The cherry on top

I had two choices.

Either I lose my sanity and do the musical this year, or I keep my sanity in check and just focus on school and running instead.

Guess which option I chose?

If you’re thinking the first one, you’re an idiot. I may be crazy enough as it is, but I still have my sanity. I think.

Anyway, they changed the musical to “The Wiz” and I was like, “see ya!” And, that’s that. I’m done. I chose my road, remember? It doesn’t involve the yellow brick one that probably appears in “The Wiz.” I chose the lovely red brick one.

So, instead of spending my nights at the school, I’ve gotten stuff done. Good stuff.

I did a project on the novel Jane Eyre. It definitely had the “wow” factor to it. I made a powerpoint, and modeled the sentences after the Dick & Jane books. (Ex: See Jane. See Jane run. Jane runs fast. Run, Jane run!) The best part? Because I was trying to get the point across that Jane Eyre is, in fact, gothic literature, I used Emily The Strange as Jane. Yeah, that’s right. 13-year-old Emily starred in my little movie as Jane Eyre. I was so proud of myself, and I could tell that my AP English teacher was impressed. The icing on the cake? The cherry on top? “Aha!” by Imogen Heap accompanied Jane (Emily) on all of her little adventures. I will never tire of that song. Ever.

Ever since I decided not to be involved in the musical, my life has gotten better. I have no unnecessary stress. Right now I’d be down at the school, but instead I’m here. I’m writing for two newspapers, a website, my blog, doing homework and running cross-country…I don’t have time to participate in silly musicals. There’s no point. It’s hard to walk away, but what’s done is done. My presentation wouldn’t have turned out as well as it did if I had had to be at the school rehearsing last night. And, that’s that.

Sugar, spice, and everything nice

Normally I try to have a reason why I am writing on my blog, but tonight I do not seem to have one. Oh well, I’ll just let the creative juices flow and make some lemonade. (Ha, geddit? Lemonade? I crack myself up.)

I don’t feel like being outlandish anymore. I’m too tired in the morning to bother with my usual crazy and quirky mismatching outfits. Every day it’s just jeans, a tee shirt, and my main pair of Chucks. My blue ones haven’t been touched in months, my old black ones are sleeping peacefully somewhere, my brown and pink ones have only certain outfits that they match with, and my new camouflage ones have only been on my feet once or twice since I got them for Christmas. Is there such thing as being depressed by lack of new clothing articles? I think I may be experiencing something of this sort. I need something new to wear, pronto! (Even though there are several items in my closet that still have pricetags on them…) Maybe tomorrow I’ll dig out my “hooker” boots that haven’t been in use since, oh, February-ish. I can see the snow falling from where I am sitting now. We have made it to the month of April safe and sound – doesn’t Mother Nature owe us all a break? (Though I must thank Her for this last chance *knocks on wood* to use my lovely boots.)

I want graduation to get here. At the beginning of the year I couldn’t bear the thought of my friends leaving me behind, but now I’m at the point where I want to shove some of them out the window and yell “GOOD RIDDANCE!” I’m sick of their stupid drama and recent bout of Senioritis that engulfed them all. Just let me be in peace in the hell where I must spend two more years of my life. Years filled with unnecessary mathematical equations that I will need only to pass the stupid NYS Regents tests that we are forced to take every January and June. Next year comes the test that I have mixed feelings about: English. It doesn’t matter if you have talent when it comes to writing, if you forget a literary element (Zeus forbid) and you fail to match up to the criteria set before you, you’re practically screwed. Being forced into a piece of wood by a giant hammer is not my idea of a good time.

Everyday it’s the same routine. Get up at 6:50ish-7:00ish, “Oh crap! I have to take a shower!” Hurriedly strip thyself, wash thyself, dry thyself, clothe thyself, eat/drink feed thyself, and get thyself out the door before the clock can strike 7:23. At least I have a very organized list set in my head before I do anything. If I did not possess this skill, I would be doomed to fail. I don’t have time to bother with the outfits I used to sport all the time. I grab my stuff, make sure Pandora is in my pocket, and get in the car before mom starts honking the horn. I need something new. I need something different. I need something exciting to happen that will spice things up, but only for a little while so they can go back to normal again. I don’t like change, but temporary change would be okay. Watch, now I’ll wake up in the morning and find that I’ve switched bodies with my brother overnight. I don’t know what I want. Definitely not a dramatic change, Zeus, but a little spice would be nice.

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).

Bouquet of needles

My grandfather got up from his seat at the table and left the room. I had no idea where he went: all I knew was that he was getting something for me. He returned and set a box in front of me that I had seen earlier that day. It was a long box with screwdrivers featured on the top of it. I had disregarded it earlier because it had tools on the cover.

