So I'm done with this city,
this city that is all change...
building torn down to build new ones,
acts coming and going.
Sex, drugs, money.
I'm done with what this city has done to me,
I've lost myself in this city...
this city of lost souls.
We all lose ourselves here,
trying to make ourselves be the "city".
We move for change,
we move for distance...
we move to start a new.
We don't move to change ourselves,
we don't move to distance ourselves from who we are,
and starting a new doesn't mean starting with a new us.
We are supposed to change our outlook on life, our surroundings and what we do,
we distance ourselves from unsolveable problems and people,
we are supposed to start a new life.
I am going to make a change for this city,
I'm going to change the city by staying true to myself.
I know who I am,
I know how I grew up...
and I know now how everyone wants me to be.
I, honestly, haven't been me since the first week I've been here for the most part.
I wanted friends,
so I changed how I was...
which grew into changed who I am.
I'm done.
I'm done acting,
and trying to please everyone else.
I'm done not being me.
So next year it is for sure that I shall be moving to California, and going to Humboldt. It feels right.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
September 26th, 2010: The ramblings of the mind
I'm in a good mood I promise.
I have class tomorrow, but I have a sprained ankle. Which isn't good.
I'm kind of upset because my dad was supposed to call tonight, and I finally had some good news for him... something to finally make him proud of me and he didn't call. I should be used to this from him. Breaking deals/promises... but it still hurts.
And then one of my used to be best friends is messaging me an trying to suck up to me... whatever. I'm done with that drama. I just want Steven (my boyfriend) to get off work and text me so I can fall asleep.
Ugh....
44 days till my birthday, 60 days till Hannah is here and 74 days till I'm home.
When I'm home Steven is hoping to get to come visit, which I will love.
Also I talked to my big brother today which made me smile, I miss him soooooooooo much.
I wanna be home.
I have class tomorrow, but I have a sprained ankle. Which isn't good.
I'm kind of upset because my dad was supposed to call tonight, and I finally had some good news for him... something to finally make him proud of me and he didn't call. I should be used to this from him. Breaking deals/promises... but it still hurts.
And then one of my used to be best friends is messaging me an trying to suck up to me... whatever. I'm done with that drama. I just want Steven (my boyfriend) to get off work and text me so I can fall asleep.
Ugh....
44 days till my birthday, 60 days till Hannah is here and 74 days till I'm home.
When I'm home Steven is hoping to get to come visit, which I will love.
Also I talked to my big brother today which made me smile, I miss him soooooooooo much.
I wanna be home.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
September 25th, 2010: Quote Essay
“Never let her wings touch the ground”
My friends all say that country songs are about nothing more than alcohol, dogs, cheating significant others, hunting/fishing and of course, the truck. I see country music differently. I grew up country, and there's no changing that. My dad even wanted to be a country star, so I guess that's where I got my slight country twang from when I sing. Yet, I did used to agree with my friends... there was no meaning behind country songs, they were just cowboys singing around the campfire. It wasn't until my mom came home one day and made me listen to “She's A Butterfly” by Martina McBride that I started really finding reason behind the lyrics.
My mom started saying that “She's A Butterfly” was my song, and described me perfectly. “You're so strong and wont let people bring you down” she used to say when I asked her why this song was about me. I guess that's true. I've been through a lot in my life, possibly more than some eighteen year old people. I don't regret anything that has happened though, it all made me who I am, and I don't want to change that.
As the first lines say “she remembers when she first got her wings and how she opened up that day, she learned to sing”, these lines hit home for me last year. I used to hide behind people because I thought they'd be better at standing up for what is right. I'd stand behind this person that I used as a shield, I'd say I was there for “back up” when really I was there being terrified and not having the guts to stand up for myself. I think it was that thought of “if they're willing to do this for me, why should I stop them” that kept me there for those seventeen years. It wasn't until the person who was supposedly standing up for me, made me sound like I wasn't able to do anything for myself that I finally spoke out and spread my wings.
I was going to show my friend my newly painted room at my dad's house, and when I walked in one wall of my blue room was covered in posters. I knew I didn't put them there, so I took them down. Hidden behind the mess of posters was a off white mess of paint. I was beyond mad. I walked my friend home, and got a call from my mom. She was going to be up at my dad's and we were going to figure this out. When I got back to my dad's I sat down on my bed staring at the wall. “I thought Carly did it, so I didn't think anything of it.” my dad said to try to defend himself as to why he didn't stop his girlfriend from doing this. How much I wanted to yell and scream at this because I knew it was a lie just so he could protect her over his own daughter... all I could do was sit there and cry as the anger built inside me.
