If Life's Not Rough, It Isn't Fun

During my Journalism class junior year, Mr Wall once spoke to us about comfort. He told us that "the worst lesson we are taught is that someone will always take care of us."

I understand the logic behind that. As individuals, it's imperative that we learn to take care of ourselves because we really can't be surrounded by help at all hours of the day. Or at least, it's not expected of us. Independent people are looked up to, regarded as people that are going to go somewhere in life.

But today, Mr Potter shared a thought with us: "I stand out in the hall, and when people say hi to each other, they hug. Not so long ago...people didn't do that. They didn't hug. It sometimes seems like we constantly need to be comforted."

That kind of got to me - not in a bad way, but in the way that makes me think. (Why does it always seem to be that I get writing ideas from the tiniest things my teachers say?)

I thought that Mr Potter had a good point, there. We are no longer a society in which we need to be so proper and polite that we have to have chaperones or never touch one another. But we really have become a society that is dependent on other people in our social lives.

It seems like we have to constantly be reassured of things. We have a "Like" option to reassure us that things we say are clever; we have Facebook to (supposedly) remind us that we have an identity and a constant source of communication.

Regarding relationships in high school today, a huge part of it is seemingly made up entirely of comfort. Young couples who believe they are head-over-heels in love because they found someone that they believe is "the one" are ever-hungry for the reassurance that they are "good enough" for the other person. They need to hear that they are "beautiful" and that they complete their partner.

How can you complete someone who isn't even whole?
Are we ever whole, no matter if we find love or not?

My rationale is that we never are - why would you want to live another day of your life knowing that you don't need to learn another lesson or grow through another experience?
Why would you want to wake up the next morning knowing that you have completed all that you need to complete, and that you don't need to do any more...and you still have to live?
I mean...what would you do? Wouldn't you think, "I can die right now"?
Isn't that part of the purpose of death, in the first place?

We can't live life predictably, always comforted.
We can't be in a relationship in which we constantly trade only happy words and moments.
We can't stay down after we fall because we are afraid of going back out there.

We have to wake up and not know how the day is going to be.
We have to let love be something organically grown, with a few knots as well as the lovely flower that never dies because it's constantly being renewed.
We have to let new things in because you never know if you'll end up with something you needed all along.

Not to say that comfort is totally vile. It's only human to be there for one another in times of need. When someone we love is going through a hard time, our first reaction is to want to be there by their side. We are not made to be solitary creatures - we are made to have contact.

We are all part of each other. When we wake up as 40-somethings, we remember someone we met back when we were 17 and we realize what they gave to our lives. Maybe they gave you only one good memory, but they were such a person that you remember them years later. You won't see them as you did when you were 17 (hopefully), but you'll remember how you saw them.

That's kind of a neat thing about people and growing up in life. Feelings change, but memories don't.

Maybe not everyone regards things like this. And that's okay. It kind of saddens me, though. There are very few of us left that appreciate the smell of a bookshelf, jumping barefoot in mud puddles, and for once not constantly worrying that tomorrow will not go our way. We are an endangered species, the outcasts, those that get a lot of raised eyebrows.

But where will the future be without a thirst for living life beyond total happiness, the comfort of not having to show your face to anybody because the "online you" is so much cooler?
The future will be desolate. The future will be lonely.

We can't be comfortable forever. We have to get dirty. We have to get out of our zone. We have to - no way! - go through pain.
On the same token, we have to realize that not everyone in the world is out to get us. People actually have the capacity to be faithful and love you for the person you are becoming in life. We have to learn how to reach a hand out to someone that needs it, and accept the hands that are outstretched to us. Humility is such a powerful thing...for something considered to most as "meek."

It's a balance. And a lesson that is constantly being taught and re-taught.

Oh, life. What a fantastic monster you are.

The First of Many

7 January, 2011

I hate this time of year.
It's cold, there's no color except for the rush of blood to your cheeks as the wind blows, and everyone (well, not all but some) walks like penguins in the hopes of not falling.

