English
We've been given an assignment to read and write. There are few limits, such as reading at least 600 pages for a B, and turning in 3 finished samples of writing, one being in edited and proofread condition. I've just been writing randomly, and since I don't feel like posting other things, I'll just start posting what I write each day for English. I've written quite a bit so far, so heed my warning:

DO NOT READ ALL OF THIS UNLESS YOU TRULY WANT TO. IT'S GOING TO BE LONG.

note: I am not including all of my poetry, for a lot of it is embrassing in quality.

**written Sunday, January 11th**

Dreamland sweetly calls
In this bliss my mind¡¦s at rest
Here my heart is free

*unfinished*
Love is...? When asked this question today in a youth group ¡§fill in the blank¡¨ discussion this evening, I smiled immediately at the response I got from my peers. At church, I¡¦m known as ¡§the boy crazy blonde¡¨. Of course, when asked to compile a list of good qualities about each other, I receive comments such as ¡¥good singer¡¦, ¡¥talented¡¦, and ¡¥includes everyone¡¦, but apparently, underneath it all, I have a one track mind¡Xboys. To them, this is my cup of tea. But is it? What really can a fourteen year old freshman know about love? So far, I know about falling in love (or whatever a teenager can really feel) and how powerful it is. I know of waiting an entire summer to see the guy you¡¦d obsessed over during winter, and realizing that, although he still flirted with you, was interested in other people. I know about making a big deal over nothing, and how embarrassing it was to find out. I know about daring to break rules to be with someone, and learn, very harshly, that the rules were for your protection. I know about being taken advantage of, and struggling to live with yourself after the fact. I know about meeting someone for the first time, starting out as friends, and friendship unfolding to more. From what little of a relationship I¡¦ve actually experienced, I can deduct that love is...well, a lot of things. Love is powerful. It can overcome you with desire and take over your life. Love is frustrating. Relationships take work, and sometimes they don¡¦t go as quickly or as perfectly as planned. Love is exciting. It is a rush to get a phone call from the person who¡¦s been consuming your mind all day. It¡¦s exhilarating to wait to be asked to a dance, when you already know it¡¦s going to happen eventually. Love is imperfect. Problems arise even with the deepest of feelings. Besides, if love were perfect, why are so many adults getting divorced? Imperfection is inevitable, for we are only human. I simply cannot believe that ¡§Love is not bashful nor boastful.¡¨ If you really care what someone thinks of you, there is no way to avoid being bashful. I find myself rethinking what I type when I chat on Instant Messenger with my boyfriend. I feel the need to increase my every day vocabulary, and say something witty to impress him, or at least even our intelligence a little. I regret what I say all the time! Love is not boastful. What a load of crap! Love is almost always boastful. There¡¦s some unwritten rule in our teenage society that says that being in a relationship is cool and something to be proud of. We sponsor dances that require a date to attend! I was even told by my freshman adviser that ¡§you can go, but it¡¦s just really no fun without a date.¡¨ Well there¡¦s something right there to boast about! I remember homecoming week, and everyone worrying about who to ask, or who was possibly someone to be asked. A few days would pass, and another offer would be made. Only four of my closest friends were asked, but every proposition was given a full analysis and repeated in great detail over and over until there was nothing left to be said. The ones who weren¡¦t asked were never fussed over like this. No lunch time was devoted to them. And, when Homecoming week came, and we were all making plans for where to eat dinner with our dates, and exactly how we should do our hair for the dance, they couldn¡¦t fully engage in the conversation. I¡¦ve only been exposed to one such dance, but I¡¦ve was fortunate enough to receive exactly what I had hoped for: a date with Jeff to the dance. It¡¦s a pretty amusing story how it all came to be. A lot of it was pure persuasion on my part. I don¡¦t have any regrets. And I brag about him being my boyfriend all the time. I feel almost accomplished in some way because I am the only one of my friends to have maintained a relationship with my Homecoming date. The others were never serious crushes to begin with, or broke up soon after the dance. Well anyway, back to the point. Love is boastful, as anything desirable can be something to boast about. Love is patient and kind. Hah. Not for me. I am completely impatient when it comes to romance. I want it right away, and get very worked up if I am forced to wait. I spent an entire weekend being frustrated, (and quite proud) of the fact that Jeff ¡§had something to ask me¡¨ but couldn¡¦t because he was at Main Street Camp. It took him six days to get the courage and time to ask me to Homecoming. Those were six of the longest, but hopeful, days of my life. Love, for the most part, I think, is kind. When things are going well in a relationship, there is nothing to be unhappy about. There is a dark side of love though, which can only be seen when it ends or is torn apart by anger or conflict. So, although love can produce the happiest times in life, it also has the power to cause great grief.

