Friday, December 30, 2011

Drive

     Not everyone can be born a genius. But, to those of you who are born geniuses...I hate you just a little bit. Not seriously, I don't hate you. But I have always envied those kids in my class who get the same or better grades than I do by doing less than half the amount of effort I put in. I'm one of those people - as much as I shouldn't do this - who is constantly comparing myself to others. Not in an "oh I have to be better than everyone" way, but just for the sake of comparison. I am my biggest critic and my biggest fan. If I do something wrong, I beat myself up about like none other. But if I do something good, I feel on top of the world.
   Very recently, a wise friend of mine told me straight up that I had to stop comparing myself to others. If I'm not happy with what I do, that's my own problem. But I should not be upset about not doing as fantastically as the girl standing next to me. This came up in relation to ACT scores. I took the test for the first time, no classes, no studying, just a dry run at it. I did okay, not as well as I was hoping for. So naturally, I made myself sick, comparing my score to everyone else who took the test, making myself feel worse and worse.
   So after a couple of days of feeling awful and guilty, I start to get fired up. Perhaps I'm not a born genius. If you put a super complicated math problem in front of me, I probably won't be able to solve it with as much ease as some people. But one thing I do have, is determination. If I want it badly enough, I will work, and work, and work at it. Does that mean I'll automatically get a 36 on the ACT just because I work on it? No. But it does mean that in the end, after I've taken the test for the last time, and I send in my final score to college admissions offices, I can be proud of my score. Not because of whatever number shows up on my transcript, but because I'll know in my heart that I did everything in my ability to get the best possible score I could deserve. I get this drive and determination for perfection from my parents, and while it can sometimes be a curse, I believe it to be one of my best qualities.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Oh No! I've Lost My Wisdom!

     If you are a truly unlucky soul, like my sister or myself, you have, will, or might get your wisdom teeth ripped from your gums at sometime in your life. When I heard that I had to get my wisdom teeth yanked out over a year ago, I thought "pshh, no big deal!" I had had plenty of baby and adult teeth pulled in my life, this would be no different....right? WRONG! My wisdom teeth were impacted, I never even got to meet the little guys, they were trapped beneath a thick layer of gum tissue and nerves. This means, that I had to be put under anesthesia to get those suckers out. Back in January, when I got them pulled, was my first time being put completely under, my first IV, and the first time I have been that sore, for that long.
     You may be wondering why I am writing about this, seeing as I got my surgery almost a year ago. Well, this morning, the day after my brave sister's birthday, she got her gums torn open to free herself from her big honking wisdom teeth. Let me tell you, this is one of the least fun processes....ever. I remember from when I got mine out. When I woke up, all I remember was that I was crying, really cold, and in a ridiculous amount of pain. Now, if you're about to get your wisdom teeth out, I am not trying to freak you out. It's different for everybody.
     But, instead of dwelling on the bad part of getting these pointless teeth pulled, I would like to focus on the good. For instance, the food. At first, you may be thinking to yourself: "the food, are you kidding me? You can't eat anything solid for days!" And while this is true, once you ponder it, you realize all of the super delicious food you get to eat. For the first few days after getting your wisdom teeth out, you'll live off of smoothies, soup, pudding, milkshakes, ice cream, applesauce, deliciousness! Another great thing about getting your wisdom teeth out, is that you're in pain.
    Now before you go ahead and start thinking I'm crazy, allow me to explain. My sister and I are very similar people in the way that neither of us like to do nothing. We like to be productive and never have a lazy moment (her more than myself...I can be somewhat  lazy). If we're watching a movie, we're studying, drawing, writing, reading, or at least doing something while we do so. However, when you get your wisdom teeth out, you're in such pain, that all of that other stuff, just kind of drops away. We no longer feel guilty for not multi-tasking. It's a time when we can actually relax, and give ourselves a few days to do nothing.
    To contradict what I just said, you actually can get something done right after you get wisdom teeth pulled. Don't you just hate when dozens of movies come out onto DVD, and you just never have enough time to watch them all? Being in extreme oral pain gives you that opportunity you've always wanted! In conclusion, if you're getting your wisdom teeth out, I would do the following to prepare yourself.
1. Stock up on foods like soup, pudding, applesauce, ice cream (for milkshakes), smoothie ingredients, anything soft and/or liquid.
2. Don't freak yourself out, focus on the fact that you'll have a ton of relaxing time!
3. I suggest on taking Advil before your appointment, just as a precautionary measure. Trust me, you'll want it.
4. Dress as comfy as possible for your appointment, changing clothes will be the last thing you want to do afterwards. I suggest just wearing pajamas. In addition, I advise against wearing any makeup, you'll cry your mascara down your face (at least I did).
5. Make a run to your local library or Red Box to stock up on all of those movies you've been dying to catch yourself up on. Oh and probably rent some good stupid-chick flick-romantic comedies, because let's be honest, Richard Gere and Julia Roberts being silly and adorable in Pretty Woman can basically fix anything.
Follow these simple steps and you'll be good to go!

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Story Time

*This evening, a friend asked me to tell him a story. Little did he know that I get really into my stories. So now I am going to share my story with you.*

      Once upon a time, there was a baker. This baker made everything: cakes pies, muffins, you name it. But when you stepped into his bakery, all you could smell was his gingerbread. The scent of his warm spicy gingerbread wafted out his door throughout the kingdom. The Christmas season was upon them. This was, of course, a busy season for the baker, what with all of the orders of fruit cakes, gingerbread, and the like. But on the eve of Christmas, the king had a demand unlike all the others.
    The king wished to impress his wife with a gingerbread house exceeding any he's made before. One big enough to live in, and so delicious that it couldn't be lived in for long. One with a chocolate roof and a candy cane chimney. In return for this gingerbread castle, the king would make the baker rich beyond belief. He would make sure that the baker and his family would live in comfort and luxury for the rest of their lives. And the baker would be the official kingdom baker for years to come. But if the queen was not pleased with the gingerbread castle, he would be condemned to the dungeons for eternity.
    Since the baker was used to a modest life with times of financial struggle to support his wife and children, he eagerly agreed to the terms of the delicious endeavor. So he began construction of this luscious palace. Hundreds of pounds of gingerbread dough formed the walls. The chocolate roof had to be lowered on by a crane; made of the richest chocolate available. The windows were lined in pretzel and red licorice smothered in frosting held together the gingerbread bricks. It was the grandest palace the world had ever seen.
   The baker worked through the night, fastening the chocolate turrets and furnishing the entire castle with white chocolate furniture and even a full set of white chocolate orchestral instruments for the royalty to enjoy. He was just putting on the finishing touches when the king officially summoned the baker to his private living quarters. The baker was led to a grand dining room and sat on one end of a table set for at least eighty. The king and queen seated next to each other on the opposite end. 
    The king's voice echoes through the tall room, "the time has come. Please escort my queen and myself to my grand gift." So the baker stood and brought the royal couple out to his masterpiece. He unveiled it with more pride than any other treasure he had baked. The queen looked the palace up and down. She crossed the chocolate moat and entered through the gumdrop lined doorway. She analyzed every inch of the castle, tasting bits and pieces here and there, letting no emotion seep through her face.
    When she was done, she faced the baker and uttered one simple work: "denied". And with that, two large guards grabbed the weak baker by each of his arms and dragged him to the deep dark dungeons. At first, the baker simply didn't understand. He had created a masterpiece, used the finest ingredients, he put his heart and soul into the gingerbread wonder. But the queen was a selfish and unyielding woman, unwilling to compensate the baker for his work. When the baker's family was informed of their father's imprisonment,, they were distraught. What were they to do?
     So they did the only thing they could think of. They hoped and prayed to the spirit of Christmas. "Please!" they begged, "Please let our beloved baker return to us!" The next day, in the depths of winter, the sun shone brighter than ever before. It glared and cast brilliant warmth over the entire kingdom. The greedy king and queen were enjoying their gingerbread castle, lounging on the white chocolate couch with marshmallow cushions, when all of a sudden, the king felt a drop atop his forehead.
    At first he thought rain might be seeping through the roof. He wiped his forehead and looked at the single drop. Alas, it was some of the richest chocolate in all the land. Then, all of a sudden, the drops fell harder, harder, and harder. The king exclaimed and the queen shrieked. It all happened so quick, there was no time to escape. The rich decadent chocolate roof collapsed, and the entire palace fell to the ground.
    The king and queen were no more, and everyone was now free of their oppressive rule. The baker was liberated and the kingdom rejoiced for a full seven days and seven nights. He returned to his family, and was given what was promised to him. A life of quiet luxury, surrounded by his family, friends, and his bakery.

