Alright, so it is Sunday night, and I'm feeling pretty good. I've gotten most of my homework done, and I'm all snuggled up and ready for bed. And then I realize I have to blog once more this week. I'm exactly 123 words short of word count for this week, and that straight up annoys me. Like, I'm totally relaxed and ready to end my day, and then it hits me: I still have to blog.

Don't get me wrong here, I love blogging. It allows me to speak subjectively about the things I feel most strongly about: music, Americans, snobs (Americans). But sometimes it just gets in the way, ya know? If I didn't have school (flashback to the multiple school rants) I would be happy to blog every day of my life. But because of school I have a.) no time to blog and b.) nothing to blog about other than school. I'm bored, you know? When I grow up, I will blog about my awesome life and my awesome travels. But right now I'm just not going anywhere, not doing anything interesting, not living a full life.

Alas, I'm at 188 words. I'm such an overachiever.

Goodnight, all.

That's right. Image provided by Google Images.

The Troubles of School (Sigh)

Ah, school. Attendance. Things that just don't matter. Or things that should matter, but don't. It seems as if lately school has become a lesser priority in my life. I get good grades, I do my homework, and I score decent on tests and quizzes. But as for actually going to my classes, well, that's where I struggle. It's not like I cut class on a daily basis, in fact, all of my absences are excused for legitimate reasons. And I have struggled with illness--but now it seems like if I woke up one day coughing, that would be enough of an excused not to go to school. I have absolutely no motivation to go to school. I'm not lazy by any means, I still participate in school activities, and I spend a lot of time doing my homework, I just don't like the actual school part of school. To me, it's unneccessary. If I can miss school and still do well, what's the point in going? I never feel well, and I never want to be at school. It's cold, it's dark, it's full of people who are rude and inconsiderate. I just do not enjoy being at school for any reason.

As we are in the process of registering for next year's classes, I am continuously growing weary. I don't want to come back to this place for another year, I don't want to come back for another day. I need credits to graduate, but part of me wishes I had worked harder during the past three years and gotten enough credits to graduate at the end of my junior year. By the end of my senior year, I will easily graduate with 400 credits, I am sure to recieve a lot of academic awards, and I will be recognized for my induction into National Honor Society. Perhaps I will even gain the title of valedictorian (one can only hope). I am in no way a bad student, but just don't want to go to school anymore. I am ready to be done, and I feel as if I am done--but then I look ahead and realize I have an entire year ahead of me. People tell me that a year will go by quickly, and I agree, but I want my senior year to be different. I want to focus on bettering myself, being the best I can possibly be. I want to be homeschooled.

You know what they say, slow and steady wins the race. But I feel so close to the finish line I just want to sprint for it like the hare did. But like the hare, I get tired and give up at certain points. I know I need to take it one day at a time, but sometimes it just seems impossible to take it slow. I can only hope that once I finally do reach the finish line and recieve my diploma, I can do something I want to do. I want to travel and go to college and recieve an education. I want to recieve my bachelor's degree and go on to graduate school for my law degree, and I want to lead a successful life in law and politics. I know I can get there someday, but for now I just have to keep moving forward. I have the grades and the credits, but as for going to school I'm lacking. Let's just hope they don't look at my attendance record, or I'm screwed for a lifetime.

I Am Sixteen, Going On Seventeen.

Happy Monday Everyone! Today is a great day. Because it is a snow day, and what better day to have a snow day than a Monday? Though most people think that a snow day means sleeping in, that was not the case for me this morning. I was up around 5:30 writing a paper for AP Lang (this class) since originally we had a 2 hour delay, and I was hoping to finish it before it was time to go to school. Anyway, by the time they called a snow day I was already awake and ready for the day, so I just decided to get to work. It is not even 11 o' clock yet and already I've finished my paper and I've got a great start on this blog post. But this day is great for another reason, too: it's almost my birthday. Though it would be really awesome to have a snow day tomorrow for my birthday, I can't complain. I'm going to be seventeen, and despite it being a busy day (sooo much choir related stuff) I think it will be a good day.

