Music Is My Boyfriend

“I believe in music the way some people believe in fairytales.” –August Rush

The other day in class we were talking about The Healing Connection and someone mentioned how everyone needs an outlet and a lot of people mentioned horses and riding but mine’s a little different. On the surface mine doesn’t appear to be much: a bunch of black dots on a white page, a pair of beaten up white ear buds, but it’s enough to get me through the hardest days.

I started playing piano in first grade which is about the same time I got my very first CD (Spice Girls in case you were wondering) and I haven’t looked back since. I started playing violin in fourth grade and clarinet in fifth, which soon after switched to oboe.

I owe so much to music. It saved me in high school when my group of friends from middle school was moving in different directions. I looked towards band and orchestra and found a group of friends who finally understood that part of me and didn’t think I was weird for it. Then in college I moved 1500 miles away from home to somewhere completely strange and slightly terrifying. I was lost, confused, and rather homesick so I turned to the place I knew I could find solace: music. I would walk to my lesson or orchestra feeling like my world was falling down around me and walk out practically skipping with the biggest, goofiest grin on my face. With the realization that the best days were on those days I had a lesson or orchestra I started dragging myself to the practice rooms when I was feeling crummy and low and behold I’d leave feeling much better than when I had entered.

The best five weeks I can remember having in a long time were spent at music camp where I did nothing but play all day for a full five weeks. And that’s when I made the decision that I want to be a music performance major. The thought is terribly daunting but if it makes me so happy why not. My brother asked me why I wanted to be a music major the best answer I could come was, “It makes me feel alive.” Music will always be there for me when everything’s falling down. It doesn’t ask for much, just a little time out of my day to go practice, which makes it even better because I get out of it what I put in. I leave that practice room feeling so great because I was the one making that music and it feels like you can take on the world after doing that.

"You never quit on your music. No matter what happens. Cuz anytime something bad happens to you, that's the one place you can escape to and just let it go.” –August Rush

Music is my escape. And not just playing music. Just listening to music can be the greatest escape. There’s nothing like slipping on those headphones and finding the perfect song that sings back to you exactly how you’re feeling. It’s like having a friend saying, “I know exactly how you feel and I’m here with you even if everyone decides to walk out that door and leave you.” Some people have the horses, I have my music.

“You know what music is? God's little reminder that there's something else besides us in this universe, a harmonic connection between all living beings, everywhere, even the stars.” -August Rush

Feelings About a Boy

This is a story about a boy and my unfortunate growing obsession with him that isn’t helped along at all by my friends who only seem to urge it on. It’s unhealthy; I am aware, and so very creepy it’s not even funny. His name is Garrett; terribly adorable. His codename is Drummer Boy (DB for short) after the first time I set eyes on him at a jazz band concert where he, well, played drums obviously. He is arguably the most beautiful boy I have ever set eyes on. He’s tall and slender. He has dark, well kept hair and equally dark, piercing eyes. I could into more detail but I’d rather not let on just how crazy I am because I have never even talked to this boy and you’ll only be let in on just how creepy I am. Plus I don’t like to gush; I’m afraid it might ruin your shoes and they are quite nice today.

I’ve had my eye on this boy for a little under a year ever since that fateful night when I had to go to the jazz band concert to fulfill a requirement for my music class. He’s mostly just been a small blip on my radar; something nice to feast my eyes on from time to time. He’s beautiful so he’s obviously not in my league and I’m not at a place in my life where I even want a relationship (or at least that’s always my excuse.) He’s just a nice break from all the girls and socially awkward or gay boys on the campus.

So then the other night we convinced my roommate to go to dinner with us (a rare occurrence as she usually eats in the room.) This gave the rest of my suitemates and myself the chance to show her the attractive boys (including this particular one) who usually the sit at the table perpendicular to the one we usually sit at. She gave us her stamp of approval and mentioned that DB had a rather nice patootskie (her word, not mine.) This also meant that the rest of the night she kept tabs on him (mostly for my purpose) and noticed that every time I stood up to do something (get cereal, a spoon, throw something away, etc…) he would supposedly lean forward in his seat and follow my movements. Now this only came as a slight surprise to me because a couple days before I had been walking back form class as he was walking to class and it appeared that he was staring me down as we passed on the sidewalk.

