I was having doubts.

I was doubting myself, my boyfriend, and our ability to stick this out and make it work. I was afraid. I was so afraid of losing yet another person.

And then last night happened. He invited me over late at night to hang out with him and his sister, who was home from college on break. I got a ride over, wondering how tonight was gonna go, if it would end up bad.

He pulled me inside and kissed me, then walked me over to the dining room with his arm around me to say hi to his dad and sister. We all sat down to watch a video about a magician…and truth me told I was a little disappointed because I didn’t want to share my man. Again.

See, I see him every day at school. But there are always administrators around, always kids who have the dirtiest minds and always want to know if we’ve had sex yet or when we’re having sex and they think all we do is have sex.

And seeing him at school just isn’t enough for me.

But here I was again, sharing him. I shouldn’t feel this way, not at all. I shouldn’t be upset that he’s happy to see his sister and talking to her more than me. But I am. And that makes me angry. Angry at myself.

His dad ended up going to bed, and I stayed until 2 AM.

And it was one of the best nights of my life. Every doubt was put to rest. Every single fear I had was driven away. After those first few minutes, he was all mine. We hid in the kitchen for probably half an hour, alternating between him giving me the most gorgeous necklace I have ever owned (a diamond/sterling silver heart), talking about awkward things and kissing and discussing fighting techniques (and yes, he made me mad and I punched him. He didn’t hit back, bless his heart, even though I wish he had). After I punched him, I convinced him to ‘spar’ with me, which really only consisted of me trying to hit him and him blocking me. The longer it went on, the more angry and frustrated I became. But every punch was helping me let off steam from months of frustration and fury that hitting walls and refrigerators wasn’t helping me with. I gave him a few bruises, and my hand swelled up pretty big. I fight with my right hand mostly, the left I use for blocking. I don’t know where I learned that or why I fight like that. I always have. He let me have a few good hits, and every time I felt my heart break. I hated hitting him, but I had to. If I didn’t, I was going to go crazy.

People tell me to pull up trees or hit pillows or something when I’m angry, but that doesn’t work for me. I feel stupid because the damn thing won’t hit back. And then I feel like a coward, and that makes me angry at myself. Its a viscous cycle.

Afterwards we curled up on the couch together and talked about what movies to watch, whether his cat liked me or not, and I can’t remember what else. I do remember getting spoiled rotten by an amazing foot massage.

We headed upstairs (Oh God now I’ve done it) and laid back on a pile of pillows to finish talking. And to cuddle. He doesn’t like cuddling and long hugs like I do…I need them. I feel fixed when I get long hugs from him. But he dislikes them, so he never gives them and I never asked because I didn’t want him to do something that he didn’t enjoy. But once he realized this, things changed. For the better.

“Hey,” I said, “I want some cuddles SillyBoy.”

“You have them,” he said, and wrapped me up in the warmest, longest hug/cuddle I have ever had.

While he massaged my back for 20 minutes, we ended up talking about things we had previously disagreed on. Homeschooling, parenting methods…and found out that things had changed for both of us. We were willing to bend on things for each other. And his viewpoints had changed as well.

We were laying on the pillows on the floor, not saying anything, when an old lullaby came into my head and wouldn’t go away, so I hummed my own rendition of it very quietly, eventually letting it flow into another song I’d learned as a kid. When I finished, I looked over at the handsome man I had unknowingly sung to sleep snoring on my arm (which was losing feeling fast) and I was amazed that I could ever have doubted him. Or us.

He was mine again.

Or maybe, I was just over my extremely emotional time of the month.

"When did my dreams become my worst enemy?
When did the one I love become the one I hate?
When did I decide that hell was my heaven,
That peace was war and hate and evil?
What happened to the kid
That hid in mortal fear from the demons
That haunted her dreams and told her of things to come?
Now she stands and welcomes them
Now she tells people around her what will happen
Now she can communicate in way unnatural
What happened to the skinned knees
What happened to the boogey man?
I think I miss him- he was my best friend
Although I didn't know it.
What happened to the dreams of a prince
What happened to the dreams that I had
They're gone...
They saw the monster inside of me and ran
Now I'm gathering up the pieces of the heart
That was beating in my hand and I'm wondering
Did I squeeze it too hard?"

Amid the flurry of getting cases and lyres on the trailer, the band is somewhere between a sky-high pumped feeling and a sad feeling.
We're pumped more than we've been this season because this is our 3rd Championship game in a row- and if we win, the 3rd title in a row. We're sad...because this is the last game of the season. This is Tyler Rochelle's last game. He's our Drum Major...and this is his last game. He will never be drum major for a football game for the Dirty Birds, the Northern Nighthawks ever again.
As I stand in the bathroom changing and downing a double-shot cappuccino in record time, my mind seems to play slow-motion flashbacks of every game so far. Turning to each other and squealing as we head to another win. Falling to our knees on the field as a player gets taken down. Dancing on the way back to the band room. Getting so low in our spiral that we're bouncing on our knees, then leaping into the air and screaming for all we're worth.
As we unload into Piccolo Park at Wake Forest BB&T Stadium, the band moms hurry around handing out plumes. Jenna loads my arms full of flute cases- I'm holding all eight before the flutes surround me and take their cases. We line up, and Tyler is so pumped he starts screaming like a little girl with a masculine voice. He's so excited we can't really understand a word he's saying. They're bits and pieces of words and sentences. Mike breaks rank and steps up. "Let me take over."
"BAND!! Do you remember, at the Northern/Northwest game, when I told you that you could call me Moses cause I was gonna take you to the Promised Land?"
"YEAH!!!"
He throws his arm at the stadium. "There it is. That's our promised land. That's where we were meant to be.


"NIGHTHAWKS!!! WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION!!!!"


"AAAOOOOUUU! AAAOOOOUUU!!! AAAOOOOUUU!!!!"

Tyler stands at the head of the line and screams, "Band! Ten! Hut!"
We march in, amid the glares from Charlotte Catholic kids and the screams and cheers from the whole of Guilford County. The drums echo off of the cement tunnel walls as we march in , yelling along with our cadence, "UH-OH!! 3PEAT!! UH-OH!!!" I felt as if I were going deaf from the noise the crowd was making as we marched through the tunnel/hallway to our section.
We gasped at the sheer size of the stadium. No matter how many times you go to a Championship, the first things a band geek says are either, "God, this is huge!!" And then usually the second thing is, "Oh my freakin' gosh, that field is beautiful."
We started playing right away. And we played hard, better than we'd played all season.
And Charlotte Catholic's band? Well, they sucked. Really bad.
Through the 1st and 2nd quarters, we stand up most of the time, watching as TJ Logan gets a new record for the number of yards run. We scream louder than we've ever screamed before. Tears are in our eyes as we jump up and down.
Halftime comes, and we head down to the sidelines to wait for CC to get done with their halftime show (if you can call it a show). 2 Minutes before the clock runs out, TJ gives us another touchdown, so we play the fightsong. A camera man comes over and puts his camera right in Evan's face, then mine. Its all we can do to keep from grinning. Its all we can do to keep serious. Right before we head out, two of our players get hurt. We all drop to our knees and look through the legs of the football players until they are both up. Then we stand and get ready for the rest of halftime.
After CC's 'show' (they just stood there), we head onto the field and boss that show. We make look like we are a professional band.
We head off and back into our seats. We hold our breath as we stand on our seats and watch our team.
With 43 seconds left in the game and the score at 64-26 in Northern's favor, the clock stops and the team dumps a cooler of water over Coach Roscoe's head. They gather around and scream. The band is screaming too, and Mr Kimbrough himself actually stands up and screams.
The clock runs out and we all scream so loud we lose our voices. The stands are packed with screaming maniacs and amazed people. The team falls on its knees for prayer and awards and the Title is delivered to a very proud, very deserving team of football players, some crying. Me and Becca look up at Tyler, watching the whole thing excitedly. But we both know he's only hiding the sadness inside. His mom is crying. We get teary eyed, I cry and laugh at the same time.



