thing I hate most.
So many people have gotten my hopes up, only to reject me in the end. It brings on the worst feelings.
It's happened twice this week, and all week I've felt alone, unwanted, and like nobody cares about me. And it hurts.
One instance is where Mr. C told me we could use the fight cheers I wrote, and I'd have to teach them. Yesterday he asked Ross about his, so I asked him about mine. He actually said "Nope, too stupid. I'm not going to sugarcoat them.. we'd be laughed at." That hit me like a bullet. I actually ran to the copy room and cried. It hurts so much. It's a wonder for the past few days I've spent portions of my afterschool time in the bandroom crying in practice rooms. I just want somebody to notice me, I just want somebody to care. But they all walk right past the doorway. Some maybe glance for a moment, but they just don't care.
All I want is somebody to care.
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