I guess I never thought that there could have been anything else in there besides tools. My grandparents never did either. They had always thought there were tools of some kind in there and never bothered opening it. I lifted the lid, and my grandma smiled at the awe written on my face.

Inside this tool box were quite a collection of knitting needles. Big, small, wooden, plastic, metal… you name it. “I’m sorry we didn’t get these to you sooner,” my grandma said. “We always thought that the box was full of screwdrivers and never thought to open it.”

“Are these yours, Grandma?” I asked. She let my grandfather answer my question.

“They were my mom’s,” said Papa.

So there I was. Holding a box full of knitting needles that have seen more than I could ever imagine. They had aided my great-grandmother with her hobby, and had probably created a sweater or two for Papa when he was younger.

It’s neat how a hobby can bring people together. My love for writing brings Jordan, my mother and me together, and then there’s knitting. Knitting is the one hobby that my mom and grandma and I can relate to. And if Great-Grandma were still alive, I’m sure she’d be the one to give me tips and pointers in the big world of knitting. It’s cool to use her needles and think that at one point in time she was probably sitting in a rocking chair knitting while a younger version of my grandfather looked on. Right now I am using a pretty blue pair that are relatively wide, and I cannot help but wonder as to what she used them for. I guess I will never know.

On my vanity sits a green vase with a bouquet of colorful knitting needles spilling out of it. Mixed in this vase are the needles I bought myself, and the ones that my great-grandma bought way back when. I will never have to buy myself another pair of needles as long as I live.

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?!?

XX is greater than XY (My latest NeXt article)

Take out your iPod, select the “Music” option and click on “Artists.” Scroll on through from A to Z and count the number of bands that are composed of only males. Male-fronted bands probably make up the majority, correct? It might interest you to know that some females in this world can rock harder than the opposite sex.

The three female-fronted bands that nearly everyone in the teenage crowd has heard of are Flyleaf, Paramore and Evanescence, but there are plenty more out there in this world that are none too popular. While Lacey, Hayley and Amy Lee’s voices are indeed beautiful, there are other gorgeous female voices that deserve just as much attention.

A few bands that fans of Paramore might enjoy are: Hey Monday (of West Palm Beach, Fla.), Damone (from Waltham, Mass.), The Material (which started out in San Diego, Calif.), and New Years Day (of Anaheim, Calif.). Cassadee Pope of Hey Monday and Noelle LeBlanc from Damone are sure to gain more fame in the next few years with their voices leading the way.

Colleen D’Agostino of The Material has a beautifully clear voice that is irresistible. One might think that a female singer changes the gender of a band’s fans, but both Roi Elam from The Material and Ashley Costello of New Years Day disagree: “I don’t really think so,” said Elam, “I see an equal amount of guys and girls at our shows.”

“Nooo … not at all, and I was surprised by that,” exclaimed Costello. “When we play I see just as many guys in the crowd as I see girls. It’s really cute.” New Years Day has often been described as the female version of Fall Out Boy. Yes, here and there a likeness is detected, but New Years Day is a band all its own. “I feel like a lot of people took more notice of us because there was a girl singer, but it’s also very hard,” said Costello. “There are so many guy-fronted bands that I feel sometimes the female-fronted band gets pigeon-holed and maybe a label won’t look at us.”

Many people are skeptical of females being in rock bands, but listen to some New Years Day, and let Ashley change your mind in “Temecula Sunrise” or “My Sweet Unvalentine.”

Pretty close to one another in your iPod should be two bands: Fireflight from Eustis, Fla., and Flyleaf of Texas. Both bands are Christian rock, bordering on metal, and are led by females who know what they are doing.

The lyrics that Dawn Richardson and Lacey Mosley sing are powerful and attuned to God. “We all contribute our own parts and help each other to improve upon each other’s suggestions,” said Dawn. “Both Justin [guitarist/ background vocalist Justin Cox] and I work on the lyrics but I am the main lyricist, I imagine me being a girl does affect the way I write…” Nobody would think Flyleaf and Fireflight are all about God, but listening to their lyrics very carefully can help you realize just how much their faith influences the artists in these bands. “We write about what we have gone through in our lives and how God’s love has brought us through,” said Richardson.

Think the farthest thing from the music made by Flyleaf and Fireflight and you have a band called Save Ferris from Orange County, Calif. Although they are no longer together, their deliciously quirky sound and clever lyrics do not fail to entertain. Check out “Under 21” or their cover of “Come On Eileen” (originally by Dexy’s Midnight Runners) and enjoy some ska. Monique Powell is now a solo artist, but her voice was perfect for the likes of Save Ferris.

