The Land Before Time

            In the thick of a hot and steamy jungle. Under the cover of a thick canopy of leaves. The only sounds to be heard are those of the pounding rain and the exotic wildlife pattering about. In most cases, this exotic wildlife would consist of several species of monkeys, birds, and dozens more. However, in the book I'm currently reading, that is not the case. I'm sure you have all heard of the enormous franchise created by the very scientific author: Michael Crichton. Better known as: Jurassic Park. Before his hit novel that put dinosaurs into great showcased prominence, they weren't so heard of. Yes, they were these enormous creatures that roamed the Earth that we currently live on hundreds of millions of years ago. Before Crichton, dinosaurs weren't really given another thought by those who weren't heavily interested in paleontology (a.k.a. Ross from Friends).
           Before last week, I had never read the book that I am in the middle of. I had never seen the movie. I just thought dinosaurs were these vicious creatures, and there just wasn't that much else to know. Reading this book has so opened my eyes. Cloning isn't that far off in our scientifically advanced world. There could be some mad scientist out there right now, perfecting his new theme park that is going to put Disney to shame. A park that features not only the fun animals we see at the zoo. No more are the most ferocious animals of the jungle the lions, tigers, and bears (oh my!). So many species of animals much more dangerous than what our world  is used to existed millions of years ago. The woolly mammoth, saber toothed tiger, and then of course, the terrifying dinosaurs. Triceratops, Velociraptors, Tyrannosaurus. So many species of dinosaur that we are unfamiliar with. The thoughts of what could be done with such creatures are mind boggling.
          Prior to reading this book, of course, I knew the gist of the plot line from different movies talking about it, the ride in Universal Studios, etc. A man perfects the cloning of prehistoric dinosaurs and is creating a sort-of theme park on a remote island to attract tourists, giving extensive tours to visit their zoo of sorts that features their creations. However, something must go terribly wrong. I've always thought it was a very interesting concept. I love anything to do with theme parks and mystery, so it's right up my alley. Just the thought that this could actually happen somehow in the future. How with the power of scientific discovery, a single man could gain so much power. Whether used for good or for bad.
             It's a wonderful, exciting, and extremely well written book, I would highly recommend it. However, I'm only about half-way through. However, I am yet to see the movie. But one thing's for sure. For the next few nights, every time I hear a "boom" or "crash", whether made my the rolling thunder of the storm brewing outside or my cats knocking something over downstairs. I will not be having images of armed burglars in my house. I will be worried of the mighty Tyrannosaurus - our history's biggest meat-eater - coming to get me. So next time you hear a rumble, think...it may not be what you expect.

A Fly On The Eagle

Well, I managed to finish my U.S. history essay: "if you could be a 'fly on a wall' in any U.S. historical event, what would it be and why?". I'm not going to say it was easy, and I may have written it when I was half asleep, but here you are. Enjoy.

   "Ignition sequence start. Six, five, four, three, two, one, all engines running. Lift off, we have lift off." Thirty two minutes past nine in the morning on July 20th, 1969, one of the greatest and most memorable space missions in our world's history was launched. Apollo 11 set out to do what no man had done before. The space race was in full swing, the Russians had already beaten the United States in sending man into outer space. John F. Kennedy had made a promise to the nation that he would make it a priority to "land a man on the Moon and return him safely to the Earth" by the end of the sixties.

            It was 1969, the end of the decade creeping closer and closer. This was when the brave and dedicated Neil Armstrong, Michael Collins, and Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin were ready to do what had only been dreamt of in the past. It was time for man to walk on the moon, and Americans would be the first to do it. However, landing on the Moon is not an easy task to accomplish. The crew was faced with two critical problems as they neared the moon: enormous craters limiting possible landing sites and a lack of sufficient fuel. The astronauts didn't know if they would make America's dreams come true, or meet a tragic demise. This is what I want to witness with my own eyes.

            When faced with the question of: "if you could be a proverbial 'fly on a wall' in any event in United States history, what would it be and why?", hundreds of ideas started bouncing around my head. There are so many remarkable events that have happened in our nation's history. I wanted to choose something impossible for anyone else to have seen. Something for which there are no pictures, recordings, or videos available. Something that's a bit of a mystery to everyone who was not personally there, experiencing it. Something that changed the world as we knew it; something that if I was able to see it, and experience it, I know my life would never be the same. That's what brought me to Apollo 11, or the Eagle. Everyone knows what has been broadcast for the world to see. The successful launch from the Cape Canaveral launch pad, absolutely swarmed with people hoping to catch a glimpse of the shuttle. Armstrong's first steps on the moon: "One small step for man, one giant leap for man kind." Everyone knows all about the lunar landing. I want to see what wasn't on TV, what even the NASA radio coordinators corresponding with the crew weren't able to experience. What happened inside the lunar module just before the miraculous landing?

