Saturday, December 30, 2006

What a Woman.

Imagine a child of six sitting on a hard wooden piano bench. The sounds produced when the child bangs on the keys are annoying, if not ominous to a good night's sleep. From this mental image, one could not imagine the musical future of this child or the masterpieces she would create.

It is now ten years later, and said child has learned the ways of the piano. She flew through Levels 1, 2, 3,4, and 5 throughout the years and performed at numerous recitals. She skipped over to Schuman, Willis-Clementi, Chopin, and Mozart. So what? There are millions of children who can pass five levels of piano. Millions of children can play Mozart. What is so special about this one? From the years of banging on keys, even she herself could not imagine what was in store for her. She hadn't any idea where music would take her, if anywhere, until fall of 2004.

She had recently switched piano teachers (just for something new) and this teacher was geared towards song-writing. Song writing? Surely the thought had crossed her mind, but could it be done? Could a girl of 14 compose? She was faced with a challenge: arrange a multi-part christmas medley to be played by her cousins. Coming from a musical family, she had enough players to cover oboe, flute, trumpet, and clarinet. Let the writing begin.

Hours she spent upon that bench, pencil and composition paper in hand, arranging the medley and placing each note with care. Months later, when the final product was finished, she found herself with her first masterpiece: A Christmastime Medley.

A month after Christmas, another masterpiece was produced. This one was named by the girl's grandmother: A Happy Day in May. This unique composition for piano blended two very distinct genres. She took a happy-go-lucky tune, split in in two, and slapped a waltz right in the middle. The result? Stunning.

The next year, she recieved song-writing software for Christmas. There, she had the ability to compose for instruments she did not even play, for instance, the contrabass cello. She composed a solo for contrabass cello in Spring of 2006 called Kirchhof-Nebel. Another amazing masterpiece.

The legend continues. As a matter of fact, she composed her latest piano work yesterday. A work in progress, but progress none the less.

As a child of six, she had no idea what kind of talent would burst out of her. She is very proud of herself, as is her family, and will remain composing until her dying day.


Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Makes Her Fly

Christmas is over, and I suppose I turned out okay. I hope so, anyway.

But no, the stress is not over.

Evidently I have Tale of Two Cities homework that I haven't even started. Apparently I have plans I want to carry out. I guess I have theatre practice on thursday from 11 to 4.

And I most definitely have my road test tomorrow, and I have no idea what happens when one tries to parallel park an Astro van.

I wish myself luck, and the will to win. I tire of being a failure, so I won't be one. Easy enough.

I have nothing else to say.



I passed. It's as simple as that. :)

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Run, Run, Rudolph; Run While You Still Can.

Call me crazy, but things are getting a little twisted around here.

Oh, but for the record, here's a little insert before I get to my rant. Phil and I had a wonderful time being rock stars at the coffee shop yesterday, thanks to my devoted fans :) Love you guys. And also thanks to Abbey for letting us perform in the first place, and for the free coffee.

Back to business.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks this, but why the HELL does the Christmas season always ruin everything? Usually during this time, people have "What a wonderful time of year!" stuck in their psyche. Why? Is it the decor? The music? The all-around "good" feeling? Perhaps. Here's a news flash: NONE of those things last. And usually, they all fail around the same time in the most inconvenient of manners.

Since we all think that Christmas is going to be some wonderful reunion of family and friends and all around goodliness, we assume that all is well. We assume that everything is going to flow just swimmingly; that nothing can go wrong at all. Turns out, when things do go wrong during this season, we feel absolutely dreadful. Dreadful because of the positive morale everywhere else. It amplifies what just happened to your plans because everything is supposed to work out so well. It never does. Christmas has become something to tip-toe around. Sometimes it kills whatever you had left. Sometimes it squeezes everything from you until you're only the shell of yourself and you whither away until the new year.

