Ugh...

Wow...look at my resolves. I say I am going to chronicle my senior year and what happens? Absolutely nothing. Firstly, let me offer my excuses. Senior year has turned out to be completely different than what I had imagined. I lay awake at night staring into an imaginary abyss- thinking "if only I could get all my college applications in...then I could rest." I can't fault my teachers, I am not faulting them. It's just natural anticipatory feelings that I will not be able to control until all of my applications are in. I do not know which is worse: anticipation or inevitable rejection.

Anyway, since I'm working 4 out of 7 days a week and doing homework 9 out of 7 days, I am just lost and busy and frustrated.

Forget this. Sorry. I hate breaking goals...I guess it's kind of like weight loss.

Of Interest: Obama's Education Speech

Of particular interest today is the letter that went home to school children today. Our principal loves to keep the lines of communication open and clear, so we always get letters sent home to us. Last time we got one I believe it was detailing Hurricane Ike...and then we had one about the new state law demanding to know everyone's race. Anyway, today's letter was intriguing. Apparently, parents in our school district were upset and alarmed- because President Obama is giving a speech to the nation about the importance of education on Tuesday. They did not want their precious babies seeing this video (which would be broadcasted during school).

Now if the teachers were miffed that would be fine. Their classroom time is being interrupted. However, I can't understand...can't possibly fathom why regular people are up in arms about this address. I hate to sound ignorant, but I just don't care that much. Let the video play- you can choose to watch it or not.

Our superintendent wanted to clear up the issue by simply stating that the video would be displayed in school. Of added interest, I heard a few "Obama is the antichrist" arguments today...I love my country.

Less political, more personal. Today was great on the whole. I am feeling a bit stressed about my quizzes, tests, and debate tomorrow. Unlike sports and performance activities, with debate you can always read more and write more and prepare more. Unlike sports and performance activities, each debate is different and I never grow complacent. Because we debaters deal with the art of language, we are always surprised because words bend at one's will. You may be amazingly persuasive and sharp, but you can always lose if the other team is both skilled and prepared.

I cannot stress preparation and anticipation enough.

I have to do my exercise now, then study for my math test, then all this other crap. Peace out.

Better Late Than Never

I know, I know. I had resolved to record every day of my senior year of high school. Well...it's been so crazy! I can't even get my precious six hours of sleep anymore like I did last year. Oh well.

I have set aside some rules for this blog. If I am to record my life, I should change the names of some people to protect their privacy. So, I will use pseudonyms when I deem it necessary. The gist of the story will still be maintained so no worries.

I don't have time to recount my first week of school, so I will just start with today.

It was alright. I found out some interesting things about my sister's ex-boyfriend. Yup, he's a cheater. We suspected it but I had simply hoped he was better than that. And the girl he cheated with? Wowwwwwww. But she didn't get too mad. She's completely over him- but I do understand her being miffed at him. He played her for a fool.

I left my backpack at school so that fact has coerced me to work on my debate case. Our first tournament of the year is on Friday so I need to get that done. I want to win.

So I'm done with this blog...on to illegal immigration.

Grrrr...

Okay there is some definite truth to the saying about watching "the quiet ones". Loud, vocal people really are trying to compensate for something (anything) but quiet people, because of their nature tend to listen...a dangerous proposition.

Anyway, I am a quiet person because I choose to be. I am also insanely patient with a lot of things people do. For instance, people can insult me and demean me, but I will just bounce it off like nothing...with some exceptions. Regardless, I can stand a lot of things. However, when they are repeatedly done, over and over and over and over and over again, I get to the point to where I hate that person. Not that I want to do physical harm to them, but I just hate their personality and wish vehemently that they were different...for the betterment of themselves.

Like I said, I can take a lot of crap. But it will get to the point where it's hard to forgive and you want to separate yourself from the person. I mean, this is how I feel: You can't get mad at a person for being themselves. As I get closer to a person, I decode their personalities and place them in a certain category. So when I discover that the relationship is not going to work, I am going to try to distance myself from them, simply because we are incompatible. Meaning our personalities clash. So instead of fighting and spreading slander, I just be smart about it.