I heard the door close, my dad's girlfriend was home. “I'm not moving, she can come in here so she can't hide from what she did.” I said as calmly as I could. She still avoided it, she had to make a phone call, then her mom called, then she needed to smoke, anything to keep from getting in trouble. With waiting for about an hour and a half, and having the anger build inside I was done waiting. I heard the TV turn on in the living room. My mom went out there and turned it off, they had an immature game of turning the TV on and off until my dad went out there and turned it off. I heard her lies and excuses enough to where I felt steam was coming out of my ears. I stormed out there and sat in the chair across from her, looked her in the eyes and asked “do you wanna try that again?”.
She went as far as to say that my mom and I stole the spare key, came in and painted my room, covered it with posters just so I could blame it on my dad's girlfriend. At this, all I could do was laugh because my dad had found the “missing key” on the front step next to a pack of cigarettes. She was busted and she knew it, but she was never going to own up to it. This was when I guess I spread my wings. She started using my past as reasons I would have done this. “You know nothing about me, you know nothing about my family, and you know nothing about all that I have been through in my life. How dare you take advantage of everything that my dad who has done everything for you. He even stands up for you against me!” I had finally burst. I couldn't hold the anger in anymore. I know what I said had hurt my dad, but it was true.
I had finally learned that I'm strong enough to spread my wings and be my own person. It was incredible, and scary but I was tired of having everyone stand up for me. I had finally realized I was a butterfly, ready to spread my wings and not let anything bring me down.
After finding out how strong I actually am, I re-listened to the song, and now every time I hear it... I think of everything I have been through and know that anything that is laid before me, I can over come. My mom always quotes “God bless the butterfly, give her the strength to fly. Never let her wings touch the ground”. This line is always great to hear when I'm not sure I can make it through whatever is happening at that moment. Listening to this song reminds me I can.
With this song meaning so much too me, I had to incorporate it into the tattoo I wanted. I had been dreaming of this tattoo and drew it out many times but it never felt finished until I added my butterfly. Originally the tattoo was just a crescent moon and a star above it. Each signifying one of my grandfathers. About two weeks ago, when I was about ready to give up on UNLV and fly home, I got on my facebook to my mom quoting the line on my wall. I pulled out my sketch of my tattoo and added a butterfly between the moon and the star. My tattoo finally feels finished.
“She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky. Nothing's ever gonna bring her down, and everywhere she goes everybody knows she's so glad to be alive. She's a butterfly.” Though I've had those hard times in my life where I thought that nothing good was going to come out of it, and though I feel like I was forced to grow up much to quick. I'm still happy with the life I live, and there's nothing that is going to keep me from my dream. I'm a butterfly, still growing my colors and finding out whats going on in this crazy world.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
September 22nd, 2010: So
I'm greatly excited!
Hannah gets to come visit me for her birthday! SOOOOO excited!
Also, I am going to the ballroom classes here on campus every Tuesday, they're just a great release. Some really nice people too. Yesterday I learned Rumba.
Over the weekend I met this one guy that is interested in buying some of my songs, so I've been talking to him a lot. He thinks I'm really talented. :)
Its always great to hear that.
I get to do an essay on the song that inspired the butterfly in the tattoo I want.
AND! I cut and bleached my own hair last weekend.
Friday, September 17, 2010
September 17th, 2010: Today
So today I feel better. I woke up at like 11:30, and luckily got dressed and got cute because guess what?!
IT WAS SURPRISE FIRE DRILL DAY IN DAYTON! Whoo hoo.
So at like 1:30 this afternoon the elevators stopped working and the blarring alarm went of along with the flashing light. I can officially say that if someone sets that thing off while I'm asleep, they are getting injured.
Then at like 2:30: a bunch of us girls went to shop at Forever 21. Ends up we were in that store for 2 hours, goodness gracious.
When I got back to my dorm I was bored so I trimmed my hair and drew the tattoo that I want.