The End

Sunday, December 11, 2011

A Word On Ugly Christmas Sweater Day

     The holiday season is upon us. It's a time for hot chocolate, snowflakes, brightly colored ribbons, cookies of all shapes and sizes. It's a time to be joyous and jolly, enjoying sudden bursts of Christmas caroling and feverish counting down to Christmas. In these next couple of weeks up until Christmas, a lot is going on in my life. First off, I took the ACT yesterday. Then I have a huge physics test next week. But besides all of that school stuff wrapping up before the end of the year, there's a lot of fun stuff to look forward to as well. My house is now decorated from head to toe with garlands, lights, and wreaths. Soon will be time to make and decorate our classic Christmas cookies. And I can't wait to start wrapping presents, I've always found that fun! But one of the days I look forward to most, is coming up this Thursday. That day, is Ugly Christmas Sweater Day. The day everyone in our school is probably better dressed than they are any other day of the year.
    This day is one to rummage through your Mom's closet, finding the most ornate, embroidered, elf-clad piece of knit monstrosity that you can find. Yes, this is the embodiment of Ugly Christmas Sweater Day. Unfortunately, my Mom threw out all of her truly heinous Christmas sweaters years ago, so I had to resort to rummaging through a friend's mother's bins (yes, bins...plural) of holiday sweaters - we had to tell her it was Christmas Sweater Day...dropping the Ugly to spare feelings.
    Now let's put this into perspective...there are a lot of ugly Christmas sweaters out there. There are those with images of reindeer, Santa's face, the list goes on and on. But the festive vest that I ended up with last year, I believe to be one of the winners. It was a red vest with white buttons, little gingerbread girls and boys were popping off of it. Gold tassels covered the thing. There were candy canes, elves, ornaments, the whole shebang. This is what Ugly Christmas Sweater Day is all about. Wearing the absolute ugliest masterpiece of true unadulterated ugly, and sprinkle some pure Christmas spirit on top. And on this day, my high school all comes together to share in the ugly, and just be happy to be happy, healthy, together, and ugly. This rings in the holidays for us all, wishing everyone a bright and merry Christmas! 

P.S. Don't make fun of the picture, it was early, a year ago, and I'm just getting in the ugly spirit.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

'Tis The Season

*Note: This is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to my older sister one day in English class during a particularly boring lecture. This letter was never actually sent to her.*

Wednesday December 7th, 2011 9:46 A.M.

My Dearest Sister, 

Nine days from today, school will release us for a full two weeks of freedom. In fourteen days, you'll return from college to us, your loving family who has missed you so much. In seventeen days, it will be Christmas Eve, my single favorite day of the year. And then will come Christmas, the day that has been anticipated by all for months now. Around here, the holiday festivities are in full swing. The other day I had my first round of Secret Santa exchanges. Tins of gingerbread and peppernotter cookies clutter the kitchen counters. Christmas cards have begun to fill the mailbox, and UPS comes at least once a day to deliver a multitude of packages. In a couple of days, the naked tree with be clothed in a blanket of homemade ornaments from each of our preschool and early grade school years. Plenty of gold macaroni and reindeer handprints decorating the lit branches. 
       This last full week of school will be torture for everyone. The Christmas spirit is bubbling up inside of each and every student. During tests, instead of focusing on the material, all that will be going through our minds will be sugar plum fairies while we hum a Christmas carol. One of my favorite days of school is to come in the week though, and that is Ugly Christmas Sweater Day on Thursday. The week will pass - however slowly - and then it won't be long before you return to us, your home. Then it will be truly a time to celebrate. It will be time to break out the cookie dough for our classic rollout Christmas cookies. Though the best part of making these cookies - other than eating the dough - is seeing what creative way you decide to decorate your little men. One year you had a little Phantom of the Opera (complete with mask), a Pi symbol, and Hannibal (bloody mouth and all). 
      At this point the days will go quickly, leading us up to the holiday. As our first December with you at college, I've got to say, we're all missing you like crazy around here. But I know you're having a great time where you are. So in the time between now and when you will come back, every time you hum "Sleigh Ride" to yourself, think of what fun we'll all have playing in the snow together. If you ever eat a Christmas cookie, think of the tin of sweet gingerbread cookies on the counter with the "O" shape inside just for you (Olivia). And most importantly, if you feel even the tiniest twinge of homesickness over the next couple of weeks, just think of us all laughing around a fire, tea in hand, watching the snow drift from the black night sky.

Love Always,

Hanna 


Friday, December 9, 2011

No Pressure....Just The Fate Of My Future

       These days, when applying to college, there are so many factors that decide what colleges accept what students. First and foremost, there are the grades. An impressive GPA certainly puts an application in the spotlight. Then there's extra curricular activities; colleges want to know that you don't spend all of your time sitting home and studying to maintain that GPA. A good essay can catch the eye of an admittance office worker. A solid interview can also tip the scales in your direction. However, what seems to be possibly the biggest ticket item on your application these days is the test that people prepare months in advance for. The exam that most students take several times in order to get a desirable score. That test is the ACT. That test is also what will be slapping me in the face bright and early tomorrow morning.
      All day long, my friends and peers have been telling me to relax and not freak myself out over this exam. They tell me it's only a test, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. All I've heard is "it's not that bad." and "you'll be fine!" But how can I go into this test and not be nervous? A great ACT score is what could set my college application apart from hundreds of others. A number on a piece of paper could be the difference between accepted and denied. The difference between reaching my aspirations of becoming a successful dermatologist and ending up being an unemployed med school reject. That's probably looking a bit on the pessimistic side of things, but I just refuse to take this test lightly.
    Every teenager must face this five hour exam sooner or later. We must work our way through the hundreds of multiple choice questions and attempt to craft an impressive essay under strict time constraints. However, I think it's about time that I start pumping myself up for this test; getting myself ready to face what lies before me. So here is my wonderful  pre-exam "get in the zone" method. First, I'll put on my inspirational playlist, so through my earbuds will come something like "Somebody To Love" by Queen or "And We Danced" by Macklemore (don't mock what gets me in the zone). Then I will repeat to myself: "I am going to kill this test. I am going to kill this test!" And then I'll just know that everything will be alright.
    So to all of those juniors out there like me who are out there cramming for tomorrow's ACT: it's 9:30. Close the books, put away the practice tests, and take a shower. Let the warm water relax your muscles and melt your anxiety. Cuddle up in your comfiest pajamas, get in your bed, and get a deep and long night of sleep. You'll wake up refreshed, relaxed, and ready to kill that test. Good luck to you, good luck to us all.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Leaving The Gateways To Fantasy

     I would like to start of this blog entry with a simple and plainly true statement: I love my friends. Every once and a while, I'll be the characteristic teenager; feeling like I'm alone, that no one understands, the basic angst. However, I am always - almost immediately - reminded that I am the opposite of alone. I have incredible friends that will understand no matter what. And even if they don't understand, they'll sit by my side, hold my hand, and tell me everything will be alright. Last weekend, I departed for Disney World with my school's marching band, a trip of a lifetime. When eighty high school band members are thrown together for almost every hour of every day for nearly a week, problems are bound to arise. Blossoming relationships, ending relationships; new friendships, and bickering between circles of old friends. I was scheduled to share a hotel room with three of my closest friends, and I love them each dearly. Honestly, I was expecting to be slightly annoyed with each of them at least a little bit by the end of the trip. It's natural when four girls share a room for several nights that eventually, they'll get a little sick of each other. I couldn't have been more wrong.
     After this trip, I love each of my roommates just as much, if not much more than I did coming into the experience. This vacation also brought me closer to a few new friends. I don't know if it was the bond of marching band, the sense of community after a twenty two hour bus ride, or maybe a little Disney magic, but I feel like we all came out of this trip better people than we were coming into it. It feels like we were all bonded together a bit more through being away from our families at the holiday, sharing the good times and the not so good, seeing each other at our best and our worst. Now that the "trip of our lives" is over, any time anything Disney-related is mentioned in our presence, my friends and I all feel a pang of "it's over" syndrome in the pit of our stomachs. However, I feel like I can come away from this trip with some amazing memories, great friendships, and no regrets.
     I don't want to feel sad that this trip is over anymore. Instead, I've decided to look towards the future. Instead of reminiscing how much we wish we could go back and do last week all over again, maybe we should plan a fantasy senior trip back to Disney World, even if we only ever just talk about it. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. And with the help of some Disney magic, anything is possible. I have dozens of examples of how my friends helped me, surprised me, made me smile, made me laugh, encouraged me, humored me, etc. But all I have to say is that - while it's extremely cliche - I can honestly say that on Thanksgiving, I was never more thankful to have such amazing friends.