However, due to reasons that will be discussed in a moment, I didn’t take this very seriously assuming that he was probably looking at something over my shoulder and not at me because the likelihood of his actually looking at me is slim to none. We come from completely different social circles and I don’t see him being interested in a nerdy, awkward girl such as myself. So when Sam told me this, a flood of contradictory emotions washed over me: excitement, fear, disbelief, nervousness, doubt.

Why do I doubt all of this? Well in 7^th grade something similar happened. I had to walk from one part of the building through the long “glass hallway” everyday and while walking down this hallway I always passed the same boy and I could swear that he would watch me. I was so convinced that I told all my friends (who humored me and agreed that he was most definitely watching me in the hall) and of course developed a huge crush on him. He consequently was also a drummer. I started seeing him everywhere. He was in band and the 7^th and 8^th grade bands had to collaborate for the spring concert that year because their sizes had diminished so much. I was absolutely thrilled; I had delusions that after hearing my beautiful oboe playing he would finally admit his love for me. Because of course he was in love with me. Why else would he stare at me every single day in the hall?!

The band concert came and went and nothing came of it. I wrote a letter to him professing all the pent up pubescent feelings I had for him and asked him when he would get the balls to talk to me (although I’m sure at 13 I didn’t use the term “balls” in my letter.) I then proceeded to tear it up and throw it away. I even CAST LOVE SPELLS FOR THIS BOY!! I was THAT strung up on him with my preteen over-active hormones. It was truly terrible in hindsight. I had acquired his AIM screen name at some point and spent hours gazing at his profile. My male friend had also acquired his screen name and used it to blackmail me into doing things for him which kept me terrified and yet slightly thrilled, daring him to do it. He never did tell him and a part of me knew he wouldn’t.

Finally one night I was staying over at my friend’s house and we were on her computer talking to people on AIM. She also had his screen name seeing as they were in the same youth group together (she would feed my obsession with keeping me up to date on the goings on at her youth group and sometimes even taking me along.) We discussed it and I agreed she could IM him and ask about me. She did and his response was “Who?” My heart sank. She told him who I was and I think she may have had told him about my crush on him, I honestly don’t know for sure because I was too focused on trying not to be sick. I do however remember his one word response: “Gross.” I was absolutely crushed. I hit rock bottom. I couldn’t even cry. I sat at her kitchen table and just stared at nothing feeling that my life was over because that’s what you feel when you’re 13 and the boy you have a huge crush on says you’re gross. YOU DON’T CALL A 13 YEAR OLD GIRL SHE IS GROSS!! I was already self-conscious and worried about my appearance and my personality and this only proved the fact that I was ugly and pimply and…well…gross. Nobody would love me, ever. I was devastated. My friend told me not to worry about it; he clearly was an asshole and didn’t deserve me, etc… She then made me super chocolaty milk and put a curly straw in it. We spent the rest of the night watching Titanic and of course I cried harder when Jack drowns than I had ever cried before (or at least that’s what it felt like because at 13 everything is melodramatic.)

And thus why I can believe that any boy has actually liked me, especially that this one now. Maybe that’s a bold statement to say “any boy” but whenever I find out a boy likes me I have the hardest time believing it. Yes, I have confidence issues and maybe it’s not fare to pin it all on that one boy so many years ago but I feel it damaged some part of me and I still doubt that DB was looking at me that night.

The terrible thing is that with her telling me this it’s given me a glimmer of hope and now I can’t stop thinking about it and I’m quickly escalating to my 13 years old self again. I’m terrified that I’m going to be kicked over a cliff again though and if it turns out she was right I fear I’ll never be able to trust anything he tells me which is pretty common with most boys who attempt to have a romantic relationship with me. I fear they’re only saying the things they say to get in my pants and that deep down they see me as that gross, insecure, 13 year old girl drinking chocolate milk through a twisty straw and sobbing to Titanic.

So...I'm screwed up.