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strenght to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground"
IT WAS SURPRISE FIRE DRILL DAY IN DAYTON! Whoo hoo.
So at like 1:30 this afternoon the elevators stopped working and the blarring alarm went of along with the flashing light. I can officially say that if someone sets that thing off while I'm asleep, they are getting injured.
Then at like 2:30: a bunch of us girls went to shop at Forever 21. Ends up we were in that store for 2 hours, goodness gracious.
When I got back to my dorm I was bored so I trimmed my hair and drew the tattoo that I want.
^ The tattoo I want. Not to scale.
The star would be more on my neck while the moon is on my shoulder, with the butterfly flying between the two. I want the moon and star to be in white ink... the body of the butterfly, wings and tails to be in black and all the details to be in either black or white, except the two hearts I want those in red.
The star would be more on my neck while the moon is on my shoulder, with the butterfly flying between the two. I want the moon and star to be in white ink... the body of the butterfly, wings and tails to be in black and all the details to be in either black or white, except the two hearts I want those in red.
Inspiration behind the butterfly, this song means a lot to me:
"She remembers when she first got her wings
And how she opened up that day
she learned to sing
Then the colors came, erased the
black and white
And her whole world changed
when she realized
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
Like the purest light in a darkened world
So much hope inside such a lovely girl
You should see her fly, it's almost magical
It makes you wanna cry, she's so beautiful
And how she opened up that day
she learned to sing
Then the colors came, erased the
black and white
And her whole world changed
when she realized
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
Like the purest light in a darkened world
So much hope inside such a lovely girl
You should see her fly, it's almost magical
It makes you wanna cry, she's so beautiful
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strenght to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground"
- She's A Butterfly by Martina McBride
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
September 15th,2010: Still sick...
So I still feel sick, and its awful. I'm freezing yet I'm sweating, my throat feels like I swallowed sand paper, my tummy (yes, I said tummy) feels like I did 303,079,707 spins in a spinny chair and my head is pounding (I have no great annalogy for this one). Every time I cough, I feel like my throat is going to catch fire... but my pinky doesn't hurt so its a good day.
While I've been laying here, since my lovely dorm floor has decided that today they are going to yell and scream like they're being killed making it impossible to sleep more, I've been thinking.
I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of being at UNLV. There's nothing here for me. I keep talking about transferring over to Humboldt after this school year and the more and more I think and talk about it... the better it is feeling. Crater set high standards for their students and having talked to everyone here, the standards (that were supposedly what we had to have to get into a good college) were much higher than what even this college has for us.
I mean come on, I'm "over achieving" with having Elementary Algebra and English 101. Apparently if I had kept my Biology, it would have been unheard of!
I loved Crater dearly, and being here makes me thankful for the high standards. I listen to the other freshmen on my floor and all I can think is "wow, I learned that like Junior year... and you're just now learning that!?"
UNLV, I was expecting it to be worse than what it is, I was expecting excitement... but it feels like I'm just back at Crater but not so many classes and I live on campus.
Humboldt might not be any different, but it feels right.
While I've been laying here, since my lovely dorm floor has decided that today they are going to yell and scream like they're being killed making it impossible to sleep more, I've been thinking.
I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of being at UNLV. There's nothing here for me. I keep talking about transferring over to Humboldt after this school year and the more and more I think and talk about it... the better it is feeling. Crater set high standards for their students and having talked to everyone here, the standards (that were supposedly what we had to have to get into a good college) were much higher than what even this college has for us.
I mean come on, I'm "over achieving" with having Elementary Algebra and English 101. Apparently if I had kept my Biology, it would have been unheard of!
I loved Crater dearly, and being here makes me thankful for the high standards. I listen to the other freshmen on my floor and all I can think is "wow, I learned that like Junior year... and you're just now learning that!?"
UNLV, I was expecting it to be worse than what it is, I was expecting excitement... but it feels like I'm just back at Crater but not so many classes and I live on campus.
Humboldt might not be any different, but it feels right.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
September 14th, 2010: Stayed in my dorm sick today.