P.S. To my wonderful roommates: Turkey Spooning and Everest Helen-Kellering For Life


Sunday, November 20, 2011

187 Days Has Turned To 1

       The countdown started not 187 days ago. No, the countdown to this event began when I signed up for band as a mere 8th grader. I was all planned on quitting, I didn't want to have to do marching band. The silly hats, the extra practices, it just didn't seem like something for me. But then, my best friend and I heard something that changed both of our minds. Every four years, our high school's band makes a trip to Disney World. I had some reconsidering to do. While my reason for joining band may have been a bit selfish, I'm so incredibly glad that I changed my mind. I can't even imagine my life if I hadn't called up my councilor and begged him to fit band into my freshman year schedule. Band is something I enjoy and look forward to. It's where almost all of my closest friends have come from. It feels like - while not everyone necessarily likes each other - everyone loves each other like family. That's why tomorrow afternoon, dressed in sweat pants and no makeup, we will all board buses to embark on the 22 hour journey to the happiest place on Earth.
      The bus ride will be loud, excruciatingly long, and by the end, I'm sure we'll be smelled all the way from the Magic Kingdom. However, I'm actually looking forward to it. My friends and I have decided to look upon the journey as a good thing. Not a time to dread, but a time that we can spend with our friends; watching movies, playing card games, trying to sleep, failing at trying to sleep, laughing, and belting out Disney music.
     I'm wary of this trip for one reason, and one reason alone. I'll miss my family. We're traveling during Thanksgiving, my second favorite holiday. I'll miss my sister coming home from college, the most delicious food of any Thanksgiving anywhere (aka, the kitchen of both of my grandmas), and preparing for the upcoming Christmas season. This is all stuff that I look forward to every year, and I'll be gone. Not only that, but in my past, I've only gone to Disney World with my family. We all know who likes what rides, and which rides are the biggest priority for fastpasses, and where everyone loves to have lunch. With friends, it's a different experience. Not that it will be a bad one. Just different. I'll have completely different experiences and opportunities that I would never have if I was just going with my family. But that doesn't mean I won't feel a pang of sadness when I go on Splash Mountain and my Dad isn't there to scream higher pitched than his three daughters. When I go on Haunted Mansion and my sister isn't there to throw doll heads into the deepest pits of the ride (yes that happened, don't ask). When my Mom isn't there to obsess over Norwegian food with.
    I'll miss my family. But I'll be traveling with a different kind of family. My band family. No, it won't be the same. It will be great, new, and incredible, just in a completely different way. And when I am marching down Main Street, surrounded by Mickey and his friends, in front of Cinderella's Castle, it'll all be worth it. The days of counting down, missing Thanksgiving, it will all cease to matter. And with that, I urge you all to watch the Disney World Thanksgiving Day Parade, live streaming at www.banddirector.com

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

A Beautiful Mind

       Take a look around at our modern world. What do you see? What are the things that will be discussed by the future generations. Who will be the people written about in textbooks to come? It's rare to encounter someone who has impacted our busy and bustling world in such a way. Then take a look at your life. What do you see? What are the things that you will look back upon as what molded your personality and character? Who are the people that most impacted the things that you say, think, speak of, and act upon? In many cases, you will never meet these people that have such an influence over your life. However, this week, my Dad has been granted the opportunity to meet a person who both will be remembered in the pages of futuristic textbooks and someone he has looked to as somewhat of an idol throughout his career. This man is truly a "beautiful mind". This man is John Nash.
      For those of you who have never studied the work of John Nash, usually present in economics, known as Game Theory or the Nash Equilibrium, Mr. Nash is one of the few remaining brilliant minds of today's society. Or at least that is what I am told. However, what's so amazing about this man, is his story. His life, and what he's had to overcome. This is probably why a movie, one of the most highly acclaimed movies of all time, was made depicting his life: A Beautiful Mind. Nash went through life never knowing what was real and what wasn't. He could never be certain of whether the people he was talking to were actually a figment of his imagination. This is the life of a schizophrenic.
       When you think about it, how do any of us really know? How do we know that our lives aren't completely an imagination dreamed up in the corners of our mind. The people we see and interact with and love aren't really there. Who knows? These are the thoughts that can easily occupy my mind for hours at a time. I always search for an answer to this question; a way to know for sure what is real and what is a dimension trapped so far into our brains, that no one can really understand it. However, I always come up blank. John Nash is a man who suffered from this, and still does, ever moment of every day. Maybe it was because of this condition that he could think in the ways he did, allowing him to do the work that changed the world of economics forever.
       Yes, my Dad is now in Pennsylvania, meeting his career idol. A man who changed the world. A man who people look up to and respect, regardless of all the things he has been forced to deal with in his life. This is an example of a beautiful story, and a truly beautiful mind.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

The Little Comforts

        My Dad has passed down many pieces of wisdom throughout my sixteen years of being his daughter. Always begin a request with "may I" and finish it with "please when it is convenient". Don't make noise just to make noise. Study hard in math and science. See a sock, take it off (his motto which I'll never understand). However, there is one piece of wisdom that he has begun to carry on from his favorite TV show (The Big Bang Theory), that has begun to hold a great amount of meaning to me. When someone is in distress or upset in any way, the first thing you should do is offer them a hot beverage.
      This year of school for me is especially stressful for me. AP physics tests, the looming ACT, college visiting, the future, it's a lot to face all at once. Sometimes, stress can just take over my entire mind. Everyone feels like this at one time or another. However, what gets us through times like these are the little comforts in life. That's why my Dad's wisdom is to offer one who is upset a hot beverage. In so many peoples' cases, one of the greatest comforts in life is to feel their sweet coffee or tea slither down their throat, warming their insides and reminding them that everything is going to be okay.
     Somehow a warm beverage is just something that offers a great amount of sympathy. Even if you don't like coffee, tea, hot chocolate, or anything of the warm beverage persuasion, just holding that piping hot mug up in between your hands can melt away your stress and fears. However, while a warm beverage is probably the most universal comfort (other than maybe chocolate), everyone has their specific things that will offer them relief from their internal turmoil. I think that different occasions merit different comforts.When a girl gets dumped by her boyfriend, you bring her anything involving chocolate and/or frosting, give her a hug, and say absolutely nothing. When you don't know what the heck is wrong with someone, you can't go wrong with a hot beverage. Sometimes I feel like I'm just drowning and there's no possible way I can fight my way back to the surface, these are the times I just wish someone would walk in, offer me a warm raisin roll with raspberry jam and tell me that everything is going to be okay.
    Next time someone around you seems like they really just need a pick me up, do as my Dad (and Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory) say, and offer them a hot beverage. You have no idea how much it may help them. Stress is something that bears down on everyone from time to time. It takes the little comforts to help us find our way back to the surface. Even if they don't want tea, coffee, chocolate, or anything else you may offer, just knowing that someone cares can do wonders.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Disappointment Is A State Of Mind

      We've all felt it before. That drop of your stomach when you get a less than desirable grade on a math test or the sinking of your heart when you get cut from the sport you practiced hours upon hours for. Disappointment is never a good or satisfying feeling. Sometimes, a day can have so much disappointment riddled within it, you have to end it with feeling just a little sorry for yourself. Some people prefer to just set their expectations as low as possible in order to avoid the dreadful feeling that disappointment brings on. It's one thing when something really awful happens; it hurts and can certainly ruin your day. However, I find it's worse when you really have your hopes set upon something; you've been wishing and dreaming about it for weeks, months, maybe even years, and then it just falls apart. How can someone really resist feeling sorry for themselves when something like this happens?
      Over the past couple of days, I just received some news that was...let's say less than thrilling. I had my hopes and fantasies pinned on something for years. It was all set to go, and it was going to happen in just less than a month; my friends and I had been counting down the days for the past six months. Then yesterday, a big piece of it just fell apart. Upon seeing this, my first reaction was just...distraught. It's something silly, and something that no one else can really understand, but it was important to me. So I did what I always do: whine and moan, complain and fuss. It's an awful thing to do, but it's just how I get out my frustration. Then today, I was in the car with my parents. We were blasting Lady Gaga music, I had Jamba Juice in my hand and a smile on my face, and I had a revelation. Why was I feeling so sorry for myself? I honestly had to ask myself this question over and over again until I realized the answer. Disappointment is truly just a state of mind. Sure I could sulk and feel sorry for myself and spend the next month complaining about how my plans didn't work our perfectly, or I could just stop feeling sorry for myself, and get psyched about all of the things to come.
     It's time we stopped our sluggish stupor of self-pity and focuse on the wonderful things that are happening all around us and the even better things to come. There's no use in spending even a minute wallowing in what "could have been". If you can't change it, then don't waste a worry upon it. Maybe give yourself 5 solid seconds of self-pity. For one second, moan that it's not fair. The second second, reflect on how amazing those plans could have been. The third second, lament how whoever standing in the way of getting what you want is a stupid face. The fourth second, shed a silent tear. And then the fifth second, slap yourself and move on with your life.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Living Breathing Technology