I have got to say, my sixteenth year of life through me through some loopholes. It was the year I became a drum major, the year I made show choir, and of course, the year I got my license. Everything changed so much during the past year that I can't even remember what it was like to be fifteen. And here I am going to be seventeen, my last year before I am officially an adult. This is going to be my senior year, my last time being a drum major, my last year of show choir. I know it's not time to say goodbye yet but the time is growing shorter and shorter. It seems like just yesterday I was entering the halls of Kennedy High School with a hopeful look on my face, and now here I am about to enter my last year before adulthood and I'm actually looking back on all of it. There's a part of me that wants to grow up and get out into the real world, but then there's the other part of me that just wants to stay young and innocent forever. As I turn seventeen and celebrate with my friends and family, as I finish my junior year strong, and as I spend the next year filling out scholarship applications and recommendation forms, I will be thinking back on this past year of being sixteen. Part of me will want to leave this year behind forever, only to look back on when the moment is right. But I know that some part of me will want to come back to this time and relive it, because though it may seem complicated now, it is nothing compared to what awaits in the future.

So, happy birthday to me. Here's to one last day of being sixteen:

Making Things Sound Better Than They Actually Are.

One of my biggest pet peeves? One of the things Americans do most: make things sound better than they actually are. Now I admit, I'm not immune to this disease either, but I do try to present things the way they actually are. I started thinking about this at a show choir competition yesterday, when they were announcing awards. "And fifth runner up goes to..." Why say "fifth runner up"? Everyone knows that fifth runner up means sixth place. But by saying "fifth runner up" instead of "sixth place" the human brain hears the "fifth" part and instinctively knows that 5 is better than 6.

This policy of "making things sound better than they actually are" goes hand-in-hand with American Consumerism, which I could go on and on about. Think about it. Often times, stores make their prices with 99 on them: $2.99, $99.99, $49.99, whatever. It helps stores because when they make the price $2.99 instead of $3.00, the brainwashed American hears or sees the 2 instead of the 3. There's probably some psychological explanation for this that haven't studied yet (because I haven't taken AP Psychology), but all I know is that it's annoying. I would much rather see something for what it actually is, then try and be cheated into believing it is better than it actually is.

How many times can I say it? I love show choir.

Hello all, happy Sunday. Oh my goodness, is it Sunday already? Yes, yes it is. Where on earth has the weekend gone? I'll tell you where it's gone: it's gone to the hall of fame of many show choir weekends to be remembered for a lifetime.

Today, I literally feel like shit. Is that an appropriate term for a school blog? Oh well, I guess we'll find out. Anyway, there is not a single muscle in my body that isn't sore. My arms and legs feel as if the bones in them would collapse if you were to punch them (So nobody punch me!). My throat is sore, my neck is aching, and don't forget about the various lumps in my shoulders. My feet are swollen and my head is heavy. But despite they way I feel physically, I feel great. Because I have a good reason to feel this way. This weekend, I spent all day Saturday into the wee hours of Sunday morning at a show choir competition. I put on four shows yesterday and gave my all in every one of them. You know the phrase "Leave it all on the stage"? Well that is exactly what I did yesterday. By the fourth and final show of the day, I didn't think I would even be able to make it through. But I did, and it was the best show I have ever put on.

Yesterday was not just another show choir competition for my school. It was a record-breaking, never-forget-you show choir competition. Our prep show choir, Protégé took first place in the prep division during the day rounds. We went on to finals, being the only prep group competing against five other varsity groups. Of course we expected to finish last (I mean, let's be real, we were JV going against Varsity), but the fact that we didn't just shows that we really are up there with the big guys. Though we only beat one varsity group, we couldn't be happier. I mean, WE BEAT A VARSITY GROUP. That's huge. But besides our accomplishments, we came back after an overwhelming loss two weeks ago. We showed the world who's really boss. Everyone that doubted us because it's a transition year (and I admit, I might have even doubted us a little) can now see that we are still winners, and we're going to graciously defend our title.


