Illegitimi non carborundum

          When I came out to my mom, she told me, “I’ve known you were gay since you were two years old. That’s why I never got you baptized. My parents made me go to church,” she reminisced with me, “ and I didn’t want you to grow up with a religion that believes who you are is a sin.”

            Sometimes she will say, “I honestly do not know what I would do it you were straight!” She tells me she loves having a gay son and we both know why- because she has a diva down the hall who can give her fashion advice when and when not needed. Often I get the same generic question, “But how is your dad with it? Does he care?” In response, I counter with, “Well he has had a gay roommate and he has gay friends. He honestly treats me no different because it is just who I am.”

            In the news, online media and by word of mouth, I have heard of gay teens getting cut off from their family because of the life they have “decided” to live. I once briefly dated a boy who told me his parents ignored the fact he was gay. It was such a shock to me because my mom has always told me to embrace the person I am. For his parents to ignore this part of him, it was like they were ignoring he had a face. Both were equally important parts of his identity. Alas, the worst is teens who are beaten for who they are. No wonder there have been incidences of suicide, our community does not feel welcome by ignorant people.

            Though we have made much progress in the US same sex marriage is only legal in 16 states. Yet according to NCSL.org 25 states allow you to wed your first cousin. Is it asking too much to be given the same rights as a straight couple? I find it to be unjust for legislators to base these laws off of a person’s sexual orientation. To with-hold certain abilities because “it’s against evolution”, “immoral” or because “God says fags burn in hell.” is no real reason.  While all of this may seem to be fantasy, it is my reality.

            Perhaps our lives are full of fabulousness. And when you think of the word “gay” you get the urge to throw sparkle dust on your tata’s and shimmy. We have such a fun and supporting community, which most of us are involved with [e.g. party at the club.] But the reason is is so easy for us to smile is because we know we have crushed our haters. Dealing with bullies and communities who do not accept you is difficult. And right now there are 33 states who are denying us the freedom to be who we want to be. My state included. 

"Let me get back to you"- as if

              I’m beginning to learn what an excuse is; “I might be working.” “I have other plans.” There these stories people come up with too wiggle their way out of a situation they don’t want to be in, “I’m sick.” A co-worker told me, “It’s something a coward uses when they are too afraid to confront you with the truth, because they fear it will hurt your feelings.” Whereas, when you lie, it’s pretty basic, “I miss you too!” “I’m sick.” “I’ll get back to you.” They probably won’t get back to you, probably aren’t sick, and are only telling you they miss you too because it’s easier to do then saying “I’ve enjoyed not talking to you!”

                The bullshit you’re being fed is candy coated therefore making it appear harmless. You want to believe what your being told and not second guess it. But how many “I’ll get back to you’s”  can you withstand until you finally realize-“ Uhhhh no you won’t! You never did before so why would you now? Seriously what makes this time any different?” Yet you reach for your phone…just in case. But I think deep down you know the only way you’re ever going to talk to him is if you text him first.

                So why does this happen? Why are we so attracted to the things that hurt us? Is it because we are drawn in to something we know we can’t have yet desire with all our might? And it’s so difficult because you try hard- so damn hard to get his attention. You’ve changed your appearance, workout more, always try and look your best, but it seems to go unnoticed. There is only so much that can be changed until you have lost yourself.

                Okay fine, “I’ll ignore him, totally forget about him.” you think.  But it’s so difficult because now that you two aren’t talking he seems to be the only thing that lingers on your mind, and you can’t help but think, “He makes not caring look so easy! I bet he doesn’t even miss me. I hate him so much. I just hate him!” You begin to wonder what you did wrong and if there is anything you could have done differently.

                Days pass, and it gets easier once you get on with your routine- then one day you find yourself forgetting to think about him. Your confidence is soaring back to you and that big smile is opening up. “Honestly I miss him, but I’m over it.” You work out harder than before, and try to keep your mind away from social media and your hands off your phone. Then for the one second you stop thinking about him, he pops up again and there he is on your phone, the evil notification that your dreading to open. It hits you, “well obviously you aren’t dead, and your phone isn’t broken, because you have the ability to like things I post. You just never got back to me, you didn’t miss me. You just didn’t reply. You kept me holding on, waiting- hoping you would but you never did! And for weeks I felt so stupid and desperate…” Then your mind came back from its imaginary rant, and you remember what you learned from a former teacher, “Just because someone walks out of your life doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing, and you can’t dwell on the negative. You just need to think of it as one door closing and soon an even better one will open.”