      What is it with mankind's desire for control? Since the beginning of humanity men controlled one another, asserting dominance due to gender, race, wealth, and brute strength. The more resources a man controls, the more powerful he is, therefore the more worthy of a human being he is. That is how life has always been. For hundreds of years, the white race asserted their dominance over others by enslaving anyone with different colored skin. We were always looking for convenience, and how we could get others to do the work that we ourselves are too lazy to do. Now slavery has been abolished for over a hundred years, and yet yesterday at approximately 8 A.M., we just got a step closer to personal slaves. All of this time, society has just been working its way back to having others do their work for them. Yesterday, millions worldwide stood in freezing cold lines wrapped around phone carrier storefronts in order to purchase the latest and greatest in technology: the iPhone 4s.
    Originally, I was not extremely interested in getting this phone. It just didn't seem like it was that dramatically different from the iPhone 4 which I already possessed. That was, until I met Siri. One of the most highly anticipated improvements of the iPhone 4s is the voice command system. It was said to supposedly make it easier to send texts, surf the web, and place calls hands free. I was skeptical at first, but when my entire family was talking to their Siri's (the voice control system) all morning over breakfast, I knew that this wasn't just a new convenience. Siri is not only programmed to send texts and place calls that you ask her to, but she is also programmed to answer math questions, give you updated weather forecasts, etc. This makes surfing the web all the more personal. Siri will answer questions with remarks such as "I am only here to serve you." She is the embodiment of modern technology, and we have programmed her to be as close to a slave as is legal in this country.
    How much is too much? Is technology taking over our lives when we're talking to an automated phone voice all day? A voice programmed to do and say anything you tell it to do. No doubt the technology is still flawed, and of course, Siri is not a human being. But somehow, commanding technology to do as we say through our voices scares me a little bit. All of this time over these years since slavery has been abolished, mankind has just been trying their very hardest to revert back to having someone under their command to do whatever they say whenever they say it, and now these Siri programs have gotten us that much closer. Now I am not going to deny it, Siri is seriously cool. I'm very impressed with how well the voice recognition software works and how much she can really do. However, it makes me just a bit frightened for the future, and what's to come. Is it true what they've said for years; that technology will become so smart that eventually, instead of us controlling it, it will control us as a species? Who's to say?

Saturday, October 8, 2011

Fright Night

      A normal Friday night of babysitting alone. It's late, the kids are asleep, all is calm and quiet. Doors and windows locked and secure. A rustling wind sends a whistle echoing throughout the house. You're being the responsible teenager you are and doing your weekend's homework while waiting for the kids' parents to come home, when all of a sudden the house's phone rings. Just in case it's the parents or an emergency, you answer it, thinking to yourself that you hope it didn't wake the kids. "Hello?" you say. No answer. "Hello?" No answer. "This isn't funny you know, come on, cut it out." All you hear is silence, a sudden heavy breath, and the line goes dead. You presume it's just some stupid teenager playing a prank, and go on to continue with your homework.
    The phone rings again, making you jump. This time, you answer with, "Hey, I don't know who this is, but you've got to stop this, I've got kids trying to sleep upstairs." And then a reply, "Are you sure? When was the last time you checked on them?" and with that you slam the phone down. Every hair on you body stands on edge as you inch your way up the never ending staircase, and down the hall to the kids bedroom. One step at a time, each creak of the floorboard sending another wave of fear through your body. Your hand reaches for the door knob, but you can't quite bring yourself to twist it, not wanting to know what's on the other side.
    Is that pretty accurate? Isn't that loosely the story line to every scary movie ever made? Though of course, I can't really be one to judge, because I had not seen a true horror movie that was intended to scare the pants off of any viewer until tonight. My friends decided that enough was enough, and it was time for me, at age sixteen, to finally see my first scary movie. One girl decided we were all to watch one of her favorites, The Haunting In Connecticut, based off of a true story, just to make it even scarier. Now, you must understand, I don't do very well with scary, so I wasn't particularly looking forward to this. I'm a bit of a scaredy-cat; one of those people that freaks out at every noise when left home alone. And I've got to say, if I was watching that movie alone, I would have no doubt been about ready to cry and surely suffered from nightmares for weeks. However, when sitting in my dark basement, making fun of every flaw and fake tear of the movie, I found myself laughing through the whole thing.
    However, during some of the scarier parts, and the laughing ceased, an odd silence fell over us all. We all knew it was fake, just actors doing their jobs. But....what is it about a horror movie - as unrealistic as it is - that just has this power over its viewers. The power to make your breath catch in your throat and your blood run cold with the suspense. As the disturbing music rises, and the main character is about to find out what's behind the mysterious door  in the basement, you can't help yourself but feel your stomach lurch as the door bursts open as the music reaches its climax.
    I will forever be one of those people that tries their best to find the humor in scary movies. Pointing out how the heroine wakes up in the middle of the night with perfect makeup and hair. Making fun of how the fake blood was a weird magenta color. However, I can't deny that tonight's frightful flick had a certain control over my senses at times. And with that, I retire. It is time for me to sleep...however, I'm not exactly sure what my dreams will bring.

"She never sleeps...."

Friday, October 7, 2011

Into The Next Dimension

       Does any one else remember when 3D movies were almost unheard of? Back in the day when the most high tech 3D out there was the Muppets 3D ride in Disney World. In a time when your 3D glasses were flimsy cardboard with red and blue plastic for lenses. Nowadays, it's commonplace, almost expected, that the newest anticipated movie is released in 3D. Nothing profound or extraordinary can be released in just plain old 2D. No, no, we must reach towards the next dimension. A dimension in which you feel like you're right in the middle of the action. Like pirates are fighting right in front of your face and their swords are coming right at you. A dimension beyond the normality of flat figures on a screen.
      I'll be the first to admit, that around two years ago, when just about everything was coming out in "3D", I was not a fan. First of all, they would charge an extra two dollars to see it in "3D", when really, there were almost NO noticeable 3D effects. Second of all...the glasses hurt my nose...regardless, I was against it. However, this all changed with the release of Avatar. That was the first movie I saw with this "so-called 3D" in which I actually noticed the effects. I felt like the characters were right there with me and that I was right in the middle of Pandora...wondering why my skin wasn't blue like theirs. Within the last year or so, 3D effects have gotten so incredible, I can't even believe it. Prime example: Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.
      I was not ready for another Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Let's be honest, the first was incredible beyond belief...the second...ehh. The third...sleeping less than half way through. Then there was the fourth, I was not expecting great things. Wow, was I proved wrong. However, I'm not sure how impressed I was with the movie compared to how impressed I was with the 3D effects. When Jack Sparrow was hacking through the jungle, I honestly felt like it was right in front of me. I felt so close I thought I could almost smell the saltwater in the air. This is all why when The Lion King was re-released in theaters as a 3D movie these past few weeks, I naturally HAD to see it! I wasn't sure what to expect. It was an old movie, how easy would that really be to re-master into 3D....I was blown away. When Rafiki lifted Simba proudly into the sky for all of Pride Rock to see, I thought I could reach out and pull that cuddly lion cub right into my arms.
      My parents asked me: "Why would you want to see The Lion King in theaters? We have the DVD right here!" But honestly, seeing it in 3D was an entirely different experience. I'm not sure what it is, but once the glasses come on and the figures begin to pop out at you all over the place, you somehow just get lost in it all. It's much easier to be fully engaged, all senses focused on what you're watching, and you enter the wonderful world of the third dimension.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