                Neil Armstrong is commanding the shuttle that is about to change the world forever, about to revolutionize the meaning of the word "exploration". Ten seconds to launch. There's no telling what's going through the crew's minds at this exact moment other than excitement, fear, and pure adrenaline. Engines are a go. The rumble of the rocket's start up is enough to shake the insides of everyone on board. Six seconds. Armstrong tightens his grip on the controls, double, triple, and quadruple checking that everything is where it needs to be. Three. Two. One. Liftoff. The launch is a pure and smooth success. The crew handles the first hours of the mission masterfully, with such practiced hands that the actions seem almost second nature to the brave astronauts. An alarm signaling a programming issue is sounded, distracting the crew, however NASA has informed them to continue with the mission, that it was nothing to be concerned over.

            The Moon is closer and closer with each passing minute. What America - and ultimately all mankind - has been waiting for, so is close. Then disaster seems to crash down all at once. The low fuel warning. It's gone off much earlier than expected. Much earlier than is safe. The crew is rattled, not knowing how or if they will be able to complete their noble mission. If this weren't enough, Armstrong's pre-determined landing place on the Moon is in sight, however instead of seeing a smooth and level area to land, there is a 300 meter diameter crater. The fuel gauge is ticking lower and lower as the Eagle must decide what to do. The yelling begins. With nervous beads of sweat running down his neck, Armstrong takes control of the module as Aldrin is red faced and screaming out velocity data. It is calculated that Apollo 11 has about a minute worth of fuel left in its tank. Armstrong relocates a landing area, but is there enough time to get there and land safely? Thirty seconds remaining. The crew along with all of the NASA controllers in Houston refuse to take a breath as the module descends as quickly and carefully as possible onto the lunar surface. Twenty five seconds worth of fuel left in the shuttle's tank. Men of the NASA control center are blue in the face.

            "Houston, Tranquility Base here. The Eagle has landed." Tears well up in the eyes of the crew, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. 8:17 P.M. July 20th, 1969. The world has been changed forever.

            I can only guess as to what actually happened in the time between the Eagle's launch and its landing on the Moon. Regardless of how accurate my depiction of the Apollo 11 mission is in my head, it is an adventure that must be experienced to be truly understood. I want to experience the urgency when the low fuel gauge goes off and the panic when the 300 meter wide crater is spotted. It is truly remarkable that the crew of this mission managed to touch down on the Moon, fulfilling what John F. Kennedy had promised, and a jolt of pride America needed. I want to feel the joy of one of the biggest accomplishments in our country's history. Seeing this with my own eyes would be something that could change my life. It is not something that can be seen in a video clip, and not something that can be experienced through extensive study of the event. An experience so exciting and with such a happy ending that turned out to be well worth the incredible risk. America will never cease to be grateful.

A Fly On The Wall

            Because I know how much all of my readers just love hearing about my experiences in U.S. History class as I so frequently share them with you, here's another for you! *Cue the applause!* Now that the semester is winding down, dwindling into final projects to wrap up the year, a new assignment has emerged. However, unlike most of my U.S. History essays I am assigned, I am not required to summarize  achapter or packet profiling one of our past presidents or leaders. This is an assignment like no other. Much harder than any research paper could be. Much more in depth than any chapter out of a biography could go.
            If I could be a proverbial "fly on a wall" in any event in history, what would it be and why? I am to choose just one event in our country's rich, mysterious, and sometimes thrilling history to witness. I can't even begin to come up with a list of possibilities just because there are so many to choose from. In addition, we are not permitted to be a fly on a wall throughout an entire era, it must be one specific event.
           Originally when I got this assignment, I thought, "Oh this will be simple! I'll just ask my parents and sisters what event they would go to, and spring ideas off of that." My parents' first instincts were: "In the room witnessing the conversation between Hilary and Bill Clinton when Hilary first found out about his affair with Monica Lewinsky. While I would find that absolutely hilarious, I wanted it to have a bit more of a historical significance, not something with more of a pop-culture-gossip-esque connotation. My Dad suggested in the oval office with John F. Kennedy and his cabinet members during the almost-catastrophe of the Cuban Missile Crisis. However, I just find most of JFK's presidency just such a failure, I don't want to get into that. My sister desperately wants to go back to pretty much any point in time where she can see Alexander Hamilton (her one true love). But Alexander Hamilton is her greatest interest, not mine.
           I feel like I should choose an event that no one else can experience except for the people who were there. Something not broadcast on TV or radio, not recorded in any way. Maybe something that has remained a mystery to our country. Thoughts of the Kennedy Assassination, Watergate, and the Lunar Landing have gone through my head. But nothing seems to fit just right. Nothing has stuck out as "wow, I need to experience that!". I want to experience it all!

            So I leave you with an assignment for the day, think about it. In what event would you give anything to become a fly on the wall? And maybe leave a comment on this blog entry and let me know what it is! Good luck to you all!