Stayed in my dorm today, had a temperature of 89.4. It took all my energy to even go down to the health center. I feel bad for missing my classes today, but I have been working on class work during the time that I'm awake. I'm still not feeling well at all, which is awful. I'm going to try to go to bed early tonight. Doubt it will work. Anyway, as I was awake and needing a break from math I started to write and this is the outcome:
"Dancers. We are contradictions. We work our butts off to be exactly how everyone else wants us to be but we claim to be individuals. We fake it till we either make it or break. We work out to have good, strong, healthy bodies while we starve ourselves to fit into costumes, we suffer sleep deprivation (and restless leg syndrome), we have the worst blisters, we strain our knees, backs, shoulders and necks... sprains and muscle injuries are a normal part of our life. We have to look perfect for everyone at all times but we'll do everything in public and not care. We claim we don't care what others think of us but that is exactly all this profession is. Judgement. Trying, fighting and risking everything to be the best. Dancers. We're crazy... but most of us are trying to be our teacher's little prima so much that we don't see how stupid we really are. We started dance because it was fun, then it became a passion which quickly turned into a dream. A dream we must let others control. I had this dream once... the dream to become a famous dancer... but I gave up on this dream and now have a dream to control the dreams of the crazy dancers who want to be my little prima. I want to be a teacher and a choreographer... not a ballerina... not a show girl. I want to inspire and I want to be inspired. Dancers... some of us are smart individuals."
"Dancers. We are contradictions. We work our butts off to be exactly how everyone else wants us to be but we claim to be individuals. We fake it till we either make it or break. We work out to have good, strong, healthy bodies while we starve ourselves to fit into costumes, we suffer sleep deprivation (and restless leg syndrome), we have the worst blisters, we strain our knees, backs, shoulders and necks... sprains and muscle injuries are a normal part of our life. We have to look perfect for everyone at all times but we'll do everything in public and not care. We claim we don't care what others think of us but that is exactly all this profession is. Judgement. Trying, fighting and risking everything to be the best. Dancers. We're crazy... but most of us are trying to be our teacher's little prima so much that we don't see how stupid we really are. We started dance because it was fun, then it became a passion which quickly turned into a dream. A dream we must let others control. I had this dream once... the dream to become a famous dancer... but I gave up on this dream and now have a dream to control the dreams of the crazy dancers who want to be my little prima. I want to be a teacher and a choreographer... not a ballerina... not a show girl. I want to inspire and I want to be inspired. Dancers... some of us are smart individuals."
Monday, September 13, 2010
September 13th, 2010: Final draft of Community Essay.
So I'll admit these facts are totally through my view, and some are just guessing... others made up just to use space. =D not going to lie.
We were separated into four different schools - among this three acer campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets. I'm guessing it is because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus as a whole. I'd like to know how this was going to be possible when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? Even worse, we didn't just have the stereotypes of a normal high school these small schools made the stereotypes even bigger and more obvious, making it even easier to disrespect each other. We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in Academy of Health and Public Services, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in School of Business, Innovation and Science, the “hicks” in Academy of Natural Sciences and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in Renaissance Academy. Sure, all of these small school titles technically have "Crater" in front of them but with how all of the students acted towards each other, you would have never guessed. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class, I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home, to bad I still have a full day to get through. The substitute in my health class is taking attendance when an odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus, was a recording and on repeat mixed with a unusual buzzing alarm... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, right in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,600 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on, I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Everyone is running around, I wouldn't say any of us were in hysterics. There was fear, mostly in the freshmen, but a lot of people were just so confused and lost and nervous they either were in tears or numb to emotion. I, even now, can't really remember how I felt before I called my mom. I guess I was scared since I automatically searched for my best friends to get a few hugs from. After I knew exactly what was going on though, I think I was fine. I went up to my English teacher, Mrs. Hillman, to see how she was. She didn't know what was going on, and she just wanted to have everyone calm down so she, as she often did, was making terrible jokes. The only thing I could think of to help her came spilling out of my mouth without thought: "steal the megaphone from Mr. Meunier and start a massive game of Marco Polo." All she could do was laugh and started thinking of other games that would be great to play as a massive school, such as freeze tag and "mother may I". After that I told my other worried friends exactly what was going on, so then we all separated and went to tell everyone else that they can breathe easy and stop worrying. After everyone was calmed down and the fake bomb was removed from the school some kids and parents were rather traumatized by the entire day so parents came and picked up students. Other students stayed behind, but there is still tension and fear in the air for the rest of the day, though all the students and teachers are making jokes about this lovely bomb.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen and felt. I had been on teams, in clubs and with groups of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed, the next person might define community as a simple gathering of people in one place, a party if you please, no feeling or concern attached, just a coming together of people. You never know until you get many small parts of one big deal finally acting as if we're all in this together, and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people build up through the years.As Albert Einstein said "This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty." "
