Just got home from snow boarding at Kirkwood for a long weekend.  It was fun... I finally got down the blasted bunny hill without falling. :)

Now, not feeling so hot.  Physically, that is.  

Lots and lots of work to do this week...I'm hoping to get a head start going into the rest of the year.
One more semester (and a summer, thank God) before college apps.  I feel like my friends are
miles ahead of me in terms of "nailing down" a perfect looking resume, if you will.  SAT scores 
came out, and grades did too.  I'm proud of my report card and I know I'll have to improve on the
SATs, but you know what bothers me?  Hearing that my B in chemistry last semester was "Don't
even worry about it" from kids who'd be killing themselves if they got the same.  Like what I can
achieve is "substandard".  Psh.  I used to have a pretty high view of myself until high school, I think.
Where if you're not taking 4 AP classes you're, "Fine don't worry about it".  I'm ashamed to take
Physics regular next year, but I know it's going to be the best option for me.  Isn't that sick? AP Stats
AP English, Honors Language, Honors music, DM... regular science.  Tsk tsk, Mara Couch.  Where did
you go wrong?  

I'm sorry, fuck that.  I wish school was more supportive, you know?  That our dreams could be
a little more viable.  That anything below Ivy League wasn't.... "Fine, don't worry about it".  That
wanting to go to West Valley and get a degree in painting water colors with your teeth was great.
I wish I could take every person who looks at ME funny about grades and wipe their brains clean of the
victory they think they're holding over me.  I only say that because it's kind of what I do.  Oh, at least
I'm better off than ____.  I'm no better or worse than ____.  I am Mara... and I wish that was enough
to make me happy.  I'm not sleeping very well because I'm always thinking.  I went to bed at 10 last
night and was rolling around 40 minutes later, head spinning with crap. 

My mom wants to know what's realistic in terms of college.  Honestly, I don't know.  I was too 
optimistic years ago, and now I think I'm too pessimistic about things.  "It's all a great game of chance".  
Fuck chance.  I kind of wish they'd just tell me:

Harvard: No
UCLA:  Probably

I lied.  I think the truth would probably kill that bit of optimist in me.

Ack.  Of all the things to worry about in the entire world, I'm wasting time about college.  I'll find one.
I'm definitely going somewhere, and if I work hard enough, I can reach my ultimate goal no matter
where I wind up.  SATs? APs? Common App?  Kiss my grits, College Board.  I'll be fine.  They make
millions off freaking the crap out of kids.  Buy our books to study!  Take our test to get into college!
People fucking kill themselves because they feel they've failed society's expectations of success.
What kind of measurement is that?  Every kid who gets a 2400 is going to be blissfully happy forever?
Heck no.  Every kid who goes to West Valley won't be as happy as an Ivy grad?  Heck no.  But isn't that
what you'd think?  I'm ready to pull my hair out.

 

It's interesting how you can learn more about someone through websites like these than you would by talking to them in real life.

I don't think that it's due to lack of trying so much as lack of time...?

Sure, we all say "Hi" and "How are you?" to one another in the hallways, but has anyone else noticed that people don't stop walking during those brief moments of conversation? Half the time, I wind up shouting "I'm fine, thanks!" because the other person is already ten feet behind me. What would happen if we stopped, just for a minute? One of two things, the first being less pleasant: awkwardness. What else do you say after "Hi"? What if you HAD to stop every time you spoke to someone in the hallway? A mandatory 5 minutes, let's suppose. Could you realistically fill 5 minutes with good, solid words? Without wanting to run away?

The other viable outcome would be something akin to "healing", I believe. Sometimes, five minutes is all you need to say, "Wow, chemistry actually went well today, but I'm really worried about the final exam". Sometimes, all you need is a, "That's great. Just do the best you can, and I'm sure you'll be fine".  I'm totally guilty of the "Hey!" and run.  So wrapped up in my own business that I begin to go blind, in a sense.  I must get to poetry. I must get to jazz band.  I must try to finish my calculus hw during english and talk to someone about something that MUST... blah.  Get the idea?  Each day is "demanding", or so it feels.  One false move and everything crumbles.  I'm sure that goes the same for a lot of people.  We all have so much riding on plates piled high with "MUSTs".  No one wants to leave a trail of crumbs saying "look at what I dropped". 