Adhesive Rain

             Those in the Midwest are currently in the midst of some severely severe weather. They're either listening to the great music made by the sheets of rain coming hard and noisily down on their window sills. Maybe some of the more worried folk are taking precautionary shelter in their basements or storm shelters, just in case some swirling clouds creating the current Tornado Watch turn into an actual tornado. Some like my sisters and I are running outside taking a little bit of a "shower" in the rain. Maybe some smaller children are climbing out of their own beds and sprinting as fast as their little legs will take them to their parents bedroom, wriggling their way in between mom and dad until they feel safe from the pounding thunder and the bright flashes of lightning. Regardless, we're all going through it together.
               Storms are my favorite kind of weather. During the day, at night, whenever, I love them. I used to be one of those children who would take refuge in either their parent or big sister's room. However ever since age ten or so, I've come to love them. My reasoning for adoring day-storms is mostly because, I just hate sunny days. Don't be tainted by preconceived notions of people who hate the sun, it's nothing emo or goth or whatever label you want to tack onto that. Bright sunny days give me a headache. It makes me feel guilty for wanting to just kick back and watch a movie with my family, making me feel like I have to be productive, even if I'm exhausted, which just makes me want to be less and less productive. When it's storming, I feel like there are no expectations, so I find that's when I'm most productive.
                When it's storming in the early evening into the depths of the night as it is on this fine night, I find that the storm just brings us all together. The same principle I mentioned before comes into play once again, there are no expectations. When it's storming, it feels like we can all just relax a little bit. It's not a time to be doing homework or working on projects; no, it's a time to gather in the family room, get comfy in pajamas on the couch, and watch a movie all together. It's a time to bake some cookies, eat the dough with a nice hot tea, and catch up on the TV show you've always meant to watch but never really got around to.
                  I'm in the Midwest. I'm right there along with everyone else in this area, tapping my foot along with the sheets of rain batting against my poor windows. Hoping and wishing that the current Tornado Watch won't turn into a Tornado Warning. Thinking about when I was little, how safe I would feel wedged between my loving parents. How when I took refuge in my sister's room, the raging storm would just seem to drop away. The thunder just became a beating drum, and the lightning a flash of light, nothing more. Storms make me feel at peace. This is for all of those parents currently welcoming their scared child awakened by the rain to take refuge in their protective arms. For the brothers and sisters who would put away their differences and stay up with their younger siblings to calm them down. Storms bring people together, always have, and I really hope they always will.

The Wheel of Monotony

            Mid September:
            Mom *picking her daughter up from the bus after school*: "Hi Hanna! How was your day?"
            Hanna: "Good! The funniest thing happened...*continues to regale her mother with random and out-of-the blue tales of her day*   
            Right After Winter Break
            Mom: *picking her daughter up from the bus after school* "Hi Hanna! How's it feel to be back at school?!"
            Hanna: "Oh you know, it's weird to be back, but I really did miss all of my friends. It's nice to get back into the rhythm of things again."
             Right After Spring Break
             Mom: *picking her daughter up from the bus after school* "Hi Hanna! How's it feel to be back at school?"
             Hanna: "Ehh, it's nice to see my friends and all, but I'm not sure how much longer I can stand getting up so early!"
             Mid May - Less Than A Month Left of School
             Mom: *picking her daughter up from the bus after school* "Hi Hanna! How was your day?"
             Hanna: *groans* Tiring!
             Mom: "Did you have trouble falling asleep last night?"
             Hanna: "No."
             Mom: "Oh, so you just did extra strenuous things at school today?"
             Hanna: "No."
             Mom: "Then what?! You've been doing this since August! You can stand it for another few weeks."

What is it? We've all been in school for months and months. The same routine day-after-day for five days a week. I know my morning rituals so well, it's pretty much become instinct of when to get up, how much time to spend brushing my teeth, getting dressed, hair, makeup. My route of how to get to each class, and how much time I can spend talking to friends in between hasn't changed since the semester change in January.
            So what is it that makes these last few weeks before we're set free from what dominates our life for nine months out of the year? I think that's just it. We're not on our toes anymore. We know our routines, we know basic lesson plans of what's to come in our schedule each day. Nothing unexpected or exciting is really to happen for these next weeks, so it's just a monotonous never-ending routine that just seems to exhaust us all. Finals are rearing their ugly heads, teachers are packing on last minute projects and forgotten lessons, and yet all we can think about is all of the things to come in the midst of summer vacation.
            Every day, the faces of my peers seem to become a bit more weary. More and more students are calling themselves out sick, whether it's because of illness or "illness", who knows? Regardless, these last weeks of going through the motions of classes is taking a toll on everyone. I'm trying to keep everything as exciting as possible to keep my friends and myself getting through the days with something to look forward to - in an effort so we all don't just collapse upon our books. But just three weeks more of this exhaustion, and then the six in the morning wake up calls end, we're free to do what we want, and life is completely different for three months.
           Too bad I'm taking summer school.

