Susan Boyle: an inspiration

My mother got on the computer, went straight to youtube, and pulled up a video from a show called Britain’s Got Talent. “This is their version of American Idol – and you just have to see this,” she told me.

She clicked on the arrow to play the video, and it began. The first second of the video began something that was to go on for seven minutes and thirty-four seconds more, and I watched in awe as this woman performed. She confessed that she’d never been kissed, had on a frumpy little dress, her name tag wasn’t even on her dress (it was stuck to her chest), and her hair needed some brushing. I instantly fell in love with her appearance and attitude.

The audience angered me in the beginning. They heckled, laughed, and their expressions openly admitted their opinions of her. I could instantly hear their thoughts in my head. Susan didn’t seem to care; I’m sure living with this humiliation for 47 years has made her strong. She didn’t back down, she didn’t shake with nervousness when she sang…overall she seemed so confident, and I wish I could have been there to witness this amazing performance. When she opened her mouth to sing, I swear that you must have been able to hear a pin drop in the audience. Her voice was so powerful, and that definitely hushed up the people that had been heckling her only moments before. They stereotyped her, and they were proven wrong. Don’t judge a book by its cover.

This woman, this one frumpy-looking woman poses as such an inspiration. It’s hard living in this particular time period. Growing girls are told what is “beautiful” by pictures they see in magazines and on television. Supposedly, if you’re not beautiful, no man will ever love you, and you will not get anywhere in life. Susan Boyle is the perfect example of the opposite of this. Maybe she’s not the most attractive woman on the planet, but her soul, her attitude, her voice… all are beautiful. I think that maybe the people of the world needed to realize this.

Thank you, Susan, for providing a different example for girls to look up to. You proved everyone wrong as soon as you opened your mouth and that beautiful music escaped. You’re going to go far, and now the many people who are inspired by you will as well.

After seven minutes and thirty-five seconds, my mom looked up to me and smiled. I rubbed my arms to rid them of the goosebumps that had risen, and tried to hold back a few tears. “I told you,” she said with a grin.

Name obsession

Trevor always has the best music playing when we go for a ride somewhere. He’s the one that really got me into the music I am into today. He also helped fuel an obsession of mine.

One day a few years ago, we were riding along listening to a mix when a song announced itself with a bold acoustic guitar. Then a screechy voice came in. I wasn’t really listening until I heard “there’s no one in the world like Emily.” All I could think was, hey, he’s right! Come to find out that the song was “Emily” by From First To Last, and though Sonny’s voice is somewhat annoying in the song, I absolutely adore it. It’s…cute.

After I gained the love for music that I now possess, I began searching youtube for new music. I found a song called “Emily” by Anadivine. When I typed it in to download it, another song came up that had my name in the title. Hmm…

One day I spent a lot of time at the computer, just searching iTunes for “Emily.” It’s an obsession of mine.

Here’s what I have today:

• “Emily” by Alice In Videoland,
• “Emily” by Anadivine,
• “Emily” by Bowling For Soup,
• “See Emily Play” covered by David Bowie,
• “Rocky Loves Emily” by Four Letter Lie,
• “Emily” by From First To Last (of course),
• “Emily” by Keane,
• “See Emily Play” by Pink Floyd,
• “Me and Emily” by Rachel Proctor,
• “For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her” by Simon and Garfunkel, and
• “Emily” by Stephen Fretwell.

My favorite?

It’s between From First To Last, Pink Floyd, and Stephen Fretwell. I simply can’t choose.

Goodbye, relaxation

You know what? Forget the play progress crap. It’s not like any of you even care. Well, for those who do (which I doubt) just know that I am almost done with three pages and finally getting to the juicy part of the whole play. It’s due on Wednesday. Can I do it? I procrastinate handing things in. Don’t ask why; you won’t like my reason, though I enjoy it very much.

I don’t want to go back to school. Today was the last day of Christmas break. The thrill and joy of Christmas is over, my gifts have been moved into my bedroom, Christmas music is no longer playing on the radio stations (though I cannot say I miss that very much), and it’s time to go back to the books. Umm, no thank you. I liked being stress-free this week. I sat at  my computer this week and wrote my play. I have gotten so used to doing that that I can’t see how any other way of life could be possible. This week I did what I want to do in the future: I sat around and wrote. Now tomorrow I must endure pointless classes that I probably will not use later in life.

So though I enjoyed this past week, I know that I have to return to Hell. Goodbye, relaxation.

Welcoming winter

After hearing Kim panicking over who could and could not attend her shindig, I made suggestions, called a couple of people, and then settled down with Gemma Doyle for a little while because I knew that the matter was out of my hands. Whatever happens will happen. So be it. I looked up from the realms in the book to glance at the clock, and I found that it was 6:16. Said shindig was due to begin at 7:00. Oh boy.