When Happy Haunts Materialize

      We've all waited a long time. It's been a dreary summer full of excruciatingly hot days, bug infested nights, and more sunny days than I care to tolerate. Finally, it's here, fall is in the air at last! This is just the perfect season, and is a close second to winter for my favorite season of the year. The weather is finally cooling off, forcing me to break out the sweaters and long sleeved shirts. No longer are the days of wearing shorts every day, they are to be packed up and kissed goodbye until next summer. No longer do I crave the raspberries and strawberries of the summer season, but crisp apples and pumpkin flavored everything. Leaves of the trees have already just begun to be shed from their branches. Soon, the ground will be littered with leaves of all different oranges, reds, and yellows.
      Now that October is here, I've settled into my school schedule, now comfortable with my daily routine. Also, with the first day of October, comes the Halloween festivities, rearing their scary heads once again. The pumpkin patches advertising corn mazes and camel rides, with the tantalizing smell of kettle corn in the air. The bright orange fregetable (fruit/vegetable) colors the entrance to all grocery stores. Costume stores are being opened all over, advertising disguises for all ages. Starting at babies that are forced into pumpkin suits that force even the most cynical person in the world to crack a smile. Then Disney Princesses and Mario characters are the cool costumes for the younger kids. Middle schoolers all want to dress like the latest pop star. Then, the section of costume stores that cracks me up the most, the adult woman's section. Offering selections such as the Native American princess we all know and love: "Pocahottie" or the well respected "Strip Search Officer Tara U. Clothesoff". Yes...that's an actual costume.
       But if I had to pick one element of Fall that I just love more than anything, it has to be the smells. When you think of summer, what do you smell? Sweat? Spring? All I can think of is allergies. Winter? You can't smell anything because you're probably sick with a cold. But just the thought of Fall consumes my nose with the tempting scents of salty kettle corn, sweet pumpkin, and spiced apple cider. Everything twinged with a hint of cinnamon. Like I mentioned earlier, a beautiful thing about Fall, is that you can get pumpkin flavored anything. And I mean anything. I'm a big believer in the fact that pumpkin just makes everything taste better. Think about it....pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin bread, pumpkin bagels, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin spice lattes (which I've never had, but I've heard they're to die for), pumpkin pie, pumpkin spice bars, the list just goes on and on!
     I think I would describe Fall as the most pleasing season for the senses. The temperature is comfortable to your sense of touch. Everything tastes and smells incredible. Everywhere you look is beautiful and colorful. The crunch under your feet with every step gives you the feel that fall is really here. I really do adore this season, and I am so looking forward to the months to come. My favorite half of the year is upon us, and I want to make it a good one. When school gets stressful, or I get frustrated with anything going on in my life, I can just take a deep breath, and remind myself it's fall. Close my eyes, let the images of falling leaves and colorful pumpkins fill my mind. Imagine being surrounded with the scents of one of my favorite times of the year, and I am ready to face whatever is ahead of me. 'Tis the season to break out the sweaters, pumpkins, ghosts and witches, scary stories, cinnamon, costumes, and take time to play in the leaves.



Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Where's The Glamour?

      Ahh yes, living life in style. Back in a time when life was about more than trying to get everything done in the most efficient way possible. A time when the main effort was not to make as much money as possible without spending a dime. A period when time could be spared to invest into things like glamour and class. Somehow, we have lapsed out of this beautiful life of glitz and glamour. One may say that as a white female, living on a suburban street in the United States is living in high style. However, I'm not talking about each individual, but society as a whole. We no longer strive for beauty, but for quick and cheap. We no longer strive for class, but for profit and whatever will "get the job done". All I can say, is that it is such a shame.
     My prime example of this concept is the airline industry. The mode of travel that is flight has become downright commonplace nowadays. However, back in the day, flying on an airplane meant that you were in higher class of people. You were riding in style. In exchange for giving the airline business, they would give you a comfortable ride. The flight attendants were there to be pretty, smile, and fluff your pillow. The pilots - in their swanky and mysterious uniform - were darn near super stars. If a pilot was seen on the street, little girls may even ask for their autograph. The airline industry was the picture of glamour. Today, what do you think of when I mention flying on an airplane? Rude flight attendants who sneer at you when you ask for a glass of water? Not getting a pillow and blanket unless you pay extra to be in first class? That's right. No longer is their main goal to make you, the consumer, comfortable and keep the industry a place of high-class transportation, but to get the job done. Their only hope is that they get you to where you paid to go safely, and as cheaply as possible.
      Why is it that our country has lost its sense of class? No longer is going to the cinema a classy night of fun, but it's seen as a cheap alternative. No longer is flying on an airplane seen as an ordeal of style, but a mundane process of getting from point A to point B. Being a flight attendant or pilot is no longer seen as special or exciting, but an almost unfortunate career. The shadow of cheap efficiency has taken over our country's sense of class, elegance, and downright glamour. My challenge: strive for beauty, not cheap. Hope for elegance, not what's quick. Bring back a sense of class to our society.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Let The Games Begin

      Ever since the end of May, we have endured a summer of bad TV. A summer of scanning through the channels; mindlessly flipping between reruns of a favorite sitcom and the latest made for TV movie. An entire season of "what do you want to watch?" "I don't know, what do you want to watch". Well starting this week, we can say this no more. The time has finally arrived. Fall is in the air, and with the new chill in the air comes the new TV shows of the 2011-2012 seasons. To clarify...I am not much of a TV person. I honestly watch barely any, if I'm looking at a television, it's usually a movie. But there are select shows that manage to entertain my family enough to corral us all into the living room for an hour. Various television shows have come and gone in my family's normal weekly repertoire. When I was in the elementary and middle school years, the cool shows were Unfabulous and Drake and Josh. Then as I got older, Beyond The Break, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Wildfire were some of my personal favorites. Ugly Betty was great while it lasted.
      As of now, we keep up with How I Met Your Mother, Glee, and The Big Bang Theory regularly. However, with the coming season, we have decided to give a couple of the brand new shows a shot. So we gave Two Broke Girls and The New Girl a chance. We sat down, and watched the pilots together. We even gave Two and a Half Men a try now that Charlie Sheen is off the show. However, we ran into a problem right away. It's becoming increasingly evident to me that as of around two years ago, people just forgot how to write good TV. Instead of witty cleaver lines in sitcoms, they've turned extremely vulgar and just downright nasty. Instead of light and fun story lines, they've decided to add "heart-wrenching" drama to every character's life. It's just become a disappointment. I remember a few years ago, when every week, I would be so excited for next week, so I could see the new episode of my favorite show. Yet somehow, that's completely stopped now.
      I honestly can't think of one show at the moment that I'm just dying to see the next episode of. None of the pilots were impressive, funny, or overly interesting. Maybe there were a couple of laughs here and there. But it's not like in the first season of Glee, when I just couldn't wait for next Tuesday at 7 so I could find out what happens with Finn and Rachel's romance. For the first week of pilots, I give the award of the most entertaining to The New Girl with Zooey Deschanel. It was witty, not overly vulgar, and the main character is actually somewhat likable.
       Maybe it's me. The world's sense of humor has changed, and I just haven't caught up yet. This would really make more sense than anything else. I hate the show Modern Family, yet it won the majority of the Emmy's. My whole family doesn't understand the humor in 30 Rock or The Office. Maybe we just fail to get modern humor. But to all of the amazing writers out there...learn how to write good TV again. Learn how to make a joke without mentioning any exchanges of bodily fluids. Learn how to construct likable characters mixed with interesting story lines. First week of TV? So far...not impressed. Come on writers, let's make this season a great one!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Day To Remember

"On September 11th, 2001, 4 passenger jets crashed by the force of terrorism. The twin world trade centers were each hit with planes, a third into the Pentagon. A fourth plane never reached its destination, it was brought down by the brave souls on Flight 93 that made the ultimate sacrifice. Almost 3,000 innocent people were killed that day, along with the first responders to the attacks: firemen, police, and paramedics. In remembrance of these brave men and women, post this as your status." These are the words that are plaguing Facebook news feeds around the country on this day. This day on which ten years ago something horrific happened. Ten years ago today, almost three thousand innocent American citizens woke up. It was a day like any other. The date had no significance to the country; not close to any Christian holidays, no reason life shouldn't go on exactly as it was. Hundreds of Americans boarded their airplanes; Middle aged men ready to make their commute to work. Families like my own ready to begin a vacation. Pilots that were just starting another day at the office.
       The moment these planes were taken over by terrorists, America changed forever. Women were widowed, children were orphaned, girlfriends and boyfriends abandoned, and America lost in the turmoil of it all. The World Trade Center was hit, and at first, while they were still drinking their morning coffee, perhaps the local firemen and police officers rejoiced at the possibility of an exciting day at work. Then they witnessed what they were facing. A building just waiting to collapse. Those on high floors who had given up hope jumping to their deaths. Hopes of an exciting work day were gone, and in its place, the realization that they would be lucky to live to drink another cup of coffee.
       Ten years have passed, and we're still remembering. There's no escaping the memory; it's all over television, the internet, newspapers, it's everywhere. Am I the only one who believes that this is not a day to remember? We should not be trying our best to remember this horrific day, we should be doing our best to forget. We should not be celebrating the tenth anniversary of a tragedy. That's what happened, it was a tragedy. A tragedy that should be learned from. Of course, we should honor those who were killed. There were men and women who did very brave things on this day. However, doing our best to remember this day, and keeping the memory alive, it's like reopening a fatal wound in our country's history. And forcing high school U.S. History classes to watch a documentary that shows the event of terrorists killing our citizens over and over again is like rubbing salt in that wound.
       Ten years ago today, I was six years old. A kid in my first grade class was blabbering on about some plane crash. An hour later, my teacher was watching the news while our class had playtime, with tears in her eyes. Such an event is not a day to be remembered. It is a day to be learned from and forgotten. The pain, the suffering, remembering is just torturing ourselves. This morning I woke up, and gave myself one minute. Sixty seconds to remember, and honor the brave few, and give out my best wishes to the families of those who lost loved ones in the act of terrorism. Then my sixty seconds were up, and I moved on with my life. Do not think that I am some anti-American lunatic. I'm just a girl who believes we should work to remember what our country should be proud of: good times, breakthroughs, things that put a smile on our faces. Not something that brings tears to our eyes.