MEAC

I’ve had some time to let the whole experience sink in and I’m still rendered mostly speechless. I feel that the MEAC experience is one only others who have had the experience can relate to. It’s difficult to explain and I’m left, not for the first or last time, with the wish that I could just touch the page and have everything be crystal clear as to what I felt and what it means (and truth be told it would help me sort out the tumbling of thoughts and emotion.) Here goes nothing.

I new it would be an emotionally intense evening from the moment I stepped into my professor’s car which smelt overwhelmingly of my grandpa’s van back when my grandma was still alive. So basically it smelt like cigarette smoke confined to a van but it brought back so many emotions and so many memories it was hard to keep the conversation going with my professor and his daughter as they tried to make the whole situation a little less awkward as we all sped toward the unknown.

When we got to the school for the blind we were led up onto a stage overlooking the performance and the kids (or rather young adults.) I didn’t really like this placing at first because I felt almost like it was sort of symbolic, placing us above everyone, giving us some sort of power that I wasn’t comfortable having. However after it started and the lights were turned down I was glad to be on that stage so I could take in the whole scene below me instead of just a partial view which is surely what I would have gotten if seated on the floor.

I don’t think I was as shocked as others at the level of the disabilities present. In fourth or fifth grade my class was paired with first or second grade class to be their big buddies and I, along with another girl in my class, was matched with a young boy named David who had Downs Syndrome. He was a great kid and I loved being his big buddy but we often had to go to the room where the disabled kids met to retrieve him and there we saw many kids with pretty severe disabilities. They’ve always scared me and fascinated me at the same time and I’ve spent many an hour wondering what it must be like for them.

The story presented was of an orphan girl who buys a pair of red shoes intended for the “untouchables” (the disabled surrounding the performance space, lounging on mats and beanbags, some still in their chairs.) The shoes end up being cursed and the wearer can’t stop dancing and can’t get anyone to help her until she finally learns her lesson.

It didn’t take me long to realize that the performance was more about the audience than it was the actual performance. It was about engaging the children with disabilities and getting them to interact. I mean, I knew that that was the intent of MEAC but it was a whole different thing actually being there and seeing it happen and watching these kids respond to Joanne. And being the musically inclined person I am I couldn’t help but notice how they were responding to the music as well. They would start bobbing in time with it and I could just see the glee on their faces. Of course one of the best parts of the whole night was at the end when she got those that could up and dancing. I don’t even know how to explain. It was magical, it was awe-inspiring, it was beautiful, it was incredible, and I have to admit that completely overwhelmed with the whole experience I started crying at that moment. And then MEAC kids from the past started trouping in with presents and hugs, as it was the anniversary of her starting MEAC. I am so lucky to have been able to be there that night.

Of course that wasn’t the only great part. Watching these kids react when Joanne or any of her helpers came around and stroked them and talk to them or sprinkled glitter on them was incredible. They seemed to open up to her and give back just as much as she was giving to them. They reached out to her as she reached towards them. It was beautiful. Another highlight was when, downcast and hopeless, Joanne went up to a boy and sadly said something along the lines of “help me” and he instinctively opened his arms for an embrace. Truly touching.

I wish I knew these kids better both in that I got to participate in MEAC for CBL and even outside of MEAC to see how fully it touches them. Unfortunately MEAC conflicts with my class schedule so I don’t have that opportunity, but I know this is an experience I won’t forget. It’ll stay with me and hopefully I’ll get another opportunity to attend and maybe help out.

I'm Just So Lonely

I want the boy who holds open the door even though it automatically holds itself open for me.

I want the boy whose eyes, black as coal, bore into me when I glance up from the omelet line.

I want the boy who awkwardly smiles at me while I quickly pass him, unsure if we are friends or not.

I want the boy who, feeling too uncomfortable to sit next to me slides off the couch to cuddle with his dog.

He would treat me respectfully, being a gentleman.

He would ravish me, taking all I have to offer.

He would hold me in his strong, but gentle embrace.

He would talk to me about life, still afraid to touch me.