I need windows, though. Even though it's cold outside and I can't physically bring myself to be outdoors, I still hold out for that first day when it's too warm for my scarf and coat. When I peel them off and let that initial warmth of spring, slightly hesitant but eager all the same, tickle my skin.

As I walk out to my car, I let myself become aware of the way my skin is bitten by the temperature, the crispness of the air, the feel of snow under my feet. I let out a heavy breath and see the cloud I make.

For some reason, ever since the year's started, I've let myself become aware of the oddest things in my life. I guess you could say they were things I never noticed before, but to me it seems like they are things I've noticed but never really took in. Not feeling it from all-around, not noticing how they made me feel.

And remember, it's always the things that most would find ordinary. Things I would even find to be "normal."

The way the streetlamp glows exhaustedly on the corner of the street where my grandparents live.
The scent of my beagle's feet. They smell like he did when he was a puppy.
Seeing Mom cook dinner in her two-pieced, button-up pajamas.
My dad rubbing lottery tickets on my head, saying I'm good luck.
The way I tell people "this is my dad's/mom's night (or weekend)," knowing that I won't say that next year.
Curling up on the sofa in sweats and a blanket.
Playing a piece of music you haven't seen in years. It's like meeting an old friend again.
The sleepy noises Seth makes when he's asleep, his head on my chest.
Randomly remembering New Orleans, especially on Christmas Day.
Realizing that this is my last semester of high school, as of today having 15 Mondays left, and feeling memories of the last three and a half years coming back to me.

I'm going to be writing this semester. I want to write this semester, anyway. I feel like I have a voice that deserves to be heard, just like anybody else in this school or in this world.

Last year, I wrote a lot of stream-of-consciousness kind of stuff. I had a lot to get out, but it seemed like I was stewing over the same old thing every time I would sit down to write. And I was - I just didn't know it, then.

But this year, that issue is gone. I made it go away. I'm starting this year anew. At first, when I didn't write hardly at all, I was afraid that meant I wrote only to sort through things in my life and not because I loved writing.

I've recently realized that is not true. I mean, I sat down here and wrote all of this, right? So I must still have some substance in my passion for words.
Besides, this semester is going to be about making memories and making a name for myself to go out with.

I can't even imagine what April and May are going to be like. They are going to be two blinks of an eye. Two proms, my last contest for Chamber Orchestra, the IDEA reunion, Mini-O, the orchestra banquet, the musical, graduation and all that'll go on during that week.

On New Year's Day not ten minutes after the ball dropped, Seth looked back at me and gave me this funny sort of look. "We GRADUATE this year," he said, like it was hard to believe.
And it is.

This is the start of the end, which is the start of the beginning.
I'm feelin' those eighteen years of my life, man. Really and truly.

Oh My. 5 Months and 19 Days.

31 December, 2010 / 1 January, 2011

Everyone writes at the end/beginning of the year. Well, everyone that writes, anyway. But because I haven't written as much as I wrote last year, I guess I just need to kind of relive all that this year was.

I remember thinking that 2009 was a fantastic year of growth and discovery. But in actuality, 2010 was an even greater year for all of those things.
It is my hope that there will never be just THAT year in which we regard as the year of growth, but rather a year that STARTED many more years of that same mentality. I think there is a year in which we become someone we were not aware that we can be, we learn to become comfortable in this new skin, and we move forward in it. And when we do that, things happen to us. Magic happens. Life becomes bigger and exciting in all sorts of ways because we see things differently.

Last year, I grew immensely into my own identity. I learned to not live my life for other people.

I did this on the Habitat for Humanity trip to New Orleans last year. Every single time I have hopped into one of the big vans to trek for hours on the highway, I have mentally gone over the list of those people I would call my family for the week. They have always been people I typically don't talk to or hang out with. They are not people that know me like my good friends know me.

And last year while I did this, I asked myself, "Why do I still sign up for these trips and hope that I will be chosen to go if I have not ever had substantial small talk with any of these people?"

Not only that, but I was choosing to go on this trip instead of staying home at Band Camp, where many people would say I should've been, because I was needed there. I felt extremely guilty for not being there. I even brought my music with me to practice and memorize.