9/11/01 - I have such respect for the day, but hopefully our country is someday strong enough to forget.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Sick As A Dog

       Everyone has those times when they're not feeling quite right. When a nagging aching of the head or scraping of a dry swollen throat fatigue us. Sometimes these simple symptoms can just be a minor distraction that lasts a few hours, or maybe they turn into an infection that plagues you for a few days. Regardless, it's never fun. I'm one of those people that doesn't get sick very often, but when I do get sick, I get really sick. However, I won't deny the select times that I did somewhat "fake" sick so I wouldn't have to face the school day that was to come. Come on, back in elementary and middle school, we all did it once or twice. It started with "my tummy hurts!" or "I have a sore throat!" Back in the days when a fever above 99.5 meant your ticket out of school. The days in which staying home from school meant a full day of laying on the couch, chicken soup in one hand, remote in the other. Switching off between sleeping and mindlessly trying to find something on daytime TV that is mildly interesting.
       Every since I started high school, staying home from school sick meant something completely different. First of all, in high school, you don't stay home unless you absolutely have to. While going to school not feeling 100% is awful, sometimes, missing a day of school can be even worse. So much make up work, test, and quizzes to try and catch up with. There have been times when I feel like I'm making up one day of missed school for an entire week. Because of this, I've gone to school sicker than I should have been one more than one occasion, ignoring the "fever and vomit free for at least 24 hours" rule. Second of all, staying home from school is no longer the relaxing break it once was. Instead of TV, it's studying for the physics quiz they're reviewing for in class while you're on the couch. Instead of sleeping, it's reading the Benjamin Franklin passage you expect they assigned in English.
       Staying home from school for being as sick as I've been for the past few days is far from "relaxing" or "fun". However, one thing will never change. Those same comforts from my childhood have followed me to this point. The same old tricks continue to dull the pain in my throat and the ache in my temples. A nice hot tea  accompanied by yogurt will always take the sting out of every swallow. Ten Thing I Hate About You and Parent Trap are my "go to" movies that are guaranteed to make me want to tear my hair out a little less. But the biggest comfort of all to me, ever since I was a little girl, is when my Mom would sit down next to me and stroke my head. From my hairline down to my neck; she would softly run her fingers through my hair. Back and forth, and back and forth. A fool proof way to stop the pounding in my head.
        Being sick is not something that anyone wants to go through. But, it happens to everyone, and everyone has their own remedies to make it all better. Some do tea with honey, others swear by chicken noodle soup. Some do hours upon hours of sleep, others try to push through the pain. Regardless, everyone will get better, and hopefully go on to face the day ahead. A cough, a sneeze, a tickle in the throat; in my eyes, none if it can be cured without tea and bad romantic comedies.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Go Bananas, Go Go Bananas!!!

      The cadence of the percussionists keeping the beat. Our feet keeping the pulse to the steady beating of the drum. The gate to the stadium opens with a creaking squeal. The green of the field is shocking under the bright lights of the football stadium. Players are already out, tossing the ball, running drills, giving last minute pep talks, and sizing up the enormous players of the opposing team. The scoreboard is ticking down the seconds until the game is to begin, and the smell of hot dogs and popcorn is in the air. I look to the crowd, a full house. The section of bleachers just reserved for students is jam packed full, all camouflage clad, as the school is dedicating the game to military appreciation. As we get in formation to enter the field, all football players and coaches are shooed away from the green. We're cued, and we march onto the field like trained soldiers. Left, right, left, right. Beads of sweat are trickling down the collar of my wool marching band uniform in the ninety-three degree heat. Instruments up, and we march down field blasting the school song. The crowd is buzzing with school pride, screaming and cheering. Not for the band whatsoever, but for the game that is about to ensue. Then the national anthem swells from my clarinet, and in the last few words: "O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave." the student section bursts with pride, chanting "U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A!" To top it all off, the beating of something flying overhead turns into the deafening chopping of a helicopter doing a flyby just over my head. The coast guard apparently had something specially arranged.
       The band then creates a sort of tunnel. The football players at one end, and then as we play a quick and bright tune, they sprint through the tunnel, to the other side, and the game is to begin. It's quite uneventful for the first half of the game, though the student section never lost any volume, the cheer team on the sidelines ensured this. Every once and a while, if things were dying down too much, they'd break out in to some kind of cheer that involved the audience, in order to get them pumped up again. Something like "Go bananas, go go bananas!", triggering the audience to repeat, and do as the chant says: GO BANANAS! Half time has arrived, and the score is an unpromising 3-3, one field goal per team. The band does our half time show, playing the songs of West Side Story while making different shapes and styles on the field. We're followed by a dance routine, and a flags routine. And the team is ready to resume the game. As the score is tied up, both teams have come back ready to fight. The other side's bleachers were surprisingly filled as well, all of the students blindingly showing off their school pride in bright yellow attire and booing our team as they run back on to the field.
       The second half is to begin. It wasn't looking like it would ever shape up to be a particularly exciting game. A touchdown was scored for our team, then the other team, tying it up once again. The clock was running dangerously low. Due to the heat and lateness of the hour, no one wanted that game to run into overtime. Coaches for both sides are plotting vigorously against one another as key players are soaking themselves with the water from Gatorade bottles. A whistle blows, and the players smash into one another once again. Everyone around me was cheering harder than ever, so I guess our team was doing something wonderful; someone next to me explained that we had gotten a first down, whatever that means. The teams come together to plot for a few more seconds before another play begins, and all of a sudden the crowd goes WILD! The band is cued to get on our feet and blast the school song once again. A touchdown was scored, and we secured the lead. The game had been won.
       First home football game of the year: check.

Monday, August 29, 2011

One Hundred Times Over

       Well for those of you who haven't been keeping track, this is a very special blog entry for me. I started this blog back in...February. Can that be right?! Over six months ago. It honestly feels like I've just started this blog, and that I'm still fighting it so that I'm out of the Blogger "newbie" stage. That stage in which someone starts a blog and is like: "I'm going to blog every day!"...then does it for a few weeks, gets bored, uninspired, and unmotivated, so they drop it and start a different project to occupy their valuable computer time. It feels like it was just a few weeks ago that I first wrote about my disdain for the Turnabout dance, or vented about my frustration over our ruined vacation plans with the earthquake in Japan. Some entries have certainly been better than others. There were times when I would have very inspired and creative writing in which the words flowed easily from my mind onto my computer screen. Then there were other times when I struggled to find a way to convey my thoughts into a string of sentences that made sense to anybody. There were times when I had so many blog topics in mind that I couldn't choose which one to execute first, and then there were times when I picked at my brain to think of anything even mildly interesting that I could shape into a short blog entry just because I hadn't posted one in a while.
       For any of you that may have stuck around reading my endless rants and ravings that have been encapsulated by this blog, you've probably gotten to know me pretty well throughout these entries. Anyone who's read this blog has hopefully gotten a look at who I honestly am as a person. Through my writing all I am is myself. I find myself changing my personality slightly depending on who I'm talking to. If I'm with this group of friends I will talk a certain way, make certain jokes, and try to be a person that they will enjoy. But when I'm with a different group of friends, I'm completely different. I try to say that I'm an individual and no one will change me, but I find it amazing the range of different versions of myself there are that different groups of people see. If you've never met me in person, and all you know of me is this blog, you probably know me better than a lot of people. Through my writing I'm only myself. No changes. My thoughts, nothing held back for fear of what the people reading it will think. That's what I've loved about this blog. I do it for myself, and myself alone. If other people read it, great. If they enjoy it, even better. But they don't necessarily have to like it.
      As of this post, I have submitted 100 different blog entries to this website. I have sat down in front of a blank screen 100 times, typing then thinking, not the other way around. I have pondered over 100 different titles, trying to make them as witty as I could. This is my one hundredth post. 100 posts in a little over six months. Not long ago, I went back to read through some old posts, just to see if there was something I could improve on in the future, or just to see what was going on in my head when I wrote some of these entries (seeing as some were written in a 2 A.M. hazy state of mind). Am I the best writer in the world? No. But are there blog entries that I'm proud of? Certainly! But even more, I'm proud of 100 posts. Proud that I stuck with it to this point. Proud of the late nights when all I wanted to do was go to bed, but instead I stayed up to write to you, my reader(s). But in all honesty, my most important reader, is me. As vain as it may sound, it's true. If I stop believing in what I'm writing, that's the day I stop writing.
     But to those of you who do keep up with reading my blog, or even those who have just stumbled upon this entry and will never be visiting my blog again: thank you. Thank you all. I said in my very first post that if I managed to make an impression on just one person with this blog, it will all be worth it. These one hundred posts have been so worth it. Because, even if they haven't made an impression on any of you, it did on me. Thank you all once again, it's been such a blast keeping this blog, and I plan to continue writing in it for as long and as often as I can. School has started, and things will get hectic, but honestly, I will try my best to keep thinking of new and interesting things to talk about.
     This is my one hundredth post....only nine hundred away from celebrating my one thousandth blog...good luck to us all.