187 Days...And Counting

             Okay, so back to a blog entry with just a touch of reality added in. If you've read my last couple, you may be curious as to why I have been writing about Disney related things. First off, I would like to apologize for last night's entry. It was late, we played Pirates of the Caribbean music in band earlier that day, I was listening to "Yo Ho, Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life For Me" on repeat, and so I just began rambling about pirates. Regardless, Disney has been on my mind lately - more than usual anyways - for two very specific reasons. Everyone knows that my last two posts were not the first two Disney-esque posts. I'm obviously a bit obsessive over the entire concept of Disney - the classic musicals, the parks, what it stands for, etc. (I'm typing this as the soundtrack to Splash Mountain blares out of my iPod speakers).
             Reason one for the intensified Disney fervor: over this coming summer, we are so busy between a summer internship my sister is taking part in, and my taking an extra class over the summer, we are left with approximately two weeks to do one last family vacation before my sister is off to college. We already did our really "big trip" for the year over spring break, so we were looking to do something a bit more local. We thought about going East - as we have for several years in a row - do Maine (one of our favorite spots), and maybe a little bit of parts of Canada we are yet to explore. Then Disney World is always a candidate. The options went on and on. We ended up landing on the one and only: California. I have been there before, but I was around six at the time, and my recollection is fuzzy at best. So we are making our return to the redwood forests to re-experience things I did in my youth, and do much, much more on our drive from San Fransisco to San Diego. Along the way? Disneyland! I have never been there, and in case you were wondering, I'm ridiculously excited.
            Reason two for the intensified Disney fervor: every other year in high school, our marching band - of which I am an active member of - takes a big "tour". Last year we made our way to the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, of course, New York. This was possibly one of the best trips of my life. Every four years, the band customarily goes to *drum roll please!*....you guessed it! The world  where dreams are made of, home of Mickey, Minnie, the Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Hollywood Studios, and Animal Kingdom, and one of my favorite places: DISNEY WORLD! I have been looking forward to this trip for way too long! And now plans for making the twenty hour drive down to Orlando are forming, speculated to be in November so we can take part in the Thanksgiving Day Parade down Main Street U.S.A. Two hundred and twenty days, and counting. Please excuse my excitement, but for the next 187 days, you may end up reading - or ignoring - many Disney themed posts to come. But don't fret, I will try to stray away from writing too many blogs featuring my excitement.

187 Days...and counting.

Yo Ho, Yo Ho, Which Pirate Life For Me?

              He emerges from the thick blowing weeds of the field on a great white stallion. Determined with a feeling of purpose and a goal in mind. A regal scarf tied around his head to convey he thought to himself to be treated as a king. That's when the ships appear, flying through the sky, ready to go on their next great mission. You may think that all of this sounds completely insane, but this is what is conveyed in a Clorox commercial aired back in 2008 or so. Why does this matter? Because it is possibly one of the most creative and beautifully made commercials I have ever seen, along with its partner mermaid commercial for the same product, coining the slogan: "Because a bathroom can be more than just a bathroom, Clorox helps keep it clean, even the imaginary parts."
              For as long as I can remember, the thought of being a pirate has always been something looked upon as great, noble, daring, exciting, "Yo ho and a bottle of rum", carefree lifestyle. Children dress up like them on Halloween. Stories, novels, and poems were written about them. Disney World created the Pirates of the Caribbean ride; taking any rider into a dark world full of very much unwashed pirates. Mates either jailed for stealing their booty, or plotting their next raid. A world full of exciting ship-to-ship battles, chasing after women, and of course, Davy Jones. This then escalated to the wildly popular, Pirates of the Caribbean series of movies. Thus further stylizing the lifestyle of a pirate. Every kid wanted to be Jack Sparrow. Every girl wanted to be Elizabeth Swan. A life of swabbin' the deck and sailing the seven seas looked to be a life of excitement and adventure.
              However much I do love all of the pirate propaganda, there are two very different connotations to the meaning of the expression: "pirate". There's the life we see in the TV shows, movies, theme-park rides, "yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me" pirates. Then there's the reality of what a pirate really is. The men who sail the seas, taking anyone unguarded in abandoned waters hostage. Pillaging and killing innocent people for no other reason than greed and hatred. Men behind bars trying to lure the dog with the keys in its mouth with a clean bone, versus men our world is trying to fight against in order to keep our waters safe.
              It's a fine line. What we see in all of the heightened life of a seaman, with a love of the water and just desiring the spray of the ocean with a bottle of rum at his side. Is that fantasy, or was that what pirate life really was in the past? Could those stories be true of past pirates, and today's pirates are just ruining the connotation? Who knows? Maybe the hero Captain Jack Sparrow really does reflect the history of pirates. I can only hope so. Because the life of a pirate in what we see, that's what kids are dressing up as. That's what we all want to read and fantasize about. The Clorox commercial pirates. The bravery and freeness of a life at sea. Pirates of the Caribbean 4 is coming out Friday. When I see it, I will be thinking only of the pirates children have grown up fantasizing about. I will reminisce about the Disney World ride. And the whole time, I will be singing to myself: "yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me".