For our varsity group, Happiness Inc., it wasn't just another Grand Championship title. We swept away nearly every award possible: First place in the day round, best band, best female soloist, best vocals, best choreography, and overall grand champions (did I miss any?). But beside the fact that we won all of those awards (and ginormous trophies), it was a record breaking day for Happiness. It was the first time in all 45 years of Happiness' history that we won four times in a row. Being Happiness, that seems kind of hard to believe, but it's true. We have now set higher goals for ourselves and future groups. We are well on our way to Show Choir Nationals in Nashville, Tennessee, where we can show the world what we are made of. Who knows whether or not we will be the best show choir in the nation by March, no one can really say. Who knows if we will finish the season undefeated (though we've gotten a good start). But what we do know is that we are getting better every day and in two months when we are in Nashville, we're going to leave it all on that stage in the Grand Ole Opry, just as we did in Davenport, Iowa yesterday.


Yesterday, I looked like a million bucks, today I look like the monster that lives under your bed. Tomorrow I will look like a million bucks again, when we perform our show for the entire school. No matter what they say, whether they make fun of our costumes or songs, we are going to show them what we've got. We are going to show them the talent that we possess that they don't, and we are going to show them that we don't give up after just one competition. We are going to show them the show that let us win yesterday, the show that's going to keep letting us win all season.


And that is why I love show choir.

Sincerely, from me to you

Dear snow,

Please go away. Or if you insist to stay, at least serve your purpose and get us out of school. I'm just asking for once, maybe twice, is that too much? Of all the trouble you cause us, you could at least do this one thing for us. We risk our lives driving in you to get to school and other various places, but you're just there like "Haha, look at me! I'm ruining your day and you're not getting anything out of it." And frankly, that's just mean. If you're going to make it negative sixteen degrees in the morning and drift all over our cars, the least you could do is get one day of school cancelled. Please, for me?

Love your hater,
My-ay-strow

I Love Show Choir.

So I was really hoping I had already surpassed the required word count for this week, but when I visited my blog I found that I'm about 200 words short. Arrrrggg, I thought, what in the world can I babble on about for 200 words? One thing that doesn't take much thinking: show choir.

Saturday night our varsity show choir, Happiness Inc., competed at Linn Mar's Supernova and took Grand Champions, Best Vocals, and Best Choreography. It was the first time we have ever won that particular competition, and it absolutely felt great. But then again, when doesn't winning feel great?

So as of that last paragraph, I'm at 99 words. Only 101 more to go. Except now I'm at 112. So that means I only have 88 to go. Ah poop, this could go on forever. Anyway, I was on Youtube looking for Happiness' show so that I could modestly share it with you people. But of course their 2012 show isn't up yet (ARRRGG!) so I'll just have to share last year's show. Just as good though, I promise.

174 words. And speaking of numbers, I reached 600 page views this week! YEAH BABY (Austin Powers impression). SIX HUNDRED people have viewed my blog since I started it in September. (Well, 608 to be exact). I. Feel. Awesome.

Oh yeah, 210 words. I can now officially post this video and end this blog post. Enjoy.

Michael Bublé is a god.

If you were to ask me who my favorite singer is, there is no doubt that my answer would be Michael Bublé. If you were to ask me why he's my favorite though, you probably wouldn't get the response you'd expect. Sure, he has the voice of an angel, he sings jazz music, and he's the newest addition to a long list of legendary jazz singers. Not to mention he's as attractive as a Greek god. But I like Michael Bublé for one particular reason: he can cheer me up when no one else can.


When I'm mad at someone or just feeling sad, or simply having a bad day, the first thing I do is head over to my Bublé station on Pandora to discover new tunes. The second I hear his pure, crisp voice I feel so much better. His signature jazzy lisp makes my day so much brighter. If a voice was an exact replica of a saxophone, that voice would belong to Michael Bublé. And perhaps that's why I love him so much: I am a sax player, his music feels so personal to me.


It's as if when he sings he is singing directly to me, and not the millions of other women who are obsessed with him. Michael Bublé means something to me, his songs are more than just notes and lyrics. As much as I adore Ray Charles and Frank Sinatra, Michael Bublé makes me much happier. It's nearly impossible for me to feel bad in any way while I'm listening to Bublé. He reinvents me. He takes me back to the 1920's, when jazz and feminism went hand in hand. He makes me feel as if I'm on a ship late at night, with not a care in the world other than to dance to the next song. The saxophones and trumpets are blasting in the background, and I'll be sailing Beyond the Sea (Kevin Spacey). Sure, Michael Bublé is only half a generation above me, but he gets it. He, too, was meant to live in a different time period. Not because of the end of war or upcoming depression, but because of the culture that lived on during the time period. Michael Bublé and I speak the same language: 1920's jazz.