We did it.
We did it, we made it.



It takes me for ever to get that.



We did it.




I have never been prouder of my team, my band before.






Standing in the bleachers, looking at the quickly emptying CC side, looking down at the ecstatic football players, looking up at Tyler, gazing out at the successful end to his last game, at Megan, hoping she'll get re-elected for drum major next year, looking at the seniors, looking over their last game as Dirty Birds. It starts to slow down. I hang on every minute as long as possible. I want this to last. I don't want to lose these precious minutes.



It was our last game with this group. We will never be the same group with the same memories.



We march out, with headsplitting grins, people pounding us on the back, screaming, cheering. A drum head is broken from being hit so hard. My cheeks and plume shake from the noise. I hear feel the drums reverberating in my gut. My knees are shaking, my feet hurt, my headache is killing me, my eyes are burning from all the lights.



And I am the happiest person alive.




That long busride home, my head on Ryan's shoulder, I cant fall asleep.


Its so hard to say goodbye to my band. Its gonna be hard to wait for next year.




We did it, Northern. We got to a 3peat, we won.




We did it.







Long Live.

My footsteps echo in the nearly-empty hallway as I carry my uniform to the uniform room to hang back up for another week. Band members congratulate each other and grin as we pass each other, giving each other high fives. Band mothers remind us what to do with our uniforms as we hang them up. Every thing I've been wearing under my uniform smells like sweat, even though I swear I put on more antiperspirant than usual. I open my school locker and hang up my leggings, my shorts, my socks, and my extra shirt. The locker vents will let them air out over the weekend.
Its been a successful night- a 44-8 win against Morehead, and the Nighthawks, or Dirty Birds, are more than ready to move into the playoffs. Senior night has come and gone, and the seniors are starting to really realize that this could have been their last home game.
Senior Night brings with it a lot of bittersweet memories and feelings. For every senior, the cliff-hanging suspense will begin. "Is this my last game? Is this my last night on the field? Is this my last chance to hold up my arms in victory as we come to another touchdown? Is this the last time I will hang up my uniform, pull out my marching shoes, close my locker, pick up my lyre?" For the underclassmen, we wonder if this is the last chance we will have to look up to our seniors as they show us how a drill is marched perfectly, how to tie a perfect know in our marching shoes so they won't come unlaced but they are easy to take off, the last time we can ask them how to finger the double high C, and this may be the last time we see their faces light up at another touchdown. Sometimes, things like that happen in slow motion.
But the best part about senior night, after all the gifts, the cheering, and the tears, is the speech. From the Seniors to our beloved band director/ father figure, Mr. Ed Kimbrough.

The Seniors stand up. They each have their own part in this, and every year we add to it. The underclassmen start pounding the echoing tables in an oddly quiet cafeteria. "SPEECH! SPEECH! SPEECH!" We all yell, pounding and stomping. Eventually, with a signal from our Spirit Captain, we quiet down. And the speech begins, each Senior chiming in with his/her own memory or special note.


Mike starts us off, pulling of his signature shades and running a hand through his already buzzed sandy hair (he's headed to the Air Force as soon as he graduates).

"So, ummm...I didn't imagine much of a speech today, but more of a testimony...You see I wanted to share a dream I had with all of you.

I had a dream that a middle-aged bald headed white man would come to a new school.
I had a dream that the bald man came with hardly anything to work with.
I had a dream that the bald man was so dedicated to the program, he marched with us.
I had a dream that the man would take some of us to the wild world of Disney Land and the bustling city of New York."
Nick Purdy steps up, with his odd hair cut and his nasely slang voice and intones, "I had a dream of a man so kind he helped me get my finger out of a Tuba."
Mike continues.
"I had a dream that there was a band that would be asked to quiet down, so the team could hear the snap count.
I had a dream that the bald headed white man would take his band along the road to the football team's state title TWICE.**
I had a dream that the bald man inspired band students to continue playing music in college.
I had a dream that the man would inspire leadership and creativity, which fostered traditions for a school that had none.
I had a dream that I watched band members come out of their shell and step up as the band became stronger both in music and in friendship.
I had a dream that his band would be voted "Best Band" in Guilford County.
I had a dream that no one could have a better band, thanks to this bald man's leadership.
I had a dream that a community would bet for the bald man's band to play at every football game.
I had a dream that traditions of excellence are continued every Friday night."

Here the seniors stand up and start yelling at the top of their lungs: "I HAD A DREAM!!!...I'M LIVING THAT DREAM!!!"

We all scream as chills run down our spines. Then we quiet down to hear the last part of the speech, as Kimbrough sits there and we wonder if he's getting misty eyed, or if its the lights.
Mike's voice falls to a perfect pitch and we shiver in delight as he reads on: "Mr Kimbrough, you've brought us a long way. You've been with us seniors all through high school and now this could be our last home game as a Dirty Bird. Shout out to all the seniors, and that middle-aged bald headed white man who brought us all together.


THIS IS WHO WE ARE!!! WHO ARE WE?"


"NIGHTHAWKS!"

"WHO ARE WE?"

"NIGHTHAWKS!!!"

"WHO ARE WE???"

"NIGHTHAWKS!!!!!!!"



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!







**As it looks right now, this will be our 3rd State Title. We'll find out Saturday around 10!!

I had an amazing day yesterday. But at the end of the day, I got a look in the mirror, a kick in the gut. Ouch.
It's amazing how long it can take us to admit we did something wrong. Its taken me a long time- too long.
I saw people today that I haven't seen in years- and instead of the judging I was expecting, there was total acceptance and love. Now I'm beginning to wonder how much hurt I actually inflicted on myself, and how much I hurt others.
And maybe, no one ever did judge me.
Maybe, just maybe, I was so afraid of being judged, that I judged myself and myself up to impossible standards....and then blamed others when I fell on my face.
I mean, that's the easiest thing to do, right? Blame others?
Going back taught me a lesson. It was a bittersweet lesson. I was ashamed of myself for being so angry and bitter at such loving people. They only always loved me- why didn't I see that? Was I that wrapped up in myself- was I the only person I cared about, the only person I saw?
Today, I was loved. I was hugged, and teased affectionately, and conversed with childhood friends with a freedom I haven't had in a long time.
These people know me- knew me- and want to keep me in their lives.
While I got stomach cramps from laughing with my bestest friend from 11 years ago, I was simultaneously feeling like crying. Had I hurt her with my anger? Did I shut her out like I did everyone else?

And yet, she still sat with me on the bed and sand songs with me while I tried to figure out tenor. She gladly hopped up and grabbed me water and more brownies while I told them stories about the world I live in.


Its raining on the way home.

I feel like its washing away the last bit of my bitterness, my anger, with its gentle whispers of freedom.

There's a song I have fallen head over heels in love with. Drops of Jupiter, by Train( Go here to see the video if you've never heard it before or if you're just a diehard fan of awesome music). At one point in the song, it says, "Tell me, did you sail across the sun? Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded, and that Heaven is overrated?"
I love how he says that. Everyone always goes on and on about how heaven is the bestest place on earth...and I don't doubt it is- for about 2 days. Maybe a week. But after a few thousand years, or maybe even a few months, I think we'd get tired of seeing it. Of being there. Of constantly having nothing to do...nothing to learn...nothing to stretch our minds on.
I don't think I'd be very happy there.
Heaven is supposed to be perfect, right?
Here are a few problems with that, however.
We love perfection. We crave it, we lay awake in bed and wish that our lives were perfect. We want to change everything so that its perfect. But if life were perfect, we would stop being thankful for everything. We would no longer stare at the Northern Lights, our mouths hanging open. We wouldn't head to the beach to enjoy long sandy walks because we would no longer be marveling at the beauty in front of us. Heh, there wouldn't even be a beach, probably, not like we know it, anyway, cause the water would be clear as a lake, not cloudy. We wouldn't need those amazingly strong structures known as lighthouses. We wouldn't get to see them coated in ice in such a way that they look like frozen candles. We wouldn't know the joy of warming our hands over a fire because we wouldn't get cold (Ok, that last one is assumption because I hate being cold).
Would we enjoy rare treats as much as we do now? Probably not. I wouldn't love wildlife as much, because, well, hell, they're all getting along.
Problem is, in a perfect world, there is nothing to learn. No winning sides in sports. And I'm not happy without some sort of competition (I'm fine without competition between girls, but I mean, who would be the best bassoonist? No one, cause we'd all be equal).
We wouldn't be hurt, therefore we could no longer learn to heal or forgive.
There's just a whole bunch about heaven that makes me wish that it didn't exist.
We wouldn't know what its like to be 'so afraid to fly, you never land.' We couldn't overcome fear. Wouldn't that suck?