                So although you know he will never get back to you, you’re okay with it, because it’s just how he softens the blow. And even though it’s taken time to realize these excuses- you find it easier now to  deal with, because you no longer need to hold on and wait for the day that he might “get back to you”.

My First Bike Ride

When you are four years old, there is only one thing you must learn before you are considered a “big kid” and that is how to ride a bike without training wheels. If you still have training wheels you can’t join any biker gangs or go on any bike excursions. I practiced like a fiend usually before lunch and after nap time. These were the perfect times for practice because then I was fully energized and ready to pedal. I rode continuous circles around the green belt in the town homes where my family lived at the time.

One night I was on my last lap without the training wheels everything I had ever done had all led up to this. I surpassed a different member of my family as I rode around the giant complex and they kept me going, cheering me on with encouraging words. Almost finished, I could see my front door and accomplishment was building up. I heard one last cheer from everyone, and in a swift moment of distraction, lost all control then collided head first with a hanging metal “for sale” sign that was posted in the neighbor’s lawn. The beast knocked me right off my bicycle and threw me to the floor. It was an unforeseen enemy. Low clouds had overcast the arena and a sudden wind began to kick in. A slow trickle of rain fell onto the ground landing onto my cut knee and face. My mom ran over, and I no longer knew if I was crying or if my face was wet from the rain. Helping me up from under my red bike she said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, bubba.”

            I trudged along till we reached the steps, “I did so good, huh, mom?”

            “Yes you did! I’m so proud of you, in fact once we get you cleaned up there’s a Butterfinger in the fridge for you.”

            The following week my mom thought it would be a good idea to take a bike ride outside of the confines of the townhomes. I have not ever ridden on the street before so I didn’t know what to expect, but I was very excited. I just had to be sure to follow any directions my mom gave me and to always stay on the sidewalk. It was mid-April and everything was in bloom. The trees swayed like monkeys moving vine to vine which caused leaves to fall and get crushed beneath my tire. Sometimes they would get caught in my wheels spoke and make a noise that I imagined a motorcycle made when starting up.

Bright oranges, vivid pinks and blues illuminated the dessert sky until it all cast over to an ominous purple that was caressed by glowing city lights. Once the sun set, we headed for the streets. Starting with a quick warm up, we circled the green belt, then we headed off out towards 23^rd Ave. I had never been there on my bike before. It was a place I had only seen from the booster seat in the car. Other kids were playing across the street kicking around a soccer ball. The tantalizing song that every child knew crept up behind me. I looked back and a line had begun to form in front of the big white ice-cream truck.

It only took a few minutes to finally leave our complex behind and enter a whole new world! I was keeping a steady pace, but every now and then I had to duck in order to avoid getting hit by low hanging tree branches. The street was desolate, and my brother rode into the middle of it, which my mom didn’t seem to mind since there were no cars coming. It was as if we were the last people on earth and everyone else had been exterminated in a zombie apocalypse.

            “CAR!” I belted out, to my mom, as an oncoming car sped towards my brother.

            “Joshua Anthony get back on the sidewalk!” my mom only used his middle name if she meant business! “Okay so I want you two to listen to me, we are going to reach an intersection up here, okay?” Both my brother and I continued to ride and listen. “When the light turns and the sign says we can go, I want you two to just ride across Josh you go first I will go in the middle then Jonathan, you follow me.”

            “Why does Josh get to go first? Why can’t I go first?”

            “Because Josh has known how to ride a bike longer then you have! Just follow me Jonathan this is very important!”

            We approached the intersection of 23^rd and Camelback no more than a minute later and were at rest for only a little while to review one final time what my Mom had told us. Right across the street was a Burger King. I had never eaten there, but I had always watched it pass by in the car. Everything was a vast change, all the bright lights and reckless noises. I was a bit dumbfounded. My head was spinning.

            Just then the light changed to red and all the cars to my left came to a sudden screech. Across the way the mechanical light said “WALK.”

            “Okay, Josh, you can go!” my mom shuffled him along and he rode across without any hesitation. Then she bolted right after him. I was still trying to get a hold of the pedals and get a good grip on my handle bars. By the time I left the sidewalk they were in the middle of the crosswalk vastly approaching the other end.  We were headed northbound on the left side of the intersection. I kept looking to my right at the mesmerizing red light. When I reached the middle of the intersection my mom and brother were on the other side and I was lost. Half way in the intersection, I began to turn left, heading west bound into traffic. There I was a tiny four year old riding next to a colossal silver monster truck that had the letters 4x4 stamped on the back. Once my mom saw this, she dropped her bike and sprinted into traffic to come save me. When the light turned green, the man in the truck called her a “stupid idiot” and loud horns began to honk. The next thing I knew I was on the sidewalk in my mom’s arms crying, and my bike was there too. For all I know my mom’s super human maternal senses tingled and she stopped time, kicked that guy’s ass and brought me back to the sidewalk safe and sound.      