Michael Bublé, can we please just get married already? 

Yet Another Rant

Hello everyone, and good morning. It's been quite a long week, with tons of show choir and such, but now it's finally winding down and thank goodness tomorrow is Friday. As I sit here in AP Lang on a laptop that keeps changing the language to Chinese, I'm trying to brainstorm possible topics for today's post. With the blizzard-like conditions outside, my frightening drive to school this morning, and a show choir concert tonight, one would think there would be plenty to discuss. And there is, but I'm not going to talk about any of those topics today, because I must rant. URRRGGGG.

"Practice your music, we'll be having sectionals tomorrow," my band director informed us after class yesterday. "Sectionals", the word brings back great memories. Saxophone sectionals, the unsupervised ones, usually consisted of about a minute and a half of playing music and the rest of the time complaining about band and making weird noises with our instruments. Cool, I thought, this will give me a "free day" in band, and I'll get a chance to catch up with my saxophone buddies. When I arrived to first hour this morning, I groaned along with my fellow sax players when we were informed that there would be a saxophone specialist leading our sectional. As we reluctantly followed this professional into the practice room, none of us realized that all hopes of being a good player would be shattered after the next hour of practicing.

"Alright," she said in her loud, tough voice. "We're going to start with the sixteenth notes at measure thirty-three." Great, I thought. Sixteenth notes, everyone's weak point. Could we please start with something a little easier and work our way into it? Not a chance. At that point, my nerves kicked in. I was shaking and playing much worse than usual. This woman seriously frightened me. I'm a decent sax player, I know my music, but I do make mistakes. I get nervous and play wrong notes. It's not that I'm bad, but I'm not the "Best Saxophone Play In The Entire School", either.

This woman made it very clear who she liked and who she didn't. Right away, she pinpointed every detail of every mistake our first chair saxophonist made. She also openly favored our second chair saxophone, who she repeatedly used as an example of the "right way" to play. This woman was a rampant bull: calm until you made a wrong movement, then she charged at you with full force. My mistake came with the sixteenth notes (of course) and she made me play them alone. By then I was even more nervous, and could hardly play them at all. But she was very persistent, making me play each note at a time until I got every one right. Ten minutes later, when I had finally made some progress and was feeling slightly better, she stopped.

"I don't have time for this anymore," she said. "You need serious work. I want you to practice tonight, and I want it perfect tomorrow. Also, how old is that reed? I expect a new one right out of the package." Now, call me a crybaby, but it took all the strength I had to not start bawling in the middle of the practice room. This woman pointed out all my weaknesses while not recognizing any of my strengths. No one had ever told me that I was a bad saxophone player. Never. Yet I felt as if this terrifying woman was targeting me, telling me that unless I'm perfect I might as well give up.

This saxophone "specialist" clearly had a problem. Nobody is perfect, and nobody can play perfectly. I do practice my saxophone, but unlike her I actually have a life outside of band and right now it's much more important. So yeah, I'll work harder. I'll make it the best it can be. I'll work with MY lesson teacher so I can do MY best. And if that lady wants it to be better, she can play it herself. Oh, and guess who's not going to band tomorrow?

PDA

Of the things that bother me the most in our society, PDA (Public Displays of Affection) tops the list. No, it's not because I'm jealous or can't "get any", it's because PDA is seriously annoying. People who participate in PDA clearly have little to no class. Although this is certainly a problem at school and in show choir, it wasn't brought to my attention extensively until yesterday, when I saw PDA nearly everywhere I went at a show choir competition.

Of course, PDA is tolerable to a certain extent. Like holding hands, for example. Holding hands is affectionate and lets your partner know that you care enough to be seen with them and to let people know that you are together, without being over the top and causing stomachs to turn with nausea. A peck or two here and there is acceptable in certain situations, like on a date or at the park or at a party. But in family situations or in a small group of friends, it's just awkward. And full on face-sucking is just unacceptable. Your tongue was made for tasting and nothing more, at least while you're in front of other people.