Well, I'm headed to trace my imperfect and wonderful way through the imperfect constellation...maybe fall for a shooting star with a permanent scar...cause scars show that we've learned. Later, I'm dancing along the light of day. Cause that's never perfect either.

Letter to Myself

I've been thinking a lot lately on how much I missed out on in life. For many reasons. A lot of them were my fault. Some of them weren't. Some of them I couldn't have helped, but some of them I wish I would have changed. So I decided to write a letter to my younger self, in hopes that maybe my younger self will get it and change my life. :)

Dear 6-14 year old me,

Calm down. Sit down. Shut your trap and LISTEN.
First, you talk too much and listen too little. The universe has so much to teach you, so much to show you, and you're only intent on fitting in to a group of people that are going to forget you in a few years.
You're 6 years old, and your world just turned upside down. You just moved far away from the only home you've ever known to a knew world that seems to get about 3 feet of snow every year, and you've got a whole new crowd of people in your face that you feel like you need to impress. You're confused, you're worried, and you have no idea why you moved except that "God told mom." Your mom just moved up here and started dating a guy, and then married him before you had a chance to realize that you were going to get a dad that had no clue what he was doing. Yes, they both love you, but please remember that the world does not revolve around you, and sometimes they have to be tough on you. I know you've been taught all your life to fear men and to not trust anyone, but put your faith in this man. Although he has a lot of faults, he only has the best in mind for you. You need to pull up your big girl panties and be brave. But don't forget to go hide behind your mom. She still needs you, and no matter how enamored and in love she is, you are still, and always will be, mommy's little girl. Cherish these special moments with your mom. In a few years, she's going to be so busy that you won't be able to take a nap with her, or go sleep with her at night. In a few years, you're going to be interrupted by little voices, and you'll have to learn to follow her around to keep her attention. Learn all you can from her. Soak up her time tell her how much you love her. That little boy next door needs a friend. Not many kids at church like him. Be kind to him...and don't get him in trouble for anything. In a few years, you're going to cry because you never stood up for him when you needed to.
In the next few years, you're going to discover that you're different. You're a thinker, and that is a good thing. Don't stop thinking just because you're taught by the leaders to never question your parents or the way you believe. It's good and right to question and think, and if you keep thinking, you might end up being in a better place than you are today. And that's good. You're musically talented. Don't be afraid to join the other youth when they sing. It will be good for you in the future. Learn bass clef when you sing bass so that you can sing the right notes. And ignore people when they laugh at you for singing bass. There's nothing demeaning in it-God made you with a low voice.
You're also going to discover that the girls can be mean. Everything is competition, and not everyone is going to like you. THAT IS A-OK. Don't worry about who likes you. Please, I'm on my knees begging you, don't try to fit in. You will cause yourself a lot of heartache. You're loyal to a fault, and that is a good thing. Be loyal. But remember, that sometimes, that loyalty is going to get you hurt, and you have to learn when to let go. That girl that criticizes you for your dresses or what chapstick you use, is hurting and lonely. Make her feel welcome and loved, she needs it and you'll save a lot of people a lot of hurt. Ignore her hurtful comments to you, but make sure you are her friend.
Don't join in on gossip that you hear. You're going to hurt a lot of people.
You're 9, and you just got in trouble several times for hanging out with the boys and playing games with them. Ignore those people. They are stuffy and stuck up and trying to whitewash their tombs to make themselves feel more worthy. You make friends with who you like- boys are more practical, and they mean what they say. There is no maze-navigating, no pecking-order, and best of all, they don't play with dolls or expect you to love those slobbery, stinky, screaming babies that all other girls seem to love and want. Don't feel pressured to want a family or be a missionary when you grow up.
Males are not dominant creatures, no matter what your culture tells you. You are just as smart and just as fit to lead as any other guy out there. You have a brain. And you have gut reactions. Follow those gut reactions. Dream about dances and proms and some guy loving you so much that he will change his life just so he can be with you. Its going to happen, and don't let anyone tell you its wrong. Love is right, and every girl dreams about it.
You're 11, and you're life is turning upside down again. You and you're 5 siblings are getting ready to move into a 32 foot travel trailer with your parents and travel for work. When you're cleaning out your house, don't take that little boy up to see the attic, even if he begs you. You're going to hurt for years from now from the results...you respected that woman and she accused you of something you didn't know existed. You're going to move all over the place. Back to North Carolina, Texas for two months, Georgia for two weeks, and then back to North Carolina.
Don't be so insecure. You're a gorgeous young lady, and although puberty is being cruel to your hormones, don't let your mom get the worst of it. Or at least let her know that you will both get out of 14 alive. Remember your best friends from Michigan? Most of them have forgotten you. Don't cling to the past, its not that good anyways. And you've left everything behind for the better. But also, don't be afraid to look back. When things change about your parent's beliefs, follow their lead. Start thinking again. Please, please, think! Explore, question, wonder, be fearless. Don't be afraid to be different. Everyone where you are is going to be afraid of you being different, and they are going to be a little mean to you because of it. Don't let them get you down.
Take the flute lessons your mom offers you. They will pay off in the future. Seriously. You're going to love it, and it will open so many doors for you. Pay more attention during Spanish and music classes...you're going to wish, in a few years, that you had taken more notes, you had paid more attention.
When you are 13, you're going to move up to your grandparents place in MI. I don't think I can tell you what to change here. Because I don't remember much of it. You're going to hate it. You're going to have 1 friend, that you don't get to see very much. Your grandparents are going to fight. You're going to be told every day that something is wrong with you. Rollerblading, sleeping, and school are going to be your main pastimes. You're going to be so good at rollerblading. Enjoy it. You won't get to 'blade again for years. You're going to go into depression, which is why you won't be able to remember anything. One thing I can tell you to change though. Don't cut. Anywhere. Don't try to kill yourself. Don't go looking for drugs...don't sit on the counter and consider OD'ing with benadryl. Cause in a few months it'll all be over, and you'll be so much happier. Relax. You're going to gain weight...you'll weight 128-132. Its the depression. But I can tell you a few good things- You have a friend that is going to end up being a lifelong friend. You're going to get your first pair of Vietnam Jungle combat boots...and you're going to wear them out with love. And...you're going to discover you love playing flute. Even if your grandfather tells you you're horrible at it. Just keep going. You'll be glad you did, and you are really a lot better than he says.
At 14, you will move to SC. That is going to be one of the best times of your life. You'll be there for almost a year and a half. You will make 3 very good friends- Jewel, Gloria, and Jean. You're going to go horseback riding and discover that you have a connection with horses that you don't understand. You can read their minds. You understand their thoughts and feelings. Don't let that scare you. Realize you have a purpose and let it happen. You're going to learn so much while you're down there. You are going to realize what real friendship is. You're going to keep a lot of secrets. You're going to have a crush on 3 boys at once, which can get a little confusing. You're also going to discover that you're more in shape. You're going to try to find your dad on facebook. Don't do that. Its stupid, and he's looking for you anyway. He'll find you in a few months. You're going to start feeling like you can finally put down roots...
And then you're going to move again. You're going to make one of the biggest mistakes of your life in Greensboro NC. You're going to fall in love with someone you shouldn't- someone you shouldn't be able to. He's a perv, stay away. Trust your mom. Stay away from him. Don't get upset when you find out you have asthma. There are ways to help. At 15, you're going to join a homeschool band. Love it. Live it. Make friends. But realize they are just people as well, and they will forget you eventually.
The last few months of being 15, you're going to go to drivers ed. Don't fall in love with the adorable, cute, athletic boy you sit beside. He's going to cheat on you. He's going to hurt you so bad. You think you love him. You do. You are going to fall head over heels in love with him. Don't. Don't let it get that far. You are going to lose part of your heart to him, and you will always hurt from the pain of being dumped for someone better than you. A month after you are 16, he's going to dump you. You will get over him in a week. But you will never get over the pain of losing your first love.
That cute boy on the bus that watches you like you're a greek goddess...is your new love. He is everything you ever want. I can't tell you to change anything. Because its all gonna work out. Just make sure that you fall in love with him. Because he will do anything to make you happy. He's going to be your first dance, you're first kiss, you're first real date, the first guy that respects you and looks up to you. The first guy that realizes that you are more than just a body, more than just a woman meant to serve him. He's gonna treat you right. Worship him.
Your new school is going to be perfect. But don't try to be friends with the girl that tries to steal your boyfriend. Continue looking for the best in people, but don't expect to find it. Treat everyone like they are royalty. Yes, people will walk all over you, but the right people are going to love you and you're going to get a lot of real friends who stick up for you. The band is going to be a dream come true. In a matter of months, you will learn to play trumpet, Alto Sax, Bassoon, and a little of bass drum, cymbals, and trombone. You're going to have a tight group of friends...6, exactly. You're going to be very close. Don't lose them. They are everything you want. You're going to meet your dad. Its not going to be everything you thought, and you're not going to be perfectly happy. But he's your dad. Love him.
I must say, I am proud of your 16 and 17 year old self. You started thinking again. You have made a stand for what you believe in. You have made a pledge to be more accepting, more loving, and you are willing to weed out the bad things in your life.
Dye your hair all you want, but for god's sake, don't dye just that side of your head. And don't listen to what shades others want you to dye it. Please yourself. Make yourself happy. Don't listen to others' style or fashion. Be yourself. I'm proud of the fact that you are happy with your weight, your looks, and your style. Don't ever lose that. Love your boyfriend with all your heart. You've changed his life...and you can trust him.