**written Monday, January 12th**

1/12/03
I woke up this morning feeling unusually perky and optimistic. I generally face gray thoughts such as ¡§What is the point of waking up today? Will I do anything particularly fun and exciting? It would be so much nicer to stay in this nice, warm, soft, bed...,¡¨ but today, I woke up incredible energy and the subconscious feeling that it was going to be a good day. The disappointment with the reality that I do, eventually, have to get out of the shower, was slightly relieved, and my usual, sluggish behavior was replaced with an optimistic, spirited nature. I made jovial chit chat near the lockers with three of my closest friends, and gossiped about horseback riding lessons, dance rehearsals, and seeing ex-teachers out on dates at the movie theatre the past weekend. I walked to first period with amusing, cheery thoughts in my mind. First period was spent reviewing the components of a short story, (making me even more reluctant to try the writing form) and working silently, personally choosing to read my book, Little Women. I dissolved into the story of a day of camping with Laurie, the March girls¡¦ amiable neighbor. In recent times, reading has been a way to escape the uncertainties and worries of life, but today it just seemed like a positive, constructive use of my time. I was further tickled by the fact that the clock stopped, and pondered silently about what it would be like if time itself was actually suspended. What a thought... Soon first period was over, and I made my way to the locker room for P.E. Today¡¦s locker room chatter was very important, for one of my friends had gone out with her new boyfriend for the first time. Something had been keeping them from this for over a month, so because the date finally happened, it was big news. There were also auditions for Once Upon A Mattress at PYT last weekend, so we discussed how auditions went and when callbacks were. Although I was a trifle disappointed that I didn¡¦t audition, I cheered myself up with the thought of auditions for Concert Choir, which are to be tomorrow at brunch, along with two of my friends who are in Girls¡¦ Ensemble with me. For some reason, I finally got the hang of Badminton, and had a lot more fun than I usually do. (This is probably because I ended up hitting the birdie more than missing it!) Brunch was spent mingling with friends near the lockers, and passing my boyfriend (a rare occurrence) between Brunch and Third period. I spaced out during Geometry, but was comforted with the fact that my friend had already done the homework, and it was purely algebraic, with no proofs. That¡¦s always nice. ƒº Fourth period was spent doing one of my favorite things in singing¡Xinterval recognition. We learned minor intervals today, and started to learn descending intervals when the bell rang. I finally mustered up the courage to ask Mr. Shaull about when to audition for Concert Choir, and made an appointment to see him at brunch tomorrow. I¡¦m so excited!! Definitely nervous, though. It¡¦s reassuring to remind myself that you can¡¦t get in unless you audition, though, so no harm done trying. I bought lunch at the pizza stand after bailing on Interact Club (my philosophy: we never do anything, so we¡¦re not really helping people, so why go?) and sat down with my friends to feel guilty about eating junk food and wishing I¡¦d waited in line in the cafeteria to get a sandwich. Lunch was relaxing, and ends too son, as it always does, for Biology is my fifth period class. I somehow managed a 98% in biology first semester without understanding anything my teacher said. It doesn¡¦t seem like second semester is going to be any different, though the homework was relatively comprehendible this evening. I actually remembered reading about some of the information in Ms. Williams¡¦ lecture, so that was promising. The period seemed short, just my luck, I guess, and I walked with Marcella and Louise to French. I surprised myself by participating today, and was very happy to learn that our quiz tomorrow only has three parts, all of which are easy to study for and simple concepts. I always feel happy just entering World Studies, just because I know that it is my last class of the day. We learned about the effects of the Scientific Revolution and began over viewing the Enlightenment. We were interrupted by Mr. Spitteri, head of the History department, informing Mr. Freeman of another teacher¡¦s release due to the fact that he had questionable credentials, and again by Mrs. Dawson, who promised to be a mere twenty seconds but kept us without a teacher for over five minutes. We hadn¡¦t finished what we needed to when the bell rang, and I felt a little annoyed when I left the portable. This feeling was increased when I encountered a few of my marching band friends, one of which with a flag, as I rounded the corner by the small gym. It turned out that two of them had joined Winter Guard, and were having a lot of fun doing it. I, too, had thought of joining Winter Guard, a group of color guard members who compete in competitions similar to marching band ones, minus the band, but missed the first meeting and gave up after that. This got me thinking about the fact that I have too much free time on my hands, and I started feeling guilty about wasting time and being idle instead of engaging myself in activities to better myself. I don¡¦t deal with boredom well at all. I start to feel guilty that there is something better to do with my life, and that I am wasting time. Only when I have been constantly busy and overworked do I let myself relax without my nasty subconscious nagging me to do better things. My mom also added to my unhappiness with an interrogation as to why I didn¡¦t join Winter Guard in the first place, and how I should try to figure out how to join late if I was still interested. ¡§You just seem so much happier when you¡¦re doing things like that,¡¨ she pointed out, and I had to agree. My mood had stayed around a 9-level all day, and suddenly plummeted to a mere 2 during my car ride home. My afternoon began unsatisfactorily as I tried to write, but was distracted by Judge Judy¡¦s accusations on the television right next to me. My mom went to law school, and is really into all of the judge shows. I tried to relieve myself by practicing clarinet in my room, and soon regained my composure and focus after my mom and her boyfriend left to do some shopping for dinner. I got all of my homework done, with short breaks to chat online and eat dinner, in a relatively short time, and was very glad to have time to write. I think I¡¦ll read a bit before going to bed, and try not to worry about Concert Choir auditions and my French and Math quizzes tomorrow.

