WHAT

So, I used to be that one person who never cried during movies. Ever. I took a lot of pride in it too; my cousins were bawling while I laughed my way through Dear John. I guess I just thought everything was so melodramatic, and I hadn't had any experiences deep enough to connect to feelsy movies like that.

And then everything changed when the Tumblr gifsets attacked.

If there is one thing I never expected to have, it would be Lord of the Rings feels. But dear lord, do I have a lot of them.

I read The Hobbit a few years back, and I'm going to be honest here, it took me forever to get through and by the time I was done with it I needed a break from Middle Earth. I just could not adjust to the writing style, and I guess the trolls and orcs and hobbits and elves and all of their various realms didn't grab my attention like Hogwarts or Narnia did. So I never really got around to reading the rest of the series, despite my friends telling me how legendary and gripping the tale would be.

But recently, the new Hobbit movie came out, so I went to see it with some friends, just as something to do. And it was incredible.

The Shire (and Rivendell and every other bit of scenery in the film) was absolutely gorgeous, and Martin Freeman (already a favorite of mine) was the perfect Bilbo. Not to mention the attractiveness of Kili and Thorin, and the hilarity of the dwarves and Gandalf. The Hobbit completely changed my mind.

So I borrowed the movies from various friends and over the past week I have managed to watch all 3 of them. Until tonight though, I had considered LotR to be a "feels-free" type of series. I mean, who gets emotional when a bunch of orcs are constantly attacking?

Me, apparently. As soon as Sam started telling Frodo about how beautiful the Shire used to be, and then decided to be completely incredible and carry his helpless friend up the side of FREAKING MOUNT DOOM, I lost it. Everyone needs a friend like Sam. He was literally the most genuine and caring friend I have ever seen. And then Gollum happened, and then I got really afraid for Aragorn and Frodo, and then Gandalf shed a tear and I knew I was past the point of no return.

And then they finally accomplished what they spent around 12 hours of film trying to do, and then it seemed so completely unfair that they would never go home to see their Shire safe and sound, and then BOOM GANDALF and then a scene that mirrored Harry Potter so much I was in shock for a moment, and then Aragorn got crowned and then everybody bowed and the music just aaaaah I could not. And then BOOM WEDDING and you expect a happily ever after but then NOPE

but I guess it's really a happy ending anyway. Just not what I expected. But man, I never thought I'd cry over short men with hairy feet.

---

But what I really love about the end is when the four hobbits ride proudly back into the Shire, knowing that they just saved everyone there along with the rest of Middle Earth, and the people there just roll their eyes and carry on like they are nothing special. Like they are just a bunch of kids wandering off for an afternoon of rebellion. I just love it.

Some Ponderings on The Road

So first I think I should make it clear that I haven't finished The Road yet, but I am getting very close, and also very frustrated. I just want to know what happened to the world, and what caused it, and just....why. I guess it could be some sort of nuclear war or natural disaster (I don't know), but the fact that they haven't seen the sun in years is throwing me off. Honestly, all I can think about is one of the theories about why the dinosaurs went extinct (when a meteor hit and kicked up so much dust the sun was covered and it was freezing cold and plants died and the planet plunged into an ice age, you know.) It would just be so much more interesting to read if I knew whether McCarthy was making a statement about the danger of humans and carelessness to ourselves and everything on this planet or not.

Another question would be: why don't the man and the boy have names? I realized that it was odd early on in the book, but it really stood out to me when they met the old man on the road and he introduced himself as Ely (even though he was lying anyway). He never asked for their names at all, as if it didn't even matter. Are they intentionally anonymous, just for the purpose of symbolism? To mean that at times like that, when your only goal is survival, your identity doesn't matter anymore? It just seems rather ironic, because the relationship between the man and the boy is obvious (father and son) and their personalities shine through anyway. They care for each other more than anything else in the world. They are both selfless toward each other, and the man even puts the boys life (or rather, his lack of suffering before death) before his own. Their personalities still show despite their namelessness, like when the boy runs down the road or goes for a swim or laughs when the cart flies down the hill. The man dreams of the life he had and the dangers of the present day, and his role as a father is the main influence over his actions. The boy is brave, patient, selfless, and loyal, and the father is protective, innovative, logical, and desperate. They may be nameless, but they are far from generic. In contrast, almost all of the people they meet on the road are generic, and often go undescribed, other than being identified as men or women.