Christmas, once holy, once righteous, has become a time of commercialism and lament. Not at all what it should be. How it is and how it should be have become two polar opposites. Why? There are several positive elements to the Christmas season. There does exist a good feeling, beautiful sights, warmth and cheer, the works.

But there's always something that makes you go "Holy shit, merry Christmas to me." in the worst possible way.

I'm sure some of you can realte to these somewhat cynical yet also somewhat realistic views on Christmas, but I'm also sure some of you won't. I'm sure some of you will draw in some sort of inarticulate breath and prepare for a rebuttal. Alright, go ahead. Actually, I urge you to do so.

Give me one good reason to convince me that Christmas hasn't begun to waste away to nothing.

*sighs* I understand this post was... theatrical... and I don't hate Christmas, just the cruel irony. This was just... to get a point across, ok?


Friday, December 22, 2006

For the Love of Operaman

A five dollar striped hat is on top of my head. It is doing a great job of keeping my head warm, but my fingers and toes? Not so much.

I guess I could put "Faster Internet Browser" on my christmas list. Along with "No Tale of Two Cities English Homework" and perhaps "Have the Les Mis T-Shirt Design Itself". I can dream, can't I?

I'm also wondering why everytime I switch web pages on any browser, the transition page is always white. Why? Can they not think of a color that is less terrifyingly ominous? White. How overrated. I suppose it's another thing that makes Becca think that the world has turned against her. Oh well.

Upon the return of Miss E. Wardell, I think I asked something like "Where the flying * have you been?" To this she replied, in a nutshell: "Sick." Fair enough. Still, life was dull and boring without talking about the Scandanavian Cracken all hour and having Tonya come sit herself between us. "Whatever, Tonya."

We even escaped the clutches of the Half-Evil Sub. Sorry, graduates, but at least you had some yummy Turkey Feast dishes.

And I'm beginning to wish I had brought home that macaroni salad. Oh, lamentation, botheration, anything of that sort.

At least I hung out with Steve and Elizabeth. Elizabethmylove whom I haven't seen in months. So... I skipped the choir concert to go to the coffee shop. Bad Becca.

I found a pair of jeans in a record time today. And a $36 sweater of all things holy. It was quite difficult to put that baby back on the rack.

I saw Karismylove at the Toll House Cafe. I miss that kiddo, boy do I ever.

Katiemylove came over last night. We watched movies after shopping for a bit (FINALLY got the right size fishnets), and deicided to be fatties and eat pizza. Hooray for the fatties. :)

Adriennemylove barely escaped a visitation from me today.

My cousin tried to explain Eragon to me, but neither mother, Auntie, nor I could get past the "Erkles" without peeing our pants laughing. Or eating chocolate-covered espresso beans, my new fetish.

If there's one thing I hate, it's gift-wrapping. Christmas is gonna nip me in the ass. Long live gift bags!

And for the record, I'm a rock star tomorrow. 7:00 at the Capp. Oops. Maybe I didn't want you all to know that.

And the house smells of chex mix. And, perhaps, intrigue?


Sunday, December 17, 2006

Sunday, Bloody Sunday.

Nothing to report. Except a couple parties, concerts, pow-wows, excessive fatigue, and the freezing-over of phalanges. They're the only frozen things in Michigan right now.

And I'm getting a little tired of snappy-casual holiday garb.

I still need to go Christmas shopping. Eh, I have what? 8 days?

Bring it on, Christmas, bring it frickin on.


Sunday, December 10, 2006

Bored in Bethlehem... or something.

Been busy. Mostly with Christmas stuff... and it only stresses me further to realize that it's not over.

So for lack of anything better to post (because my brain feels like deep fried oatmeal) I'll just post some poetry slammin' poetry that I was forced to write for Mr Barnes's class.


As I wandered through the garden
I collected a rose or two
And as I pressed on further
My bouquet of roses grew.

The garden never seemed to end
I had known it since I was born
I had danced through all the beauty
I had fought through all the thorns.