            My mom held me in her arms for what felt like a lifetime.

“Mom, what did that man call you?”  I asked picking my head up from her soaked shoulder, “A very bad name!” she said.

I forgot my brother was even there until he said, “Can we get Burger King?” She thought it would be a good idea to go in after what just happened and take a break, “I can see if they’ll let me use their phone to call dad.” My mom was still a bit shaken up.

The aftertaste of Burger King still remained in my mouth when we got home that night. I retold the story to my dad as if I were the star in a big action film. He sat me on his lap and said, “This is something you will remember for the rest of your life.”   

Big Brother

Every individual, when broken down to their finest form, is composed of the same anatomy. Five senses: sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell. We each contain a heart that beats at different speeds; some thump and bump rapidly while others hold a slow monotonous pace. Then there are others that cease all together. But perhaps it only stops for a short moment in time—due to heartbreak. You aren’t dead but you don’t feel alive anymore.  All you do is exist; you go through the most difficult motions of life while others proceed to pass you by.  And although we can’t control anyone’s behavior, we can control how we decide to react.  So perhaps we aren’t all composed of the same anatomy. There are people in the world who are blind, deaf, missing limbs, special needs, black, white, purple, orange…whatever. The point is, when it comes to basic appearances it is obvious that we are all different. Yet, we all have simple emotions. Each of us have those “buttons”, and when pushed they tend to set us off (whether it make us sad, angry, annoyed or embarrassed), we all have these triggers. 

                On St. Patrick’s Day my family sat out on the patio to enjoy the nice weather and our newly revamped backyard. There were lights that dimly shown upon the food as we all indulged.  I always figure, we are either very hungry or the food is very good if the conversation is kept to a minimum.  That night it was me doing a lot of talking and eating, partly because I was extremely hungry and also because I can’t stand unnecessary silence! When the meal came to an end, we all began to banter about different things from the past, to what we having going on in the upcoming week. I grabbed some things that were set upon the patio table and brought them to the kitchen then came back. It was just my mom, brother and myself for the moment, and my brother turned to my mom and said, “So when do you think I can get my drivers license? You know how much I love classic cars.” He was neither begging or pleading he just seemed to state something that had been on his mind.

                My mom replied, “Sweetie, you won’t be able to get your drivers license because you have uncontrolled seizures.”

                “Yeah but I really want it!”

                “What would happen if you were driving and you had a seizure? That would cause a big accident. Maybe we can talk to dad about getting a classic car to drive you around in.”

my brother Josh & his girlfriend Diane

                My older brother was 23, he’ll be 24 in July, yet he has the mental capacity of about an eight year old. At times it can be very difficult having an older brother with special needs. I have always wondered how my sister was able to get along with him with such ease, while him and I do nothing but fight. There are days where we get along, and I think as I have gotten older I’ve become more understanding of it all. But somehow it scares me; when my parents, “What’s going to happen to him when we aren’t there anymore?”  My mom has told me I need to be so grateful for what I have, because I have a brother that will never be able to drive, get married, live on his own or go to college.

                Maybe he won’t be able to do any of those things, but he’s made so much progress from what I can remember.  He’s making his own bed now, and being a bit more independent when he gets dressed. Perhaps he can’t drive, but he is learning to play the guitar which he has loved to do for as long as I can remember. He sings the blues like he is B.B. King or any famous Blues singer. And although I don’t know a hell of a lot about bowling, he comes home saying how well he did.

He isn’t your typical big brother and I know he never will be. There are days where he annoys me, makes me laugh and even proud. He’s my family, my “big brother”, and I’ll always love him. 

           

Revision- Yay or Nay?

I think the hardest part to writing is the revision process. According to Webster’s Dictionary revision is: The act of revising; reëxamination for correction; review; as, the revision of a book or writing, or of a proof sheet; a revision of statutes. But if you asked me, I would say that it is a step that I much rather hire someone else to do for me. It seems like such a grooling process, and most times I get very defensive when the wrong person makes the harshest critic, but in the end I find revisions to be beneficial and a learning experience.