**written Today**

Why do I love to sing? I know it¡¦s not just to get into Main Street, and there¡¦s got to be more to it than ¡¥I love it.¡¨ I guess it¡¦s just another way to make music, which is one of the most beautiful things in life. I think the heart of my grief will be lifted once I figure out exactly why I enjoy singing so much, and realize that it¡¦s not to get into more advanced groups. I think about it, though, and I just know that the more I sing, the happier I¡¦ll be. I want nothing more than to be with people, away from home for a weekend, and be required to do nothing but sing with all the joy, dedication, determination, and all out gusto that my heart feels. Why is something so joyous and beautiful so frustrating? Practice makes perfect, but I just feel like it won¡¦t work for my voice. My last voice teacher even admitted it: in technique I¡¦d improved a lot, but the quality of sound in my voice had hardly changed in almost a year. I always revert to the possibility that I have an unfair disadvantage because my voice breaks from chest to head in a weird place, and that maybe I have some defect because I was born eleven weeks premature. Somehow that gives me comfort, just leaving my unaccomplished voice to the blame of forces beyond my own. It just seems like...since I started caring how I sounded, some of the joy was lost. And I can¡¦t just stop caring. My goal since the first time I heard them was to be a member of Main Street. I realize that goals need to be altered in order to be reachable, but this one can¡¦t be compromised. Above all, I want to be happy, but it just doesn¡¦t seem possible without having had the experience of Main Street. I guess it¡¦s selfish and I should focus on other things, but my brain¡¦s just been wired this way for so long. I can¡¦t think of anything I want more. I want to be accomplished and proud. Although good grades and honors classes would help me achieve this, I need the music so much more. Without a band class to fulfill my daily requirement (it¡¦s almost like nutrition!) singing is all that is left. There¡¦s nothing else, besides listening to music and practicing clarinet on my own. It doesn¡¦t seem fair. There just isn¡¦t enough there to keep me satisfied. I often wish I hadn¡¦t quit dance. I guess I just need to be able to express myself in another way. Often, music is a way to escape myself as well. Oh well, I¡¦m rambling. There isn¡¦t much point in continuing. I need to figure a few things out for myself before anything will make sense to me.

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