Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Sarah Abroms

I need to start this blog over. I realized that Im doing exactly what im trying not to do. what im trying not to do is write things ill regret or that will hurt me, and this post about her did exactly that. im getting over it though. its all good. go with the flow and all. dont give up just because someone led you along.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Ive really been behind lately.

Ive been really busy.
Marching band 5 days a week for 9 to 12 hours a day.
god I love it.
Im home today, sick due to dehydration. wee?
School starts next week.
Ive replaced blogging to journaling, I think its better.
Ive been doing stop motion music videos to go with covers of songs.
I got really great classes.
I love my blogger friends but i dont think ill have much time to, im already barely scraping it. When I get my laptop Im going to make a website. youll see what it is when you see it, i dont want anyone to steal my ideas or anything.
Im really tired. I wish you all luck at school.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

A little rant of mine

So I'm not a writer, but every once in a while I get to something good. Here you go-

its so amazing

to sit there

and work for hours on end on the only thing that fuels me

and then, when I get out there on the field with them, with my band

its....its like it all comes together.

its like....all my hard work, paying off in that moment that i cant see it, but...i can hear it, and i know weve made it, and that it was perfect. and I'm a part of it.

and i know that no matter how loud I am, I wont stick out there. it all fits together perfectly to create this...effect. you start watching it get....sucked in, and you feel what were playing. and we feel it. we all feel it.

its like....hope, honestly.

its like making hope.

and you know, that if you were to ever go back and play it again for the same audience

it would


be the same.

and the more you play it for different audiences, the more emotion you get from it because you get a different thought every time you play it

and it all pools together

and then its over.

just like that.

and everyone will remember the feeling, but never the sound.

and thats what you call, marching season.

Friday, June 11, 2010

I have new entry and a couple of edits to make on the bluestars one, to be done on a later date. hang in there through all of my misspellings and cliffs, kay?

6: Wake me up when september ends.

Part 1: The Indiana Blue Stars Drum and Bugle Corps♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

So today, Grandpa came to get Nate and I tro spend the night. We get to his house, do some honest to god yardwork, which I really miss doing. Honestly.
Anyways, We do a bit of work, then go to Steak&Shake, A long running tradition of ours that I will elaborate on later. From there, we go to the state fair grounds to watch the indiana blue stars. They were amazing last year, but this year, they literally gave me shivers. I kid you not. my Pop's got friends that he works with that write and arrange music for them, as well as direct.

The first time I saw them, I decided I wanted to be one of them some day.

This year, I'm old enough AND in the same state.

And pardon my french, But I am a damn good trumpet player.

So this year, I will be in marching band at the BEST band in the state. literally. So I will be at practices from 8am till 10pm, then I will go to work at Quizno's. i get out of band at 3 on fridays, so I'll work friday evenings and nights. I get sundays off band, and Saturday mornings, so I will work. I am going to push myself to my limit so that I don't have time to feel. So that I don't have to think of what he's done. I will push myself and become a machine. I will save up my money, and i will accomplish my dream, to be a blue star.

So the camp starts in November. I won't be a confirmed blue star until januaryish.

I will do this.
I've been struggling with reasons to hang in there. I will be able to do this every year till im 23. it will turn me into almost nothing but a Zombie sometimes, and nights will be really hard thinking about the emotion in the music and what it makes me think of. I already know what it will be. But the music...the music is what i will live for. The fact that I can play it and make others emotions race, their pulse quicken.

And I will try to be okay. Miserable at best, but....okay. I will have an outlet, and something to give in to. I will give in.

The thing about performing music is that it really does take some skill, for instruments. You can't just pick one up and play it without passion, you'll get nowhere. being in a band is like this. You hear the music, and you listen to it until you know how it makes you feel. When you play it, you think of timing, precision, accuracy. And you think of whatever it makes you feel. You give yourself over to its reverberation and timing. It's an escape from feeling and a window to it at the same time. While escaping from what's around you, you can let out pain, or anger, or become overwhelmed with joy so much that you really feel like laughing. I will do this. I will become slave to the rhythym.