Often times, I don't want to think that I am making errors or need to remove or add details that I may have left out from my writing. I find it difficult to ponder the fact that my writing at any stage( rough draft, in between editing stage, final draft) may need some sort of revision. Although this may come across as egotistical, it’s how I’ve always been. It is extremely difficult for me to revise and find flaw in my own writing. Honestly, unless you know what you’ve written was just total crap, then I’m sure every write has confidence in their writing and thinks it’s this magical unicorn of perfection? Que no? Maybe it’s just me.

Think of it like this; you’re writing it your baby, and you would never criticize your newborn because he\she is the most precious thing in the world to you. You love him\her so much! Yet it’s much easier for other people to find the flaws in this baby of yours. They help on many aspects to aid as another set of eyes; pointing out the flaws, emphasizing the strengths, helping us to see where there areas can be improved or taken out completely. And that’s why I think II have an easier time letting peers read and give me feedback on my writing. 

Me Talk Pretty One Day

                The name David Sedaris may sound familiar; whereas his voice might be even more recognizable if you have ever tuned into This American Life on NPR (National Public Radio). He is a man well known for his witty humor, collection of stories and essays; one being Me Talk Pretty One Day. Before this book hit the shelves and became main stream, he read several of the essays from the book on NPR. Little, Brown and Company published the book and it was released May 2, 2000.  Sedaris finds reflects on his own life and draws humor from these situations. It is a collaboration of essays that have been split into “deux” parts.  In the first segment he reflects on his life prior to his move to Normandy, France.  I was dead from laughing after I read the first chapter. He talks about when he was younger in grade school and was forced to speech therapy for his lisp. Then in part deux he talks about his move to France.

From chapter one- “Go Carolina”

“None of the therapy students were girls. They were all boys like me who kept movie star scrapbooks and made their own curtains. ‘”You don’t want to be doing that,’” the men in our family would say. “’That’s a girl thing.’” Baking scone and cupcakes for the school janitors, watching Guiding Light with our mothers, collecting rose petals for use in a fragrant potpourri: anything worth doing turned out to be a girl thing. In order to enjoy ourselves, we learned to be duplicitous. Our stacks of Cosmopolitan were topped with an unread issue of Boy’s Life  or Sports Illustrated, and our decoupage projects were concealed beneath the sporting equipment we never asked for but always received. When we asked what we wanted to be when we grew up, we hid the truth and listed who we wanted to sleep with when we grew up, “’A policeman or a fireman or one of those guys who works with high-tension wires.’” Symptoms were feigned and our mothers wrote notes excusing our absences on the day of the intramural softball tournament. Brian had a stomach virus or Ted suffered from that twenty-four-hour bug that seemed to be going around.”

“’One of these day’s I’m going to have to hang a sign on that door,’” Agent Samson used to say. She was probably thinking along the lines of SPEECH THERAPY LAB, though a more appropriate marker would have read FUTURE HOMOSEXUALS OF AMERICA.

                I would recommend this book because it was able to make me laugh out loud and typically I’m not the type of person to “lol” to literature. It was a very entertaining and kept me wanting to read more constantly. I was able to read it effortlessly, he isn’t the type of author to pick up a thesaurus and find a replacement word just in order to use big words. (i.e. big-gargantuan) And that said I suggest you download, or go pick up a copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day, if you’re looking for a large laugh!

The Climb

"If life was easy it wouldn't be worth living, that is why we have obstacles we over come and friends to help so we won't have to do it alone." -Kimiko Martinez.

     

     I can recount the fondest memories from my childhood from when my mom would take myself, my brother and whatever family dog we had at the time to go hike North Mountain. Often times we went early in the morning. The cool fresh air sent intense surges down my spine when the breeze blew onto my face. I distinctly remember moms two outfit staples: her visor and her fanny pack. Back then in the 90's there weren't iPod's or Mp3's. But my mom did have a large over sized yellow Walkman  We would 'hike' the mountain, or rather walk up the paved trail that spiraled along the sides which led to barbaric electric towers. Sometimes we would take turns holding the leash of the dog. And when we reached the top we made sure to touch the black metal fence. 

      Today I still hike the same mountain. I guess I can thank my mom for instilling such a great habit into me from such an early age. Although now I don't hike that same simple path, which I could easily conquer in a mere 20 minutes. As I've grown older, my desire for a greater adventure as increased. This has lead me to discover countless number of trails, and if I stay on them long enough they all lead back to those gated towers.