But sometimes that is really hard. REALLY hard. Especially if the person provides you with an immense amount of advantages.

I can't stress the importance of communication enough. But even I struggle with the fact of telling people that they are wrong. Just simply wrong. Because I know that they always do wrong things because they are that way. The person is wrong.

My intuition for the complexities of the human race makes it hard for me to form relationships because I have a lot of people figured out. Some more outgoing people don't mind having people figured out, or maybe they don't figure people out, which keeps it interesting. I'm not sure because I'm not particularly gregarious. I crave the companionship of profound, intriguing people with acute intellect. And so many of my peers don't fall into that category (which really is not hard).

So many of my high school peers want popularity for the sake of being well known and liked. This confuses me because popular people are not liked. Tolerated may be more of the word. But for individual that likes the very popular, successful person? There are three more negative, evil people out to bring them down. Sometimes with a smile. Which is the scary part. There is so much backstabbing and gossiping about people behind their backs. I really try to refrain from this, because I am always putting myself in other people's shoes. I would hate for people to talk about me behind my back. I know that they do anyways, but I would prefer that it did not. But you know, it happens. And so much. Even my teachers, adults I know!

Really, people don't "grow up". Mentally, how a person is when they are younger is a clear reflection of the person they will be when they are older. Especially as an adolescent. The only thing that changes is a reduction of acne and an increase in height.

Anyway, the point of my rant is that I am angry.

Back to the quiet, patient argument. Because I take so much in, I will reach my limit. And today was one such time. I am particularly self-conscious about this one part of my anatomy. Not that it would effect me, not much anyway. But I always tend to hide it.

Except guess what? As I have grown older and turned into a woman, I have learned to work with what I got. So that is kind of what I decided to do, work with it. And I have also taken to wearing pretty tops and everything. Sometimes I end up showing a bit more than I would rather want to, but I like the outfit. So I have decided that I would wear what I wanted to, without regard to anyone.

Enough with the code talk. Apparently, people have a problem with my cleavage. And for me, it's just there. I've grown up with people with large breasts and I just never paid much attention to that area, no more than the color of one's hair. Until I began hanging out with the IBTC. Hahaha. Or whatever their problem is. I mean I'm not protruding immensely out of my shirt or look like slut. I just have a little showing. And it's not on purpose (most of the time, haha). The shirts that everybody else can wear, I wear, only just a little cleavage shows. Apparently, for the IBTC it's a major offense.

I will not stop wearing an outfit-a very cute outfit, indeed- because apparently, it's offensive to some. I don't know. It can't possibly be jealousy, because no one wants large breasts. They are a hassle, really. I just don't know. But I am fed up.

I think I'll just start wearing turtlenecks everyday. But then, probably, the IBTC will come after me because somehow my cleavage will make an appearance through my several layers of fabric and wool.

Yeah, I'm bitter.

But I know someone that loves my shape. And I've grown content with myself. So turtlenecks would be admitting defeat. So what am I going to do? Should I show them what cleavage really looks like?

Weight

As dawn spreads her silent wings
gently over the town with the pink skies,
down in front of the old, out-of-use synagogue
a man sits there and cries.

Against the harsh stigma of crying men,
his tears roll down his face
unashamedly- he never looks up.
The passerby thinks he’s a disgrace.

He wears an old tattered yarmulke
upon his balding grey head.
His jacket worn and very thin;
His frame seemed very underfed.

Breath’s talons creep out from their dark nests,
because its bitterly cold.
The weather be not the only thing bitter-
the man has made his heart to be sold.

The man’s coal eyes droop towards the ground,
making his face weird but it doesn’t detract.
from the wrinkles making deep valleys upon his face,
but he’s not that old, in fact.

Does he mourn the destruction of the temple?
That happened so long ago?
He seems very devout, God he cannot live without.
Is he truly Jewish, they want to know.

Then a strong, fresh gale sweeps down from the skies,
blowing the man’s long, dark scarf back.
And something surprising- it doesn’t belong!-
glitters momentarily before the wind lacks.