PDA is selfish. What makes it acceptable to sit in the corner of a room with fifty other people and make out with your girlfriend? The answer: absolutely nothing. You're being very inconsiderate of the fifty other people in the room. What happened to majority rules? Exactly. Get a room.

As it seems, PDA is increasingly on the rise. Young people are becoming more and more liberal, and they feel free to express themselves in whatever way they choose. Another reason is, arguably, that celebrities are becoming more engaged in PDA as well. Magazines, television, the internet, and other media sources feature pictures and articles of celebrities being caught gettin' it on in public. Our society is losing it's class, starting with our "leaders" and making it's way to the halls of modern high schools.

It's cool to be affectionate. I'm all for the whole "being in love" thing, and dating and getting married and having babies and all that jazz. Sure, it's your life. But please, keep the physical affection to a minimum. It's called "privacy" for a reason.

Sucks to Suck

Arriving to school at 4:30 on Saturday morning, I, along with all the other members of Protégé, had no idea what to expect that day. We didn't know if we would return home Sunday morning with a grand champion trophy or if we would return home Saturday night with no trophy at all. Of course we had our ideas and doubts, all within reality of the past week. We practiced every day, most days until 9 pm or later, and all were costume rehearsals. We worked on choreography, vocals, and the band, and it felt like our show really came together this past week. That's why we were all shocked when we didn't place at all at Viterbo University's show choir competition in La Crosse, Wisconsin. As we waited for our name to be called after Linn-Mar and Praire, hoping that we had somehow finished ahead of them, all hope was lost when we realized that awards were over and our name hadn't been called. We didn't get a single chance to scream and cheer, but instead it was time to leave Viterbo with whatever fraction of our dignity left, hoping that we'd be able to hold in the tears until we made it to the bus. We had worked so hard all year since before school even started, and none of that hard work paid off in the end.


More than anything, Viterbo serves as a serious reality check for Protégé. We didn't live up to the expectations that people have of us because of years past. Protégé is a winning group. We are not a prep show choir, but nearly a varsity show choir. Our reputation is something that can be ruined in a split second, as with any reputation. Our only hope now is that we can make a come back, and keep that winning reputation. We will work hard and practice however many hours it takes to be not just good, but great. We will fix things that need to be fixed and we will turn solid things into amazing things. We are the protégé of Happiness, and that's what each and every one of us strives to be. Losing our first competition got us down for a while, but in the long run it will be helpful to us. Because it's what is giving us the fuel to work harder to be better.


On a long, thoughtful bus ride home I didn't sleep but rather I let my mind wander. I thought about how much I've said the words "I don't care" recently. I don't care that I failed a math test or I don't care that so-and-so doesn't like me. I don't care what's for dinner and I don't care enough to study for the quiz tomorrow. I don't care about the way I look today and I don't care that I ran a stop sign on the way home. It seems I don't care about anything anymore. But that's not true. I care that we lost yesterday. I care about getting better and working harder and winning competitions. I care about keeping up a winning reputation for Protégé, and I care about what audiences think about us. Because though winning isn't everything, it's a heck of a lot better than losing.


On the way home, I heard a couple of girls talking about our loss. "Sucks to suck," one of them said. And I agree, it does suck to suck, which is why we don't suck. 

The Wonders of Pep Band

Friday night, I spent most of my night in pep band. That is, playing "fun" songs during timeouts, playing the fight song (short version!) when the basketball team scores, and trying to capture the crowd's attention over the dance team and the cheerleaders during halftime. I must admit, basketball pep band calls to me much more than football pep band, mostly because it's indoors and the band is allowed to buy food. Also, I don't have to conduct the band while everyone stares at me during basketball pep band. Double win.

