Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Peeling Summer Skin

I am home from Charlevoix for the remainder of the year and I have indeed been toasted. These tan lines should last at least a few weeks, if not more. School begins in T-minus seven days, and my stress level has raised to 8 as I scramble to "finish" AP English assignments and "search" for colleges that I will later "apply" to. Also, I should probably pick a day and time to have a "sectional" weekly, then figure out when I have to stay after school to "work" on the "next play", and maybe get a "job" so I can pay for certain "necessities" that normal kids my age are just "given".

Enough quotations? Oh, hell no.

All in all, though, this is all coming from my bitterness. However, I intend to find joy this year. Might try new things. Already have a plan for Music Composition. Already love my AP Calc teacher. Already enjoy the company of my AP English teacher. Already look forward to theatre with Bragle. Already planning to whiz through Astronomy. Already planning to be bored in Spanish II. Already. I, quite honestly, am even looking forward to the two zero hour classes I have lined up. 7AM, here I come. Bring it on.

I do hope that I can cram everything into my schedule without cramming my sanity onto the back burner. Speaking of sanity, Sump the Crab died today. Not sure how that's related, but somehow I'm sure it is. Well, at least we still have the nice one, Pump. Amy and I plan on venturing to Meijer to perhaps purchase another playmate for Pump. Hmm...what rhymes with Pump? Lump, Bump, Stump, Hump, Gump, Mump, Rump...we'll see.

Oh, goodness. Oh, how the little things pile into mountains. Oh, how little it all matters in the long run. Oh, what a waste of time.

I can waste my time doing whatever I please, thankyouverymuch. Already have (mostly) the Intro and the first movement (Athenry) in my newest piece as a tribute to Ireland. Just the piano part, but maybe I will be able to arrange it for the whole band and you all can play it with me. You can bet on it being incredibly easy because it would be for embellishing the piano, but if I write it for you, I have you in mind, and I want you to enjoy it. So thank you, my band family, I really do love you.


Delicious.

Monday, August 20, 2007

BS For AP

Oh...Becca, Becca, Becca. You really do catch me off guard. It's amazing to me how you can stoop to such a level of stupidity and still keep your reputation semi-reasonable. Amazing.

This is just me laughing at myself. Attempting to live without a single care or worry has certainly been careful and worrysome. I'll bet you anything I'm just bored.

Haven't been a good girl. Only because I am born, raised, and branded guilty.

So part of me just wants to say "screw it" and party. I could use a big dance party with colors and strobe lights and sweaty, crazy dancing people in black leather. I could use a rock-out session.

The other part of me wants to go back to where I know I am worthwhile. I was used in the best possible way. I was free. I was feeling the shaking earthquake of revival. I was having the time of my life.

Stepping back home, I am a teenaged girl. Flat broke, crazy busy or else crazy lazy, broken world-view. Always finding something to do, never doing anything meaningful. Not exactly frugal, not exactly wasteful. Not exactly useful, not exactly useless. Living in the land of Not Exactly is boring.

Not the same, yet somehow the same, old, mundane, ho-hum, whatever. Ecclesiastes life. Learning to change it is learning how to live. I don't live when I'm like this, running on two hours' sleep nonetheless, I don't live. I want two things in this life: to be left alone, and to live.

So I'm fixing the latter. Some may say that living is jumping at every whim. I've been doing that, and I don't feel any more alive. I was most alive when I was most in danger. I was most alive when I was afraid for rational reasons. I was most alive when I was completely sold out and abandoned for...good.

Hard to make ends meet, but I am determined to live. After all, in the words of Ani DiFranco, 'self-preservation is a full-time occupation'.

Delicious.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Ayudeme.

I keep telling myself not to complain. That I live in America and here in America we have a little thing called unexplainable wealth. That America is the land of the free and the home of the brave. That America is a place worth living in.

But I can't believe any of those things anymore. Jenny G made it impossible to believe that we've got unexplainable wealth. Case in point: Single State Recession. I don't feel free here, and I certainly don't feel brave. It's not worth living here if there is no justice, no freedom, no bravery, no glory, no nothing.

Dear President Bush: I am disappointed. You have disappointed me. You have confused me. I am sorry.

Dear Jenny G: I am angry. You have angered me. You have betrayed me. I am not sorry.