Anyway, moving on. The lack of punctuation (including apostrophes and quotation marks) is.....well, it's interesting. I watched an interview that McCarthy did with Oprah where he explained why he wrote that way (simply for the purpose of making his literature simple and straightforward), which I understand. But there have been times when I have had to go back and reread dialogue sections because I lose track of who is talking. The man and the boy speak so similarly, because the boy is so mature. It would be interesting to know how old the boy actually is, since he doesn't often act like a child but his father still treats him like one.

Additionally, the coast. What would motivate the man to travel to the coast? I was under the impression he was hoping for warmer weather there and a better chance of survival, but they have just arrived there and from what I have read the climate seems to be the same, if not drearier. The boy was clearly hoping for some salvation or rescue and was disappointed when there was none, and I guess that may be why he was crying when he came back from swimming. He realized what he had hoped for all that time didn't exist, and the only difference now was that there was nowhere else to go. Unfortunately many other people seem to have ad the same notion as the man did, because more and more often the man and the boy encounter "the bad guys" on the road as they approach the coast (of the Gulf of Mexico?)

The boy refers to himself and his father as "the good guys" because they "carry the fire." I just don't understand what he means by that, because he has seen that even the "bad guys" carry fire, and he made this statement about himself even after his father had dropped the lighter in the horrific cellar and they had no way to light a fire at all. I just....I don't understand. Just putting it out there as a thought.

I've given up on interesting segues at this point. How is the boy so smart? He talked about Mars and he knows how to read the map (although that isn't quite as shocking) and he can read. He even talks about God sometimes. How could a young(?) boy in the middle of an apocalyptic catastrophe have time to learn how to read and develop religious beliefs? Wouldn't such a terrible situation take those beliefs away? In so many Holocaust documentaries, Jewish survivors speak about their faith being taken from them, because they didn't believe that their God would allow them to be in such a situation. How then, can this boy, who was born into chaos, believe in something as wonderful as Heaven, when one of the best experiences of his life was drinking a Coca-Cola on the floor of an abandoned supermarket?

Lastly, who is the woman in the man's dreams? Is it his wife who took her life? Or is it some siren, luring him to death? I mean, there probably is no real answer, but it is interesting to think about nonetheless.

Anyway, there are just some of my musings on the road. Obviously this book has a theme about savagery becoming instinctive once the restrictions of society disappear and desperation takes over, similar to the theme in Lord of the Flies. However, instead of a small group of children being isolated from society on a small island, there are adults left to wander in a dying world.

Driving in Silence

It's scary.

You can hear all the weird noises your car makes, and you constantly think "What was that? Oh god I'm about to break down in the middle of the suburban countryside oh god."

You can hear all the leaves in the road skittering around and rustling when you go around curves, and everything just feels so fast, especially in the dark.

When you're sitting at stoplights, if there's anybody else around, you can sometimes hear their music, and it's just so weird because you feel like you're invading their privacy, even though you're doing the same thing you've always done and sitting innocently in your car in adjacent lanes. But then you start thinking (I was at the longest light ever ok) and you feel like they're listening to you too, even though you are sitting there in petrified silence. So then you wonder, what are they hearing (besides their loud music)? What are they thinking about?

And it's scary.

When you have the radio on, there's always some song you've sung along to with your friends or presidential ads you've analyzed in government class. There's commercials for concerts to go to, sales to take advantage of, charity events to contribute to. There's talk shows by the hosts that seem so familiar, even though if you think about it (which I didn't, until just tonight) you don't know them at all. You probably don't even know what they look like.

But once that radio is turned off, all of those connections are gone, and it's just you and your car and whatever is on your mind. When else do you get a chance to be completely alone like that? 

Your thoughts are so vivid and powerful when you drive in complete silence, in the dark, in an unfamiliar patch of woods in late fall. You realize the things that are most important to you, because you think of them first and dwell on them the longest; not because someone else bought them up or reminded you, but because you thought about them yourself.

Maybe knowing yourself is the scariest part.

Observations at 2 am

I cannot sleep for the life of me so I thought I'd jot down my wacked out, sleep-deprived thoughts for your amusement.

---

I think it's cool when my heart beats at the same tempo as my wall clock. That means my pulse is 60 bpm.