Life Sucks, Get A Helmet

Today sucks. I hate Mondays officially. More than I ever have in the past. Or maybe I just really hate THIS Monday because almost the rest of the United States has it off to commemorate the bastard Columbus (other than in South Dakota where it is rightfully called Native American Day [seriously, we’re celebrating some dumbass who thought he landed in Asia and instead caused the almost decimation of an entire people…?]) Anyway, why today is notsome:

1) Instead of being able to go to DC to see a couple of the most awesome bands ever while they're on tour (All Caps, Mike Lombardo, Skyway Flyer...) on the Mall and generally just hang out I had to do my community based learning and go to my Astronomy Lab.

2) For CBL I’m doing Read a Story/Write a Story with Kindergarteners (who don’t really know how to read or write…) Today was our first day with them which was great and I love kindergarteners but some are very rambunctious and I was exhausted to start with. Then myself and two other girls were working with Jasmine who has a generally girl’s name and has longer hair so we figured Jasmine was a girl but Jasmine is supposedly a boy. Parents with a sick sense of humor? Family name? Transgender? I don’t know but it was confusing and a little stressful trying not to be gender specific and not using pronouns. Jasmine received a ruler with a pony on it and proclaimed "Why did I get a GIRL'S one. I'm not a GIRL I'm a BOY!" quite vehemently. I imagine he often is confused with a girl/is a girl and very much does not want to be one. It's hard to tell when they're only 6 years old.

3) Astronomy only made me feel like a dumbass and completely lowered my self-confidence. We just went over our tests (which I failed.) And I found that most of my wrong answers were questions I shouldn’t have gotten wrong. Things that I know and should have answered correctly but I’m a dumbass. Also some boy tried flirting with me and I’m only all too aware of how terrible I am at flirting. Seriously. I’m horrendous.

4) Now I have to study for a Jazz History test tomorrow plus I should probably do more reading to Relational Psych but Astronomy killed my soul and I don’t have the energy and I’m far too depressed to care.

5) I’m homesick. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss seeing the stars. I miss pine trees. I miss home cooking. I miss my room. I miss sleeping in my own bed. I miss the quiet. I miss the comfortable. Fall break is coming up luckily but I can’t go home. It’s too expensive so I have to wait for Thanksgiving, which feels like eons away.

I want to quit college and just go home. Or at least curl up in bed and cry and put off my test until at least Thursday.

“Some people feel like they don’t deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past.”

-Into the Wild.

P.S. 5) My aunt and uncle's cat was hit by a car today and died. RIP Buzz

6) It smells like weed. THIS IS THE SUBSTANCE FREE DORM I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS!!!

Lucky

So I actually finished Lucky by Alice Sebold almost 5 days ago but I'm just getting around to writing about it because it kind of took me out of emotional commission for a little bit. It was like a huge emotional overhaul and I just had to sit and stew on it for a while before I could move on. Although I guess that's the whole point of this journal thing is to deal with that...Ok so maybe I was just procrastinating and I don't like talking about my emotions (kind of like Alice...which I'm going to get to.)

So the actual catalyst for this post is the fact that I just found out this girl I went to Spain with this summer is now a freshman at Syracuse University where this book takes place/where Alice Sebold was raped when she was a freshman. And I know it's kind of ridiculous to worry about but I'm a worrier. It's just one of those really weird coincidences that's freaking me out a little bit. I mean of all the schools in the country for a girl from SD to go to, and of all the days I find out. It's just bizarre.

So I don't really know how to go about this. I have a bunch of places in the book marked so I'm just going to go through them and write about them as I come across them because of course this book was hard to read. It's about a girl around my age being brutally raped and she discusses everything in vivid detail and I'm one of those readers that is there with her. I am laying on that cold cement with broken glass digging into my back, I'm sitting in that courtroom with her being heartlessly cross-examined by a man who shouldn't ever be let inside a courtroom.

Firstly I want to state that I loved this book for all its difficultness. It's a hard subject matter and I have so much respect for Alice Sebold to not only write about it but about her own rape. It's a beautiful book in a weird kind of twisted way. My favorite part actually is how she doesn't mince anything. She lays it all out on the table from the very start. You open up the cover and *BAM* she hits you with it and you know exactly what you're getting yourself into. She doesn't hold back at all. And when she talks about her rape with her father she tells him to call It what It is, rape, and not that thing that happened or anything other than that. She lets it all hang out.