I always find myself surprised at the seemingly stupidest things on these Habitat trips. Having Sheehan be the first person to wish me a happy birthday on the day I turned 18 really made the day start off wonderfully. Will Schnabel wished me a happy birthday every ten minutes that day, it seemed. As I started work on building a staircase, I could hear a marching band playing in the distance.

I should've been guilty, then. I know I should've thought about everyone at home, almost see them marching and see the hole in the formation where I should be. But while I thought about them, I didn't feel bad.
I learned such a lesson that day. I learned that we are never placed where we are not meant to be in this life.
If I was not supposed to be in the heavy 90-degree weather of the Deep South, building homes among a group of people I barely knew, then I would've not been chosen for this trip at all.

And New Orleans has become a place of home for me. I think about that trip so often, and I think about the littlest things. They're the things that make me happiest.
Snoballs (especially my Hurricane-flavored one). Me holding up Aubry as we got the job done. The lunches underneath the houses. The day in which the port-o-let was sucked out and cleaned. Wheelbarrows. Screws. Nails. Beignets. Bourbon Street. Mr Schoch singing "Baby Got Back" and pulling a Z-formation. Line-dancing with Jeff Gutzweiller. OmNom (I seriously think about that dog, out of the blue).

Another way in which I've grown into my own was by realizing who I treasured in my life...and how some didn't treat me as well as people could have.

I learned that I was giving a lot to someone that never gave anything in return other than a "thank you so much." I figured that if I just kept on giving and being as good of a person as I could be, then maybe I'd win his heart. I tried to put myself in his shoes and do all the things that would win ME over, if I was him.

Looking at it in retrospect, while I wouldn't call it pathetic, it's still painful. And to think that I was totally blind to it...
The old adage is true, that "love is blind." Blindness comes in many different forms, too. And while I know that this was not love by any stretch of the imagination, it was still infatuation, and it still hurts to remember how I was willing to do absolutely anything by means of a good deed in order to earn his attention.

Do he and I talk, anymore?
Yes, seldomly. It's funny how, after looking at someone a certain way for so long, something changes and you're asking yourself "Wow, what did I see there?"
And that's perfectly okay. Because it only opened up the door for someone else, someone who treats me like I should be treated without me having to try and win him over.

In 2010, I didn't "become" anything, because people never stop growing. But I certainly have blossomed into someone that is growing and living in the most positive way that she knows.

There's been some hurting (directed at me as well as being directed from me), there's been some helping, there's been some laughter as much as there's been tears.

I continue to learn how to love in all the different ways that life has to offer. I know it sounds cliche and kind of corny, but living life, for all that it is, is the best thing in the world for me. It's a no-brainer to prefer to be alive rather than dead, but being alive and soaking it all in is what makes everything fantastic.

The next 12 months are going to be stellar. Even the worst moments are going to be stellar. I just feel it.

God, am I an optimist or what?

A Good Thing.

I haven't written.
Last year, I would always write stream-of-consciousness kind of stuff. And this year it seems like I can't write anything.
Part of it is time, and how busy I've been. I got caught up in actually DOING stuff so much that I hardly found time to sit down and just think.
I didn't even write my novel for NaNoWriMo. Shame, shame.

But lately I've wanted to write. In the way I did last year.

--

In the past few months, I have felt myself grow up. I would read things I wrote last year - even this past summer - and I want to slap my then-self across the head. I was ridiculous, selfish, and thoughtless with the things I would write sometimes.

I remember thinking how I used to grow as a person while writing. But I was wrong.
In these past few months, when I didn't write, I've grown so much more in ways that truly matter. I've often had to sit back and realize how much of a different person I am now.

That is what I hope life is supposed to be like. Constant growth, constant change...with important things (the things you can't see with your eyes) remaining constant as a heartbeat.

--

In the last month, I have lost a friend. I've known this person for twelve years now. We met in kindergarten, we were in Girl Scouts together, we shared absolutely everything with one another. No matter what happened between us, we would always forgive each other and move on. It was almost like the kind of friendship you found only in a storybook.