Personally, I need that outlet. Those people who stop to talk. Yes, I know passing isn't long enough to carry on a conversation. There are plenty of other opportunities though... lunch? No, I'm working.  Break? No, I'm working.  Now? After school? No, I'm making excuses because I want to run home and crawl into bed.

Want to know how I'm doing? (Other than "fine"?)

Tired. Busy. Poetry poetry poetry.
Still so much to do, but a lot is finished as well.
Finals... not super worried? Just chem, really.
And Bella.  Good Lord, Bella.
SAT IIs this month. Reasoning in March. 
I'm worried about those, most definitely.
Jazz I = work to do.
Winter Guard. Another MUST.
But I willingly chose those things... who am I to complain, right?
TGIF. Phewf.

I'm running out of steam now... it's kind of late, and tomorrow is a big study day.
Hopefully, a Pizookie too.    

Yes, one day at a time is totally working out well... but I can't help missing you in advance.


 

19 days of school left.
I didn't think I'd be wanting it to end quite this much, but that just goes to show how life's funny, eh?

R in R practices are a pile of crap. We spent an hour marching on and off stage, while ammusing ourselves with "would you rather". On top of that, Sutton says the poems we don't pass by this weekend are not going in the books... SHIT. That would mean I need to miraculously pass 5 poems, two of which are only on draft two. In the words of Dilara, "BAH!". >[

We watched Schindler's list today in WH.
1. I have never seen so much nudity in a movie. Ever.
2. I have never seen so many people get shot point blank in the face. Ever.
It's mind boggling to think that all of the events portrayed in the film were based on reality. People were rounded up, stripped of their dignity, forced to work and then gassed just because they believed something other people didn't. Wtf? I can't fathom how someone gets to the point where they think the aforementioned is "right"...

Autumns and Springs
Will come and go, coaxing the
Wounds left by Cupid's bow
Into a patchwork of scars.

Yeah. Eat that for brunch.

So it's almost summer... Bustin' out the Relient K.
Still reminds me of BOA and everything from a year ago.
Change, I tell you! Friend or foe?

My mother was oddly accepting when I talked to her tonight and I realize that hiding all the shit I hid from her could have been dealt with much more effectively if I hadn't been stupid. My momma's not out to judge me, not there to point out my faults. So why did I decide to fall silent to the one person I've been able to trust with most everything for my entire life? Why did I fall silent to my friends? What a silly thing to hide, and to think! I could have been straightened out.

Thank you, God, for the people who would have straightened me out.

It doesn't matter what Billy thinks, or Suzie says.
Every day cannot be the best day ever, so I'll settle for "normal".
Running > Screaming.
Current mood: Apathetic (yeah, that's right.)

Poems are looking better (so I think) and I'm liking #9.
I really hope we can pull through and get our books done; It makes me sad to see Sutton giving up. (or is she?) I hope I'm not pissing her off, but if I am, we could have a "form" session. You know? Run around the quad and across the stage yelling "FORM THIS!", "FORM YOU!" and most importantly, "SHUT THE FORM UP!".
That would be interesting to participate in. =]

5 WEEKS LEFT! 5 WEEKS LEFT!
Then we're aaaalll used up!
Then we'll alllll be gone.
Then we'll alllll be fine again.

Bye bye.

Ha.
Dreams come true.

So I have 2 weeks to perfect 6 poems.
AHHHHHRRRRRRRGGG. Ms. Sutton hates them all.
I like them, doesn't that count?

I'm getting tired of my mother making me clean.
She says thing like "let's" fold the clothes.
She means "you" fold the clothes.
/do the dishes
/mop the floor
etc, etc.