In Fantasyland Among The Stars With Peter Pan

              Flipping through old family photo albums. Of course the smiling and crying faces of my sisters and myself are more than enough to make me swoon and coo over how adorable we were. I become reminiscent of life as a young child, something so easy, with no worries of the looming future. Then there it is, the picture of my first trip to the place where dreams come true. I was at such a young age, I have absolutely no recollection of the momentous day that started it all. The day that I was brought in my mother's arms through the gates of Cinderella's magical castle to Fantasyland. Only months after I was born, my mother held onto my diaper bag, shoes, and my body desperately as I was brought into the wonderful world of lights and music as little children serenaded my young mind with "It's A Small World After All". My father consoled my screaming and wailing when they wanted me to hug a giant mouse in a tuxedo.
               Two years old, now I have a somewhat recollection of where I am. The blue, pink, and white castle is vaguely familiar. I've seen Mickey Mouse on the glowing box mommy and daddy play for me sometimes. I can clap and make noise along with the smiling faces of the skilled workers performing in the Beauty and the Beast show. Five years old. I'm itching to jump out of my stroller and attack Minnie and Mickey with hugs and kisses. Now as I drive up the road to the gates of the Magic Kingdom, I know exactly where we are and what's ahead of me. I would hide my face in the midst of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, the explosions of the "bombs" in the water scared me to death. The Haunted Mansion was still a ride I refused to even attempt.
                Nine years old. I know all of the songs and movies by heart. We have a set order of what rides we do, and how many rides each attraction requires. I'm brave and can do anything. The first to attempt Tower of Terror. While it scared me more than I could even imagine, I felt so grown up going on the scariest ride in the park. Twelve years old. Riding each of the roller coasters numerous times became a requirement. The classics of Fantasyland were of course a must as well. The World Showcase still bored me. Hours spent wandering the shops of "Japan" and "Norway". I was in Disney for the thrill of speed, thus the loud music and loop-de-loops of Rock 'N' Roller Coaster obsession began.
               Fifteen years old. I have a greater and greater appreciation for the parks. Each attraction is another visit from my lovely childhood. Smiling and having pleasant conversation with the characters was the best. While roller coaster thrills is still great, what I really want is the feeling I encounter when I ride the old classics. Heffalumps and Woozles of Pooh's Hunny Hunt is what a love. But what's the best feeling of all? For most it would be hard to pick a favorite right off of the bat when there is so much magic to choose from. The childlike whimsy of Fantasyland. The innovative futuristic take on the world in Epcot and Tomorrowland. The mystery and chilling feelings of Tower of Terror or Haunted Mansion. Eating Norwegian lefse and waffles, British fish 'n' chips, Japanese sushi, and Italian gelato without leaving Orlando. Even smiling beside Mickey Mouse. No, none of this is the magical moment to me.
               A hot summer morning. The first day of the Disney vacation. I've waited an entire year for this moment. The entrance to Magic Kingdom. Five minutes until they open. Shade is no where to be found. Fighting our way to the ropes blocking off the real world to the entrance of a fairy tale. We hear a train whistle. On board are the classic Disney characters, along with singers and dancers to begin the Welcome show. They perform their show with a medley of Disney Classics, the Trolley Song, and more. Until it's here. Just ten seconds to opening the park. Five seconds. Employees are armed and ready to release the eager crowd. "FOUR!" I can see the castle in the distance. "THREE!"  My family and I are ready to sprint towards Fantasyland. "TWO!" My camera is on and ready to snap shots of every piece of the park I can. "ONE!" We're in, and the music is playing down Main Street U.S.A., and I know that something magical is about to happen. That's the best part for me.
               Sixteen years old. Who's to say?

Con De Partiro

            I hate that I didn't post yesterday, and I was going to forgo the blog for tonight, but it feels wrong to skip twice in a row, so I'll keep this brief. (However, I do realize that whenever I say that I'll keep this entry short, it just never seems to work out that way, but we'll see what  happens.)
            Unless you haven't read a single entry of this blog until now, you know that I am the clarinet-playing, stereotypical band geek; and I love it more than words can describe. Tonight marked the night of our last concert of the year. While for some this was an event meriting a jump for joy, for others it was an ending. The last concert the seniors would ever play with this school, our beloved director, and the band they've grown to love for the past four years. The last concert us underclassmen would have the extreme privilege to play with these gifted musicians destined for a long and beautiful musical future.
            Most of the band members managed to keep it together through the first several songs. We whipped through the songs: "Rolling Thunder", the cornet's feature in "Carnival of Venice", the classic "West Side Story", and somewhat boring "Simple Song". We got to "Star Wars", fatigued from the forty five minutes we had already spent playing our instruments under the spot lights that make us all feel about ready to boil over. Then it was time for the annual playing of "Time To Say Goodbye". This was a tribute to the graduating seniors that we would miss so much. They stood up at the ending key change, it was very touching. Someone in the crowd yelled for an encore, so we begrudgingly gave them what they wanted, belting out "Hands Across The Sea" at top speed to try to get out of the spotlight. When we were offstage, the tears began to flow.
           Seniors were hugging all of the underclassmen they grew to love and would now miss dearly. Our band director gave hearty pats on the back - which for him is the ultimate sign of devotion and love - to the seniors he had a chance to touch the lives of during their high school career. Some seniors are ready to jump ship to their impending future right away, some just aren't quite ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Things have just begun. But it's time for them to move on. They had four great years, but the next chapter of their life has begun, and it is con de partiro.

