I’m a GEEK, I’m a weirdo

I am a true choir geek. I am definitely not ashamed to admit it.

I take my Chamber Choir folder home with me every day. Every day. It’s been awhile since it has been left in its slot to spend the night. When I get bored or when I am feeling slightly ambitious, I take out my folder and practice my music. I have the French down pat in “the French piece,” the notes down in “True Light,” and often go over “Bogoroditze Dievo” just to hear the gorgeous alto part.

I sing in my room. I sing in the shower. I sing in the hallway. I sing during track practice. When I am getting changed in the locker room, guess what I do? What a stupid question to ask – you already know the answer. My friend and I just got a piece on Wednesday, and I already have all of the notes and words memorized. There is a spot or two that he and I need to clear up, but that will all be taken care of on Monday. Today was one of those days where I felt ambitious. I took out my music, went through almost all of the pieces, and then tackled trouble spots with my flute in hand. (My flute. My flute. A silver instrument I hadn’t touched in months until I touched it today – yes, the case was rather dusty.)

Give me a random piece of music and I will be able to tell you what key it is in and be able to go into the solfege right away without writing it in. I look forward to period 9/10 every day. I also look forward to those days when I am alone at home, that’s when my true voice really shines. My dogs and kittens are the only audience I have for those special performances.

Last year chorus was absolutely unbearable (of course, the seating arrangement I am in right now in Chamber Choir is killing me way down deep, but hey, I’m not one to complain XD). This year has been a total learning experience. Maybe it’s just that I am paying more attention, or maybe it’s because of the new teacher we have this year. *shrugs* How am I to know? (I’m leaning towards the second choice.)

Attention Bookworms: (latest article)

Last year I was introduced to a Web site called Shelfari by my English teacher. Sure, she told my whole class, but I was among the few that actually went home and joined the site. Now I am addicted. Shelfari is a Web site that lets you create your own virtual bookshelf. Join, log in, upload a picture for your avatar, name yourself and click on the “Add a Book” option to begin your journey. Categorize what books “I’ve read,” “I plan to read,” or “I’m reading now,” then add books to “Favorites” and “Wish list.” Customize the kind of “wood” you want your bookshelf to be made of, and make it your own. You can write reviews of books you’ve read, rate them, or just simply move them to “I’ve read” as is. The best part about Shelfari is that you can interact with other readers who have the same taste in books as you. Visit another person’s profile. Click on “Books in common” to read their thoughts on books you’ve also read. Send notes to other readers, make Shelfari “friends,” and join a group or two. Having a Shelfari page is basically like having a MySpace or Facebook profile, only with books. If you’re an avid reader, I suggest you log on to www.shelfari.com and get goin’ on those reviews. Visit www.shelfari.com today.

Emily’s poetry, a history

I’ve been writing poetry for years. My mother named me after her favorite poet, so why not carry it on? I started out with a composition notebook that I decorated with stickers. Everyone just assumed it was my diary, as if it couldn’t be anything but a shallow notebook with all of my deepest secrets and fears hidden inside. Nobody gave me enough credit. Boys would steal it from me, but I managed to get it back without any harm done. They were only teasing. Teasing is harmless, right?

After that was filled, I moved onto a pink camouflage notebook that had pens attached to the front of it. It was nifty because if I had an idea I didn’t have to hunt for a pen before being able to write it down. The pens were just there. That notebook was also known as my “diary” and even a teacher asked: “why do you bring your diary to school?” To which I simply replied: “it’s not a diary.”

I poured random thoughts and whimsical dreams into those notebooks. Within about a month, the pages started ripping out of the pink camo notebook, so I saved the paper, but threw the rest of the notebook in the garbage. It was time to move on again.

I found a regular old yellow spiral notebook and plastered it with quotes, stickers, drawings, and pop-up sunflowers that I ripped off a thing I had at home. Poetry was transferred from my head onto the pages of that thing for about a year. I entered the seventh grade with the same notebook, and only showed the ones I was proud of to my then English teacher (who is now a teacher in the high school). The boys in my grade grew up a little and stopped calling it my diary, and I continued writing.

For my birthday that year, one of my best friends (we barely speak anymore…) bought me a hardcover spiral notebook with puppies on the front. Said notebook lasted me for nearly two years. That notebook taught me something important. Because I wanted the notebook to last, I only wrote poetry when I really really felt like it and had a good feeling about an idea. I decided that I didn’t have to write about everything – but there are some things that I will always wish to remember. I still have one page left in that notebook that remains empty. If I fill it in, the notebook is done forever. I always want to have the option of being able to fill it up totally. It’s amazing to go from the earlier poems in that book to the last few. It’s like traveling through two years of my life in thirty minutes.

Eventually, I took a little notebook that was a party favor at some birthday party I went to (I think it was Carin’s) and ripped out the used pages. I then covered it with duct tape, and voila! New notebook.

Using the duct tape notebook, I rewrote some of the ones I am really proud of, but I also wrote a year’s worth of new material. I am still busy filling it up with my life, so it’s a work in progress. It’s crazy to see how much I have grown in the past year. There are some poems in said book that are extremely naive and young-sounding. I know I will say the same thing in the future when I look back at what I wrote when I was fifteen (the present… for now), but I like what is exploding out of my pen at the moment. Maybe I will post some examples in the near future (which is defined as: later today).

What gives you the right?

I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately. Mostly about life, death, murder, killing… etc…

Where am I going with this? Well…

I have been thinking about people that have taken another person’s life. Murderers, crazy people, people that should call a jail cell home as punishment for what they’ve done… What gives those people the right to take someone’s life away? Do they think that they are important enough to do something as horrible as that? How can someone stand up, point a gun at someone, shoot, and then still be able to live with themselves afterward?  I have future spreading out in front of me, or so it seems. What if I don’t? What if someone suddenly decides that they are good enough to take my life because they are not happy with their own? Yes, I am full of “what ifs,” but that’s just how I am.

I think guns should be illegal. Yes, they’re useful for hunting and whatnot, but these instruments can end someone’s life with the pull of the trigger – what gives a person the right to do that?

Frustrated

Writing can sometimes be frustrating. I have been surrendering every study hall period to writing my TWLOHA article, but something tells me that it’s not even close to being finished, and I had hoped to send it once I got home today.  First period, I open up my Trendy Wendy folder (which contains all of my NeXt articles and papers and such) and work on my article. I have so many ideas, but not enough time and not enough creativity to host them all. I have been reading the article that I have so far, and it honestly does not even sound like me. I have a certain voice in my papers (or so I’m told) and I am afraid that I just cannot find it in this article.

Well, anyway, I guess I’d better get crackin’ at my article or my Geometry homework. I’m thinking Geometry might actually win today – I am having so much trouble with this article. When will it ever be finished?!?

All grown up

The boys are home for Thanksgiving. It’s as if Adam has been awakened from a long slumber. His best friends are home, and they are suddenly little boys again.

He was so excited to have them home that he cleaned out the basement so they could play hockey together again. They used to include me in their games…but maybe they think I don’t want to play with them anymore. As if I am too mature. Pshaw!

I got chills when I saw them standing next to my dad. Here’s this guy that they used to look up to their whole lives, and now if they want to look at him, they have to look down. That made me laugh because I have to look down at him now as well. As much as I do not like it, my brothers that used to tease me and tickle me and make me cry are big protector dudes now. They are all so big and tall…and grown up… I just cannot believe it.