"Com-Boom-ity
We were separated into four different schools - among this three acer campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets. I'm guessing it is because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus as a whole. I'd like to know how this was going to be possible when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? Even worse, we didn't just have the stereotypes of a normal high school these small schools made the stereotypes even bigger and more obvious, making it even easier to disrespect each other. We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in Academy of Health and Public Services, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in School of Business, Innovation and Science, the “hicks” in Academy of Natural Sciences and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in Renaissance Academy. Sure, all of these small school titles technically have "Crater" in front of them but with how all of the students acted towards each other, you would have never guessed. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class, I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home, to bad I still have a full day to get through. The substitute in my health class is taking attendance when an odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus, was a recording and on repeat mixed with a unusual buzzing alarm... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, right in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,600 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on, I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Everyone is running around, I wouldn't say any of us were in hysterics. There was fear, mostly in the freshmen, but a lot of people were just so confused and lost and nervous they either were in tears or numb to emotion. I, even now, can't really remember how I felt before I called my mom. I guess I was scared since I automatically searched for my best friends to get a few hugs from. After I knew exactly what was going on though, I think I was fine. I went up to my English teacher, Mrs. Hillman, to see how she was. She didn't know what was going on, and she just wanted to have everyone calm down so she, as she often did, was making terrible jokes. The only thing I could think of to help her came spilling out of my mouth without thought: "steal the megaphone from Mr. Meunier and start a massive game of Marco Polo." All she could do was laugh and started thinking of other games that would be great to play as a massive school, such as freeze tag and "mother may I". After that I told my other worried friends exactly what was going on, so then we all separated and went to tell everyone else that they can breathe easy and stop worrying. After everyone was calmed down and the fake bomb was removed from the school some kids and parents were rather traumatized by the entire day so parents came and picked up students. Other students stayed behind, but there is still tension and fear in the air for the rest of the day, though all the students and teachers are making jokes about this lovely bomb.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen and felt. I had been on teams, in clubs and with groups of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed, the next person might define community as a simple gathering of people in one place, a party if you please, no feeling or concern attached, just a coming together of people. You never know until you get many small parts of one big deal finally acting as if we're all in this together, and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people build up through the years.As Albert Einstein said "This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty." "
Sunday, September 12, 2010
September 12th, 2010: Does my backyard tell a story? (English Essay)
I step out the door and all I see is rocks, grape vines, a swing, railroad tiles and a small garden. My backyard is very small and has no grass, mainly because I'm allergic to fresh mowed grass. I sit on the swing and look at how the grape vines are growing above to make a beautiful arbor, this is my home... this is where my memories are. There are so many stories in this small patch of land that sits behind my house.
Next to the swing, you can still see the outline of where my fort used to be. The rocks here are pushed far down into the ground... funny thing is, that fort was made out of PBC pipes, and we took it down about six years ago. I would run to this fort when my mom and sister were fighting... didn't work well in the winter since my fort didn't have a roof, but it was someplace to go so I didn't hear the yelling and slamming of doors. I'd sit in this fort for hours just reading, writing or look at the clouds. I could have moved my fort, it was light enough, but sitting right there behind the shed... I felt hidden. When the fort was up, the swing wasn't. I guess it is a good switch...
I love that swing, though its torn up from birds taking the stuffing for their nest every spring. My mom keeps saying she'll sew it up, but she never gets around to it. Oh well, doesn't take the enjoyment of sitting on it out. Sitting here was my favorite place to be after a hard day of school, I usually didn't want to be inside right away because my mom would want me to talk to her... like a normal teen, I didn't want to, so I would just sit there and collect my thoughts before going inside. I'd try to find one good thing from the day to tell my mom. I never wanted to tell her bad things... she's worked too hard every day, I don't want to add to the exhaustion by telling her that someone took my lunch money or something along those lines.
My mom is the one that put those railroad tiles back here to create garden boxes. She also put all the dirt in them, and plants the garden. Other than the grape vines, this garden is the only green we have back here. I love the garden, even in the fall when everything is dead and we haven't harvested it yet... even when everything is all brown, I still see the story and hope that spring is just around the corner, the memory of everything being green will return and become life again.