SONG- wake me up when september ends by greenday

Thursday, June 10, 2010

5: The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠Part 1: The Agenda
So today, I had a mission from mom to finally unpack the things that have been in boxes since the divorce, almost a year ago. I started out with promisingly heavy boxes, and it turns out they were FILLED with my books. I had literally hundreds already in my room, and then I find the ones that I love but thought I'd never see again. Two one foot deep, four feet long, two feet wide boxes FILLED with books. Now i can not navigate through my bedroom for the stacks all over the floor, and I couldn't be happier with that. I love this. I'm looking at the things that make my place...well, mine. They'd been at first shoved into a mini trailer uHaul, which was sad. It's sad to shove all of your things into boxes, and think it's a lot, then watch as its shoved into a bathroom sized trailer with the things that belong to the rest of the family.
That was what we started with.
We didn't even have furniture. Now look at us. Look at where we are. We don't have a couch yet, but we have a weird piece, the title of which i'm not so sure of, that acts as a couch. We have our beds. We lack dining room chairs, but we have a nice table. We have three desks. One for each of us. We have three dressers, and one bar stool.
This is home.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠Part 2:Photobooth♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠
I was going through another box. I lift up a framed drawing I made with finder paints in kindergarten to find a bunch of photos from the time that you actually had to take the film to Wal-Mart to get them processed. I found some Polaroids, too. I saw a picture from when nate was in...1st grade and i was in kindergarten and he was running towards the house from the bus. The colors were so vivid. the bus was still parked, and nate's just running. It was amazing. I find one that was taken on the bench in front of our house, of mom and nate. Mom's hair is up in a clip like she does, and shes wearing a red tshirt and overalls, and nate's sitting to her right, which was the side the camera was on. She looked so happy, and she looked pretty. Nate was making one of those faces of his.
I found one of mom, just my mom. It was at an angle, a close up on her face. It was pretty. She couldn't have been but 20 years old.
There's another one of her being herself making a funny face.
There's one from when me and nate were little, and she had hair down to her lower back, and she's totally in her element. in the background you can see the wrought iron roosters above the curtain rod with pretty soft gold curtains.
There's a pretty one thats a close up on me and mom. We're outside rubbing noses like eskimoses...(that was our little jingle...)
Theres another of me and mom walking across the old bridge, the copper turning green. It's black and white.
There was a pretty one of me when I was little playing with my wonderful dog.

And, of course, one of Nate surfing on a kitchen chair making the most exuberant screaming face I've ever seen.

The quiet things that no one ever knows by Brand New
Photobooth by Death Cab for Cutie

4: Love Song

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦Part 1: Head Underwater♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

So yesterday was nice. I slept the night before. I let all of that go at 5am and just slept. But now it's back. Not so bad. But what hurts is the betrayal, the lies. The fact that I'd still take him back, right now. I still miss him. I still worry for his well being. I still lost a ton of sleep last night.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
I Think I can make it though. Lack of sleep is something I'm used to, and I just talked to his mom, and she said something that gave me hope. It actually literally lifted my spirits.

Even if I lose all else, I have my hope. Sure, it will get smashed down so often that it feels like physical pain. But I'm holding on to it. I don't know what I'm hoping for....yet. But I will hold on to my sense of hope and let it grow until it can't be knocked down. It will be my walls. It will be that little voice that tells me to act on an imaginative whim. It will be staring at the ceiling willing rocks to break open my window as to make a quick getaway to the person I love. It will be my pulse. It will be something people can see when they look at me, feel when they touch me. I won't back down.

Love song(the cure cover) by Death Cab for Cutie
Love song by Sara Barrielas

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

3: Armor for Sleep

• • • • • Part 1: In a Literal Sense• • • • •

As time progresses, I listen to this band more and more often. It has occurred to me that Armor for Sleep isn't just...idealism anymore. It's a necessity.
I guess those who originally said good things come with a price had no idea how right they were.
We all grow up to fast because of the things we worry about. Really, look at us. Little kids of seven and eight years old are learning to shoot guns with there Pa in the middle of nowhere, because it turns out that Daddy keeps them all over the house to protect his family. Little kid asks Dad why he does it? What is he protecting them from? If Daddy gives them any kind of an idea, they worry about it, too.
If we could just...go to sleep with our pillow, our teddy bear, and a coat of armor, we might have a chance. A coat of armor to protect us from physical harm, but also a shield from all of these little mental things. If we could just stay in our little cocoon of comfort for those necessary 7 hours a night, depression wouldn't be a problem with teens, and we might still have some little scrap of that innocence that it seems has gone into hiding.

It seems sometimes though that it's too late. For the little nine year old that can't read but argue politics with their parents, the way out is broken.