Mommy and Me

                It's that time of year again. The second Sunday in May: a day to appreciate the woman in our lives that defy the laws of the universe and somehow manage to take care of a million things at once. Those women who are the reasons for our existence. The woman you went crying to with a nightmare. The woman who spoon fed you applesauce when you were sick. The woman who never missed a school play or band concert. The one who put your comfort and entertainment before her own. She went to the "Pokemon" movie when she would've been happier with just about any other movie in the theater. She carted you to every single ride in Disney World, endured It's A Small World, and waited in the gift shop while we went on the roller coasters. She's cleaned up your messes, braided your hair, and was always there for you when you needed her most. She's your mother, and whether you like it or not, you love her unconditionally. Or at least, I do.

                Maybe these aren't the circumstances for everyone. I know that there are those out there without a mother who does all of these things for them. There are mothers out there who consider being dragged to their child's choir concert as a chore, and not a joy. Those who regret having kids at all. I have friends who can't stand their mothers, who consider any moment spent with her is a waste. There are neglectful mothers. Then there are those who don't have a mother at all. This is why I consider myself so incredibly lucky to have a mother I can consider one of my best friends. Someone I can talk to. Someone I can look to for guidance, for protection, for answers. She knows what to do about everything. Attacks a project with more determination than I thought was possible.

               Possibly my favorite quality of my Mom, is she will not take second best. If someone rudely shoes off being better than her, she does all she can to prove that wrong. Not to the person who was so rude, but just to herself. Once at a classroom party, one of the room moms brought in pumpkin cookies that were a hit with the kids. So my mom asked for the recipe, she wasn't dying for it or anything, but she thought it might be a nice dessert to make sometime. The woman responds very curtly with "oh no, this is a very secret family recipe that cannot be found anywhere else! These even have frosting on them! No one can replicate these." First thing my mom does when she gets home: scans the internet for a recipe, experiments, and comes up with the exact same cookie from the party. It sounds silly, but that's the thing I love about her. 

                My Mom is amazing. She always has been, and always will be, there's no changing that. Which is why I'm grateful every day that she is my mom. Everyone, even if you don't have the closest relationship with your mom, it's not too late, it's Mothers Day for another couple of hours, go tell her you love her. Because whether you like it or not, you do love her. She's the one who's responsible for your existence. Even if she doesn't do all of that other stuff for you, just that is enough to deserve a hug. 

I know, I'm not the most adorable baby ever, but I loved my Mom from day one.

And don't worry, I become adorable around age one and a half.

Facing The Enemy: The Microphone

              "One minute to air" He steps up to the spot he most dreads. In front of all of this fears and insecurities which he must now face. All he's been working towards is on the line, all decided upon the next nine minutes. Another step forward and a bead of sweat drips down his face. "Forty seconds" The microphone is staring him down. There's no turning back now. The people - his people - are all waiting eagerly to hear their leader. Hear his ideas, hear his solution to their crisis, hear his voice he has acquired through grueling months of training. "Five, four, three, two...." the red light flashes, Beethoven's No. 7 Symphony Allegretto begins to play, he opens his mouth, and history is made.
               If you haven't recognized it already, this is a description of the recent instant-classic of a movie: The King's Speech. I just was able to watch it for the first time tonight, and I really didn't know exactly what to expect from it, but it surely wasn't what I ended up getting. If there wasn't so much hype and excitement about this movie, I probably would have never seen it. Colin Firth as King George VI leading his country into World War II wasn't a huge draw for me. I had never even seen a trailer for this movie, so I honestly had no idea the film's focus would be upon the incredible struggle that this leader had to go through.
             In case you haven't seen the movie, basic plot (no spoilers, don't worry): a prince of England with great bravery was always held back by his speech impediment. He couldn't speak without stammering between every few words. Under pressure, sometimes he couldn't even get out more than a couple of words all together. Since there is a possibility for him to become king, he tries to get professional help for his stammer. To watch how incredibly difficult it was for him to do something that comes naturally to most of us at any time of the day - I found - was difficult. I was almost moved to tears in the scene I described above.
             If you're questioning whether this movie is worth the two hours of your life it will take to see this movie: do it. You will absolutely not regret it. A lot of the time, whenever a movie is made out to be this fantastic and artistically crafted film, I end up not understanding what's so great about it. The King's Speech does not fit this description. This is the kind of movie that moves me. I maintain the comparison of this movie to the film: Good Will Hunting (my favorite movie of all time). The same basic plot of a man with great talent held back by something they're forced to work through with the use of a professional who they eventually befriend. I think it's the immense feeling of accomplishment that the main characters feel at the end of these movies that is projected onto the viewer that makes these movies so great. To watch someone go through such a life-changing breakthrough. Watch this movie, if you haven't seen it...watch Good Will Hunting while you're at it as well. Neither will disappoint you. You will walk away with a mirrored feeling of accomplishment.