      The mountain is constantly changing. It evolves to the weather; summer, spring, fall, winter. Over time I've noticed the different formation of rocks and become accustomed to the steeper incline. Just this spring I really opened my eyes and saw how the side of the mountain was growing grass and other plants began to bloom. Typically I hike alone because it gives me this serene time to just be with my music and my own thoughts. It's the time where I don't need to answer to anyone and I can try rationalize any mishap. Some of the best memories have been formed there and I'm sure there will be many more to come.

Morning Inquisition

As if! I know what's really going on!

Am I the only one who needs like 15 minutes in the morning to wake up? That's it! Just let me wake up, adjust to the bright, bright sunlight and wipe the sleep from my eyes. Is that too much too ask for? There's a reason why I don't work out in the mornings because I feel like when you work out, it should be when you have the most energy and that is definitely not in the morning. At least for me! Now I know the health benefits and how it can be such a "wonderful head start to your day!", but I don't care! I would rather hit snooze three times then hit the gym. 

My parents always get so mad at me in the mornings. They tell me that they "walk on egg shells" around me or they try so hard to get along with me in the mornings. Honestly I think they are being a bit dramatic. My mornings are exactly that...MINE! Don't get upset with me if it's between the hours of 7:00 and o'clock and I'm not prepared to answer the array of questions you have built up for me.

"What's your work schedule next week?"

 "How many hours do you have?"

"Are you going out tonight?"

 "What are you doing? Why are you squinting like that?"

"Did you eat all of that stuff I had in the freezer?"

"How was work last night? I bet it was good to be back after being off!"

Men naturally are non-verbal and respond with, "uh-huh" or the caveman's grunt. Once I'm wide awake I'm very talkative but naturally I respond to all these questions with groans, "uh-huh's" and "whatever". Then I get placed in a massive amount of trouble for not wanting to be involved with the family. I get told that I'm impossible to get along with each and every morning, “when we try taking an interest in what’s going on with you, you don’t want to talk about it!”. Well, the way I see it, if you would just give me 15 sweet minutes of solitude without any inquisition I might be a bit more decent in the mornings. Can I just take me vitamins without being ambushed- that's all I ask for.

 

Drive

     Okay so I'm doing this on my mobile app so excuse any mistakes. I'm actually at AAA Auto Repair right now, don't even think they've started on my car. Anyways to the point.

     The movie Drive appropriately demonstrates the idea of having a secret or double self. Within the opening scene we are shown how the main character is a getaway driver. He tends to remain calm the entire time. I notice he is able to manage a serene face, even while being chased by the cops. Perhaps there is little tension in his expression but it goes unnoticed.

     He narrates how he gives who he's working for the span of five minutes. It all seems so strategically easy as he gives the exact number of streets there are in LA. It's almost like math, and he would be able to find the perfect solution each time without flaw.

     Yet, then we come to find a sweeter side to the driver. He starts to build a relationship with his married neighbor. He does anything to protect her family, it's as if he gives excuses but we know he doesn't want any outside forces to harm her or the family. I think he is an emotionless driver just doing the job, but a fighter when it comes to Irene.

Ode To Miley

                Okay so I don’t watch cable network television, unless I’m in my living room which is like never. I disconnected the cable in my room and only have this thing set up called “The Logitech” which allows me to have YouTube, Pandora, Netflix and all that good stuff on my TV. For those of you who have Netflix, you know that if you are watching a tv show on there, you watch it like 10x faster than you would on regular cable. This is only because you have no commercials and direct access to all the episodes.

            Well I had already watched all these good shows, Parks & Rec, The Office, The League, Weeds, Pretty Little Liars. I’m sure I’m missing some but that’s irrelevant. Anyways, I felt like since I had watched everything on Netflix, that there was nothing else to watch…NOT TRUE! I mean there were all these dramatic shows that I could care less about. Then the kid shows; yeah! I’m a kid still- or at least I throw tantrums like one. So I kept browsing until I found Hannah Montana and thought why not I think I liked it when I was little. That’s where my obsession began.

            Can I first start off by saying; Miley Cyrus is so underestimated in that show! I started it like two weeks ago and I’m already on season three I think. She is one of those celebrities that I can imagine will have a great career. Yeah, Disney did so much for her, but if you look at her now she’s successfully distanced herself from that and created a new image all together which is gorgeous and I don’t even want to hear otherwise.