P.S. These one hundred posts also include 6 drafts that were never made public. They are somewhat finished posts, so it shows on my Dashboard "99 Posts". So if you look and see that I only have "93 Posts", and you're thinking "WHAT is she talking about, she hasn't had NEAR 100 posts", that would be why.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Hey...You've Got Something On Your Upper Lip...

      Those whiskers that grow out of a man's upper lip. You can curl it maniacally or comb it into fancy styles. It can be a sign of being dignified, manhood, or just being too lazy to shave. There's the "Handlebar Mustache", the "Hitler", "Chops", "The Chester Allen Arthur", a simple goatee. Regardless of the style, it's all the same when it comes right down to it. Facial hair. What is it about this hair that most men work at shaving during their morning routines? It's seen as a mark of being a man. A man who can grow a beard is a big strong man. I, for one, don't believe in this whatsoever. I'm in high school, so this is very much subject to change, but the guys I see with beards or mustaches are just plain gross. No shave November makes the personal hygiene of the male (and sometimes even female) population go way downhill. Maybe it's just because the guys I see with beards and mustaches are the ones who are just too lazy to shave it. This also means they're too lazy to keep their facial hair well kept...and unfortunately too lazy to brush the crumbs of their lunch out of it. However, anyone I see with a mustache or beard just automatically makes me cringe.
      My biggest example: Ryan Gosling. To my readers of this blog, you cannot deny that you didn't want to cry a little prematurely in The Notebook when Noah (played by Ryan Gosling) is shown to age with the addition of a giant unkempt mane of bushy facial hair. At that point, I didn't blame Ally for wanting to be with her clean shaven fiance. Guys must learn, facial hair is not a sign of manhood. It's not attractive, in style, cool, or "hipster". Pick up a razor and get rid of that thing growing between your nose and your lip. Going further with my Ryan Gosling example: today I saw the movie Crazy Stupid Love in which Gosling plays a kind of "slime-ball player". What do they give his character in order to insure he looked the part? A nasty slimy-looking goatee. It's not attractive. 
      Maybe it's just me and I'm crazy. Afterall, Ally ended up with the bearded Noah in The Notebook, and Jacob in Crazy Stupid Love certainly had no problem attracting women. But in my opinion, in this time period, guys my age should not try their absolute hardest to grow a mustache like they do. It should not be seen as a sign of manhood, but a sign of overcompensation. DISCLAIMER: this rule has few exceptions, but exceptions do exist. For example: Tom Selleck. He is one of the few men I've seen in my life that can pull off a mustache.  

Monday, August 22, 2011

Set The Alarms And Pack The Lunches

       Ahh yes, the sweet smell of fresh notebooks in the morning. It's once again, that time of the year that always sneaks up just a little too soon. Classes of the 2011-2012 school year start tomorrow, and the students are buzzing about; going back to school shopping, planning one last summer hurrah, perfecting a "first day of school outfit", and of course, figuring out how in the world they're going to handle nine months of eight rigorous classes a  day. It's a lot to deal with, and the fact that school was starting soon didn't really set in until a few days ago. Usually, at this point, I'm deathly bored of summer. I'm ready for a change, for a reason to get up early in the morning. Projects, something to work on. In a way, I typically look forward to the first few weeks of school. This year? Not so much.
      One may ask, what changed from every other summer since I can remember and now? This is the first summer I have really wished for another month or two of vacation. Perhaps it's because I was in summer school for over two thirds of my so-called "vacation". I never really experienced even a few days in which I could truly relax. For the most part, I'm okay with this. I like being busy, going from one thing to the next, never having nothing to do...but in a way, it would be nice to have a week. Just a week in which I could do what I want. Go to movies with friends. Sit and read a book. Sleep in late. Do absolutely nothing at all. I never really had a time when I could do that. It was go, go, go all summer long, and now I am facing nine more months of being go, go, go throughout the school year.
     People ask me if I'm excited for school. My immediate answer is: yes! In all honesty, there are things I look forward to with the coming school year. The football season (which ultimately means the marching band season for me). Fall is coming, the leaves will change, it will no longer be deathly hot or buggy. I like the concept of seeing my friends every day, facing new opportunities to join clubs, find new interests, feel the sense of accomplishment if I do well on a test. I do like school. I can't deny it whatsoever. But, besides from the getting up early, the one thing that makes me yearn for more summer is: I'm scared. I'm honestly frightened out of my mind. I'm going into my junior year. I will be an upperclassman, and suddenly, everything has taken on new meaning. Each and every test, quiz, project, even those five point homework assignments will affect my future in an irreversible way. My class schedule is filled with four AP courses, an honors class, and two electives. Just thinking about it makes the sting of anxiety rise in my throat.
     So now I will finish this blog; lay out my clothes for tomorrow, set my alarm to an ungodly hour, lay out my backpack, filled with notebooks ready to be doodled in, struggle to go to sleep at a reasonable hour, and face the year that will scare, challenge, excite, revolt, frustrate, and invigorate me. Let's do this.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The Keys To The Kingdom

Part 3
Continuation From: "Down The Rabbit Hole"

       For those of you who are getting extremely bored of me rambling on about Disneyland for the past two blog posts, be prepared to rejoice! This will (probably) be my last part in this saga of Disney goodness. I'm sorry to make this so long, but for those of you who follow this blog, you know that Disney is a big part of my life, and I wanted to document my impression of Disneyland while it's still fresh in my mind. It's funny how memories, even such potent ones, fade considerably after just a few weeks. I know I've been typing like a maniac about this subject, but there is just one more aspect of the experience I have to cover. Since my first visits to Disney World, the thing that always stuck in my mind was: "What's in the castle?". My dream was to go in it. I didn't have to live there, I just wanted to know what was in it. The mystery was agonizing to me as a five year old girl. It drove me crazy that there could be an entire world of wonder within the stone walls of the beautiful castle I've been visiting once a year for my entire life. This is one of the things that sets Disney apart from any other theme park in the world. 
      The mystery that comes along with any of the parks is so enticing. Disney doesn't just give free reign to any and all information about its beginnings and its secrets. Not just anyone is allowed into every nook and cranny of the park. When I was in Disneyland, one of the first rides we headed to was Pirates Of The Caribbean. As a family favorite, paired with the fact that we heard it was supposed to be better than the one in Disney World, we were all eager for this ride. But, the line stretching all through New Orleans Square suggested that we weren't the only Pirate lovers in the park. So we were waiting in the hot California sun when all of a sudden, my sister noticed something. Above the entrance to the ride, there was a balcony, adorned with the sign "Disney Dream Suite". So, we did what any normal American family would do. We whipped out our iPhones and scoured Wikipedia for answers. Indeed, Walt Disney had the "Dream Suite" construction started in the 1960's, but the project died along with the creator of all things Disney. However, it was reborn in the Year Of A Million Dreams in 2008. The suite is a luxurious living quarters, each room themed after a different area of the park. Every so often, the suite is given as a gift to a random family visiting the park. 
       This is the pure beauty of Disney. Do they have to give out this "Dream Suite" for free? No. Do they publicize their good deeds to show how "wholesome" of a company they are? No. They keep their humble good deeds quiet, mysterious, and full of fantasy. Now, not only will I forever fantasize about what is in Cinderella's Castle (besides the Disney World Dream Suite in the top), but I will always wonder what is in the "Dream Suite" that overlooks the bustling New Orleans Square. Supposedly it is adorned with memorabilia from past films, beautiful antiques, etc. 
       There is one more secret that Disney holds to be one of the most exclusive clubs there is. Club 33. This was Walt's idea, to make a private club that would only be kept at the highest standards of elegance and class. This club includes a restaurant, lounge, and full bar. The project was started and finished by Walt, the club itself is decorated by his wife, Lillian Disney. Membership to this club is set at the bargain price of $10,450, and an additional annual fee of $3,275. Oh, and that price does not include your meals eaten at Club 33, which customarily cost around $85 each. However, with this membership, you are allowed free access to Disneyland parks during any of its opening hours, including its early entrance hours. You are given six fastpasses upon entrance to the park, while normal patrons are only given one at a time. Also, free valet service, and permission on the presidential cart of the Disneyland Railroad is included with membership. Only a certain number of members are accepted at a time, and currently there is a 14 year waiting list to become a member. Some well known members include Johnny Depp, Tom Hanks, and Elton John.
        The secrets. The mystery. The fantasy. The magic. People ask me what's so great about Disney World or Disneyland, they're just amusement parks like any other. But they're just not. These parks are different from anywhere else. It strives to be original, whimsical, and exclusive, while somehow still including everyone in the world. These secrets of Disney give me something to dream about. What you see is not what you get. No one can be sure of anything in these parks. The information in this blog entry is, of course, available to anyone with access to Wikipedia, so some may say they're not actually "secrets", but what mystifies me is the fact that these are just the secrets we know. It makes me wonder what secrets we don't know. The magic that is kept from our eyes. Those that hold the keys to the magic kingdom are the only ones that know. 
          There are so many conspiracies of things hidden in Disneyland and Disney World. Most I'm sure are just fake stories that were made up for entertainment. But it does make me wonder...what is hidden throughout these mysterious parks? What other secrets do the gates of Fantasyland hold? What has taken place there after the Extra Magic Hours are over? What hides just around the corner from Wonderland? Most likely, I'll never know. And that, my friend, is the magic of Disney.