We Can Only Hope It Gets Better From Here

              Volunteer Work. For some this is considered a drag of an obligation needed to be completed as a prerequisite for a high school diploma, a National Honors Society, etc. Others use it to repent for their past mistakes or crimes. Then there are those that do it because it's their way of giving back. Feeling a sense of community and true goodness of the soul that comes with a day of community service. Tomorrow marks a day that is very near and dear to me: TAG Day. A day in which volunteers (of which this will be my 4th year volunteering), take on the streets of our great community to collect money all going towards the seemingly endless search for the cure to ALS, more commonly known as Lou Gehrig's Disease.
              I started volunteering for this program through my middle school's "Student Ambassador" program, and then once I entered high school, I didn't want to stop. It's a wonderful cause, and believe it or not - besides the fact that I'm asking people for money - I really have fun doing it. I have never known anyone to contract this vicious disease *knocks on wood*, however, I am all too familiar with the enormous stress a seemingly incurable ailment or disease can cause a family. If we can spare just one family from going through that with the donations we collect, it will all be so incredibly worth it. However, the amazing cause is not the only thing that makes this day so dear to me.
              A year ago tomorrow also marks what I would consider one of the best days of my freshman year. I was partnered with one of my very best friends, and one of the most amazing people ever, Stephanie to ask for donations outside a local bank. For those of you unfamiliar with volunteer work of this sort, it's basically standing around - usually in the cold and rain - waiting for someone to come around to ask for donations from...for two hours. However, when the bank closed with a half hour left to go in our shift...not a lot of people were coming around to collect from. So we had to find other ways to entertain ourselves. This ended up including using the change in our buckets to create a beat to our very dramatic and wonderful performance of "Hey Jude" in an attempt to attract people to come over to the closed bank/to entertain ourselves. I also heard the best quote I think I've ever experienced in my life that day: "Hello sir, would you like to donate to Lou Gehrig's Disease?" "Oh yes, you know I had a friend die of AIDS."
              Later that day included a trip to an amazing restaurant, getting crazy dressed up to go to my cousin's birthday party, and planning the most impromptu and extremely random trip to Iowa, of which ended up being basically the greatest trip of my life. So to sum that all up, one of the best days of last year. This makes going into tomorrow difficult, because now that Stephanie has moved across the country and I am volunteering all by myself, I know that this year won't be able to live up to last year. But I am a big believer in the unexpected being fantastic. A tragic earthquake in Japan destroyed our spring break plans, I had the most incredible trip planned in 5 days in Spain and Italy. We were to go to a super fancy restaurant for my Mom's birthday, their power was out, so we went to the closest half-way decent looking restaurant around, and it ended up being one of our absolute new favorite meals. You never know what may happen to make something great.
              I can't relive the past, no matter what I do. But I will go into tomorrow excited to make a difference in the world, however small it may be, and see what happens. It might become one of the best days of this year. The unexpected and unpredicted always shocks me at how wonderful the results often are.

It's Coming...It's Here!!!...It's Gone

             I've worked my brains to mush for the past several weeks. I've read the books. Flipped through more flash cards than I care to remember. Played the review iPhone App games. Made a playlist on my iPod designed specifically to get me pumped in the morning. And it's finally here. All of this work, and now it's the night before. I don't know whether to go to bed early and get a good night's rest, or cram all night. Looking back, it seems silly to me. Devoting my life for a span of three weeks all just to fill in a bunch of bubbles in a specific pattern tomorrow morning. To be able to string together sentences to craft an essay that will impress the college board. Eighty multiple choice questions. Three comprehensive essays. Three hours. Just ten measly hours away.
             Keeping my promise to my Dad, I will not be staying up late to make this a long blog entry, or to cram some last minute U.S. history facts into my head. For those of you who haven't read my previous posts, tomorrow marks the day of my first AP (Advanced Placement) test of my high school career. The question among my fellow classmates all of today was: "are you ready?!" This would earn the response of a frantic "NO!" almost every time. Tests that have so much weight upon them are stressful for everyone. Whether it's make or break it for a grade or for college credit, it's something that will make anyone anxious. But it's time to stop being anxious.
             Time to stop feeling sorry for myself that I have to take it while many of my classmates chose not to. Time to gain confidence in what I'm about to do. I've prepared for weeks. Read the books. Even memorized the Nickelodeon presidents song. I can do this, as can my fellow classmates that have worked just as hard or even harder than I have. We're intelligent students who can take on what we're about to experience. It may not be the most pleasant three hours of our lives, but the time will pass, and in a measly fifteen hours or so, it will all be a thing of the past. Nothing I can do to change it, and we can all take a collective sigh of relief. A sigh that will mark the end of something to be proud of. I know that I did all I could to prepare for this test. If I don't score well, while I won't be happy, it won't be the end of the world. For now, all I've got one mentality: I'm going to do my best, take the test one step at a time, and know that no matter what the paper with my results that will come in July say, I did awesome, and no one can change that.