One day I was walking alone
The sun was shining through
The garden brought a stranger
And the stranger said “I love you.”

With my young soul ignited
And discretion that I lack
I gave away my roses
And I never got them back.

Now I wander through the garden
With no roses of my own
I’d never give them all away
If I had only known.

Freedom Ring

Once upon my wedding day, anxiety filled my heart
I heard a voice behind me and I jumped up with a start.
It was the priest, I dare to say, and he wanted a few words.
And what he said to me that day was the best I’ve ever heard.
He said: “You look troubled, what is holding you back today?”
I said: “I don’t know where I’m going, but I think it’s the wrong way.”
His normally gentle eyes faded darker into black,
I had a heavy soul and I wished he would come back.
I waited for his return before I said what was burdening me.
I said: “I want a place where I can be safe, sound and free.”
He paused for just a moment then whispered in my ear
He said: “If there exists a freedom, you’ll not be finding it here.”

A Wish for Allison

When your world suddenly turns upside down,
When all your smiles turn to frowns,
When your dreams seem much to hard to grasp,
When you’re enslaved by a tight-fisted past,
When drops of saltwater blur your vision
When you have to make a tough decision,
Think of this, an honest plea
A wish for you, for you from me.
Press on further through your pain,
Sometimes go against the grain.
Search for love, it can be found,
And it will sweep you off the ground.
Place your trust in loyal friends,
Go on when the path takes a sharp bend.
Focus on what’s yet to be,
Open doors when you earn the key.
Reach for what you most desire,
Pursue what sets your heart on fire.
Look for beauty, face your fears,
Don’t be afraid to cry your tears.
Dig the earth and touch the stars,
Wait for time to heal your scars
Turn the cold into the warm,
Be a light house through the storm.
Always faithful, always true,
This is what I wish for you.

Night Song

It comes in darkness, under the blanket of a swirling black tapestry
Of stars and velvet sky
It never speaks a word; instead it serenades you as you drift away
Into delirium
It pushes, pulls you out of, into, away from, towards the deepest
Part of your very core
You will fall out of the highest window, soar over the highest mountain
Still eclipsed in its grasp
A night song so pure, so sound, so magical, your imagination will
Take a journey through time
And when it is through you are left as a shell of a man yearning for more
But you would sooner die
Before learning of what force this mystical being belongs to, or where
You will see it again.
For it is so dark, so silent, so secret, so good, so beautiful, that
It’s indescribable.

Seven Candles

I had a row of candles
Each candle had a name
They’ve since been blown out,
I only have myself to blame.

The seven candles sat upon
An altar in my mind
I should’ve put them somewhere else
That nobody could find.

The first three of the seven
Told what I held dear
Joy, Peace, and Laughter
Were represented there.

The last three of the row
Were things that brought me light.
Friendship, Mercy, Happiness
Were illuminating the night.

But by and by, time races on
And with it comes confusion
Of watching your life pass you by
Being haunted by its illusion.

I became blind to all things wrong
All was as it should be
Until the day I found my candles
Dark inside of me.

They went one at a time
As I never thought they’d do
But every time one of them went
Part of me died too.

I was lying on my altar
Gazing at wicks turned black
When I realized there was one candle
On which I turned my back.

In the middle sat Love
It had the brightest glow,
I remember when, and sigh because
Love was the first to go.


Saturday, December 02, 2006

That Don't Impress Me Much.

Yesterday everybody had their fingers crossed for a snow day. Since everybody expected one, naturally, I figured there wouldn't be one. I figured God would roll up his sleeves and knock us all off of our asses. I figured he'd make it 70 degrees and sunny.

Turns out, we were both right. Partially.

I heard rain on the roof and figured any snow that had fallen was washed away. I was right. Then, I heard mom come in to turn off my alarm.

Snow day.

With not an inch of snow on the ground.

It just doesn't get any more bizarre.