Banquet and A Mixtape (or 6)

Band Banquet was great. Pictures to come. I was awarded a letter as well as a "Distinguished Service Certificate" for assuming Concert Two's Secretary position and taking roll daily. That is quite the feat, lemme tell ya. I plan on building on this responsibility and becoming Band Secretary/Treasurer as a senior. I would announce superlatives from the podium at Banquet '10!

I'm still in my dress. May I say, strapless ensembles are not my favorite. And the netted petticoat thingy is pretty darn abrasive. I didn't trip in my Could Kill You With This Heel heels, though. As far as I can tell, it's a blisterless shoe: 4-inch, bronze, strappy number.

...

Mixes are in the process. I spent a good bit of time on these babies...as it turns out, mix assembling is rather intricate. I had a good time with them; they're the best I've ever made. Will be mailed out on Monday for sure.

Picture Perfect

Guess what?

I saw my first Duck Mom and Duck Babies train today. They were floating down a creek. Floating...? Well they don't swim...

Anyways. I was at my bus stop after having taken off my Hell of A Blister Shoes and running home to grab my Algebra book when I peeked at my neighbors' creek and saw the Duck family. There were five Ducklings, babies as I like to call them. "What was a duck doing with five babies? Were they crying?" my dad asks. Ha. Ha. Ducklings, okay?

Today was a beautiful day. They've been beautiful for some time now, and I enjoyed the bus window wind on my way to school. It ensured that I would be awake enough to complete my 4th period class homework in 1st period.

But then, I didn't make it that far. Mom picked me up before lunch, which was good; I needed the alone time and had forgotten my pizza money.


^ an example photo I wish I had taken but did not.

A Sob Story

The results are in...

And I did not make the drumline. I will spend my summer Tuesday and Thursday nights with the "Front Ensemble". In a marching band, the Front Ensemble (or pit) is the collection of mallet keyboards and accessory instruments at the front of the field. These players are still percussion and provide a melody and background effects, but do not march. I have nothing against the pit or the people who play in it. It takes an incredible amount of skill. But I really really love to march. I love that drumline, and it sucks that I was beat out by a friend I was sure I'd stick with, and a rookie. That means I'm really not good at all.

So today, after reading the new Walton Marching Band Percussion rankings, I found my name and walked away. I'm not sure what everyone else made; I was in a bit of a daze for the next three hours until my mom came to pick me up. She understands my disappointment and thankfully is not disappointed in me. I'm disappointed in me. I worry others are too. That's worse, you know, letting down other people.

So I'm home now, all alone until Jack and Skye get home. My face is a bit soggy and my spirits are shot, but there's a chocolate cake in the oven and an impressive Tivo assortment. I'll get through it. Until next year...

Multi-Tasking

Here I sit in my third period class, typing this post because I find it amusing that doing so is an option. Actually, I'm on my knees (can't find a chair) and halfheartedly listening to Mrs. D discuss Change of State. There's a diagram and everything, but she knows we've been there done that and allows us to take the review as we need it. I don't have a focus problem, per se...I simply choose to focus on a different topic than the one at hand. I happen to be a Change of State Master; I'll be okay come End of Course Test -- a.k.a. EOCT.

A sidenote: drumline audition results posted tomorrow. I am very, very nervous. Not being good enough is my fault completely, so I've prepared myself for the worst. Optimism is good and all, but unrealistic optimism disappoints. "Realist" suits me, I suppose. Come back tomorrow for a) a sob story, or b) an ecstatic account of the summer to come.

Oh How I Love My Jeans

Dress shopping, as it turns out, is fun in theory. However. When searching for THE band banquet dress, the outing is a dreaded one. Today's was fairly harmless; our first stop was our only stop. Filene's Basement had a cheap, decent selection. After a few amusing, floor length try-ons, I settled (lovingly chose, really) on a light blue and dark brown, flowered, strapless piece. The size is a bit off, but the tailor is my friend, the price was right, and I really wanted to go home.

I had enough budget space to purchase a huge pair of "pearls", a plate of chinese buffet, a pink lemonade, and a cinnamon sugar pretzel.

Alas, I forgot my camera. And believe me -- the people watching has never been better. Really interesting people like to hang at the mall, it seems.

Banquet is Friday, and I promise: pictures will be taken.

Yearning to Feel

It's one thirty in the morning
Pouring down rain
I unlocked my front door
Stepped off the stair
And soaked in it
I felt connected to each drop
I held out my hands
Bent back my head
And cried.
Where the rain stopped
And the tears began
I could not tell.
Headlights approached and
I learned that vulnerability
Is still a stranger
I turned away
Looked inside
Then back to the street
Opened the door
Dried my tears
But not my hair
Or tank top
Here I sit, shivering
Yearning to feel the rain

Post (my)Secret

Thanks to Stephen and H, PostSecret now defines my Sunday mornings. I read every week and marvel at the contributors' vulnerability and creativity. Some make me smile, some make me think, and some cause despair. Secrets come in all sizes.

Last night, I sat for a good twenty minutes hoping to formulate the many secrets I know I have. Once I started, I couldn't stop. I found my souvenir postcards and went wild. I ripped off the cover of my Spanish to English Dictionary because I couldn't find another worthy medium. I ended up with four, proud secrets.

PostSecret "judges", if you will, go through thousands a day, I'm sure. Yet the comfort in mailing my secrets to a willing reader is immense. I wonder the reactions of my mail lady...how many has she seen? Will she begin to think of her own secrets? This is a marvelous operation.

I now visit PostSecret as a potential contributor. Even if these don't make it, they are no longer secrets. They don't need to be shared with the important people in my life, do they? A stranger will do just fine. It feels really, really good.

(This post would have been loaded with links, but my "insert link" thingy is temperamental. Visit the Link List to the left, if you wish.)