This backyard, though it is small, holds a lot of my memories... a lot of my stories. These stories are willing to be told to the right people, they just have to look carefully and be willing to listen. Everything back here tells a story whether big or small. Even the deck tells the story of the weeks my mom and a family friend spent building it. The stains on the cement remind everyone that I splat painted a pair of jeans, and the dent in the side of the house tells the story of a fight my mom and sister had to where my sister swung open the gate so fast it hit the house and left this curve.
My backyard back home, in small town Central Point, Oregon, tells the stories of childhood and teens. You have to look closely but they are there, just waiting to be told to someone who has interest. Just waiting for someone to sit on the torn up swing that is being engulfed by the grapevines, and notice that there's a patch of rock pushed deep into the ground in the shape of a perfect rectangle. Right where my fort used to sit.
Next to the swing, you can still see the outline of where my fort used to be. The rocks here are pushed far down into the ground... funny thing is, that fort was made out of PBC pipes, and we took it down about six years ago. I would run to this fort when my mom and sister were fighting... didn't work well in the winter since my fort didn't have a roof, but it was someplace to go so I didn't hear the yelling and slamming of doors. I'd sit in this fort for hours just reading, writing or look at the clouds. I could have moved my fort, it was light enough, but sitting right there behind the shed... I felt hidden. When the fort was up, the swing wasn't. I guess it is a good switch...
I love that swing, though its torn up from birds taking the stuffing for their nest every spring. My mom keeps saying she'll sew it up, but she never gets around to it. Oh well, doesn't take the enjoyment of sitting on it out. Sitting here was my favorite place to be after a hard day of school, I usually didn't want to be inside right away because my mom would want me to talk to her... like a normal teen, I didn't want to, so I would just sit there and collect my thoughts before going inside. I'd try to find one good thing from the day to tell my mom. I never wanted to tell her bad things... she's worked too hard every day, I don't want to add to the exhaustion by telling her that someone took my lunch money or something along those lines.
My mom is the one that put those railroad tiles back here to create garden boxes. She also put all the dirt in them, and plants the garden. Other than the grape vines, this garden is the only green we have back here. I love the garden, even in the fall when everything is dead and we haven't harvested it yet... even when everything is all brown, I still see the story and hope that spring is just around the corner, the memory of everything being green will return and become life again.
This backyard, though it is small, holds a lot of my memories... a lot of my stories. These stories are willing to be told to the right people, they just have to look carefully and be willing to listen. Everything back here tells a story whether big or small. Even the deck tells the story of the weeks my mom and a family friend spent building it. The stains on the cement remind everyone that I splat painted a pair of jeans, and the dent in the side of the house tells the story of a fight my mom and sister had to where my sister swung open the gate so fast it hit the house and left this curve.
My backyard back home, in small town Central Point, Oregon, tells the stories of childhood and teens. You have to look closely but they are there, just waiting to be told to someone who has interest. Just waiting for someone to sit on the torn up swing that is being engulfed by the grapevines, and notice that there's a patch of rock pushed deep into the ground in the shape of a perfect rectangle. Right where my fort used to sit.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
September 8th, 2010: Days.
So this morning I swear... my roommate had like 234,285,646,516,543,432 alarms go off to wake her up, and she didn't get up to any of them. This is starting to get annoying. The alarm is always set for an hour before I have to wake up, and then she never gets up until like ten minutes before I leave.
Then she is always on the phone or on Skype so I never get to talk to anyone. I've tried to talk to her, but nothing gets fixed.
Its days like these that just drive me crazy. Where I feel like I'm doing everything and nothing tends to work. I feel alone because everyone I love and rely on is miles and miles away. The few people I was still relying on, I feel like they stabbed me in the back.
I'm hurt, and I feel like I'm catching a cold.
I'm dizzy, and I'm tired.
I'm stuck, not knowing.
Tomorrow is my last day for the week, thank goodness, 'cause I'm not sure I can handle much more of this.
Then she is always on the phone or on Skype so I never get to talk to anyone. I've tried to talk to her, but nothing gets fixed.