I digress...


Thursday, August 18, 2011

Down The Rabbit Hole

Continuation From: "The Worlds, The Land, and The Adventure"

      On with my comparison of Disney World and Disneyland, I'd like to quickly mention the one thing I heard in Disneyland that really bothered me. I consider Disney parks to be a higher class of amusement park. It's not like the others where getting their hands on your money is all they care about. The workers are top tier, the music, the atmosphere, everything is just dead set upon making the patrons feel the magic of imagination and fantasy. For fun, my sisters and I decided to dress up like different Disney characters the days that we were in the park. My older sister decided to dress up as one of her favorite princesses: Belle. White collared shirt under a blue cotton dress with an apron, and a white bow holding back her hair to top it all off. She looked adorable! Then, when we're entering the park, she's stopped at the gates. The workers were required to stop and inspect her outfit, to see if it was too "costume-esque", because apparently, in Disneyland, if you are over the age of nine, you are not permitted to wear a costume, due to "company policy". Am I the only one who is completely shocked by this? I mean, it's Disneyland, a place where you are supposed to be able to feel any age you like. Where you can travel back to the days of your innocent youth. That's the one thing that just put a bit of a bad taste in my mouth.
       But to end that bad note with a good one, I'd like to mention the two things that really made me waiver on being so resolved that Disney World was better than Disneyland. I'll admit it, I'm a sucker for live shows. The costumes, the bright lights, the singing and dancing, I love it all. Sitting in the lavish Disneyland theater, waiting for the live Aladdin show to start, I had no idea what to expect. Was it going to be a full length show or just an abbreviated twenty minute version of the story? How far would they go to make the show dazzling? Well, when the lights went out and the Cave Of Wonders appeared in front of me, my question was answered on the spot. The show was incredible, more than I could possibly have expected. The acting was impeccable, especially by the Genie. The singing, dancing, scenery, it was all just as perfect as it could be! I laughed so hard my sides began to ache; and I'll admit, I'm not one to cry in movies whatsoever, but something about this show brought tears to my eyes. Aladdin is my favorite classic Disney musical, and I could not have asked for a better live interpretation of it. Plus, it's a show I've seen no where else, not even Disney World; where all they have is a very abbreviated version of Beauty and the Beast.
       The second thing that really floored me was another live show called World of Color. Again, I didn't really know what to expect with this. Disney is known for their firework shows at night, and this was a show that made its debut every night after the sun dipped below the Mickey Ferris Wheel. So, naturally, when I was waiting for the show to begin, I figured the boom of fireworks would infest my ears at any moment. But, wow, I couldn't have been more wrong. The show began with a great spout of water, illuminated by colored lights. The show progressed with sprays of water shooting up from the lake, all of different colors, waving in different designs, all set to coincide with music. In addition, in the middle, there was a wall of water on which different Disney movie scenes were projected. It was really dazzling, I was mystified. The spraying water, along with the music, just told such an emotional story, mixing in the classic Disney characters. 
World Of Color

My Sister As Belle

Aladdin Show: "Friend Like Me"

End of Part 2
To Be Continued

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Worlds, The Lands, And The Adventure

    Throughout my entire life, since before I can even remember, I have been visiting the magical and enchanting Disney World on an annual basis. I've traveled all over the world; all fifty states, Europe, all over the Caribbean, Canada, and Central America. Why is it that the one place that my sisters and I continue to beg to go back to over and over again is a theme park. We've seen the most beautiful natural wonders of the world, and all we want to go back to is the man-made land infested with actors in costumes, pretending to be characters of our childhoods. I guess I answered my own question when I said that I've been visiting these parks since before I can remember. I grew up with them. I grew up with the characters, the songs, the rides, the shows. Going inside Cinderella's Castle was my greatest and earliest dream I can remember. I love this place with all of my heart, but somehow, I hadn't been to the park that started it all up until this summer.
     Disneyland is obviously the original Disney park. Starting in Anaheim, California, Disneyland took the phenomenon of Mickey Mouse, fantasy, and imagination of Walt Disney and put it into a theme park that could be enjoyed by children and adults alike. However, when Anaheim attracted the "wrong kind of businesses", cluttering the streets with plenty of neon-clad establishments, Walt Disney wanted to start a new park. One that would cover enough property to be considered its own entity. This became Disney World. So Disney World is, of course, much larger. Containing four separate parks, it is 47 square miles of pure Disney. That is twice the size of Manhattan. Disney World is also much newer, closer to where I live, and has a much greater selection of attractions. So why in the world did we even want to visit its smaller and older Disneyland counterpart?
     Walt Disney's original park is referenced thousands of times in daily conversation. When I think about it, I probably hear more in TV shows, movies, and books about Disneyland than I do Disney World. That, compiled with the fact that Disneyland is the original, we thought it was about time to see what all of the hubbub was about. I was not ready to be overly impressed. I knew there weren't going to be the incredible amount of attractions that take three days minimum to visit them all like it is in Disney World. I knew that it was just the two parks: Disneyland and California Adventure, as opposed to the World's four: Magic and Animal Kingdom, Hollywood Studios, and Epcot. There would be no Epcot, futuristic and cultural experience, which is my whole family's favorite. I was ready to visit a theme park that would just make me long to go to Disney World even harder.
     I've got to say...I was a bit shocked. Part of my speculation was correct, some of the attractions weren't quite as good as Disney World, which just made me want to visit that park. In addition, when I entered the Disneyland Park, and I step onto Main Street, I look up, expecting the vast castle that just floors me every time I visit Disney World. Instead, I saw a castle...but it looked as if it had shrunken. It was tiny! Very cute, but I've got to say, I was a little underwhelmed. However, there were several newer attractions that had been built recently in order to try to attract more crowds that were extremely impressive! Namely, The Adventures of The Little Mermaid, Monsters Inc. (Mike and Sully To The Rescue), Indiana Jones, and California Screamin'. Then, there were some of the classic rides from Disney World that I adore, in which were actually much more entertaining in Disneyland. This was most prominent in Pirates of the Caribbean and It's A Small World. Maybe it's because they're the original rides of the original park.

End of Part 1
To Be Continued... 

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

So This One Time...At Band Camp...

      Oh the innuendos that have followed the thought of what happens at band camp. Due to the movie American Pie, band camp is seen as a very sultry, scandalous, drama-filled experience. These kids are put together for six hours a night, under the light of the stars and bright football stadium lights. They're forced to bond with one another with things like section bonding and band stretches. Teenage hormones are racing. Add in a tuba and things are bound to start going awry, right?! Well...wrong. I go to a high school that has much more than its fair share of drama and scandal, but band camp is probably the one thing that is the least drama-infested environment. In actuality, it's just a bunch of kids who would never have spoken to each other without band, acting silly, having fun, swatting mosquitoes, and blasting their instruments as loud as they can.
      I've mentioned several times in this blog how much marching band means to me. It's my niche. Where I fit in to my school. Amongst all of the drama, fights, and backstabbing of my school, band is the one place where everyone is just themselves. We sweat together for six hours a day, no one cares what they look like. Our biggest scandal is that our band director wore a cowboy hat today. Band is a place where I don't have to worry about sounding or looking stupid. A place where I can laugh at myself when I stumble over my own feet. I can go to anyone in the room and know that they're there for me. Maybe not all one hundred kids in the band are best friends with one another, but regardless, we're all family. We'll help each other, protect each other, laugh and cry with one another, and belt out Disney songs together.
       Maybe band camp isn't as exciting and scandalous as it's made out to be. I've never heard of any four play going on behind the bleachers or on the football field, (practice rooms, now that's another story). So to set the record straight: band camp is a week of memorizing music, learning drill formations for the halftime show, making new friends, laughing, playing, and just being plain silly sometimes. And you know what, even though we don't have mindless rumors, scandal, and beyond to entertain us, it's just because we're entertaining enough as a group without it. I'll complain throughout this tiring week of marching, but when all is said and done, some of my best high school memories will have come from band camp. So this one time...at band camp...I turned a group of individuals thrown together with a bunch of instruments, and discovered a sort of family.