But then...a twist in our plot occured and we parted a little sooner than I had expected.

I remember how vindicated I felt when I sent her a note, telling her that I was not about to be bogged down by her old ghosts concerning Seth, and that I wanted to take a break for a while.

It just...felt so good to stand up for myself. To say, "Look - I'm tired of dealing with your bullshit. Nobody's getting anything out of this other than hurting one another, intentionally or otherwise, so just stop it."

While I have a feeling that she and I will encounter each other again someday, I'm pretty darn happy where I am right now in my life. I'm more okay now than I have been in so long.

I have wonderful friends from all walks of life, good communication between my family, I'm involved in wonderful activities in my high school, I'm going to college next year, and I have a boyfriend who makes everything fall into place in the healthiest way.

I remember about a week into Seth and I being together, Dr Dawson ran into me in the hall one morning and asked me if I had coffee for breakfast. He said, "You just look so...perky, for some reason."

Funny, the things you don't notice about yourself until someone else points them out to you.

--

Just because you're happy doesn't mean you're permanently floating in air, your problems far away.
I have discovered that it is possible to keep your feet on the ground and your head together...while being happy beyond what you could've ever imagined.
Do I know where this'll lead or how long it'll last? No - but it doesn't matter.

I'll take it anyway. This is a good thing.

--

Remember when I said that I saw things differently than I did even just a few months ago?
Or maybe I didn't say that at all...but you get it.
Anyhoozle.

At the Christmas Concert about a week ago, I was walking down the hall with Mom and Seth when I saw Andy Sturm walking toward me with a big smile on his face. I greeted him and he gave me a big, bone-crushing hug that I wasn't expecting from him.

Now, this next part I did not see, but Mom told me two days later...
Apparently when Andy gave me that hug, Seth walked on with Mom, and Mom said that Seth's face looked like his little heart was breaking. Mom wanted to tell him, "No, don't worry, it's okay..."
When she told me that, after me not even noticing it (when I came back to Seth's side, he looked perfectly normal and happy to have me there), I felt like the worst girlfriend ever.

Unconsciously, I somehow got the hint that I had to place some establishment. When Andy came back, I immediately said "Andy, I'd like for you to meet my boyfriend, Seth."
Apparently I said the magic words, the title that Seth now had in my world. I watched as Andy and Seth shook hands in that awkward stand-five-feet-away-from-each-other way that guys do, and as Seth slid back to my side, I noticed something else.

It might've been for a fraction of a second - had I blinked, I might've missed it. But I saw a flash of something cross Andy's eyes as he kept on looking at me, then at Seth, then back at me again. There was something in his eyes that I had never seen before in him.

Was it jealousy? Was it defeat?
It was sort of like a look that silently said, "Huh...so this is the guy."
No matter what it was, it was just so very strange. If I had more guts in me than I do, I would've said to him (which I'm doing now, I guess) exactly this:

"You had your chance, man. You had a MILLION chances. Now go and be happy with the girl you're with now...and care for your baby daughter."

I wish I knew how to break the tension that was filling the air.
I was facing a young man I was head over heels for last year...
...and I was standing next to a young man that makes me happy beyond measure simply because he fits into my life in such a way that I can't really describe it.

I mean, how do you think of small talk while all of this is blowing through your mind?
Looking at someone you once thought was the bee's knees not so long ago...and thinking, "Did I REALLY think of them that much?"

Not to say that Andy isn't my friend and that he isn't a good person, innately.
He is...but I just don't know how to regard him anymore. And that kind of makes me sad. I realized it would've been better to know him more as a friend rather than as that day at the Canal, had either of us wanted to potentially pursue a relationship. In my sixteen-year-old mind, that day had become my main reflection of Andy. And now, looking back on that, I realize that was very naive and self-destructive of me.
Because that day will never happen again. And I'm perfectly fine with that.

That is a very big difference between Seth and all of the other boys that I've liked.
Seth and I were best friends for about a year before we became a couple. We still keep that "friendship" part alive, too, which is the really cool thing about all of this.
We jokingly make fun of each other, we're not afraid to be silly and stupid together, he is patient with me as he teaches me card games (everything from Hearts to Magic: the Gathering), we don't mind that one likes diamonds while the other likes pearls or that one will eat pretty much anything while the other only eats American and Chinese, for the most part.