Most of all. Never. Ever. Ever. Give up...you are loved.
Sincerely, current me.

Ps. Use words, not violence.
PPs. Don't let anyone ever tell you that you aren't worth it.
ppps. Don't forget to tell people you love them. You might save someone's life.

This post is going to be a little weird, so if you don't believe in the supernatural, or even if you do but you believe that its wrong, you might not want to read this post. No, I'm not in league with the devil, nor do I want to be, but weird things happen to me that I can't explain. I've asked questions, I've researched, and every thing points to me having a few psychic powers. I've had people tell me I am psychic, too. And I have predicted things that happen.
Its quite freaky, actually. I don't know if I like this or not.
My boyfriend has similar...'powers,' I guess?...and has often read my mind or will call me in the middle of the night "to wake me up from my nightmare" when I really have been having a terrible dream. This doesn't happen often, but when it has I've either been crying in sleep or torn all the covers off my bed in my attempt to get away from whatever was chasing me.
I dream about things, and then they happen. Or I'll be able to read a person's mind, or sometimes even an animal's mind. Yes, animals have thoughts. They aren't in words like ours, but rather in pictures and feelings, rarely in colors. I know this is sounding weirder and weirder...it sounds crazy to me, too. The more I type the more I just want to stop and delete this post because I am so afraid of what will happen to me after you read this.
I'm not normally a fearful person, except when it comes to me failing or getting left alone.
People say I have a gift with animals, and that I am a rare person because people trust me even though they hardly know me. Maybe its a gift, but maybe its more than that. Maybe animals and people trust me because I can connect to them and feel what they are feeling. Maybe that's why I can sit next to a wild animal and have it totally relaxed...because I can communicate to it and tell it that I'm not going to hurt it.
Now this really sounds freaky. If you want me committed to an insane asylum, I'll understand. Sometimes I wonder if I should be committed.
Returning to my dreams. I will dream that I am having a conversation with someone, or that I have been on a piece of property, or that something happened in band. I don't know exactly when its going to happen, but it will happen eventually. And not every dream comes true, so I don't know which ones to look for and which ones to ignore.
Some people say that my 'powers' are because I am of Irish-german descent (more Irish than German) and that since the Irish had these powers that my ancestors have passed these down as well.
But its more than just dreams. Dreams I could pass off as flukes. But other things as well have me wondering. Is my musical ability really just a fluke gift? What about when I know what song is going to play next when my iPod is on shuffle? Or what the announcer is going to say next? Or even when I know the score of the football game the day before? These things don't happen all the time, so don't even think about asking me what the score of Northern/Western Alamance is this week. All I know is that we will win. By an acceptable margin. I don't mean exceptional. I mean acceptable.
And then there are the conspiracy theorists that believe that there are some kids with these powers because of something the government is doing, like we're out of some spy movie where we're going to be a part of a huge government operation in something like The Hunger Games.
I don't know what to believe.
I just want someone with reason, without bias, and someone that will believe me to tell me what in hell is going on here.

A new school year has started. And with a new school year comes so many good things. New classes with new teachers (thank God!!), new chances for better grades, better outlook on life. And most important, FOOTBALL/MARCHING BAND SEASON!!!!!!!!
I will never ever ever forget my first game. Page Northern home. Yes, we had to march with the Page band. Yes we cut our halftime show in half because of that. But it was still my first game, and it was better than I had ever imagined.
The stadium lights glaring off of my lyre. The crowd going wild while we marched. The feeling of utter ownership as we watched our team crush Page like a little bug. The hoarse throats as we marched back to the bandroom late that night.
I won't forget the second game, either. Dudley Northern home, score 36-7 in Northern's favor. Most of the band went to Tyler's house after the game for a party that lasted into the night.
Me and several of the guys walked up the road to get another friend, and then came back and had a hilarious game of ping pong. So hilarious that at one point 3 of us were laying on the table helplessly laughing at absolutely nothing.
Yes, this is the Nighthawk Marching Band, and you're jealous cause you're missing out.
We just have one question for you: What the hell is the football team doing on our field?

It's been a very long time since I last posted on this blog. But I've been feeling very nostalgic lately, with my 17th birthday coming up, and you know how all writers have to write when they are nostalgic or in any other way any kind of emotional.
When I was little, I never once thought I'd see the day when I was literally dreading a birthday. But here I am, all depressed because I cannot stay 16 for the rest of my life.
Being 16 was the best thing that ever happened to me.
It started out rough. Really rough. BUt it got so much better!!
In the beginning of the year, my first boyfriend broke up with me...and I thought I would never be able to look at another boy again.
So I didn't.
Instead, I looked at a guy...not quite a man, but not a boy anymore, either. He was cute, he was sweet, he was considerate, thoughtful, and my best friend. Well, my best guy friend, and I was so thankful for that. Little did I know he believed in love at first sight because it had happened to him...because of me.
To hear him tell the story, you'd think I was some fairy tale princess with the beauty to steal everyone's heart, enchanting you the moment you looked into my eyes.
I don't think of it that way.
I was in the mud. I had crashed and burned, I had choked, I was done. Ready to give up. I mean, you remember that post I wrote, right? (If not, here is the link.)Anyway, Christian came along, and with his amazing heart couldn't help but want to help me back on my feet again. So he picked me up, cleaned me off, told me he loved me, and taught me to love and trust again. Which...is a very hard thing to do for me. You burn me once, I might give you a second chance. Twice, and you're out for good.
I've learned so much in other departments as well. Not only love and trust, but so many other things. Living. I mean, really living. Being thankful. Letting new things open up in your life. Standing up for yourself and others. Overcoming fear to be true to yourself. Overcoming a stereotype, even if it meant losing those I considered friends at the time.
I have a lot of people to thank for that. my boyfriend, My step mom, my daddy, my friends. My real friends. So thank you all.