Have you ever noticed that we see in black and white once light levels get below a certain point?

It's really dark outside I think it might be the new moon but I'm too lazy to check.

My computer makes noises like R2D2.

Things get louder when you want them to get quieter, but also when you listen harder for them. What if that's the same thing?!

Forever is a relative term. So is never. Like I said I'd never get a Facebook. Or never get my ears pierced. Or never fall in love again. Or that I'd love someone forever. Or when you see your friends and they're all like "I haven't seen you in forever!"

If you stare at a word long enough it stops looking like a word.

Why do people spend so much money on Netflix and all that stuff when prettymuch any movie or tv show you could ever want to watch is available somewhere for free on the internet?

People on the internet either treat each other like dirt or worship them like celebrities.

In real life, most fun things are considered lame. But on the internet, if you don't do those things you are an outcast.

Tumblr is literally like a big pile of shiny things, stolen items, family secrets, and long-lost relatives just waiting to be sorted through.

We waste so much time doing things that just don't freakin' matter.

There's just something intimate about sending a video to someone or talking on skype, even if you're just like, eating a sandwich.

I want a sandwich.

It's 2 am I can't eat a sandwich.

Doesn't eating late at night cause weight gain?

I could just Google it but I'm too lazy.

People go to ridiculous lengths just to get attention.

Why does intelligence come with the impulse to lie?

Why do we always fall for our best friends?'

Why do we do things that hurt us, even when we know we are being unnecessarily stupid?

Why am I blogging again?

RE: I Love Ladies!

Thank you again, Kristina, for shedding more light on issues faced by female Youtubers, Bloggers, authors, and actresses. I never knew J.K. Rowling's reasons behind only using her initials on her publications, and your sentence "sometimes the people who have the most important opinions are the ones who get silenced" really spoke to me. I have a blog because I don't want to be silent, and although I don't usually focus on heavy topics and global issues, this one caught my attention. I hope people don't see the name "Amber Dawn" on the top of this blog and automatically decide that my writing will be too "flimsy" or "emotional" and decide to go read something else instead, just because I'm a girl. And now, I present my answers to Rosianna's Annual Ladies Survey!

1. Who are your favorite female YouTubers?

 I've been browsing Youtube regularly since about 2008, although I am not a content creator myself. The first of course is Kristina Horner, who coincidentally was the first female Youtuber I really got attached to, thanks to a recommendation from the Vlogbrothers.Also on the list is Lee Newton, who is one of the main hosts for the daily news show SourceFed. I'm a fan of Jenna Marbles, Meekakitty, and last but not least my real-life friend Nicole-Anne.

2. Who are your favourite female athletes?

I'm gonna have to do the same as Kristina here and plead ignorance. UNLESS of course, Katniss Everdeen counts as an athlete. Archery is a sport....

3. What is your favourite book written by a female with a female protagonist?

Any of the Harry Potter books written by J.K. Rowling. I consider Hermione to be a protagonist. Ginny and Luna are pretty awesome as well :)

4. What is your favourite film written by a female with a female protagonist?

Errrrrhmmmmgrumblestumble NEXT QUESTION PLEASE

5. Who is your favourite female fictional character?

Maybe I'm biased because I just watched the newest episode of this, but Aria from Pretty Little Liars.

6. What is the biggest problem facing female creators today (and any solutions)? 

I think that the biggest problem facing female creators today is a lack of proper reception or actual constructive criticism from men and teenage boys. As I already said I am a big fan of Sourcefed, and I've noticed a difference in the behavior or viewers in the comment section whenever Lee Newton or Trisha Hershberger host as opposed to when the hosts are both guys. When the show is hosted by just guys, the comments mostly focus on the news that was actually delivered. However, when you add a girl into the equation, there are suddenly tons of comments about their appearance, or things such as "we want more so-and-so!" I don't really know of a solution since this is really a problem that can only be resolved by the individuals who post those comments, unfortunately.

7. Do you think youtube and online video in general are better or worse suited than television for tackling the problems and prejudices women face in the workplace?

Online video is definitely better! These videos are accessible for free online to anyone around the world with the ability to use the internet. They can be shared through social media sites and email, and they tend to be short enough to keep the attention of an audience, unlike a news report or tv show would be.