A crucifix on a simple gold chain
hangs down from his slender neck.
A symbol of Christianity?
I focus my eyes closer to check.

But the passerby never noticed
this oddity and others.
They just walk on by-
no concern for one another.

The man is deaf but he can hear.
The man is blind but he can see.
He has no teeth but still remains full.
He is suffocating- how can this be?

He curses the world for its beauty
and he praises it for its hate.
The light seems dark and hate like love,
The man’s soul is in a constant debate.

Staring at the oblivious, ignorant people,
the man remembers a time when he
could frivolously play and easily blend in;
when he could once ignore reality.

He is not a bum or a hermit-
on his wrist lies an Audemars Piguet,
His fingers are well manicured.
Even more contradictions, by the way.

What happened to this unsuspecting man?
Would anyone care to ask?
What purpose, what symbol is he
who must hide behind a mask?

I pass this man now,
as I travel on the way to school.
I wonder does anyone else see,
the trouble instead of ridicule.

As I come within talking distance
he slowly looks up at me.
His dark eyes suddenly become light;
his smile a bit off-key.

Taken aback, I instantly stop
my quick-paced unobservant walk.
He winks at me with a sad excuse for a smirk
and looks down again never to talk.

Someone pushes me and yells “Move!”.
I’m obviously blocking the way…
One last glance, I pick up my heavy feet,
I cannot even think to stay.

Later, as day revokes its precious light,
which we tend to never appreciate at all,
I walk back by the old synagogue,
an idea completely off the wall.

Yarmulke, cross, tattered jacket, expensive watch.
The contradictions fill my head.
Is this what he had wanted?
For me to feel the unsaid?

I stop and stare at him a little
out of the way of the passerby.
Then I continue a brisk pace home
not watching- trying to deny.

He is lonely in a world that doesn’t understand
the concepts and knowledge weighed upon his back.
This is why everyday, being lost, he sits
in front of the synagogue, off track.

Fast, clumsy, brisk, rush, swift
A blind man sees more than they do.
But listen to the blind man they will not, for he cannot see-
which means he cannot think, talk, or teach too.

The people only care about their destination
and not the road along the way.
But the man who sits and enjoys the journey
know that life is better when you stray.

As the passerby continue their brisk pace past the synagogue,
they only see a man who cries.
But I, who can truly see him,
I see a man who dies.

-Summer Whiteman

Weird Tan

So...this flip-flop tan has been on my feet for 2 weeks now. And I'm annoyed. So I posted my feet on here. Yeah.

The Creative Juices Are Flowing...Yet I Must Use a Cliche for My Title...

Well. I am writing novels and short stories now. Actually, to be entirely honest, I am working on one novel and one short story. I don't think I am ready to write the novel. I have an excellent idea, I have the motivation to write it...but I don't think I am emotionally, physically, and mentally mature enough to give the story what it deserves. It will be great. I'll be thirty and sit back down at the computer and write. Just write. Because by then I will be more experienced and more sure of myself.

As far as the short story, it's a cinch. It's fun to write too. I like being in the mind of a deranged criminal. Something about criminals intrigue me. And I don't mean dumb ones that got caught stealing a car or something. I mean criminals that think out their plans, have motives, don't get caught, and have disastrous pasts. Yeah, it all makes a good book- if someone took the time to write it.

I'll post when I'm finished with one or the other. Little teasers. I can't put the whole thing online. I hope to get them published.

But I will put one of my lesser works on here for you to see. I'm rather proud of it. I wrote it a couple of years ago, I think. My poem.

Random

More than ever do I wish I could play music by ear.

Piano

At my UIL Elite 100 convention, I met a couple of people who could play by ear and once again, I was blown away. Never more have I wished that I had been endowed by the talent to hear music and play it instantly (well, relatively). I understand that that will be an ongoing wish that will never be quite granted, so I have taken to surrounding myself with those that can play by ear, so that I might live vicariously through them.