This thing we've been fighting for
Is it really there?
Cause it seems like
A desert Mirage
Always just out of our grasp

And this thing we've been running from
Can we make it disappear?
Cause you know what
Its hard to run
When your heart is stuck in the past


Oh woah woah!
I wanna break free!
I wanna be the one they say is tough as nails
Hard to get but easy to keep
I wanna just let go
And be myself.


This thing we've been dreaming of
Can it ever happen?
Cause dreams can be like rainbows
Always there
But still evasively breathless.......


When it feels like
You've reached the end
You've tried to hold the rainbow
In your hand
When that damn mirage
Keeps you running hard
How do you know
When is enough?
How do you know
When to stop?


Oh woah woah!!
Break free...
Tough as nails...
Living wild...
Dreaming dreams...

I grew up hearing the words, "Oh grave where is they victory, oh death where is thy sting?" every time someone died. I hated those words with a passion, and I still do.  Death is the final word for us, the gavel on the judge's bench. There's no going back to change anything. There's no last words. You can't have a do-over. Your sentence has been given.  It's the sentence we all get- to rot in a moldy wood box in a moldy grave under a stone that will slowly wear down from the rain and weather. In another 150 years, no one's going to be able to read the engraving.  Death is an enemy, a dark angel that comes for all of us, sooner or later. But why take what we love most? Why take what sometimes anchors us in life- why take the reason we are alive?  Why do we not get any last words? Why do we not get to say 'I love you' one more time, why do we not get to ask our last questions, get the answers we need to know?  Death's victory is the stark fact that it takes what we love and destroys it forever.  Grave's sting is the terrible realization that they will never be coming out of that dank hole in the ground.  Death is a cruel cruel enemy. And no matter how much we try To sugar coat it, it will always be terrible.

The end of the 2011-2012 school year is coming to a close for the Northern Guilford Nighthawks, and many of the hawks are feeling sad. We will never get to repeat our year of high school- just like many other things, you never know what you have until it's gone. The seniors are feeling sad because they will never be Nighthawks again. The fledglings are leaving the nest and becoming so much more. Freshmen and Sophs are learning very quickly to make these years count, because life as a highschooler never lasts long enough. As we handed in our music yesterday in 5th period, I started to feel a little panicked. Just like everything else in this school, those pieces of music have become a part of me. Except my music has become the core of my existence in this high school. My hands were sweaty as I clenched the papers in both hands. Every time I slowly placed a piece on the stand, I felt like a part of my heart was being put up there as well. I guess you could say I am addicted to music. Every piece held a little bit of a memory. Every piece had frustration, anger, excitement, and pure joy at playing it wrapped up in it. I could pin point places where I thought I would never be good enough, and yet other places where I knew I would never be better. Every notation on each sheet of music has a story behind it. Triumph, defeat, embarrassment. It's all there.

I've been afraid to write another post for sometime, as I'm sure you can tell. I didn't want to lose the magic of my last post, or the little bit of a memory of freedom that it left me with. I was afraid to let go, as usual. But I'm coming back to my safe place now. The place I go when my emotions are running high and I need to spill my guts. So are you ready for the big news? The fireworks and such? Well I don't really care if you are or not because I'm gonna spill it anyways. I just spent the whole evening with my dad. My real dad. And his wife. And my stepsister and stepbrother and half sister. I love them all already. It was so good to finally meet them. So there is my big news. And since it's late and I have a parade to march in tomorrow I need to get to sleep.

The sun shines down on the Savannah River, making the surface look like millions of diamonds. I lean over the side of the boat and see the rays reflected in the depths. Ron is at the wheel, his girlfriend beside him. Des, Mart, and Sharita are by the prow, and Gloria, Jewel, Jean, Gwen, and I are sitting at the back holding on to the rope from the tube.
We head down the river to the rope swing and have fun down there for awhile. Squealing girls until they hit the water, and the only guy giving a masculine yell as he drops.
We all take turns tubing, and spend the day swimming and relaxing in the sun.
On the way home, I stand close to the prow, leaning against the passengers side windshield and letting the wind rip at my hair.
There are moments for everyone when they could swear on anything that there is nothing more beautiful than the thing they are seeing at the moment. I have many of those, and today was just another.
This is the moment when I could swear that the wind is trying to pull me back into the water. The sun shines back onto the water, masking the deathly chill that pervades the water. A few pelicans fly over the boat, the hoarse cries barely audible over the roar of wind and motor in my ears.
The wind is ripping at my hair, seemingly wanting to tear it out by the roots. These are the times I love, the times I live for.
I love this life here- the days where you work so hard that you crave sleep, its all you can think about. Then the days like this, where the only thing you do is relax all day.
I love the smell of the barn as I'm cleaning out stalls. Feeling the pure power beneath me as I drive the roaring 4 wheeler down a lonely dirt road, hauling a bucket, a rope, and a faithful dog. I love the perpetual green of the trees, the rush of wind in my ears. I love listening to the mooing cows and whinnying horses as I'm working- who needs music when you have natural music at your fingertips? I love the yapping challenge of my little puppy to the amused older Cyclone, affectionately nicknamed Psycho and Cy. I love the cry of newborn kittens, the smell of fresh air.
The early morning sun shining down on the back of a horse. The dew on my boots. The rhythm of my boots compared to the rhythm of a horse's hooves.
The feel of horse breath on my face. The feel of the horse whuffling over my hand as I feed him a rare apple. The rattling of a cowhide on the floor, the tap of a boot in a stirrup, the tug of the reins in my hands...the feeling of utter freedom I have here.
I've finally started to gain back the weight I unwillingly lost. My calf muscles are once again filling out. My core is getting stronger again, my hands and arms remembering how to do the work my brain has known how to do my whole life. My arms are sunburnt, as any farmgirl's should be, and my eyes brighter than they usually are. Color is starting to come back into my cheeks, and my breath comes easier. Humor comes more easily, fun is more enjoyable. Laughing is no longer forced.
I am free.
My hair is finally lying soft against my shoulders, a sign of new beginnings not only for my hair, but for me.
This- this is the life I love. These are the moments I live for. And now, with my face towards the wind, standing on the prow of the boat, I can smell the tantalizing scent of salt in the air, reminding of the ocean I haven't seen- but long to- in 3 years.
Reminding me that these moments, these times, are what I live for. They are worth every other thing in the world...I would trade everything I had if only I could bring my bf down to live with me here. My home...where I belong. Forever.
This is who I am.

My second family's house, where time stands still. Where nothing is fast paced, except for the horse you are riding. Where if time seems to go again, something terrible has happened. Its my second day here, and already I've had both happen.
Me and Jewel rode into the preserve today. It was so quiet and peaceful. The trees are all green, the sun reflecting the light very brightly. The tall weeds were blowing in the breeze, and the only sounds to be heard are the Kuh-thump kuh-thump of the horse's hooves, the sound of cruching leaves, and the whuffling breath from the horses. The sun is shining warmly on my arms, making me feel free to take off my jacket.
Blaze takes off and I catch the rhythm of his gallop. He's not supposed to be galloping home, but I let him go for a little while. Just before he decides to run away with me, I catch his rein and haul him around so that I don't loose control of him. We slowly walk home. I'm trying to teach him that he can't run home with anyone. At this point, Copper is more safe than Blaze.
But last night, time stood still. I guess this part will be a memorial to a very sweet dog.
Rosko was a very lovable dog.
He died yesterday. He was hit by a car and didn't come home. Me and Jewel were on the way home from church when I thought I saw him on the side of the road. We turned around, and it was him. I have never heard anyone cry "No!" like Jewel did. Desperate, heart-wrenching. I stood there for a few minutes, and then she asked me to pull him off the road. She couldn't touch him, and I couldn't lift him onto the truck by myself we decided to go home and have Ron and Nicole pick him up.
So I walked over to Rosko, took a deep breath, and grabbed his legs. I slowly, and as gently as I could, pulled him to the side of the road.
The thing was...he had been dead for awhile. As I pulled him, his legs popped out of joint. Something hit me then, and I was thinking clearer than I had been before. I knew what to do and how to do it. Jewel drove home and I tried calling Ron. Once we got home and everything was over, I totally fell apart. My boyfriend says it was shock.
I called him, shaking uncontrollably and sobbing hysterically, not making sense. He told me kindly but firmly to go sit and put my feet up and wrap something around me. Finally after a few minutes, I was able to make sense and we talked about it for awhile.