8. What do you pledge to do to make the internet a better environment for all creators?

I pledge to avoid criticizing anyone or their creations based on their gender, race, sexuality, political views, age, or appearance. It's okay to disagree with someone, but to disagree for a completely unrelated reason doesn't make any sense at all.

9. Tell us a story/secret whatever featuring women!

When she was just a girl, she expected the world, but it flew away from her reach, so she ran away in her sleep.

10. TAG PEOPLE!

Uhm, this is a blog. So I'm not going to do that. Feel free to do the survey on your own though! Have fun!

Basement Blog: I Miss Percussion Camp

I never thought I'd say such a thing, but I do. I joined band in 6th grade after being pressured by my dad, who was also a percussionist in high school, and I was instantly motivated to someday outdo him. I auditioned for All-District Band but never made it, once because my band director actually gave me the previous year's audition music (how does that even HAPPEN?!) and the other times because I was so nervous I went to tears before I so much as played a scale. Nevertheless, almost all of my friends were in band, and I did have fun at BandFest and trips to amusement parks and All-County band, so I decided to stick with it. I participated in marching band my freshman year of high school, and it was a whole different world.

For the first time in my music career I was constantly challenged, and I was surrounded by people who were passionate about band and wanted to compete with me. I was only in the pit, which was a huge disappointment to both my dad and me. Looking back, I realize that the pit is vital to the band as well, but at that point I thought that only the drumline mattered. That was the only part of the band people really talked about, after all. It didn't matter to me that I was competing against 6 seniors, 1 junior, and 1 sophomore to earn a spot on the 10-person line, I did nothing but beat myself up for "failing" the entire season.

Now as everyone who participates in marching band knows, it takes up a ton of time. An entire month (if not more) of summer for band camp, 2 or 3 after-school rehearsals per week, football games every Friday, and competitions almost every Saturday. Plus individual practice time, which I do a lot of. Marching band took a toll on my grades, my opportunities to go to karate (at the time I was still training to test for my Black Belt) and my friendships with my non-marching band friends. Granted, there weren't many of them, but it was rough.

I never got bored with our show, Fiddler on the Roof, but I was never really as into it as some of my other friends were, either because I'd never seen the musical or because I never felt like a part of the band. I was never as outgoing and open as everyone else, and I was afraid of our unreliable and unfocused percussion instructor. Being in the pit also alienated me from the band, because we had to leave the rest of the group during competitions to move equipment. Everyone else is always said "oh whatever they don't have to march they don't work as hard" and the drum majors would sneer down at us from their podiums and tease us, which at the time I didn't take as a joke. I already thought I'd failed, and then I thought my own drum majors and pit captain thought I was a horrible player.

On top of all that, our spring trip to Disney World and Universal Studios bought out the worst in people. There was vandalism, catfights, drama, sneaking out of the hotel, harassment, creepy weirdness, and general homesickness. I came home and avoided the band room at all costs for weeks. I was afraid of the people who I thought were my friends. Despite that, I was more afraid of disappointing my dad again, so I auditioned for drumline even though I hated everything about marching band.

Results came out, and I was assigned to baby bass. I literally got yelled at, and I felt like a failure. Everyone in the percussion section congratulated me and told me it was a good thing, because they "needed someone who could actually count" on the bassline. But I was too disappointed, and I was still afraid. It just wasn't worth it to me, and most of the people who I actually liked in band were graduating. I called up to the school in the middle of July and told my band director I quit. Naturally I received a lot of flak for it, but eventually people accepted that it was my choice and left me alone. I was still in the Wind Ensemble after all, and enjoying quite a bit of success.

Every year around April people would come to me and try to convince me to audition one more time. This year, after making so many new friends in band and having a wonderful time on spring trip to Philadelphia, I was seriously considering it. It will be my senior year, and I figured this was my last chance to make my dad proud. When it was announced that we would be marching a Billy Joel Show, my mind was made up. I auditioned and got my wish: snare.

I got really motivated, really fast. One of my best friends took me to see the 2012 Drum Corps International preview show in theaters, and I was instantly addicted. Can you believe that I'd never seen drum corps before? It blew my mind. I went home and looked up videos of the bands on Youtube almost all night, picked a favorite (Phantom Regiment, mainly because their center snare is a girl), and thought to myself, "I want to learn how to do that." I practiced all the time, trying to speed up my rudiments and clean up my rolls.