I find it kind of...funny (for lack of a better word) that she doesn't convey her emotions in her writing though. But I also understand and she mentions a couple of times how she was doing her best not to feel anything at the time: right before her preliminary trial (or whatever it is, I don't understand court proceedings) her rape crisis center counselor is trying to get her to talk and she says "She wanted me to feel. I didn't see how feeling was going to do me any good. Onondaga Country Courthouse was not a place to open up. It was a place to hold fast to what I knew to be the truth. I had to work at keeping every fact alive and available" and again after her trial she talks about why her parents weren't present, "I was nineteen and ornery. I was afraid of their comfort, that to feel anything was to feel weak." Two things from these. One, she's very analytical about everything. She focuses solely on the facts (also apparent throughout the rest of the book) instead of how she feels about any of it. When she sees her rapist again she doesn't think about how she's feeling but she focuses on his description so she can repeat it and have a picture drawn up. She lets her need to have him behind bars drive her and focuses her energy on that and collecting all the facts she needs to do that. And two, I'm reminded of myself in her refusal to show her feelings and weaknesses. While I've never been through anything nearly as traumatic I still hide my emotional weakness to everyone so they assume I'm doing fine. It's stupid really because sometimes what you need is someone to talk to and be there for you but they won't be there unless they know you need it but I never let them know because that's showing weakness and I hate that. I think Alice sees it as a man's world and in order to survive in a man's world you can't show your weakness and give away all your emotions because nobody will take you serious and that's basically how I feel. I thought about how I would react and think it'd be close to Alice's reaction. She felt compelled in the aftermath to show everyone she hadn't changed and she was the same person even though that wasn't true. We don't want to be labeled as Damaged Goods. And of course this whole need to carry on and pretend things are all right when your world seams to be crumbling around you reminds me of a song:

You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim

Swim by Jack's Mannequin

One of my favorite quotes from the book: "No one can pull anyone back from anywhere. You save yourself or you remain unsaved." This quote really struck me, how people can help you and give you the tools to save yourself but ultimately the only person that can really save you is you. It's up to you to get the help you need and then it's up to you to fight and take that help so that it's beneficial. Nobody can save you without your own consent. It's both empowering and a little scary.

Another of my favorite quotes: "I didn't have much patience with it anymore. Violence only begat violence. Couldn't they see it left all the real work to the women? The comforting and the near impossible task of acceptance." And I think that's a good place to leave it. Take from it what you will.

Esther

On August 25 of this year the world lost Esther Grace Earl. I never knew Esther personally, but I'd heard of her through the wonders of the internet and nerdfighteria. I never met her but I know she was amazing. In 2006 she was diagnosed with metastasized papillary thyroid cancer. She was 12 years old at the time. She fought the cancer for 4 long, hard years but it eventually got the best of her. You can read more about her here. I learned about her sometime earlier this year seeing her in vlogbrothers videos and on fiveawesomegirls. She fascinated me. Sixteen years old, so beautiful and such a fighter, refusing to give up. I didn't know her, but when I learned of her death I cried as if I had lost a close friend. I went to her YouTube channel and spent a day going through her videos. This one especially hit me hard. She's just so open with her feelings, something I've never been able to do. And not just open with her close friends and family but with everyone and anyone willing to listen. She's an inspiration in life and death. All you need to do is search "for Esther" on YouTube and you'll find yourself in a maze of videos dedicated to this 16 year old girl. Many of the videos are by friends and acquaintances but many still are from people who, like myself, never even spoke to her. It's amazing how one little girl can touch the lives of so many people like that. And I wish so badly that I had gotten the chance to know her.

So now I've been listening to this song over and over, because I live my life through music. I think it is absolute gorgeous. It's one of those songs you feel more than hear. Here are some of the best lyrics:

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I’ll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when your dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when your really gonna need them, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

-"If I Die Young" by The Band Perry