            For those of you who read my http://smileitsjonathan.blogspot.com/2013/02/how-to-get-bubble-butt.html post, know I talked about my little YouTube workout addiction. Well put me on Intervention because I swear I’m on there 24\7 either doing my Blogilates and now looking up Miley Cyrus. When I found these acoustic “Backyard Session” videos, I swear I died! I’m like constantly watching them! Just yesterday I bought her 2010 album on iTunes because I can’t have YouTube with me all the time. She is even coming out with a new album this year, so her 2010 album should hold me over til I can have her latest masterpiece! I have even gone as far as to change my cell phone background from Taylor Swift to Miley Cyrus- that’s really saying something. And I did the same for my iPod.

my phone background

ipod lock screen

            The thing that is so astounding is to watch the evolution play out right before you. I was telling my friend yesterday, it’s just awesome that she is able to hold her ground and develop into this great perform and not get lost along the way and because she is around my age her music is going to be something I want to hear. I seriously don’t think (and definitely hope) she will be another Lindsay Lohan or Amanda Bynes. I’m positive we will be hearing great things from Miley Cyrus! 

"Hunger" - A Grim Truth

                I think if you can’t be honest with yourself, you might as well shut up and sit in silence. Honesty is a key role in society and once we as individual decide to be honest to ourselves it makes it that much easier opening up with others around us. I was drawn to the story “Hunger”  by  Anne Lamott on page 221 in Dreams & Inward Journeys.

            It began, “This is a story of how, at the age of thirty-three, I learned to feed myself. To begin with, here’s what I did until then: I ate, starved, binged, purged, grew fat, grew thin, grew fat, grew thin, binged, purged, dieted, was good, was bad, grew fat, grew thin, grew thinner.”

            Just in that opening passage, I was able to identify with Lamott’s raw honesty that she shared with the reader. I don’t want to be all dramatic; but I used to struggle with bulimia and I feel comfortable talking about it know because it’s part of my past and there are things in everyone’s past that we aren’t too proud of. The first time I read this story, (for those of you who read it) know that this story wasn’t so serious and grim. That’s what I loved about it. She made the subject of an eating disorder funny from her perspective. Usually when you think of something like that, you would think of “Intervention” or who knows what; but the way she described her relationship with food was great.

            There came a point in the story where she sought help for herself and honestly from my own experience the only person who can stop it all is you. Yeah, you can have friends and family concerned and begging you to stop but nothing will be resolved unless you want to stop it all and change for the better. Personally, I used to think that if I looked a certain way and was a certain size then more people would like me. I thought who cares how I did it, I wanted fast results and would do whatever it takes. It’s almost as if when you’re in this mindset you feel invincible. I felt unstoppable, until I realized all the side effects and I began to get so nervous. Right now I feel like I’ve just opened up to this deep level in my life. Anyways, now I know that what I did was stupid and even though I can’t take it back, I’ve learned that I shouldn’t be so focused on just the appearance of it all, but also on my health. Because that’s what counts above all. 

Dream & Inward Journeys- "The Best Seat in the House"

What I Imagined the bassoon to be.

A while back, towards the beginning of the semester, I read a story in “Dreams and Inward Journeys” called The Best Seat in The House.  I must admit it starts off a bit slow but once I found out it was written by a bassoonist who performs in Youth Orchestra’s my attitude completely changed towards the story. I suddenly had many questions and was left to ponder the thought, “What is a bassoon?”  Apparently it is a very difficult instrument to master. Honestly it sounds like an instrument that would appear in a Dr.Seuss story. 

Melissa Burns, the narrator of the story takes the reader through her brief childhood memory that she had of herself and her grandfather. We learn that he worked with wood and made this small beautiful box that is felt lined and over time it lost its “awe” and began to deteriorate. Eventually it was passed along to Burns. She called it the “reed graveyard”,  she explained it was the place her reeds went to die. I found this to be disgusting.  If this box is so sacred to you and hold such a deep meaning, why would you want to turn it into a graveyard for your slobbery reeds?  She explained why she kept her reeds, she said each had a different memory attached to it. I personally think that is a bit unsanitary. They are all piling up in this box, and since they are damp from her saliva, who knows what type if moldy bacteria is growing. I wouldn’t be surprised if she opened the box one day and all her reeds were green.