But anyway.
I think about Andy's face, and the way that I broke Caleb Tucker's heart.
It makes wonder how to maintain friendships with these two guys. I know that I'll learn eventually, but it's so interesting...seeing who makes that leap of faith and who doesn't. And there are so many different ways to leap, too.

So many ways to grow, so many different people to witness it. You have to give those people credit. Watching growth isn't easy - especially for adolescents and young adults because it can get so snarly and bruised. So much confusion.

Some of us are flowers. You know, you flourish in great glory for a while, but then you die for a time. But there's always that promise that you'll return as glorious as you were before. You give optimism and hope. No matter what happens, everyone knows that you'll bounce right back. You are spread all over when the wind blows. You are contagious in the best way.
And others are trees. You're planted, and you keep on growing. You go through seasons of warmth as well as seasons of vulnerability. But you keep on growing, and you only get bigger and greater as you get older. Your brances reach further out and you begin to have little pieces of yourself spread to anywhere that the wind blows.

...wow, what IS it with me and metaphors? Mr Potter, I'm sorry I can't seem to use this stuff when I write for your AP class.

--

Maybe I can't always keep everyone that once meant the world to me, especially if I don't see them in the same light as I used to. Oh well - that's a part of life, I guess.

Not quite sure how to end this right. I ended up jumping from topic to topic like I used to.
Hey - I guess I did this right, after all.

Happiness, happiness.

A Fiery Buzz.

Screw it. The only way I'm going to truly work through this internally is by writing it out. So here I go.

I told my mother about St Baldricks back in July. At first, she said no. Then "no" became "a year into college."
She kept on saying, "I admire the cause...and you're brave for wanting to do it. But...please take prom and graduation into consideration. I mean, once you shave, you can't put your hair back on. I know it's selfish of me to think like this for you, but...please try and consider these things."

I have. And I am.
But what's really making me angry is that I'm actually having second thoughts.

I looked at all the pictures from prom last year. My hair was not much longer than what it is now...it was curly and bright. I won't lie - it looked beautiful. I felt beautiful that night, in all my finery.

And I'll admit it: I take pride in my hair. It makes me stand out.
Almost as much as being semi-bald will.

When I look in the mirror in the morning and late at night, I push my bangs back and try to picture myself with red fuzz. I try to calculate the shape of my head, see if I'll pull it off awesomely like Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta, or if I'll just look awkward.

And the thing is...my hair won't even be short as Natalie's had to be for that movie. I won't be "bald", necessarily...just buzzed.

For this, I'm actually not thinking too much about graduation. It's prom that's got me stumped. What could I do with not even an inch of hair to work with?

This year, I won't be going to just one prom. I'll be going to Southport's, too, roughly a month before mine. If I shave my head, I'll have to brave the questions of a couple hundred people I barely know or those that haven't seen me for seven years.

At Perry, it would be different. I'd ask them to donate some money towards the St Baldricks Foundation about a month before I'd shave my head. I'd tell them what the organization is all about, that thousands of men, women, and children shave their heads in solidarity to represent those with cancer. I'd tell them that all the money they gave me would go directly to cancer research.

I'd be doing it for everyone I know that has experienced cancer, of all types.
My grandmother.
My dad.
My friends Carrie and Julie's dad.
My mom's best friend Brian's parents.

And my hair would probably be up for high demand. I'd give some girl a chance to be a ginger, no matter if she was one before cancer or not.
I donated to Locks of Love the summer before 8th grade, and when they cut my hair they told me that my hair would make more than one wig. That was pretty sweet.

But despite all of this...I still step back and I think. This will be my last prom. And since I'll be going to two proms, it's going to be even more special.

I don't want to not go through with it. I told Andy Sturm that I'd shave with him. And his hair's getting awfully long and shiny and whatnot. It's the only reason he's growing it out at all. I don't want to let him down by saying "Let's wait until the end of May." Besides, March is the "official" time to participate in St Baldrick's events.