Rosko, we miss you. You were so sweet and such fun to have around. You were always ready to play, but always ready to cuddle. We miss you. RIP

First of all, I'd like to offer a much needed apology to all of you dear readers who I have kept waiting. My computer's hard drive broke, and I haven't had internet for a few weeks. As a tech-y teen, You can imagine how hard it was for me :P I had the bus post ready for you and was about to blog it when my 'puter died, so I'll go ahead and post it now.

It's 7:22 AM and I'm standing out here at my bus stop, yawning and feeling like the world should stop spinning in front of my eyes.
Oh, wait, I'm the one that's swaying.
I can see the bus turning out of the Elementary school where my boyfriend went when he was a kid, and its stopping at my driveway now. I get on and nearly choke on the axe body spray that my bus driver likes to use. "Good morning, Mr Jimmy," I say sleepily. He nods in response and I stagger to the second seat.
Every kid claims their seat on the bus, and woe be unto the person who takes it. This has been my seat since the second week of school.
Apparently I fall asleep for the next 3 stops, because the next thing I know, its 4 stops later and my boyfriend is rubbing my neck and quietly singing to me to get me to wake up. He knows, just like all of my friends do, that the only way to get me awake cheerful is to either sing or turn on music. I will smash my alarm clock, I will wake up yelling and cussing people out, but sing or turn on music and I'll be happy all day long.
A few stops later, and my friend Sayward gets on the bus. She's model-thin, with a flair for the 'emo kid' look. I love it. She is a talker, just like I used to be (and yes, I have slacked off quite a bit), and believe me, we fight for a word in edgewise.
The halfway point of my bus ride is probably my favorite. We stop for about 45 seconds by this field with a lake right in the middle of it. The sun is just peeking over the trees, and you can see the steam rising off the water. (Here Sayward usually starts singing "Smoke on the water) The sun is reflected of of the water and the mist, and its so gorgeous. There are also horses in this firled, and I love watching them. But then, I've always loved watching horses. They make me feel freer.
From here on out, the bus ride is pretty boring. We just want to get the day over with and go back home.
The blue leather seats are starting to stick to us, and they are very uncomfortable after an hour long bus ride. The bus is also dark inside, and while we can talk to each other, we can't see each other very well.
And of course, we are all tired.
Sometimes my boyfriend, who is an extreme nerd, will start random trains of thought out loud, and I just sit there, dumbfounded, and how he thinks. I'm a jock-tempered girl, so I have no idea what he's talking about. And yes, before you ask, he does do some of my homework, but I don't beat him up. I just slide it in front of him, give him my dumb smile/blank look/pleading grin and he can't refuse. And he explains it to me as he goes.
Although, I'm so busy dreaming about his voice and watching his face that I never remember half of it.
Ok, that was a rabbit trail :P
Once we get to the school, we all pile off - making a bottle neck at the bus door in the process- and walk inside to the media center...which is a post for another day.

Here's my 5th period blog post :)
Room 170, EJK, Concert Band, is the loudest classroom in my day, but also the most relaxing. Everyone is talking loudly, updating each other on the latest fight, drugbust, or breakup/dating couple in the school, or, more recently, who is going with who to TWIRP.
The saxophones and tubas are usually have their instruments out first, and are busy having mini battles or practicing. The flutes and clarinets are next, followed by the trumpets and trombones, and finally the bassoon (that's me!) and the bass clarinet (someone who doesn't really like me. Prep.).
Its pure cacophony in there before Mr. Kimbrough of Mr. Hansen tap the stand and call out our warmups: "Page 4 number 1!"
The warmups are fairly easy- scales and arpeggios. My favorite warmup is actually a song- Tallis' Cannon. We do that one usually only with Mr. Hansen.
Now the great, revered, yet father-figure to some, Mr. Kimbrough steps up to the stand and asks us to pull our the piece of music we are currently working on, Tribal Quest. and we will pound it as much as we can today.
Most of the flutes love talking, especially Nora and the bass clarinet next to me, Austine (pronounced Austin). They don't like me, I think its cause I"m not preppy.
The saxophones like to practice while Mr K is talking- not a good idea.
Hershel, a goodnatured alto sax, sits beside me. Next to him is one of my favorite people in band, as well as my marching band brother, Brock Ware. Brock is a sweetheart, not afraid to hug anyone who's having a bad day and not too cool to acknowledge you in the hall at school.
The room itself is huge, with what I call 'soundboards' to help with the sound. The room is white just like most other classrooms, but but the soundboards help cause they are a softer NightHawk purple.
Kimbrough is calling people out section by section recommending them for next year's classes. He recommended me for Wind Ensemble (an honor to be in) and backed up Miss Golrick's long ago request that I join Honors Chorus after she heard me unconsciously harmonizing with her when she was singing.
I like that Mr K knows he can toss me into the middle of something -something I have never done before and that is highly stressful- and he knows that I'll be able to handle it.
Its my personal goal to never let him down. Like I told him when I first came, "The harder you push me, the harder I will work."
We've got 3 minutes till the bell rings, so I gotta go.

I'm sitting in Civics and Economics right now, the fist class of my day. It's one of the more fun classes, because everyone is sleepy, so our work isn't that hard.
Just like most of my classrooms, the walls are white, but Miss Denny's room is covered in posters. Granted, they are maps, posters about WWII recruiting and the presidents, but it goves me something to lok at.
Miss Denny has a banner, too, from Applachian University- three time NCAA D I National Football Champions. That was her college, and boy is she proud of it.
Miss Denny is a really sweet teacher, always looks pretty, and has some good humor.
Lorin, who sits on my right side, is sound asleep, waiting for the music to start. Paige, on my left side, is reading a book.
I have to sit in between them cause they hate each other. Don't ask me why.
Anthony is tapping his feet and dropping books to keep himself occupied, while Bashkim is trying to look like he's not getting into trouble.
Its pretty lonely since Tyrewon left- no more songs or imitations. I think we all miss him- him and his crazy ideas.
Marrissa is just staring off into space- I don't think she really cares about any classwork anymore.
I know how she feels.
For some reason, Logan is refusing to pick up his notebook from the front og the room, despite the gact that Miss Denny keeps asking us to pick them up. He is the only one from 1st period that won't. 2nd, 3rd, and 5th still need to pick theirs up. I see some pretty notebooks that I would like :P
Anthony just 'fell' out of his seat and is having a hard time moving, for reasons I don't feel the need to explain. Boys, never fall out of your seat to make the teacher mad. You usually end up getting hurt.
Today (actually 2 days ago now) we're on a no break schedule, so we're in class for longer, which really stinks.
I gotta go though, Miss Denny just told us to pack up.