                Of course it is one of those stories that dealt with hardship. She tells how she traveled to Williamstown, MA from Niskayuna, NY just to learn to play the bassoon. Then we venture with her through Youth Orchestra and how she finally feels a part of something. All of this is nothing though because we learn that the youth orchestra is bound to play at Carnegie Hall! She speaks about for for months it was nothing but continuous hard work and dedication to her bassoon! Finally when we reach that cathartic moment of the youth orchestra playing in Carnegie; Burn’s tells of her foreign instructor being composed in the front and how her grandfather (although dead) smiled and watched from the ceiling. Now here’s the kicker, “From the time I found my seat on stage until the concert was over, my memories are blurred.” She doesn’t even remember playing on stage! Something she has always dreamt of, and it’s one big blur! I was a bit disappointed when I read up to that point, because I was expecting some grand description of what occurred. Instead I got an, I forgot. But I guess that’s what happens when you jam so hard, that bassoon just wipes away your memory! 

Waiting

     Someone once told me if you ever have something stuck on your mind then write it out, just let it via pen and paper and soon you would have transferred all those thoughts to words. I think this a pretty ingenues concept which actually does happen to work for me. The first time I did it, was last spring; which was my senior year in high school. I wrote a beautiful poem in only took a matter of minutes because the situation had been stirring in my head for so long. I'm not very confident when I read out loud and my voice tends to shake. I had wrote about something so emotional that I had kept locked inside my head; replaying occasions over and over. One teacher told me she could really feel all the emotion in it and she wanted a copy of it to reference for future years of teaching. When I read it to my parent's, my dad at first didn't believe that I wrote it. They knew me for the person I was at home I suppose. Momentarily I don't think they believed that I experienced what I was writing about. And I know you're all probably like well what did you write, well here it is...

Sitting here waiting

 Buzzzzz

You text me, “Be right down”

“Be right down” turns into

Searching for a song on the

    Radio-night radio

          waiting

Buzzzzz

You text me, “Sorry, had to do laundry. On my way.”

            On the look out-waiting.

                        For you

                                    For future

                                                For love

                                                            For happiness

                                                Still waiting

TAP TAP-on my car window

            No longer waiting.

            Waving, smiling

                  Greeting

The nights air is cold

We park and go up

To your room

You show my things I’ve never seen

            Views

                        Stars

                                    Photos

                  Creating memories

Told me what I want to hear.

Wrapping me around your

     Perfectly primed finger

          The sun rises.

  The light illuminates truths

I’m blinded by it’s glorious rays

    Off I go, intoxicated by

       “foolish emotions”

Then, shortly, I’m left again

                              Waiting

                   For a message

          A response

  An answer

Left second guessing myself

                 Devestated

             Insecure

    Still waiting for a

      Reason why.

"How to get a bubble butt"

         I have never really been the type of person who can sit around and watch YouTube videos all day, unless they are the hysterical remix videos of Sweet Brown, which I do have time for! Over the span of perhaps a year and a half I have found myself slowly subscribing to more and more YouTube Channels. I discovered Jenna Marbles my senior year. Then last summer I found “This Is A Commentary” put on by Tre Melvin, whom you may have heard of it if you have ever seen “Shit Black Girls Say”, (right).  Then about two months ago I stumbled across a whole new world of YouTube that I would have never guessed existed.

I was on Google searching, “how to get a bubble butt” and the first page that I clicked on was a YouTube video, I didn’t find it helpful but for some reason, I clicked on the link that led me to the main page of the personal trainer, Davey Wavey. He had all these different workout videos, I felt like Aladdin with the magic lamp and genie, except YouTube was my lamp and Davey Wavey was my genie. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it, partly because I wanted to keep it all to myself and partly because I didn’t want to admit that I use workout videos. But I found them super resourceful when I didn’t have time to go to the gym or wanted something quick before work.     

There was one video I found, “Insane 8 Minute Butt Workout!” (left) and it featured another trainer, who in-fact was named one of YouTube’s Next Trainers. She was this upbeat very motivational Asian girl who had her own YouTube channel as well, called Blogilates. I never really gave it much thought, but two weeks ago in World Religions we were reading about Hinduism, and it went over Pilates briefly. I though back to how I had subscribed to Blogilates and thought I’d give it a try and can I just say, I’m so sore, but I love it. I’ve been doing the Blogilates for about a week now, and it’s insane how much control you need in your entire body yet Cassey, the trainer, makes it look so simple, she will seriously do it while holding a full conversation with the camera, talking about music and food, then motivating you (the viewer) telling you how great you’re doing. When I was doing it the other day, I just thought, “I think you must really be an incredible person to spend your life, teaching people how to be healthy and showing them workouts, all for free. That’s super inspirational to me. There should be more people in the world like that.”