Background: I have played piano since January of my 7th grade year (which was 2006??). It was the best decision I have ever made. We did not have a piano, but my grandmother did, and as a result of her kindness we hitched it on a trailer and dragged it from Dallas to Houston. Best day of my life. I can still remember the excitement surrounding the whole "adventure". How did I decide I wanted to play? Well, I am not completely sure. Perhaps it was a calling. :) Anyway, my grandparents bought me this little keyboard when I was a kid (I've had it for as long as I can remember). It was a tiny thing, with 3 octaves and small keys. But it might as well have been a super computer for me. Not knowing how to actually play, I used to simply play the preset songs all day and press the percussion buttons. I remember I would get so excited when ever once in a while, my parents bought me the necessary 6 D batteries. They would die quickly (I never grasped the concept of conservation). As I got older, it sat under my bed a while, out of use, but I never quite forgot about it. I still have the little keyboard. Since I have a big one (meaning way more than 3 octaves and 20 preset songs), honestly I never use it. But on the several occasions I was required to consider selling it or giving it away, I could not, absolutely could not bear parting with my baby keyboard. Currently it sits under my bed in little use, as it most certainly will stay for a long time.

Okay, no more reminiscing. Also as a result of the Elite 100 conference, I have realized that I need to be way more technically proficient in my playing. In my fast pieces, I am ridiculously sloppy (yet everyone says how great it is, but pianists would probably dissent). That's why I stick with slower pieces but I yearn to play with verve AND clarity. So, THE PLAN. If I do not want to be embarrased in college, I must must must start playing Hanon. I always say that and do it for a few days...and then quit because it is boring. No more. Same with scales. Learn one every week, 4 octaves or more, major, the relative natural minor, harmonic minor, and melodic minor. Memorized.

And for my SENIOR RECITAL: I must memorize every song I intend to play. So here is the list so far:

1. Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum by Debussy
2. Clair de Lune by Debussy
3. Sonata in D by Scarlatti
4. Take Five by Paul Desmond (Dave Brubeck)
5. Pavane pour une infante defunte by Ravel
6. A popular song (haven't decided yet)
7. Return to the Heart by David Lanz
8. Agitation by Mendelssohn
9. Fantasy in D by Mozart
10. A Pride and Prejudice piece by Marianelli
11. Comptine d'un autre ete l'apres midi by Yann Tiersen
12. Barcarolle by Tchaikovsky
13. My composition

This list is by no means definite. And I have a few more that I have forgotten. Oops.

So yes, this is supposed to be a big deal. I am going to have invitations and a party too. I think it may be at my house. Get ready.

Debate

By April, I was really tired out from debate. And I vowed to take a break (it's mentally draining, believe it or not). But now, it is June...and I miss it. I knew this would happen. Absolutely KNEW this would happen. So you know what I'm going to do now? I am going to go bug Mrs. Bonner about debate camp and such. Just so I can feel proactive.

And then by April 2010, I'm going to wish all those tournaments would just stop.

Quick, Fast, and in a Hurry (Everything Mom Said Was Bad)

Okay. I have to say that I am now officially relieved of all major duties. I'm finished. Now as soon as I find out if I won the Girls State thing and take my AP tests? Smooth sailing.

Public Forum

I was reading over my last blogs and I would like to mention that my partner and I qualified for state in public forum debate. Yes, we did. Social networking sites were a breeze and fun to argue. But at the state competition, we had to do a lot more work. The topic was Resolved: That, on balance, the No Child Left Behind Act of 2001 has improved academic achievement in the United States. Talk about hardcore research. The good? I know just about everything about a topic I knew relatively nothing on before. The bad? We were obliterated. We won one out of five of our debates, ranking 40 out of 44. Yep. We need to change tactics. Badly.

So Yeah, It Has Been A While

So...................................due to pressure from my adoring fan (note the use of the singular noun) I will write a short post. I have completely failed in my blogging duties but that's alright. Summer is arriving soon and there will definitely be NO shortage of topics to discuss. Currently, I need to focus on my outrageous history test on Friday that covers six chapters, my scholarship essay, and maintaining my sanity because AP tests and SAT subject tests are lurking around the corner. My train of thought is jumbled. At least if I stay busy, I won't get involved in other things. At least that is what mi maestra de espanol says.