I feel like I'm a human cannon ball, lodged in the cannon, waiting to be shot out at full speed. Will I crash, or will I fly?

I'm still hurt. =/
But hey, I found the right pick.

So before I fell asleep last night, I made it a point to think about having a really good dream so that (maybe) I would actually have one.

Not so much.

My dreams last night consisted of:

1. Playing the lead in Ms. Sutton's Shakespearean play and not knowing any of my lines on opening night.

2. Learning that my Granddad, who in actuality passed away 3 years ago, was suffering from a disease that had reached its terminal phase. My family was seated around him in my grandma's living room and we realized we just had to wait for him to die. I was huddled face down in an armchair, screaming involuntarily.

3. Mending a relationship. (I woke up and was saddened that this specific part was in fact, a dream.)

4. Something about the ocean and a long car ride in my aunt's van. I was sitting in the back seat, waving at the people in the car next to us. Don't remember who they were, but I knew them in the dream.

That worked, didn't it?

Three hurdles down, one rather large one to go.

Life is much too short to be afraid of things.

For the first time in a while, I feel like
writing something, but what is there to say?

SWE/Jazz II results come out this week and
DM tryouts are in a little over one week.
Alligator Alley... what? What does it matter?
There's really no use worrying. Life goes on.

I'm shutting off my brain; I'm removing that
puzzle piece with your name on it, putting it
in my pocket and hoping I won't forget to take
it out before laundry day. I love you very much.

I hope it stops raining soon. Water is a magnet
that makes my whispies rise from hibernation. Each
blondish curl frames my face in a circle of askew.

It's practically April. Can you believe life has
gone by so quickly?

I found a red blade of fake grass in my hair today
during poetry. =] Amazing how something so small can
remind me of so much.

All right. Here goes nothing!

Life fluctuates from decent to varying shades of crappy.

My parents are supportive one minute and deal out ultimatum the next.
I lack drive in school. Sure, I do what I'm told, but each class seems
to be another 95 minutes of my life spent wasted, waiting for release.
In your eyes, I have faltered. I am less now than I was then.
I am unstoppable, yet I can't seem to do anything right.
I am disappointing. I am in repair.

Up at 6:30.
Out the door at 7:25.
Do your work.
Make the grade.
Be home again by 9 PM.

Get it done and you will be tolerated.
Alternate behavior will not be supported.

Blame it on the valley.
Blame it on the school.
Blame it on me.

Two more years of obedience until I'm gone,
Lost in a teenage stereotype.

Tech is oddly satisfying. Two parts standing around, one part hysterical laughter and eleven parts physical labor. I've learned how to hang stage lights, how to use a chop saw and screw gun, how to design and circuit stage lighting, how to balance weights from the loading gallery and how to use a backpack vacuum. The list goes on; freaking tiring, but good. If I'm feeling crappy, I can hammer the heck out of a set piece or load piles and piles of 4X4's onto the flat bed until I don't have the energy to feel crappy anymore. Tech is good for that; work yourself hard until the only thing you can feel is tired. I like it. =) That's why the activity is satisfying. Looking around the PAL, I can see what all my effort yields; Rapunzel's tower, the monster tree, the box booms, the cat walks. Everything is a physical reminder of, "Hey, I did this." =) Good Stuff. Nice people. Lots of fun.