A week ago, I proposed the idea to Seth. I had already told him that I was going to shave my head, but after we decided to go to our proms together, I got second thoughts about shaving.

I mentioned waiting until after graduation.
He asked, "Why would you wait?"
I told him that a part of me wanted to go through with it at the right time, but that I realized that these were events that would not happen again. That once I shave, there's no going back. And besides, wouldn't he miss my hair?

He said, "Yes, I'll miss your hair. But I'll be right behind you no matter what. You don't care what others think - I admire that."

In a carefree manner, yet cutting right to the edge, I replied, "Well, thank you. If I end up shaving my head, I'll commend you for taking an almost-bald girl to prom."

And to that he replied,
"Well, hair grows back. Good memories don't."

Call me a sissy, but that made my eyes get misty. It still does.

I still want to shave my head. I just need to get over these second thoughts.
If not, I need to make a decision before January or February and stick with it.

But no matter if I shave in March or after graduation in May...
I am going to shave. And I will not be alone.

Prior to Blue Man.

October 20th? Really, almost a month since I wrote for this thing?
Holy Moses.

--

As of late, it feels like my life's being timed. Time by due dates, assignments FOR those due dates, and considering other obligations (like job hunting).
It makes me tired. I go home and fall asleep without saying goodnight.

--

I had my first college audition on November 5. I wasn't scared or anything, and I don't really know what else to say except that it went better than I thought it would go.

I thought about Mom, and how she kept on talking to me about how excited she was about me being accepted to Ball State. I didn't feel indifferent to the acceptance on purpose.
And I also heard her talk about DePauw. If they gave me a full ride, why don't I just go ahead and go there? And didn't I love it a lot when I went there sophomore year?

It's hard to explain.

Marian's my home. I remember thinking that on the very first day I went to the campus back in March. I remember feeling like I fit. I feel that way every time I go back. If it's money she's concerned about (and I don't care if it is...), then I'll live at home. I'll go home late at night and come back to school early in the morning, so it's not like I'd totally miss out on the college experience.

Do I want to live on campus? Yes, I'd rather do that, living on my own.
But hey. I'm willing to do anything in order to go to the school I want to go to.

--

Now for something completely different.

It's not karma, because it isn't biting me in the butt. But it's rather...a proverbial mirror. I'm now on the other side.

I remember every time Andy Sturm would like me but choose someone else in the end, and the hurt I would feel. The burn in my chest, the sick feeling in my stomach, the confusion buzzing around my head.
The tears. All the tears.

On November 12, I finally got to be in Andy Sturm's shoes.
At least, for this kind of situation.
And now I'd like to address one person.

--

Caleb Tucker, I know you don't want me to say that I broke your heart. But I know I did, just a little bit. And over time, if you'll allow me, I want to help you heal that crack.

We both knew that Seth was going to ask me. And we both knew that I would say yes.
But I know you still felt sad despite your preparing for this. I felt sad for you, because I've been in your shoes before.

I've been where you are right now many times.

Do I not like where I am now? Of course not. I do. I don't regret saying yes and I'm not backing down from it.

But now I realize the desparation Andy Sturm felt every time this happened between him and me.
I hear the sincerity in the plea that he used to say to me, which I am saying to you now: I can't lose you.

You are important. And I recognize that I hold a place of high importance in your life, as well. Please don't think that you're going to take a backseat just because I have a boyfriend. I'm not that kind of friend, that kind of person.

I'm still here. Just as much as I always have been, and always will be.

--

Okay. So you've gathered that November 12 was a rather happy day not just for me or Seth, but for many of our friends. It's almost comical to see everyone elated at the news. What made me smile the most, I think, was when my friend Kirst simply said "Finally."

When I visited Mom and Mark the day after, Mark said to me, "So you're in love."

I paused and looked at him quizzically, not sure if he was joking or not. "Uhm...I don't think so..."

"You're in a relationship? You're not in love? I'm in a relationship with your mother and I'm in love with her!" he smiled.

