The First of the Last

Of high school. Of reading syllabuses. Of wondering.

It's the first day of the last year of the most awkward four year period of my life.

It's the first day of the last chance that I have to choose where I want to go from here.

It's the first time that for the last time I've stopped caring about whether my friends are in my classes, or what they will be like, or if we will hang out.

It's the beginning of a new year.

And now that I've got the sentimental bit out of the way, may I just say...

High school sucks.

Get me out of it.

Now.

I want to go to college.

NOW.

Oh, and...

Why do I have to wake up so god damned early?

There Are No Words To Describe This Emotion

May I start this off with a word or warning to all you would-be warriors who may or may not have been planning on actually reading this whole post, it is going to be very angry. Please cover the ears of small children and brace yourselves.

So. School's starting on Friday. I'll be a senior. That's cool.

Seniors are supposed to have the easy schedules, yeah?

Yeah...

Didn't work out quite that way for me.

Now, there is a possibility that it may have if my counselor wasn't an idiot, or our administration didn't suck, or the I.B. coordinator wasn't a stuffed shirt.

To ease that blow a little bit, I will say this. I'm sure they're all perfectly nice, friendly people with lots of friends because they're friendly and people like being their friends.

They just suck at their jobs.

Every single year before this one, seniors get their schedules first. Not just a few days anybody else, but weeks. Every year except this one, the only people to get their schedules before summer break are seniors. And every year, the counselors are there and willing to talk with seniors, so they get all of their scheduling issues resolved before summer starts.

Well, fuck that. That sounds like a terrible plan, right?

No. It sounds like a fucking awesome plan! Too bad you didn't do it at all. AHHHHHH.

So I started my summer break with a schedule somewhat like this:

1st block - AP Euro (chosen over AP Psych, which were assigned to the same block by the genius behind the master schedule, so we all had to pick either one or the other. Awesome.)

2nd block - Food science (so I can actually fulfill the practical arts credit that I need to graduate. Congratulations, you guys did something right for a change!)

3rd block - Choir (after much stubborn unwillingness to change, may I add.)

4th block - Empty. (Not a time release, not an aiding block, just empty. Possibility of taking French 4 at Silver Creek, because they will not allow me into the only French 4 class at Niwot, because it's "just for the I.B. kids", and "if I let you in, then it's not fair to the I.B. kids because a student is allowed in one of their classes who doesn't have to follow the same curriculum as the rest of them." Yeah, what the fuck ever. Shut up. You're stupid.)

5th block- Time release. I'm okay with that.

6th block - AP Lit (hey, something else you guys did right! Give yourselves a huge pat on the back. You earned it.)

7th block - Musical theatre (keep in mind that this class is necessary for at least the first two and half months of school in order for me to keep my lead in the show. Remember that. It's important.)

8th block - Another time release. Cool.

Doesn't look too terrible, right? Other than that one small problem of an empty block, I have all of my classes. Except for math. And a real, legitimate French class... Meh.

These seem to be problems that are impossible to solve.

Don't try and tell me that I haven't tried. That I haven't put forth a good effort. That I haven't followed up enough or talked to the right people.

Because I have.

I have emailed my counselor more times than I would like to count about fixing these problems, and every time he manages to take at least three days to respond, and then manage to not answer a single one of my questions.

So, French. At another school. So far, none of the people I've thought were taking it are actually taking it.

They still don't know what block it is.

Meanwhile, I keep hearing of more people being allowed into I.B. French.

So why wasn't I?

I speak more French than a majority of people in the classes at Niwot, of that I can guarantee you. I love the language. I speak it whenever I can, to whoever will listen. I would put myself into that class 110%. So why am I not allowed into it?

Oh, yeah, because if I was allowed in, other people would feel left out.

Wait a second, though. The people who might feel left out? You already let them in the class, apparently. So now who's the one feeling left out?

Me. That's fucking who.

And, I don't have a math class in my schedule.

I'm planning on independent studying calculus. I'm prepared to independent study it. I'm ready to.

Now I just have to wait on them. Are they going to finally decide to meet with me a day before school starts and tell me to find another option because they don't think it's going to work for them? Are they going to expect me to figure something out, or blame me for the problem being worked on so close to the beginning of the year when it's their fault in the first place that it has been put off for this long?

I'm so mad right now, I can barely even start to convey to you the depth of my emotions.

This is just a very on-the-surface briefing of the cataclysm of rage and angry words swirling around in my head right now.

I can't even handle it.

Ahh, Memories

There are some times, some places, some situations that stick with us forever. Whether we realize it or not, some part of our subconscience is always aware of that memory, it just needs a certain trigger to pull it out from the archives in the recesses of our brain and flood our waking thoughts with flashbacks to a different time.

There are certain smells for me that will transport me back to an earlier time. Certain feelings. Certain songs.

Whenever the roof of my mouth feels funny, I think of velvet. It's not really a sensation that could ever logically be described with that word, but one day when I was little, staying at home sick, and sitting on my mom and dad's bed watching Sesame Street on their little television, the roof of my mouth felt funny like that. And if I held really still, it wouldn't go away. And to my child's mind, it would feel like velvet.