Its days like these that just drive me crazy. Where I feel like I'm doing everything and nothing tends to work. I feel alone because everyone I love and rely on is miles and miles away. The few people I was still relying on, I feel like they stabbed me in the back.
I'm hurt, and I feel like I'm catching a cold.
I'm dizzy, and I'm tired.
I'm stuck, not knowing.
Tomorrow is my last day for the week, thank goodness, 'cause I'm not sure I can handle much more of this.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
September 4th, 2010: Till dinner
So today, I don't feel well. But luckily staying in bed gave me pleanty of time to finish my English essay that I wrote on the "bomb scare" at Crater
(My essay: "Community
We were separated into four different schools - among the big campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus. I'd like to know how it was going to be possible (to call ourselves Crater Comets) when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in school one, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in school two, the “hicks” in school three and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in school four. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more... but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class... I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, so I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home but I still had a full day to get through. The substitute in my Health is taking attendance when a odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus come to think of it, instead it was a recording and on repeat... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,500 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on... I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort... but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen. I had been on teams, in clubs and with a group of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb (made out of a soda bottle and thrown into a trash can in the boys bathroom) scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed... the next person might define community as a gathering of people in one place. You never know until you get four small parts of one big deal, finally acting as if we're all in this together and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign of community and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people built up.")
I went for a walk around campus to just get out of my dorm. Feel a little better now.
Apparently Casey and I are going to go to dinner: either Italian, Mexican or Chinese. Sounds like its adventure time. I'm slightly excited.
Also its UNLV Rebel's first football game so the campus is practically empty, and everyone will probably come back to campus and party: win or lose. Should be a long night, thankfully I don't have school on Monday so sleep will be great.
Wish I could go to the football game, I just don't want to drive. grr...
maybe next time?
Go Rebels... haha... funny.
(My essay: "Community
We were separated into four different schools - among the big campus - but we were still supposed to call ourselves the Crater Comets because even though we're separated into four "groups", we're still part of the Crater campus. I'd like to know how it was going to be possible (to call ourselves Crater Comets) when there was so much hate and disrespect on this high school's campus? We had the “tree huggers and hippies” in school one, the “jocks, preps and geeks” in school two, the “hicks” in school three and the “emos, goths and theater nerds” in school four. This small school program was supposed to bring Crater together and make high school a better community when all it really did was separate us more and more... but, leave it to a bomb scare to make us realize that Crater High School is actually able to drop the stereotypes and just be there for each other.
March 3rd, 2010: fifteen minutes into the first period class... I’ve already been at school for a hour and a half, thanks to my early bird Chamber Choir class, so I’m already tired and counting down the hours till I get to go home but I still had a full day to get through. The substitute in my Health is taking attendance when a odd voice comes over the intercom. “All teachers on Crater campus take your class to the gym immediately.” This voice, which wasn’t the friendly voice of the lady in our office... or a voice of anyone on the Crater campus come to think of it, instead it was a recording and on repeat... all students are now panicked. We left our class room and see our principal running around, we hear cop cars and ambulances and to add to the fear there’s a S.W.A.T truck parked on the campus, in the middle of our court yard. Within five minutes at least 1,500 students are packed into the schools gym, but I can't find my small school then I realize it, we aren't separated into our small schools... why? I thought we hated each other, yet we're clumped together out of fear and compassion?
There’s “jocks” talking to “hicks”, there’s “emos” comforting crying “preps”. Is this really what Crater is like? I’m sitting in the bleachers, on the phone with my mom trying to find out what’s going on... I’m guessing its a senior prank of some sort... but as I sit there and look around I can’t see the separation, I see a community. We’ve all been in school with each other since pre-school, we all used to be friends, we used to share crayons and get in trouble for not sleeping during nap time! All that disappeared when we got into middle school and trying to concentrate on being “cool”, but here it is again. In a time of need, the support, encouragement and compassion is back. I’m speechless.
Community can be defined by the dictionary, but it can’t be understood until it is seen. I had been on teams, in clubs and with a group of people my whole life, but until this fake bomb (made out of a soda bottle and thrown into a trash can in the boys bathroom) scare in my high school... I was completely oblivious to what a community really is. Its a coming together of people, to support, care and love for one another especially in a time of need. Before any student knew what was going on there were tears out of fear and yelling out of being nervous, but most of all there was people trying to help calm them down. Community is never defined the same by everyone. I define community as being there for each other, as the Crater students were when some of us thought we were going to get killed... the next person might define community as a gathering of people in one place. You never know until you get four small parts of one big deal, finally acting as if we're all in this together and the stereotypes of high school don't matter... then a sign of community and an understanding of community really shines through the walls people built up.")