I'm sitting here in Math class right now, writing this on composition notebook paper while everyone else finishes Benchmark #2 test corrections- I finished mine on Friday.
I'm hoping to do a series of blog posts about each of my classes, for those of you who are homeschooled who still read my blog. They will be out of order (I'm doing my 4th period first) but hopefully you will enjoy them.
Miss Sharp is walking around the room still handing out folders and papers. Mine looks like it has a lot of red marks on it- not a good thing. I hate algebra.
OK, so some of them are good, but not many.
The projector is glaring off the whiteboard again, giving me a pounding headache, while the sun is shining brightly and the florescent lights are slightly flickering. The walls are white, causing the light to bounce off of them, and give the room a very cold, clean, unfriendly air about it.
Even though the classroom is supposed to be quiet, every student finds some kind of loophole.
Zach, who in my opinion is ADHD and a math whiz, is constantly changing positions, tapping his pencil, and tipping his chair back. He's a cute little guy, very sweet.
Nick M bounces his legs up and down, much like me. Shaquan is messing with his jacket zipper and putting numbers into his calculator like its a matter of life and death. Surprisingly enough, he's turned out to be one of my best friends here in the school. Makayla and Brittany M, best friends and the stereotypical snobs, are chomping and smacking gum and using "like" every other word and basing the way the world works on their feelings.
Araya, a pretty blonde haired girl, has a sad story: Dumped by someone she loved. She was lied to, and the guy ripped her heart out of her chest, tore it to shreds, stomped on it, pierced it with a knife, and left her to patch up the pieces as best she could.
Needless to say, every stitch in the healing process hurts.
I've been feeling a little protective over her lately, because I know how she feels and I know that right now she is the most vulnerable. She seems thankful for the protection, though. She's slowly starting to trust me to help and to protect her. I have only seen someone so broken a few times before, and to see her cover up every thing with that gorgeous smile hurts me as well. Cause I know how much she hurts. The things I would do to that boy if I could get my hands on him.
Paige, Kimberly, Kasie, and Brittany H are bugging Miss Sharp for help, and Luke is playing games on his calculator. Dylan is asleep, despite the repeated attempts of Miss Sharp to wake him up.
I've got to run, 3 minutes til the music starts.

I've had a busy week, and its not over yet. Monday is the only day I rode the bus home this week, and I might not ride it for the rest of the week.
Tuesday, I went to my second-but at the same time first- meeting at CAP with Devin Tilley, aka Devlin. Major Wiggs was happy to see me again, as was Mr. Bailey, who gave me my first CAP nickname: Trouble. I don't know why. Me? Trouble? Not possible.
I followed Josh and Devlin around for most of the evening, learning where things were and laughing with them.
Josh will be my commanding officer for 6 months, and already he and Devlin are getting me into programs like Great Start (where Cameron Horner will be teaching the common curtesies of CAP), helping me plan for scholarships to get me into Encampment this summer, and already making me work with them. This coming Tuesday I'll be doing PT with them (heck I'm scared), and then I get my papers to sign up.
I'm going to have a hard time there, I can tell already. Not that I won't enjoy it, but I recently found out that the panicky feeling I get, feeling like I have to run and I can't breathe is a panic attack, and although they are very light and I can control them, its only going to be a matter of time before I start losing control unless I can manage to keep a tight grip on myself. Its kinda scary. On top of that, I have asthma and bronchitis.
And I'll have to remember to call my friends by their title and last name, and to treat them with respect...not what I'm used to doing. So I'm living it up while I can, hangin out with Devin as much as possible and teasing Josh as much as possible before I'm put into uniform.
Gotta go, bell's ringing :)

To My Haters

I keep it real and that's a promise
I may be whatever you wanna call me but I'm honest
When I walk by you stop and stare
Well keep looking cause I don't care
I have my own life and style
Not trying to please you or smile.
When it comes to competition you're out
So shut your hatin' self
And get me outta your mouth.

What High School Has Taught Me

No, this is not going to be a silly, sarcastic pre-homeschooled-er's post about public high school. I may poke fun at them a little, but I'm not sure yet. I want to thank my parents for putting me in high school, because I've learned so much.
Never thought I'd be thanking them for this, but I am.

The first day of high school, I was terrified. There were so many people who knew what they were doing and where they were going and even all the freshmen looked as cool and calm as cucumbers and here was short little me- couldn't see over the heads of the tall people too see the numbers of the halls, my legs were to short to walk as fast as I could, and my knees were shaking, despite the fact that I had eaten a HUGE breakfast that morning (force fed by mom, which is actually a good memory O.O).
[And speaking of scared freshmen...Mr. Laine, don't you think it would have been good to put up the signs for the halls *before* the middle of the school year? Just saying. No offense.]
But as I've been walking these long, white and purple and echo-y halls that make your footsteps echo when you're out of class, I've learned something.
Not just something.
I've learned a lot.
Much more than any one teacher has taught me in a class. I've learned by watching people. Talking to people. Getting to know people before I judge them. Learning that when a jerk calls the girls at Northern "The Northern Sluts" he's wrong. So very wrong.
I was riding the bus home with my boyfriend one day and we were discussing our greatest fears- besides losing each other.
"My greatest fear is going blind," He stated.
"Mine is going deaf. I don't mind going blind as much as I do going deaf," I answered, looking out the window at a pond we were just passing by. The sunlight was reflected off of it, and it was a pretty sight.
"You'd miss out on that," he said, gesturing out the window. "You'd miss seeing our kids grow up...sunsets/sunrises on the beach...storms...so much. Why are you not afraid of it?"
I told him the reason. Truth is, I'd realized it just days before. "Because...it would make it easier for me to get to know people without judging. Maybe those girls that we see dressed as sluts aren't really who we think they are. Cause if you get to know them...they're just as human as we are. They've been hurt. They're just like us. But if I can see...it makes me automatically stereotype them. Whereas if I were blind, I wouldn't worry about appearances."
Yeah. That's one thing that high school has taught me. To not care about what people look like, but rather to get to know them.
Another thing is to accept people the way they are. No matter the religion, beliefs, lifestyle, or color preferences (I stuck that one in just for fun).
Ok, so some of you from Northern who are reading this are probably laughing at me right now (Chris? Evan? Kevin?) and saying, "High school sure as heck didn't teach me that."
But just give me a second to explain. I come from a different world. No, sorry, not Narnia or anything. But rather a world of Amish people and Charity People. It would take to long here to describe them in full, but let me say, there, everyone is insecure, and from what I remember and saw there, they really tend to judge based on what you are wearing and what you look like. There is more pressure there to 'fit in' then there is anywhere else I've ever been.
Here, in this world, there isn't as big a struggle to cover up the insecurities. Or maybe its just me growing up and learning to look people in the eye instead of at their clothes. Or maybe I can see it because I know exactly how they're feeling. Cause I can see, sometimes, the sheer terror or having their cover blown. Of not being who everyone thinks they are, or sometimes even who they think they are or want to be.
High school has taught me to not be afraid to stand up for what I believe in. If someone says they don't believe in God, ok, well, that's their beliefs. I'm not going to condemn them or leave them because of that. I have a lot to learn from them, though, cause I would love that kind of faith.
High school has taught me that there are indeed people that aren't always going to love me. And they will let me know that in no uncertain terms. No one's going to sugar coat anything for me anymore- I'm not in the safety of my home.
It took awhile to get used to that.
People say I adapt fairly quickly to my surroundings, and that's true. I can' quickly get used to where I am and form a routine.
But its kind of hard, when you're used to people sugar- coating the truth into something that you want to hear or so that it will be easier to hear, to have someone tell you to your face that you are a bitch and they want nothing to do with you.
Or, when you're used to being safe at home and now you have to be careful of that creep that follows you down the hallway making obscene gestures or the one in science class that loves telling you everything he'd like to do to you if you two were alone.
But, believe it or not, this has been good for me. It's taught me to face the real world, however ugly it might be. I don't want to crash and burn when I finally leave home (and that was not an impatient finally either). I want to be able to cope with what I see, hear, and have done to me.
High school has taught me to quit hiding in my shell and to be who I've been inside all this time...the time I've been hiding.
I think that's why I made so many 'fake friends.' They thought I was some little angel that went to church every sunday and read the bible every day and did all that good religious stuff.
Not true.
I believe in God.
That's about it right now.
I could have a cussing match with your daddy right now.
I just might win.
I can sing some of the dirtiest music around. I'll know every lyric, and whether you believe it or not, I know what those lyrics mean.
There are three guys, besides my boyfriend, that tell me daily that they love me. Yeah, me.
Yep, high school's taught me some good things and some bad things.
And I'm sorry for focusing on the bad things for a minute. Let me get back to what I was saying.
High school has taught me to not be afraid of the mean people- they're there for a reason, to show me that even the worst of people need love. Love that I can give. And if they won't accept it, well, it takes all kinds of people to make the world spin, and what I can't change I'll have to live with, there's others who will benefit more from the help.
High school has given me a place to start fresh, a place where, when I first came, virtually no one knew me. There were two people that I had met once before. They barely remembered me, and they knew nothing of my past.
High school gave me a place to take a deep breath, and make a new reputation. There are a few places where some things were said about me that weren't true.
Things that hurt me, and made me lose friends.
And even after those things were cleared up, those friends were still gone and I never gained them back. There was still an air of reserve and caution around me, cause no one ever knew when I would up and do something insane.
I must say, high school has given me knowledge that is invaluable. Sometimes its invaluable because its so bad no one would buy it, sometimes invaluable because its so awesome no one *could* buy it.
But sometimes, the good and the ugly are inseparable. You have to take some ugly if you want all the good.
And for some kids, like me, coming from homeschool to high school is what it takes to get us to wake up to reality. Wake up and realize that outside our safe home walls, there is a whole world at our finger tips, waiting for this generation to grab it and change it for the better.
High school just might be what it takes to get your kid to realize that there's a whole other life out there that's waiting for them. A life, that without high school, they will never experience. They will never be able to experience laughing with the class at the class clown. They will never be able to experience the feeling you get when you're standing with the band and you know you've all just stood up for something together. They will never get to come home hoarse from a football game that you cheered yourself to death at with your marching band. they will never be able to flip through a yearbook and say, "Hey, that was my spread. I did that by myself. I took those pictures, interviewed those people, and wrote that story."
High school has taught me to be punctual, to take my life seriously, and to listen when people talk to you.
So maybe all of you who grew up in public school or who are in public school are thinking either, "Well, yeah, who didn't know that?" or, "Come on, no one learns that in high school."
Well, this is what I've learned.
And I'm learning even more.