At first I had a hard time; I've never liked playing any sort of snare drum because for some reason my left hand it really wimpy and weak. I showed up to percussion camp in the first few weeks of summer after being all pumped about learning hybrid rudiments and such, and man did I get my butt kicked. I went home every day upset and mad at myself with sore hands and arms, and I'd stand right here in this basement where I am blogging and practice for more hours, trying to make my feet mark time and make my hands play so I wouldn't embarrass myself again. I was having a hard time with some family problems and a breakup, and I just felt like I'd never win. I finished the week fully aware of the weak player I was, but having learned loads. I hated the camp, and I was so glad to have a week to spend away from percussion at the river.

Now I'm back home, and I could kick myself. Why did I hate it? It was an excellent distraction, and an excellent opportunity. I didn't realize until now how much I really took away from that week. I miss it so much, I have nothing to do but stand in this basement with my laptop and drumpad, alternating between playing, blogging, and tumblring. I miss the soreness in my arms and hands, and the bright orange earplugs protecting my ability to hear. I miss being amazed by our new drum instructor, who can triplet-roll like there's no tomorrow. I miss making up stupid nicknames for each other and trying to learn how to march after lunch and wearing sunglasses even though we were inside. I miss being kicked out of various hallways and classrooms because the floors were being waxed and ending up drumming on a table on our stage until the paint started popping off (which kinda stinks cuz it's the theater's table so I'll be the one to repaint it in the fall). I miss hauling equipment around and being soooooo thankful that I'm not in the pit again. I miss listening to Waddyissoawkward and Finn13 talk about Adventure Time and Avatar the Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra all the time, even though I'm nowhere near as obsessed as they are haha. And most of all I miss learning stuff and having a hard time and conquering the music and occasionally getting an approving glance or a compliment. I missed the sectional last week, and I'm so disappointed. I just want somebody to drum with. I can't wait to go back. <3

I Miss School.

So I'm gonna be honest here and just go ahead and say it: I hate summer. School is my life; it where all my friends are (I don't party so I don't see many of my friends outside of school), it's where the drum closet is, it's where I actually accomplish things, it's where I can sit on the stage and feel at home. Here, in my actual home, I feel caged. I have things that I could do, but the motivation to do them is so small I never do. I sit on Memebase and Youtube and get bored, and I'm surrounded by painful reminders of things that I don't want to deal with. I have nowhere to go, nobody to be with, and nothing to do to distract myself.

I miss AP English every morning, watching Carl Azuz on CNN Student news and writing 2 or 3 essays a week. I miss sitting in the drum closet during Wind Ensemble and looking at our Periodic Table of Percussion and drawing unicorns on the wall with a tube of lip gloss we found. I miss French I, being admired by my teacher (who was actually french!) for being so good at French after taking four years of Spanish (the two languages are very similar). I miss Precalc, and being the one person in the class who could actually follow what our teacher was explaining. I miss AP Physics, when I was constantly confused and amazed by the world we live in and the shenanigans our totally awesome teacher told us about. I miss AP Environmental Science, when I rarely did anything in class and was allowed to go sit in Jazz Band and play instead. I miss history, where my teacher was more of a conspiracy theorist than a historian and we did dozens of projects involving drawing, which is not my best strength.

I miss school lunches (even though I packed almost every day) when I was surrounded by band or theater drama, excitement over Pixar, sudden bursts of Man of la Mancha or RENT songs, and the smell of Chick-Fil-A on Wednesdays. I miss the walk to the bus that I will never do again, in the misty gloom of the morning and in the awkward tired shuffling of the afternoon. I even miss riding the bus, continuously turning up my iPod's volume to drown out the lousy 7th Graders' yelling.

I miss walking to class with friends. I miss hauling around percussion equipment for concert after concert after concert. I miss the late nights finishing reports and skimming textbooks because I was too busy watching Pretty Little Liars of Mythbusters or Sourcefed to do it earlier. I miss staying after school for weeks at a time until ten o'clock at night for theater rehearsals and performances, and even later on closing night for strike and cast parties. I miss the inside jokes, I miss the traffic in the hallways, I miss the struggles and success. I just want my life back, summer. Is that so much to ask?