To be honest, I never thought I’d rely on YouTube for a good workout, I always just stuck to the gym or hiked. But I don’t regret stumbling across it, each video is something new and I  must be hooked  to say that I’m ready for a new video to come out already!Here are all the YouTube channels I mentioned...

Jenna Marbles   http://www.youtube.com/user/JennaMarbles

This Is A Commentary  http://www.youtube.com/user/ThisIsACommentary

Davey Wavey  http://www.daveywaveyfitness.com/

Blogilates   http://www.youtube.com/blogilates

V'Day- It's WAR!

                                 With Valentine's Day less than a week away, the pressure is on for those hopeless romantics to find love. They are being constantly reminded with the stock item gifts that over flow every grocery store. Tick-tock. Media is always a constant reminder as well, with every reality show that is aired and romantic comedy that is previewed. It's no wonder single people feel "forever alone"!

       Two weeks ago, I had no clue I'd be in the place I am now. I was talking to someone whom I thought liked me but instead I ended up with an apology message , “sorry if I’ve been leading you on…”, was my favorite line of the whole message and the best part, it was via Facebook. How classy! That’s when I thought, if you can’t find the courage to give me the straight up truth, then why should I invest any more of my time into something that obviously wasn’t going to progress. It takes two to tango!

 I find it funny that it happened in February, isn’t that always the way? Heartbreak in February, weight gain during summer, convert to Judaism in December.  I’m only joking, but seriously when I was at the store the other day, I flipped off the Valentine’s Day isle and I was yelling at the TV when some dating show was on. Typically when I watch TV it's when my mom has full reign of the television and channel chases from one guilty pleasure show to the next. It's hard to tolerate The Real Housewives of O.C. and Keep up with those Kardashians, all in one night! Recently she's been mesmerized by all the uncontrollable drama and heartbreak that takes place in ABC's The Bachelor. Now I had watched clips of the show when I walked in either her room or the living room and find it to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.  It's crazy how some women get so drawn into it all, there is actually even a video game, based off the show. It's probably for those women who didn't make it on in the first place. It is there chance at wining in a virtual way! What if they lose? That would be awkward. 

This week when I actually sat down and watched an episode, I got both very confused as to what was happening, I had so many questions. They make so much happen in one hour. But I also felt very bad for one girl that got sent home when it wasn’t even the rose ceremony.  I posted on Facebook  “I feel bad for one arm Sara. She just got sent home. It makes me want to cry for her. She says "it's just the same old thing, I'm always told I'm a great girl and any guy would be lucky to be with me."

I was feeling all weird about it the show, I was seriously angry, so I posted

“The concept of The Bachelor is stupid, these girls are all fighting for the attention of one man and he obviously doesn't love them all yet he continues to lead them all on. I don't think that's fair to their feelings like just pick one stupid ass and be honest.”

Honestly you aren’t going to find love by dating a million women on national television, that’s asking for many things, and love isn’t one of them.  I think when it comes to love…I’ll get back to you on that one. 

Stafford- The Life in Writing

Often when reading books or articles in magazines they are able to draw me in and make me forget about everything that is around me.  I find myself getting carried away into a whole different world that I would have never dreamed about. Writing has the ability to take you from your everyday reality and bring you into a world the writer has created using only words. I think exceptional writing makes you use your imagination because the reader comes up with their own idea of what characters and the setting looks like. They visualize this world that they are only reading about and brought somewhere much deeper then they've fathomed. 

                When I think of writing taking on it's own life, I don’t actually think of it as coming alive, singing and dancing, but I take to mean that it has grown very popular and now has formed a community. If you think about it, many TV shows and movies have been widely based off writing. Some good examples would be Pretty Little Liars or The Hunger Games. Both started out as a book series, but because of their immense popularity and large fan base they made their way on so many different platforms, such as Instagram, back to school merchandise and clothing. Someone was able to interpret the writers words and make it into popular visual media for all audiences to enjoy. This is great for those who don't enjoy reading, because if they really loved what they watched, they may have felt inspired to go out and read whatever book their program was based on. 

                    Well, this is all due to the fact that it started with words, brought to the page from the writer. Then there’s the question, “What’s the role of the writer?” Well, I believe the writer plays a large role in the entire process; they are the ones who bring life to their work. They make sure it makes sense, that it is interesting enough to capture an audience. They convey their message and tell their stories in a way that will hold a person’s attention but I think the hardest part would be finding a way to find the right audience. This all said, I think it takes both the writer and the reader to bring some sort of life to the writing. But it primarily falls to the writer to bring his work alive.