I'm getting tired of trying and not living up to the standards I set for myself.
And I know this sounded like I was going to dive into something great and wonderful about living life, but its not about life.
Sadly, its about the way I write.
I want to write well. I want people to sit back and be amazed at the awesomeness staring at them through their screen.
But with me, it just doesn't seem to happen. I'll keep trying, but its not going to happen. Like my dear friend BJ told me, "You're no JK Rowling."
Its true. I'm not that author...but sometimes I wish I could be. He wasn't saying that in a mean way- in fact, he went on to tell me that he thought I could easily become a JK Rowling.
I think he was just saying that to be nice.
Sometimes, people ask me if I have any secrets.
Yep.
Here's one: The only reason I write blogs is because there are some of you who are very near and dear to me that want to know what's going on in my life and my brain. Some of you live in the same house with me. Some of you go to the same school as me. Some of you live in the next state over. Some of you live across the country.
That's the only reason I write.
If it weren't for you, I would have given up long ago.
Someday I'm sure I'll thank you for keeping these blogs going. Because, its really you that keeps them going.
But sometimes, when you lose a friend that meant the world to you -no matter the disagreements- just because you change the way you dress, what music you listen to, and the fact that you have a boyfriend and that your best guy friend is bi, when you lose them because they think you are a bad influence, it makes me want to throw my hand up in the air and say- no, not Taio Cruz's "Ayo gotta let go" (although that would be funny)- but rather, "Ok, what's the point? If you don't care, why should I even try? You're right, I am a failure and a disgrace to my friends and it *would* be a sin to continue to be in touch with me. So why do I even try?"
So, yes, someday I will look at all you faithful readers and commenters and thank you for keeping me writing.
Cause- and here's another secret- writing and I have a love-hate relationship. We grudgingly love each other. We tear each other down sometimes and degrade each other, but really, we'd die without each other.
If you want to see the way I want to write, go here:

http://notknowingwhere.blogspot.com/

The parade was...fun, but interesting. And hard.
I woke up at 8 AM, giving me 15 minutes to be ready and another 15 minutes to get to the school. I ran in with several other members and was immediately accosted by Deja, who wanted to talk my ear off. I grabbed my bag and my uniform and headed off to the women's restroom, where I changed as fast as I could and hurried to join my friends. Jen, her boyfriend Alex, his twin Evan, Chris, Kevin, and I stood around talking for a little while until I grabbed Alex, Jen, and Chris and took a picture of us together. For Facebook, of course. We all relaxed and chilled until the call for shining shoes, and then wet rags were tossed at us and we cleaned our shoes off really quick and tossed the rags back. We ran into the band room and grabbed our instruments, put them on the trailer, and piled into the buses. All the way to the grounds me and Jen talked to each other and took pictures, etc. Once at the grounds, we lined up and practiced, warmed up, etc. Once marching, it was next to impossible to stay in step. Shake a Tail Feather is one of the worst songs to march to. I felt like I was hopping down the street on one foot. The funny thing was, we totally lost it with the drums, so we were all going off of each other. I found out later I had about 3 people watching me, but I was watching someone else. Thankfully it was over after about 2 miles, one of the shorter parades we've done/will do. We rode back to the school eating brownies and cookies and talking with our mouths full. That was on Monday...and I know this post is long overdue. But its been midterms since then, and I'm exhausted. I actually kinda like midterms. Everyone is quiet, I get to read a lot, and its early release every day :) Of course, I've been sleeping like nobody's business. I get home, eat something, and go right to sleep and don't wake up til the next morning. Or if I do, its not for long. I feel like a hibernating bear!!

I have a busy week ahead of me...
I have a parade on Monday, Martin Luther King Jr day, and we're playing Shake a Tail Feather, one of the hardest songs I have ever played in my entire life. Cut timing, and almost all 8th notes, meaning we're supposed to play them as fast as 16th notes in Common timing (4/4). *And* playing high notes on the flute is hard cause you have so many different fingerings, usually from all fingers to almost none, or moving the pinky and index fingers on both hands to totally different positions...complicated. Which is why I'm going to march the Alto Sax next year- less to think about, plus the posture is different and easier to work with. I can't wait to put on my uniform again!!! Marching Band is so fun.
Tuesday, I go in for midterm exams in Civics and Economics and Journalism ( :P ), Wednesday for Science and Math ( not feeling so good about those...), and Thursday for Band and Honors English (I have a feeling I'm going to ace those). Those are all early release days, thank God.
Then on Friday its a free day!!!- and I'll probably spend most of my weekend with Christian or Jen.
This weekend I'm just being bored at home- well, until tomorrow and Monday. Tomorrow I get to tutor someone for the exams, as well as Monday after the parade. yay!!!

I started school today. So far, the day is going awesomely. I'm happy to be back.
Mr Jimmy picked me up at my new stop today, which was my driveway (finally!). I had been walking up the road, which took me about 5-8 minutes and I had to wait longer for him. When I first started riding, I asked him about changing the stop, but he wasn't able to. However, I found out yesterday he had called in and asked if he could. Apparently he and the bus stop people think its dangerous for me to walk up my road, since its pretty busy. So we got it changed after mom called in.
Miss Denny was in a really good mood today, and Miss Latta is in an ok mood. Journalism isn't my cup of tea, but I'm stuck for the rest of the year, so I might as well make it good.

For those of you who are reading and don't know, I was homeschooled until this year. This is my first year at a public school, so if I say anything weird like not knowing something about school, loving my school, anything like that...its cause its all new. And homeschoolers are weird any way :)

I also can be blogging on a school day because I am currently in Journalism, and we have computers all period long.
I need to go do an article now...lataaasss!!!!

I've had a wonderful break. However, it ends day after tomorrow. Its kind of sad, but at the same time I'm looking forward to going back. I'll get to see Christian every single day, but we can't really act like we want... :( ;)
I'm looking forward to playing my bassoon every day again...chillin in the media center with my friends, kickin with Nick and Shaquan in class, and laughing on the bus with Sayward and Christian.
I know I sound weird for looking forward to going to school, but its true. I love my school, my teachers, and my principles. And the guidance counselors and the disciplinarian... :)
Public School is definitely awesome.