What is Thinking?

So this is going to be quite poorly composed due to the fact that I literally just woke up, but oh well. I had an amazing epiphany while I was laying there in the nebulous stage between sleeping and cracking my eyes to meet the harsh world once again, and I was thinking. I don't even remember what I was thinking about now, and this happened maybe ten minutes ago. Probably AP Tests or the school musical (Man of la Mancha!!!) or The Great Gatsby or something, since that's honestly all that occupies my mind these days.

But anyway, I was laying there thinking about various events and occurrences, becoming slowly more aware of the warm, sunlit room around me and the fact that I'd fallen asleep with my phone in my hand once again, thus forgetting to plug it in to charge and ending up with an awkward, floppy, sleepy hand again. I was deciding what I wanted to spend my day doing, how much I needed to accomplish, and how to go about avoiding getting sidetracked (by blogging, for instance....oops). I realized I'd overslept my chance to tell someone special goodbye before they began a 14 hour shift at work, and I was briefly mad at myself.

And I was doing all of this completely silently, without moving, without disturbing anyone, completely inside of my mind.

No duh, you must be saying to yourself, you were thinking. Of course you were silent. If everyone thought out loud all of the time, everyone would be super irritated, there would be no secrets, no privacy, and no silence. Taking tests would be horrible.

Indeed, I reply. But have you ever thought about how incredible it is? We are able to have an entirely private, silent, in depth conversation with ourselves, any time of the day, in any place, on any subject. We do it without even trying. We don't even realize we are debating or reasoning or making decisions half the time. We slip in and out of daydreams without even noticing; have our favorite (or least favorite, if you are unfortunate) songs play in our heads until we block them out with other music or intense concentration; and picture circumstances that happened recently, long ago, or maybe haven't even happened yet, and contemplate different outcomes if something is done differently. We base decisions on our experiences from the past and goals for the future, both consciously and unconsciously; build stories and evaluations of ourselves and the world; memorize formulas for the next physics test; recall information we learned long ago to solve problems; and creatively improve a process or experience. And we do all of this, without even meaning to, while our brain tells the rest of our body to function, tells us that our eyes itch from horrible spring allergies and allows our hands to move to scratch them, or that we need more rest or food or water and alerts us to those needs. Our brain tells us what we need, and then we think about what we want. It amazes me.

If you think about it, we started thinking before we could speak. Babies cry because they can feel that they are hungry, or because they realize that their parents have left them alone and they want to have them back. They learn what home looks, feels, and smells like, differentiate between people, learn how to play with toys and grow more and more independent, all long before they can walk and talk. They must be thinking somehow, or else they wouldn't show any emotion.

But wait, babies can't talk. And they can't understand much of what we say to them either, because they haven't learned yet. So how are they thinking? Do they not think in English? Or Spanish? French? German? Mandarin? Arabic? 

How do we think? Do we ponder in our own spoken language? Sometimes, I suppose. When we are writing or reading (which also amazes me) or deciding what to say. But then if we learn a foreign language (or 2 or 3 or 4...) do we begin to think in those languages as well? Even when we aren't speaking or writing in those languages? What about when we are solving a math problem? Do our thoughts form in numbers and formulas? Do we think in visual images? Sometimes, of course. Daydreams are visual, so realistic in fact that they sometimes block out the world we should be observing instead. 

What is that little voice inside your head? What does it sound like? Does it sound like anything at all, or is it just a stream of information? Can you really hear it at all? It's obviously not an actual sound wave making your eardrums rattle, so then, what is it?

Do our thoughts follow logical sequences and sentences, or do we think in jumbled fragments and bits?

Do animals think? When you stare into your fish tank, are your fish thinking about who you are or longing for food or perhaps even being frightened? What about bugs? Birds? Leopards and cheetahs and tigers and housecats? Dogs and wolves? Bears? Dolphins and whales and narwhals? Do they think, have memories, and show emotion? Because they certainly can't speak to us and express those thoughts except through their actions. And we all know that we can think about something without acting on it.

So my question is, what on earth is thinking? How is such a small, lumpy blob of mushy cells inside my skull capable of producing such a phenomenon? The thought of thinking literally blows my mind.

 - - -

 UPDATE 11:22 pm:

So being the nerdy night owl that I am, I just discovered this oddly coincidental Ted Talk about the brain by Jill Bolte Taylor...