"You're married," I chuckled, "that's different."

Am I in love? I don't know- I've never loved romantically before.
I've loved unconditionally, without explaination. That's the way I love Seth right now. Grandly. Deeply. Wholeheartedly.
But the romantic way, the way Mark's talking about? I don't know...that's a love I might have to grow into...which is the best way to grow into love, in my opinion, anyway.

Run And Tell That, Homeboy.

Dear Perry Meridian Drumline -

I just wanted to write a little something to you all. I wasn't one of the loud ones on the line, and I feel like explaining a few things that I couldn't find words for until now.

I didn't join Marching Band because of someone older whom I looked up to, or because a spot was needed, or whatever. I joined mostly because Sascha Simpson was a friend of mine that I lost contact with a few years ago, and I wanted to do a little something in honor of his memory while joining something I've always wanted to try.

My first year in Marching Band, I was playing vibes in the pit. For my senior year, I decided to join the battery.

From the first day I put that drum on my shoulders, I have not regretted it. I'll never forget those June and July practices, the day we practiced outside and it rained off and on with choking humidity in between. All those days that we didn't have a full line. I remember missing Band Camp so that I could be in New Orleans, building a house - and there was a Band Camp going on a block away from the site.

I remember how some practices made me ask myself if I had a place in this line. For the longest time, I felt like I was holding you all back from greatness. A principal violist in the Chamber Orchestra on the drumline? A senior marching for her first - and last - season, just NOW learning the ropes? What could possibly come from that?

Well, the person I am today came from that. I'm not only proud of how I've personally improved and grown as a drummer (you have no idea how much I love calling myself that - just as much as I love calling myself a violist), but I'm so proud of ALL of you. We've all grown from what we've accomplished this season.

Looking at it from a personal view, I will tell you honestly that I was not here for the competitions. I was not here to be the best drummer ever. I was not here to escape anything in my life. I didn't walk into this to find a place to fit in. I didn't join drumline for a lot of reasons. I still don't know half of what you all know about drums and playing them - I always learned from you all, and I learned a lot.

I joined drumline because I wanted to make music, and I wanted to make music that I couldn't possibly play in any other venue.
I ended up marching what has been the best show I've ever seen at Perry in my six years of being on this side of the township.

Could we be better? Yes, there's always room to become better.
But right now, the only thing that I can see holding us back is negativity.
Don't let anybody's bad attitude or bad habits - not even your own towards yourself - get in your brain. It'll only fester and grow if you let it in, and that never helps anybody.

Here's a random epiphany I came to not long ago.
We are a powerful line, concerning personalities. We're loud, we're boisterous, and we're proud of who we're becoming.
That's great that we have that family feel going on, the kind of family that always makes fun of each other and makes a ruckus in public settings.
But never let your ego get in the way of your sticks.

As some of you know, I'm not joining winter. It's not entirely because of money, or needing a job, or people on the line, or disinterest.
I have not lost my passion for drums. I'm marching next year when I go to college, for crying out loud. It's not a loss of interest whatsoever.
It took a while to find words to go with reason.

It's simply due to a feeling of needing to move on, almost.
I had such a time with you all. I loved some of it, I hated some of it. I wouldn't take any of it back for the world.
But it's time for me to focus on other things, learn rudiments for college and whatever instrument they decide to put me on at Marian, and keep up my position as a violist.

I know you all may not understand this. And I know you all may be disappointed in me, a little bit.
But I have faith in you. This drumline has an aura of greatness, an aura of passion. That alone is rare. Every single one of you has it, and you won't lose it.

I'm going to miss being with you every day. I'm going to miss making perverted jokes, Kirsht's fist pumps, Owen's troll face, quoting Pulp Fiction, Chris rapping, Katie calling me a million different names. I'm going to miss you all.
But my place isn't in this winter drumline. My place is on the outside, watching you all perform your hearts out, potentially shedding a tear or two. I'll be there.

In short, I guess all that's left to say is simply thanks.
Thanks for teaching this old senior how things roll. (haha...punz)

You are my family. And I love you all.

-Foxy