My personal favorite technique to gain confidence:

AP US History kids...what are we gonna do? I'm gonna tell you what we're gonna do, we're going to kill this test. We've said a thousand times over the past weeks that this test is going to kill us. No, no, no, say it with me this time. What are we going to do....KILL THIS TEST! Exactly, so let's put the books away. Close the box with your thousands of flash cards. And have confidence. We can do this.
               

Come On Music Companies: Will You Never Learn?

               The Beatles. Queen. Michael Jackson Journey. Lady Gaga. Even Taylor Swift. Wondering what all of these artists have in common? Unlike most in today's music industry, they actually know how to write music that won't be forgotten. Music that will continued to be played, redone, and treasured for decades to come. Regardless of the incredibly vast amount of talent in our world, today's music industry is tainted with those who think that "Wake up in the morning feelin' like P' Ditty" is a great opening to a future epic song. Honestly? When we ask our history teachers why we are required to learn this pointless trivia, they respond with the classic: "so we can look back and learn not to make the mistakes of the past." Apparently they haven't picked up on this yet, but musicians: LEARN FROM THE PAST!
                Do you want to have a seriously epic song? I'm not talking about some song that's played on the radio for a few weeks, and people go through a short phase of liking. I'm talking about a song that is considered pure genius. One that will require the audience to think. One that takes dozens of listens to really appreciate its entirety. Songs that never go out of fashion. Songs that can sometimes even start a revolution. Look back on those that did these things. Think to the last time you screamed the lyrics to "Don't Stop Believing" with your friends. When you were pondering what the heck Queen is talking about in "Bohemian Rhapsody". How incredible you feel when Paul McCartney voice rises and rises until he's belting out "Better, better, better, better, BETTER, WAHHHH!" Fishes out phone and puts on the lighter app "Na, na, na, nananana!"" Can anything really compare to that? Even Justin Bieber's musical genius of "Baby, baby, baby, baby, ooh."
               If you want one a "Hey Jude", or a "Don't Stop Believing", you need one of two things. 1. Considerable rise and fall. As I see it, with most great songs, it starts slower and more toned down, and it escalates, until it reaches a point where the song is just about ready to blow you away; evident in "Hey Jude"'s scream fading into the na na na's. In "Bohemian Rhapsody" it's the same way, begins with this slow almost-ballad like thing, then it escalates into "Bezleehub has the devil put aside for me, for me, for me, for ME?!" The list goes on and on. 2. A storyline. A vast amount of my favorite songs of all time that I can never get sick of have a great story line to them. Not a "deep, look-for-the-meaning" type of thing, but like Taylor Swift's quest for her Romeo in "Love Story". Or the writing of the best song in the world in Tenacious D's "Tribute". And NO, Rebecca Black being super-duper excited for the weekend in "Friday" does not count.
             Don't put your talent to waste. Sing about what actually means something. If you're going to write a song, make it something that will be remembered. Don't get me wrong, I love the Justin Biebers of the world, but we need some music from this era that we can look back upon and feel proud that we had the privilege to live through that. 

Well All Press Is Good Press Right?

                "Notoriety for whatever reason, never seems to benefit the noted...just the notees." (the brilliant writers of the ever-so witty movie: Easy A). After hearing this quote in a movie fueled by gossip, the traveling of false information, whether intentional or not. However, earlier in the movie, someone remarks that a girl loved being thought of as a skank. She asked why he thought she liked being thought of that way, and he explained that at least she was being thought of. So this brings up the unanswerable question: is it better to blend in to the crowd, unseen, and therefore: drama free? Or is it more worth it to be the noted, to be thought of, regardless of the unpleasantness that may occur as a side effect?
               I've gone through my life in both ways, and I guess to have the best of both worlds, you must be the noted, however, when being noted of, you're being thought of in a positive way, rather than a negative way. However, in high school, that's never exactly how it works out in the end. In my French class, if Madame ever gives us "busy work" during class so she can secretly get some extra time to grade papers, a group of my friends all eagerly gather their desks around and create what we call a "gossip circle". Of course this "gossip circle" is really just an excuse not to do our French work, but it's also a chance for us to all catch up on the latest scandals. While I'm utterly entertained by exactly what my rebellious fellow classmates have been up to, sometimes I have to take a step back and try to imagine how I would feel if I was being exploited and mocked as we sometimes do. I realize we're high school girls, it's an inevitability to be involved in gossip and rumors, but on which side of the rumor would I want to be on?
              Is all press good press? Is it better to be the one that classmates care enough about to whisper about when they have a spare minute in class? Sometimes among this "gossip circle" we note how a certain girl is one of the nicest people we know, and she completely deserved the award she just won. Other times the focus of conversation will be on the embarrassing things a girl did on a very drunk night she just wants to forget and move on from. Notoriety has good and bad. However the only way to live it down, is to wait for yours to become old news. So which is better: waiting to live it down, or striving to live enough to have something to live down?