Ask me: who is the exact opposite of Save Ferris? I will think about it for a second before I reply with one word: Kittie. Don’t let their adorable name fool you — this is a cat you do not want to cross paths with.

Kittie strikes me as the female version of Slipknot — Morgan Lander attacking the listeners with her voice. After many changes over the years, currently rounding out this all-female quartet are Mercedes Lander on drums/vocals/piano, Tara McLeod on guitar, and Ivy Vujic playing bass. Originating in Ontario, Kittie has been around for years, putting many a CD out. Check out “What I Always Wanted” or “Paperdoll” and behold the scarily musical meow that is Kittie.

From Amy Lee to Dawn Richardson, Ashley Costello to Morgan Lander, some females can really rock. So put away the Avenged Sevenfold or Metallica CD and go try something different and new. Found on my iPod is a playlist called “Female-fronted bands.” Maybe you should create one as well, and drag all of the music from these bands onto your iPod.

Also worth listening to: Within Temptation, Garbage, Automatic Loveletter, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, 1997, Meg & Dia, The Donnas, Be Your Own Pet, Letters to Cleo, The Morning Of, Veruca Salt, Lacuna Coil and The Veronicas.

“Being the only girl in a band is awesome. It has just as many pros as it has cons. I’m always protected, but then again I am always picked on by them. It’s like a little sister-big brother relationship,” said Ashley Costello.

Emily Steves is a sophomore at Gowanda

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…

Fast approaching

There are fiery orange leaves scattered on our driveway and front lawn. The air has suddenly grown cooler, and our pool is “too cold” to swim in. My neighbor’s blueberries are beginning to ripen, a delicious result that is usually reached by late August. Yes, summer is inching its way towards the finish line.

It seems like just yesterday that my two brothers came home from college and dumped their belongings in our garage. “Excuse the mess, it’s Trevor and Jordan’s college supplies,” the excuse I used when I led my friends through our messy garage is no longer usable. Today, we dumped Trevor off at SUNY Fredonia, and helped my eldest brother Jordan move into his new townhouse at St. Bonaventure University where he will begin his senior year of college. Yet another sign that summer is dwindling.

Tomorrow begins my 2008 Cross Country season. Tomorrow morning at approximately eight o’clock, I will roll out of bed in order to get ready and be at the school by nine o’clock. No, I don’t take a million years to get ready like most girls out there do, I just need some time to actually get going on eating breakfast and waking up. Usually I just lay and listen to my iPod for half an hour, and then glance at the clock only to find that I needed to be out of bed thirty minutes earlier.

In previous years, I have dreaded the start of Cross Country. I definitely prefer Track, but I have a feeling that this year is going to be my year. I am planning on using practices and meets for letting out stress instead of creating more. I will have a hectic schedule once school starts on September third, and I am going to have to learn to balance all of my activities. Once school begins, I will be waking up at 5:30, getting to school by 7:30, getting let out of school at 2:07, proceeding on to Cross Country practice from 2:30 to 4:30, and then going home for an hour to prepare for getting back down to the school by six o’clock for musical rehearsal. Last year I handled it, but this year I feel like I am more prepared for it. I am still in great shape from Track last June (I have not stopped running), so I will not be sore from CC practices. Schoolwork will probably be the most challenging for I know that there will be more coming my way, along with writing weekly articles for NeXt.

Yes, summer is reaching the end. Yesterday summer began, and tomorrow it is over. It has been a nice two months of doing absolutely nothing other than running every few days and attending a theater workshop for a week. I have enjoyed discovering the wonders of having a bicycle and with it, the ability to go anywhere I want. I have visited the local library on numerous occasions and have devoured over twenty books so far this vacation. My summer reading book for Honors English has yet to be read, but I know that I will not have any problems getting into it once I get my hands on a copy. Though the fiery leaves that have scattered over my lawn make me angry, I am also accepting and looking forward to the upcoming change. Once school starts I won’t ever have a chance to be bored. For these next two weeks, I am going to be enjoying the feeling of having nothing to do.

So quiet is Sir Night tonight.

Only soft whispers of wind

accompany the deafening silence:

a torturing silence for the sinned.

In this moment of deafness,

any noise is told to flee.

Fly away, unwelcome interruption.

Let the lonely wind fly free.

The floating balls of light we call stars

are visible, for now clouds are blocking their view.

The moon stands out, the brightest of all

revealing a clear silence I never knew.

The energetic bugs reply

to wind’s gentle call.

A conversation is taking place

in a language we have no knowledge of at all.

Humans weren’t made to understand,

just to wonder and dream

about Sir Night with a silence such as this:

natural beauties working as a team.

~ EMS

Saturday, July 26, 2008

3:45 AM