I've recently been going through some mental filing cabinets, the contents of which cover life over this past year. I took a look at myself. Sounds cliche, but I really think I've grown quite a bit as a person. For example, I tried color guard and stuck with it. Band camp was hellish and I can remember thinking, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?!" I wanted to cry, to give up, to put the stupid stick away and cling to my saxophone... but I didn't. My parents used to tease me because when I was younger, if I couldn't do something well the first time, I wouldn't do it again. That was most certainly not the case with guard. I noobed it up for a good while until I started to grasp it later in the season. By no means was I perfect, but the friends I made, the skills I gained and the feeling of finals made the whole thing absolutely worth it. I didn't have a clue about what guard was like until I tried it, and let me just say for the record that it is probably one of the most challenging physical activities on campus. I think that's why I love it. It was by no means easy, but I did it. I guess that goes with most anything in life; you won't know what something is like until you try it. I wrote a poem that was butchered to death and I'm still standing. I squeaked during a solo, and am still alive. I've said the wrong thing, made the wrong choice, picked the wrong answer, had my mother scream in the front seat as I took the wrong turn, BUT BY GOD, I AM FINE. (!!)

I want to try a lot of things; I want to experience as much as I can from life, knowing full well that every day will not be "the best day ever". I want to see the sun set in the evening after days full of newness. Life isn't "how fast can I get through chem?"; life is most certainly a journey, over the course of which both good and crappy things will be experienced. I've had a swig or two of life's sourness and a pitcher full of lemons turned into lemonade. I've had glasses and glasses of happiness. Can't complain too much, can I?

The thing that worries me a little about life is that along the way, things can get lost. Love, hope, happiness. So abstract that I suppose at times, we can't really see them at all. I've loved in the past, hoped with both fingers crossed and have had moments of ridiculous joy. I love now, I hope now, I am happy NOW. What about tomorrow? Don't worry about tomorrow, kid. You'll be okay. Just remember when happiness gets lost, or hope takes a nap, or love needs time... life will go on and you will love and hope and be happy again, okay? Okay. The wait may be hard, but I'll get through smiling on the other side. =]

The light emitted from the world at 4:00 PM on Thursday, January 18th, was some of the nicest light I have ever seen.

Sometimes light is fluorescent, making you look shitty while trying on clothes at Charlotte Russe that don't seem to fit quite right. Sometimes light is blinding, rendering every single child on 2nd grade picture day bleary eyed and squinty. Sometimes light is dim, similar the glow of a lap top up past its bedtime. Sometimes light is grey, defeated in its attempt to penetrate fat rain clouds. Sometimes light is sleepy, like the kind that settles on your living room furniture around two. Sometimes, light is harsh. The glare off sheet music at pancake breakfast, the sun setting behind the bleachers on Thursday nights. Sometimes, light is joyful. The fist fulls of beams that shoot through the crack of your bedroom curtain and say, "Haven't woken up to me in a while, have you?".

No, I haven't. I usually wake up in darkness.

Sometimes, light is like Thursday afternoon. Soft, gentle light that spills into the valley from the tops of the hills. Light that diffuses from the air to your lungs, floating within your body with every glorious inhalation. Light that makes you feel a sense of correctness in the world. Light that reminds, "You are right where you're supposed to be." Light that somehow, reminds you why you're alive.

Thursday light and Thursday sound.
Thursday look and Thursday touch.
Thursday taste.
Thursday was good.
*Thursday is good.
I will bottle Thursday and dab a bit of it behind my ears on special occasions.
I will sprinkle its essence on my toast at breakfast and sleep wrapped around its soul at night.

Sigh. Moments of peace.

Questions questions questions.
I've heard them all before.
Who are you?
Mara.
What do you want to be?
A doctor.
What can you do?
Quite a bit, and many things.
What do you know?
Not nearly enough.
College?
Yes.
What do you want out of life?
Lots and lots of Thursdays.


This feels like a free write.

My hands are like a scrapbook.
Calloused from jungle gyms and pencils.
Rough from flags and two-by-fours,
Dish washing and tug-of-war.
Scarred from asphalt and paper cuts.
Crooked from 11 years of writing.
Freckled from days at the beach,
Blue from my veins.
Bent since the discovery of knuckle cracking.
Wrinkly from the bathtub,
Mom's shape and dad's pinkies on loan.
Calloused, rough, scarred, crooked.
Ugly adjectives, beautiful hands?
My hands. I like them.
They fit so nicely in yours.

=]