I always told myself I'd never like Britney Spears or anyone like her. That pop diva crap was just not my thing back in the day. Once again, the public school system corrupted my innocent mind (lol). Why, despite my adamant reproach of all things Britney, did fucking Amy stay in my head? Why do I still feel the urge to take a ride on your disco stick? How come I can't hold a single conversation without repeating "you're a jerk"?
Pop culture has finally managed to take over! For years I've avoided its grasp, blaring symphonies in the car while the car next to mine caused earthquakes in China with their frickin' massive bass. But it isn't for lack of trying that I've fallen to this level of cultural morass. It's my survival instinct, my need for a connection to "the group," which has forced upon me the likes of Britney Spears and Stefania Gabriella Germanotta and all the other artists I'm now enjoying, though I can't remember most of their names.
I'm justifying this new...music by maintaining my firm belief that as long as you keep a good variety, all you're doing is making sure you're well rounded. There's nothing wrong with recognizing and enjoying crap as long as that's not all you listen to.
So I'll keep listening to Love Game and Toxic, always keeping Mozart and Liszt in the forefront of my mind. :)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Hugs
Some people see a hug as merely a form of greeting, like a handshake. Some people see it as a farewell. I'm a bit more romantic than these people in that I see a hug as something so much more intimate (not in the I'm-in-love-with-you way)..so much more personal and meaningful. It is a symbol of love and affection, of shared memories and mutual friendliness.
As this school year came to a close, I started receiving waaaay more hugs than I was used to! It wasn't so much a shock to the system as a desensitization. This isn't a bad thing per se, but it was a little disconcerting. To not appear rude or (more) obnoxious, I can't deny a hug just because others see them as a way to great people. I accepted them all and returned them all, even though some of them came from people I barely know...no offense meant if you were one of these people.
To be completely honest, I really love hugs...but only if they mean something, or if the person giving them means something to me. In the past few days, I've had about a hundred "okay, 2 seconds is long enough get off me" hugs. That seems like a lot, but I've been around a ton of people lately. :)
Of the others, I can truly say that I didn't want to let go sometimes. The hug(s) just meant so much more than just "seeya later!" Twice I wanted to cry because I felt like there just wasn't going to be another one like it once we've all left for college. I'm having difficulties expressing myself: so much for having a big vocabulary!
Well, I just wanted to describe what a hug means to me. It's a whole lot more than just a quick embrace and it touches me more than some of you could imagine. Don't waste them!
As this school year came to a close, I started receiving waaaay more hugs than I was used to! It wasn't so much a shock to the system as a desensitization. This isn't a bad thing per se, but it was a little disconcerting. To not appear rude or (more) obnoxious, I can't deny a hug just because others see them as a way to great people. I accepted them all and returned them all, even though some of them came from people I barely know...no offense meant if you were one of these people.
To be completely honest, I really love hugs...but only if they mean something, or if the person giving them means something to me. In the past few days, I've had about a hundred "okay, 2 seconds is long enough get off me" hugs. That seems like a lot, but I've been around a ton of people lately. :)
Of the others, I can truly say that I didn't want to let go sometimes. The hug(s) just meant so much more than just "seeya later!" Twice I wanted to cry because I felt like there just wasn't going to be another one like it once we've all left for college. I'm having difficulties expressing myself: so much for having a big vocabulary!
Well, I just wanted to describe what a hug means to me. It's a whole lot more than just a quick embrace and it touches me more than some of you could imagine. Don't waste them!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The End of a Beginning
I take my title from the intentionally inverted title of my most recent performance: a joint senior recital with Byron Wigfall. It is the last time I will get to sing on that stage, or perform in that theatre; the last time I will be a Woodside student performer; the last time I will have an audience in high school. Though I wished for this day to come, I begged for the school year to end, I cannot help but feel saddened at the end to my beginning.
Over the four years I've spent at Woodside, I have made countless friends, though only a few whom I will consider my friends for life. I have had so many experiences and have overcome so many changes and personal decisions. Through it all, two groups of people have stuck with me: my parents, who will always be there, and my friends, who in just a few short days will be scattered across the country. Many of these people I intend to see in the future, somehow. Many of them will never cross my path again.
I shed a tear for my lost friends and another for my future prospects. Life comes in pairs of opposites, bittersweet till the end. As my carefully tended relationships are forcefully rent, I am following my dream and my ambition into one of the greatest music schools in the country—Westminster Choir College.
I love my friends, from the bottom of my heart. Though I may not always show it—yeah, I know I can be a bit of a smart-ass jerk with no feelings sometimes—I will truly miss all of them more than anything else as I make the journey to college. From my oldest, closest companions—some of whom have been with me since day 1—to the people I've only known since the beginning of this semester, all of them will share a place in my memories and I—damnit I'm gonna cry—hope that they all keep in contact.
It's so very hard to say goodbye and I'm really tired of using clichés and idioms to describe what I'm feeling. So rather than saying something like, "this isn't goodbye" or whatever crap that is, I'm going to just say farewell the way it should be said.
Goodbye. I will love you always and forever.