I deserted my heated blanket (which was set on the highest power it could go – 22), and warned my daddy that his assistance would soon be needed for a chauffeur to Kimmie’s house. I ran upstairs, grabbed my camera, rushed back downstairs, plugged it into the computer and made sure that the little green light was glowing, and then I scurried back up the stairs to throw some clothes on and leave my comfy PJs behind. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, decided against wearing my favorite old pair of jeans for fear that they would split if I bent over (they are pretty ancient), and finally settled on my favorite new skinny jeans. I pulled on a pink Tinkerbell tee shirt, shoved my latest knitting project into my bag, removed Pandora from her home (my iPod), and had almost made it out of my bedroom when I passed my boots on the way out. Hmm…I should probably wear those tonight…I’ll have to walk up her driveway and last time my feet got soaked in my Vans. And so, my boots joined the collection of items that I held in my arms to take downstairs.

I found socks (mismatched of course because I desperately need to wash all of my socks), pulled them on, zipped up my boots, grabbed my camera, and I was ready to go. Oh yeah, and I grabbed my earmuffs – those are important.

My daddy dropped me off at the end of Kim’s driveway, and I trudged my way up it – mentally patting myself on the back for thinking to wear my lovely boots.

Now, Kim called her little get-together a “movie night.” Usually whenever someone has a “movie night” we never end up watching a movie. That is exactly what happened. Tallon and Damen were obsessing over how hot Kim’s house was (almost eighty degrees, I believe), so, collectively we made the decision to take a walk.

As soon as we got outside someone (Tallon, I think) said, “hey! Let’s go sledding down the hill right here!”

Instantly inspired, Kim went into the garage and pulled out a toboggan. And so, the “movie night” turned into a “sledding night.” Now, this “sledding night” had a little twist to it. It just so happened that absolutely NOBODY was prepared for this. Damen didn’t even have a coat, and Taylor was the only one with gloves (though they were fingerless). After out first trip down, I was even more grateful that I decided to pull on my boots. Everybody else was wearing canvas shoes.

We went down and down and down and down again, nearly hitting various obstacles in the way. (For example: a tree or a fence.)

We retired to the summery weather indoors (thank you, woodstove!!!) and enjoyed some hot cocoa that helped us forget about our soaking wet pants and freezing bodies. “Hey, let’s do it again!”

“Hell yeah!”

So, again we made our journey out into the cold that stood still. The snow glimmered and was dented by out footprints and toboggan prints. After another joyful ride through the snow, Damen announced that his ankle was bleeding. We decided that we’d better go back inside before even more spilling of bodily fluids began.

We stayed inside again for awhile. We crammed many a chair around the round table that was not big enough for us (it was missing it’s leaf – because it’s winter and there are no more leaves outside so why should there be one in here?!?!? hehe) and drank more hot cocoa and talked. About twenty minutes to eleven o’clock, someone made the decision that we should do it one more time before leaving. So, again we sailed down the hill laughing all the way (ha ha ha!) nearly hitting said obstacles every time. Damen almost flipped over (his bleeding had ceased), Tallon bailed on us, and I accidentally kicked Tallon where the “sun don’t shine” with my hooker boots. Whoops.

My mom came to pick me after eleven, and the first thing she asked was “what movie did you guys watch?”

Does she not know the rule of “movie night?”

Alone

Some people my age might be a little frightened to be home all alone, but I really enjoy it. For a few hours, I can do what I please, which is mostly just writing and reading, but without ANY interruptions. Another plus about being by myself is that I don’t have to fight the urge to burst out in song. I can walk around the house belting my guts out, and not feel self conscious at all. The place I usually sing my heart out is in the shower, but when nobody is around I belt it out wherever. I can sit here at the computer desk, and sing as I type.

Sometimes I feel stupid and wonder if the neighbors can hear my voice, but honestly, who cares if they do? Are they going to come up to me and tell me that they heard me singing? Probably not. I do my best singing when I am all by my lonesome, with only my two dogs and cat to keep me company. They are the only audience that really gets a taste of my voice.

Now, what is it that I sing when I am alone? Well, I belt out whatever meets my fancy. Mostly it’s some Paramore, but we musn’t forget Evanescence, Flyleaf, 1997, Automatic Loveletter, Hawthorne Heights, t.A.T.u., New Years Day, Garbage, and Autumns Monologue by From Autumn To Ashes. I love singing Paramore songs because Hayley’s voice is much like my own, and I love trying to match Amy Lee’s voice whenever I sing My Immortal, Hello, or Lithium. I find it challenging to sing Lacey Mosley’s parts, but I have fun trying.

One of these days, I want to put videos of me singing on YouTube. I like listening to other girls my age singing some of my favorite songs, but I cannot help but think that I could do a better job than they can. Hopefully someday soon, I will be able to prove myself, but I doubt my mother would approve of it. I will probably have to wait until college to begin videotaping myself singing.

Once they pull out of the driveway, I open my mouth and out comes something not very many people have heard. I sing rather conservatively in public, but when I am in the shower, or home by myself, I let it all out. I love getting home from camping because then I can finally lock myself in the bathroom and get all of the singing out I couldn’t do while we were all camping together. I hope to someday make a career out of this little hobby of mine. Only time will tell…