Maroon 5 always makes me think of 5th grade.

Water balloons always make me think of third grade, at a certain friend's house who I have never been at since.

Corsets make me think of wolf costumes and hives. Green iPods are walking to elementary school during alternate transportation week when they handed out stickers to people actively trekking along. Sensitive skin is a warm bath when I have a fever.

Then there are the places. Some places that are associated with a particular but imperfect event, where you always think of one specific thing, but not a specific night or specific occurrence.

Some places should be like that, but they aren't.

Tonight, we went to Old Chicago after rehearsal. The only time I ever go there is after theatre. So, natural that I should relate it to theatre.

But out of the several times that I've been there, my mind thought of one night.

Driving home, I expected it to be snowing, and for somebody to be waiting to Skype with me when I got home.

Needless to say, there was no snow, and everybody was asleep.

You crafty memories.

I've Transcended

I got a tumblr.

I just didn't feel right putting these little short posts on a blog. Legitimate posts are for a blog, little ones are for a tumblr.

And now I have one.

Transcendence.

So if you like the little posts, there will be more! Pictures, thoughts, insults, you name it, I'll have it.

If you like the real stuff, stay here.

But hey, you might as well check it out. What do you have to lose? Other than twenty minutes of your life that you will never get back.

But who needs that anyway.

We Are No Longer Knights

And we no longer live in the days of old, where all virtues were measured by deeds and all reputations carved with a sword.

So how do we measure our virtues?

Generosity, loyalty, faith. Those are the easy ones.

How about courage?

What exactly is being courageous?

Courage is like loneliness. It has so many faces and wears so many different masks, it makes itself almost impossible to label.

Are people courageous because they bravely face anything and everything, constantly putting themselves out there as often as they can in as many ways as possible?

Could be. But that could also be fueled by insecurities, and those don't seem to quite fit the bill for bravery. Sure, being daring and adventurous is proving to the world that you're not afraid of anything, but does that make you courageous? Or does it just make you bold?

Is a person courageous because they deal with everything internally, going through personal struggles and strains of the emotions without showing a single sign of anything in their life being out of place? Are they courageous because they are brave enough to make their issues known without letting them impede on their habitual nature?

Courage is rhetorical. It's not meant to be defined or outlined. It's not even really meant to be perceived by anybody but yourself.

Do I feel courageous? Not really. Does it mean that I'm not? Who knows.

I've been told before that I'm tough. I've been told that I'm stand-offish. I've been told that I'm emotionally strong.

But none of that matters. Because courage isn't defined by the people around you, with their own treasured ideals and their own perceptions of your personal situation.

Courage is defined by you, and only you.

So here's my question for you:

Do you feel courageous?

This College Hoppin' Thing is Hard

I am pooped.

My dad and I decided to go on a nice leisurely walk to see the gorge(ous) sights in Ithaca.

It was not leisurely.

It was a full blown hike.

Uphill.

In mud.

While wearing flip-flops.

It was probably one of the least enjoyable things we could have chosen to do with our evening.

I am not planning on moving from my bed until about 8:30 tomorrow morning. Cheers.

On the flip side, well... I guess it's not really the flip side. Regardless. I am going to talk about colleges now.

Five points for awesome transitions.

I am actually very surprised at how unimpressed I am with the schools I have visited thus far.

Not to say that they're bad schools or that they don't have an abundance of fantastic opportunities and programs, but I suppose I just expected to fall in love with these places the way I fell in love with DU.

I saw that school not really planning on leaving with a desire to go there, and ended up really liking it. The campus was beautiful, lots of potential for exercise, nice dorms, delicious cafeteria, bomb study abroad program, five year Master's programs for practically all majors, etc, etc.

Pretty much, I fell in love with the first school I saw, and nothing else has been able to compare.

Granted, I have only visited two of our scheduled four. So there is still potential for chance.

I do know one thing: I definitely won't be moving to Ithaca next summer.

I'll keep y'all posted on the next couple of days.

Don't fall out of your chairs in excitement and anticipation.

No, I'm totally kidding. Do. I'll be flattered.

It's 6:26 A.M.

And I'm sitting in D.I.A. with an hour until my flight.

Welcome to morning travel.

Do I Really Need All This?

Every time I pack for somewhere, I'm astonished at how much shit I pack.

Really? A five day trip, and I fill a backpack to bursting? Really?

It's great that I'm avoiding checking my luggage, but I have a feeling that my shoulders are now going to pay for it.

Hey, I could just consider it conditioning for school. Ugh... school... shudder.

I have so many little tiny bottles and travel sizes of things that I can fill a whole storage size ziploc with only the liquids.

I have another little bag for the non-liquids.

And another little bag for my makeup.

Three pairs of shoes. Seven shirts.

Why do I need all of this shit?

Apparently, because I'm a girl. And it's necessary.

French or English, Yo

I think blogger must have decided that I speak Spanish.

The last six blogs it has showed me have all been in Spanish.

The most recent one was about fashion, all in Spanish, with all Asian models.

Hmm...

New Song For Me To Learn On Guitar

Go.