I went for a walk around campus to just get out of my dorm. Feel a little better now.
Apparently Casey and I are going to go to dinner: either Italian, Mexican or Chinese. Sounds like its adventure time. I'm slightly excited.
Also its UNLV Rebel's first football game so the campus is practically empty, and everyone will probably come back to campus and party: win or lose. Should be a long night, thankfully I don't have school on Monday so sleep will be great.
Wish I could go to the football game, I just don't want to drive. grr...
maybe next time?
Go Rebels... haha... funny.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
September 2nd, 2010: Little e-mail from home
So before I left home (August 16th, 2010) I e-mailed my high school English teacher, Mrs. Hillman, I had her as a teacher for three years and she was possibly one of my favorite English teachers I have ever had.
My email said:
"Mrs. Hillman!!!
Yes, the excessive punctuation is needed for this e-mail.
This e-mail is so I can tell you thank you.
Thank you so much for being an amazing teacher! I was in your class for three years and I still remember getting that first essay back and reading the comment from you saying 'your humor really shines through, and I love all your little side notes but you constantly over use commas and mix up 'to' and 'too' ', well I still get confused on the 'to' and 'too' stuff but my humor hasn't changed.
I also wanted to share that this coming Tuesday, and seeing as it is almost one in the morning (I'm doing last minute packing, so yes... I'm supposed to be up this late), I guess I can say tomorrow... I leave for Las Vegas. I got accepted into UNLV, and even better I got accepted into their dance program.
I thought I would thank you for this because you helped me so much, and just thought you'd like to know.
Hope you have a wonderful school year, Mrs. Hillman.
-Carly"
I just checked my email today and saw that on the 30th I got a response:
"Carly,
I love your note-- thank you so much! I am thrilled (though not that surprised!) that you will be in the UNLV dance program. Be wary if they want you to take off your shirt... it is Las Vegas, you know. :)
Good luck!
-Adrienne"
This little e-mail from home is now hanging on my wall.
As for school today:
My ballet teacher sat on me... no joke. It was for a purpose and it did help... but still, she sat on me! The purpose was to figure out how to have intensity in my arms... first time I dropped her... oops, second time though... I was able to have her sit. I was happy, and she even complimented it.
Modern was better today, as was choreography.
Then I had math, and a great math test... that I finished 45 minutes early so I got to leave.
All in all,
great day!
My email said:
"Mrs. Hillman!!!
Yes, the excessive punctuation is needed for this e-mail.
This e-mail is so I can tell you thank you.
Thank you so much for being an amazing teacher! I was in your class for three years and I still remember getting that first essay back and reading the comment from you saying 'your humor really shines through, and I love all your little side notes but you constantly over use commas and mix up 'to' and 'too' ', well I still get confused on the 'to' and 'too' stuff but my humor hasn't changed.
I also wanted to share that this coming Tuesday, and seeing as it is almost one in the morning (I'm doing last minute packing, so yes... I'm supposed to be up this late), I guess I can say tomorrow... I leave for Las Vegas. I got accepted into UNLV, and even better I got accepted into their dance program.
I thought I would thank you for this because you helped me so much, and just thought you'd like to know.
Hope you have a wonderful school year, Mrs. Hillman.
-Carly"
I just checked my email today and saw that on the 30th I got a response:
"Carly,
I love your note-- thank you so much! I am thrilled (though not that surprised!) that you will be in the UNLV dance program. Be wary if they want you to take off your shirt... it is Las Vegas, you know. :)
Good luck!
-Adrienne"
This little e-mail from home is now hanging on my wall.
As for school today:
My ballet teacher sat on me... no joke. It was for a purpose and it did help... but still, she sat on me! The purpose was to figure out how to have intensity in my arms... first time I dropped her... oops, second time though... I was able to have her sit. I was happy, and she even complimented it.
Modern was better today, as was choreography.
Then I had math, and a great math test... that I finished 45 minutes early so I got to leave.
All in all,
great day!
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