But let's be honest here, does anyone actually want the band at basketball games? I mean come on. We sit off in our own corner of the gym, we barely get to play during the game, and no one appreciates us when we do play. The songs we play were once hits but are now unrecognizable by the vast majority of our student body. Let's face it, nobody wants to hear "You Can Call Me Al" or "Johnny Be Good" a dozen times in a row. I must say, though I am slightly impressed that we play some popular songs like "Zombie Nation" and "Thriller", and our recent addition of "Party Rock Anthem", I wish we played more modern music. We need to play songs like "Bad Romance" and "I Gotta Feelin'", songs that are crowd-pleasers. Then, we might actually be acknowledged and possibly even be wanted at basketball games.

So the school doesn't want us there, and I can't think of a single band kid who actually wants to be there, so why exactly do we play at basketball games? They can play popular music over the intercom system in the gym, and I'm sure it would sound ten times better than the band anyway. Let's face it, pep band is just a waste of our, and the people of Kennedy High School's, time.

Hello World, Meet Miss Macie

Hello all, and happy last day of break. Or sad last day of break, whatever. Anyway, in the midst of my week of break I neglected to blog about my Christmas present. You guessed it, I got what I wanted, a luscious, adorable, ginger feline friend. Yep, Santa brought me a cat. Well, he didn't bring me a cat, but he let me pick out a cat of my own.

 

Isn't she adoooorable? Her name is Macie, and she is about a year old. If you couldn't already tell, she's an orange tabby. She doesn't do much other than sleep, but she does like to play occasionally and she has a sweet personality. I love her :-)

It's 2012.

Good afternoon all, and welcome to my first blog post of 2012. This is going to be a big year, I can feel it. As I sit here and write to you on my new laptop, I am reflecting on the past year of my life. For me, 2011 tops the list as 'The Worst Year Of My Life', and I certainly am not going to let 2012 be the same way. So here's my list of New Year's Resolutions, and who knows whether or not I'll actually follow through.

1.) I need to STOP with the candy. I have a serious addiction to candy, especially chocolate. Of course, it doesn't help that Christmas, my birthday, and Valentine's Day all fall within less than a month of each other, followed then by Easter, all of the major candy holidays. If you put a bowl of candy in front of me, I would probably have it gone within a day or two. I swear, my sweet tooth just aches and aches for candy. So here's my solution-I will give all of the candy I receive to my little brother. Not that he's not already hyperactive enough, but I feel like at his age the candy will harm his body much less than mine. So please, buy me a box of carrots, not chocolates.

2.) I will do my homework on Friday nights. Okay, so this has to be the lamest resolution ever, but it might make me hate Sundays a little less. This will also be the hardest to follow through with, because really, who wants to spend their Friday nights doing homework? I'd much rather be out with friends or something. But I have good reason, I swear I do. With show choir season officially beginning this week, I can't leave all my homework for nine o' clock on Sunday night. Nothing is more exhausting than going to a show choir competition at 5 am on Saturday and not returning home until 5 am on Sunday, every weekend. By the time I get home, I am exhausted and sleep nearly the entire day every Sunday. It's got to be pretty unhealthy, but then again show choir season is basically just three months of hell and no sleep, but with a lot more makeup. So I vow to do homework on Friday nights, at least until show choir season is over.

3.) I will stop "hating" things. Lately I have been finding myself saying I hate this or that, just because I dislike it. Hate is too strong of a word, and I don't want to overuse it, because when I actually do hate something, it won't mean anything.

4.) I will CUT MY HAIR. I just can't stand it anymore. My hair is nearly to my hips, and everyone always tells me how long and gorgeous and healthy it looks. But it's not healthy at all, it's dead and dry and nearly impossible to maintain. I've had long hair forever but I just need something new and fresh, and healthy. It will grow back. And it feels good to donate your hair.

5.) I will be happy. I'm tired of being unhappy, so I plan to eliminate every source of unhappiness and negativity in my life. I just can't be unhappy anymore, I'm too young for that. I will remind myself to be optimistic, and to look at things differently. Sure, I'll still have bad days, but I'm so sick of every day being a bad day. So I will be happy. I will be.

So there you have it, my New Year's Resolutions. Who knows if they will last a day or a week or all year. It's hard to tell. But hopefully they'll be more than just words on a blog post, more than just a grade for AP Lang. And I hope you all keep your resolutions too, because we all could use a little more of something and less of another. Happy New Year, let's make 2012 a great year.