Being Your Walls
I sometimes feel like I need armor for sleep, too. My nights only seem to get harder and harder. If I had a simple layer of Kevlar clinging to my limbs and body, maybe I could take it. Maybe it could offer protection from the pain I deal with nightly that comes with a history of bottling things up. I'm sick of having all of this anger inside of me, or anger trying to make itself appear. I don't like it. When do I get to be a kid again?
Armor for sleep is my outlet. Last night I was thinking about what happened yesterday with April and I, and listening to the wanderers guild. Great song. Instead of holding on to the hurt, or focusing on it, I let it out. I just relaxed, and let it go. I felt so much lighter. Then I applied some of the songs lyrics to the scenario, and I was laughing at how well they fit, and how sad it didn't make me.

Armor for Sleep is my armor for sleep.

A SONG OR TWO• • • • • •

The way out is Broken by Armor for Sleep
Being your Walls by Armor for Sleep
The Wanderers Guild by Armor for Sleep

Keep It simple
-The Daily Musician

2: For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ Part 1: For A Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Yesterday, I was reading A friend's blog. There was an entry that concerned me, some things that went down in the past. Some misunderstandings. We were talking about it, and we found out that we were lied to more than what we thought. I think that now that we know this, we will thoroughly band together without any little secrets making perforated lines between our friendship.
With the lies came something that I have not been able to get my mind off of. Any of you that have ever dealt with a broken heart know what I was going through. It was getting to the point where I couldn't take it. We found out about the lies, and I was hurt. I really was. But I slept last night. I'm questioning my feelings for him. I know that I probably would take him back in a heartbeat should he ask, but the fact that I'm questioning my feelings means I'm making progress. I'm moving on, and I feel sad at the idea that my feelings might be lessening, but it gives me hope that I can stop dwelling on how much I love him.
A small truth- I will never not love him, but this is a sign that the way I love him is finally changing.

I've hoped for change, Just talk yourself up,
and it gets better every day. And tear yourself down.
I've hoped for change, You've built your one wall,
but still I feel the same. Now find a way around.
There's something wrong, Whoa, what's the problem?
Because everybody knows You've got a lot of nerve.
That we can do this on our own.... So what, did you think I would say That you can't run away,
(Whoa by Paramore) That you can't run away?
So what, did you think I would say
That you can't run away,
That you can't run away, You wouldn't.
I never wanted to say this,
But you never wanted to stay.
I put my faith in you, So much faith,
And then you, just threw it away.

(For A pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic by Paramore)

If you think the way I do, both of these little songs seem fitting to the scenario. April, thank you for writing about that, although I usually hate the idea of writing about people by name, It's helping to get me out of this hole. I'm glad we're finally thoroughly friends.

Part 2:A SONG OR TWO♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
The songs for this entry are
For A pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic by Paramore
Whoa by Paramore

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

1: Looking up

Part One: Somewhat of an introduction

This is me. I wear pretty blue dresses with ratty old converse. I play guitar, trumpet, and piano. I sometimes bite leaves when I walk by a tree, but usually only if I'm with Kaelyn. I like coffee, but I guess it doesn't like me because I have a case of the shakes at the moment. I love my friends, family, and my dog.
As you see, I have called this entry Getting Started. The reason being that not only will this serve as my initial entry, but I am getting started in more ways than one.
Just a week ago, I moved from my cushy little life in Florence, Alabama, that was filled with friends and people to talk to, places to see, to a new one in Greenwood, Indiana. I am starting over, in a sense. I am still in touch with my friends, as a matter of fact I'm talking to them now. But they're a few hours away. Up here, I have my family, which is always important. I am working on getting settled and making friends of the people that live in the condos. I am hoping that they'll be cool. If they are one-sixteenth as amazing as my Florence friends, they're people I'm willing to stick with, and they're pretty hard to come by.

• • • • • • •Part Two: Settling In
I walked into the condo last Saturday night to be greeted by a feeling. This place felt like home. I walk up the stairs to my room and I see a bud. It wasn't quiet my place yet. Yesterday I take a look in my closet to see all of my clothes folded on the shelves. I started rearranging it. At 7 at night, I step back from it and take it in from maybe five feet back with my hair in a thousand clippies in my comfy sweats and kermit the frog t-shirt, and it hits me that this is home. The only thing missing is the things on my walls, and Kaelyn sitting on my bed eating an apple from yesterdays lunch.
It seems that besides the walls, it's as close as it's going to get.
I'll make friends here. I really miss kaelyn and everyone, but I will make friends here. They won't be the same, and I will NEVER forget my Florence friends. I refuse to. But some other friend will come along and brighten my day as much as notes from kaelyn or her sudden appearances did. I will find a place.

Part Three: A Song or Two• • • • • • • • • • •

Looking up by Paramore

It is with this that I bid you Adeau.
Keep it simple.