Over the four years I've spent at Woodside, I have made countless friends, though only a few whom I will consider my friends for life. I have had so many experiences and have overcome so many changes and personal decisions. Through it all, two groups of people have stuck with me: my parents, who will always be there, and my friends, who in just a few short days will be scattered across the country. Many of these people I intend to see in the future, somehow. Many of them will never cross my path again.
I shed a tear for my lost friends and another for my future prospects. Life comes in pairs of opposites, bittersweet till the end. As my carefully tended relationships are forcefully rent, I am following my dream and my ambition into one of the greatest music schools in the country—Westminster Choir College.
I love my friends, from the bottom of my heart. Though I may not always show it—yeah, I know I can be a bit of a smart-ass jerk with no feelings sometimes—I will truly miss all of them more than anything else as I make the journey to college. From my oldest, closest companions—some of whom have been with me since day 1—to the people I've only known since the beginning of this semester, all of them will share a place in my memories and I—damnit I'm gonna cry—hope that they all keep in contact.
It's so very hard to say goodbye and I'm really tired of using clichés and idioms to describe what I'm feeling. So rather than saying something like, "this isn't goodbye" or whatever crap that is, I'm going to just say farewell the way it should be said.
Goodbye. I will love you always and forever.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Prom!
Oh boy! Was prom an experience! It was most definitely the greatest dance I've had the pleasure of attending.
Normally, when I go to a dance, it's for the social aspect of it. I go to say "hi" to people and to say that I went at all. I'm not as socially awkward as I once was and can now enjoy myself a bit more. At prom, I just let go of some of my inhibitions and allowed myself to just have fun instead of worrying (as much) about what people were thinking.
I know I can't dance, everyone around me could see that I couldn't dance, and there was little chance of rectifying this in the four hours I was there. So, rather than worry about the fact that I look weird when I try to dance, I just did it and hoped no one cared. I first tried the good-ol' two step bit that uses just a basic bob and step to keep rhythm. This got boring very quickly. I normally don't advocate having sex on the dance floor—which is what dancing seems to have become—but tonight I figured what the hell. Grinding. Yes. It is fun. Believe it or not, like it or not, participate or not, it's there and it made my night so much better. A few of my girl friends—and surprisingly one of my straight guy friends...—forced me to try it. Despite my inability to move multiple parts of my body in rhythm in a way that doesn't make me look completely stupid, I managed to grind satisfactorily...and I enjoyed it.
For the rest of the night, I was grabbed by various people (who I fortunately knew) to grind. I've never been so frickin' close to the middle of a dance floor orgy in my life! Haha! A few people pulled me in to dance who I was not exactly expecting, and whether it was just to be nice or they actually wanted to dance with me, I had a helluva lot of fun and for the first time felt like I belonged in such a group setting. I was waaaay out of my comfort zone, but in a good way. Cute boys dancin' on me; cute girls dancin' on me; my sad attempts to reciprocate; it's all good.
Following this wonderful experience, I enjoyed a few hours of afterprom–the school's attempt to keep students from doing stupid stuff after prom. I left early from that to go to IHop at 3:30. Oh happy days! I was back in my comfort zone. Food.
And so, I will try to add a moral to this story to make it worth the time spent reading it:
Don't let your inhibitions keep you from enjoying yourself. If you do, you'll be left with nothing but a bunch of boredom and bad memories to reminisce upon when you're all alone.
Normally, when I go to a dance, it's for the social aspect of it. I go to say "hi" to people and to say that I went at all. I'm not as socially awkward as I once was and can now enjoy myself a bit more. At prom, I just let go of some of my inhibitions and allowed myself to just have fun instead of worrying (as much) about what people were thinking.
I know I can't dance, everyone around me could see that I couldn't dance, and there was little chance of rectifying this in the four hours I was there. So, rather than worry about the fact that I look weird when I try to dance, I just did it and hoped no one cared. I first tried the good-ol' two step bit that uses just a basic bob and step to keep rhythm. This got boring very quickly. I normally don't advocate having sex on the dance floor—which is what dancing seems to have become—but tonight I figured what the hell. Grinding. Yes. It is fun. Believe it or not, like it or not, participate or not, it's there and it made my night so much better. A few of my girl friends—and surprisingly one of my straight guy friends...—forced me to try it. Despite my inability to move multiple parts of my body in rhythm in a way that doesn't make me look completely stupid, I managed to grind satisfactorily...and I enjoyed it.
For the rest of the night, I was grabbed by various people (who I fortunately knew) to grind. I've never been so frickin' close to the middle of a dance floor orgy in my life! Haha! A few people pulled me in to dance who I was not exactly expecting, and whether it was just to be nice or they actually wanted to dance with me, I had a helluva lot of fun and for the first time felt like I belonged in such a group setting. I was waaaay out of my comfort zone, but in a good way. Cute boys dancin' on me; cute girls dancin' on me; my sad attempts to reciprocate; it's all good.
Following this wonderful experience, I enjoyed a few hours of afterprom–the school's attempt to keep students from doing stupid stuff after prom. I left early from that to go to IHop at 3:30. Oh happy days! I was back in my comfort zone. Food.
And so, I will try to add a moral to this story to make it worth the time spent reading it:
Don't let your inhibitions keep you from enjoying yourself. If you do, you'll be left with nothing but a bunch of boredom and bad memories to reminisce upon when you're all alone.
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