I have to wonder, though, how much of this is the fault of these two lovely politicians. So much here is swept under the rug and hidden. So many lies are told to us. I just can't believe anything that anybody in power says anymore.



One would think that people would get their facts straight before jumping down tax payers' throats and making accusations. One would think.

I look at myself and I have so much, but what I do not have is trust. I am too young to be losing trust in the government, but it's gone. I haven't even grown old enough to vote yet. I still intend to vote, keeping the faintest glimmer of hope that somebody can restore some fairness here. After being in Ireland and seeing the way other people look at us, I am really rather ashamed to be from America. Puts a damper on 'proud to be an American', doesn't it?


"Powerful without equal, rich beyond compare, a spoiled, drunk 15-year-old waving a gun in their face."

That's how they see us. Actually, they see us as a bit more lazy then that. I wonder who lets this happen.

It's probably just a slow, dismal evolution of downward spiraling. I'm so very unexplainably angry. The things that the government has done to my family. The things that they have done to us. Who is in charge here? Do they even know? I can't even explain it. Those awful, awful people. Life was never fair, but I never thought it would feel like this.


To think our forefathers died for this.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Rectified

Band camp wasn't bad. It rained a lot (which I rather enjoyed), I didn't eat the food, the freshman class is really good, and we actually went out one night.

So my year of dreading has been rather futile.

But I am done with that camp for the rest of my life, unless they try to make me come back to MC the freshman introduction campfire like I've done for the past two years. There were a lot of good memories, and they outweighed the bad this year.

For example:
  • Travis and Hannah planned to dump a cooler of water on Ms. K and they got me too because Dupuis and I were in charge of distracting her.
  • I was voted the Hotter than all the Senior Guys and Sexiest Member of the Band by the freshmen
  • Hannah and I painted beards on ourselves with green paint
  • My entire cabin painted pictures on themselves
  • NATIONAL UNDERWEAR DAY
  • Seth wore my bikini top with nothing under it at the dance...wow. That will never get old.
  • "You have like a whole album full of me being gay!"-Seth
  • Me and DS moshing
  • Dancing in the rain
  • Brushing my teeth in the rain
  • Showering in the rain?

Even though we sent Lisa to the ER and Kelsey got sun poisoning on her legs (not to mention a few sickies, and my heat rash), everybody was okay. Lisa wanted to stay and finish out her senior year at camp so she didn't go home after ER trip for her bacterial pink eye. Kelsey just wore jeans the rest of the week and was fine.

I do hate that camp, but I love them all, and they love me too. So much that I'm looking forward to a week to myself so I don't have freshmen girls hiding in bushes waiting for me to walk by so they can ambush me with hugs. No joke. Oh...they are adorable.

Time for little girls to get some rest.

Delicious.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

The Prom King and The Tuba Player

Off I go. Off again to band camp. Off again for the last time. Surprisingly, out of my jet-lag, I'm not exactly dreading it so much anymore. No. I have so many shennanigans planned that I actually am almost looking forward to it.

I wonder, however, if it is so bad to make suggestions. I wonder if it is so frowned-upon to be discontent. I wonder if it was jumping to conclusions. I wonder if I have become that person.

If I am permitted to answer my own questions with my own opinion, I will.

To the first question: Absolutely not.
To the second question: Perhaps.
To the third: Most likely.
To the fourth: I shall have to prove that I am not.

Once again, I, too, am turning mole-hills into mountains. I still have more questions, though. What makes everything here such a big deal? A giant clandestine deal? I'll give you a hint. It starts with an 'A' and ends with a 'tude'. Something I have plenty of, especially after flight exhaustion. I'm going to have to start biting holes in my tongue, that's it. It's so decietful, because since when has Becca Robinson ever brought anything to ruin?

All I'd like to do is have a stress-free, fun time with friends. When I've got frustrations up the wazoo, yes, it is hard to sit still.

Even so, I'm thankful, as I always have been. I do miss Ireland immensely, and I wish I were there. I'd trade a small-town life with crazy marching band camps and boredom for demon-posessed people and street theatre any day. Adventure is what I'm looking for, and coming from one, nothing tops it.

So band camp won't be an adventure, but I don't believe that it will completely suck. Maybe just a little, but now we've actually got plans for actual food and actual time for actual "fun" things and actually...I'm not uber-dreading.





So that's the way it's going to be, O my brothers.


Delicious.