Enjoy :) 

A Beautiful Quote from a Theater Teacher

“Love is a selfish emotion, because you are taking someone else’s happiness and linking it to your own.” ~Mr. Wax

KONY 2012

I'm sure many of you have seen this video already, since I was bombarded by insane amounts of people talking about it at school today. I first heard of it from Phil Defranco, but I was once again amazed by the power of the internet and the speed at which these things spread.

I personally believe this is an incredible mission, and Invisible Children is a wonderful organization that I want to assist through this project. It is truly a Project for Awesome. Nerdfighters, we can make a difference, we have before. And those of you reading this who are not Nerdfighters, 1. You should become one. 2. You can make a difference as well.

Cover the Night (April 20, 2012) is just a few days before my 17th birthday. For my birthday, I want to see people in my community and around the world taking a stand against Kony. Put up your flyers, wear your bracelets and t-shirts proudly. I'm getting them, you won't be alone. Make this your Facebook status, use the hashtag #Kony2012. Get the word out and strengthen the Peace Army. Share this post, friends. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Email, I don't care. Use your social media for good. I want to see the community coming together to help children on the other side of the world. Show me how far our love can spread.

Accept the challenge? Go!

- - -

EDIT Friday, March 9, 2012:

*sigh* so I don't know what to think about this whole Kony thing now. I think a lot of people (myself included) just watched the video and got caught up in the emotional 'children-are-kidnapped-and-killing-people-and-dying-and-they-need-help-omg' aspects of it, and jumped on raising more awareness and trying to take action. We blindly trusted Invisible Children and didn't look into its history as a charity organization.

The sad thing is, its history is not all that great. And the sadder thing is, this sort of thing happens ALL THE TIME. I'm not saying Invisible Children is a complete fraud or anything, but it's not quite exactly what it says it is. I honestly don't know whether to trust it or not, now. The situation is admittedly terrible, but it is so much more complicated than Kony 2012 makes it seem. The video (like almost any other thing involving politics and international relations) is presented from a biased point of view, so of course not all the 'facts' are entirely true. The US government is not as ignorant and terrible as is appears there. Also, does the United States really have the resources or economic stability to get itself into another war? I mean, we're already fighting in the Middle East. There's enough confusion and chaos centered around that. I don't know what choice is right and which is wrong, honestly. What gives us the right to interfere in ANY foreign affairs, anyway? I just don't feel like I know enough about any of these situations to pick a side. And the last thing I want to do is to act blindly and cause a mistake.

Admittedly, I do want to save the children. No child should be forced to kill their own parents. No preteen girl should be sold as a sex slave (nor should any girl at all, for that matter). I think we can all agree that those things are just wrong. But it's also wrong for groups of people to slaughter each other just because they practice a different religion, or for minority races to be treated differently, whether through segregation or something more discreet like environmental racism. There are people in countries everywhere who are the victims of injustice, racism, religious persecution, starvation, poverty, and illnesses and death from easily preventable disease. The world has a ton of problems, and we have to choose which are most important to us, and which effect the most people and can be resolved.

So I don't know what to do. I want to do the right thing, but I don't know what the right thing is. I feel about the same as my hero Hank Green does here, and he explains it much more eloquently than I just did:

So yeah. Kony 2012. Let's see where it goes then, shall we?

My All-States Experience (Part 3)

We made it to the JMU campus just as the sunrise caught up to us, and found our way to the parking deck and music buildings. We pulled into a spot on the second level and took the staircase down to the ground. It was bitterly cold there, a different sort of cold from what we have here at home. The frigid air permeated right through our layers of jackets and nipped at our skin, numbing it and making our jeans scrape painfully at the backs of our knees. We made it inside only to be greeted by a claustrophobic warmth, and I fought through the crowd of instrument-clutching students and their equally flustered parents to find my band director and receive my payment ticket. He greeted me with a halfhearted smile, but I could feel the warning in his gaze. Make me proud, he was thinking. Represent our school. Don't screw this up, Amber. Don't make this a waste. I'd thought I was nervous before, but that was nothing compared to the panic I felt as I struggled to smile back at him. My lips trembled as I tried to make my facial muscles compose themselves, a knot formed in my throat, and my eyes threatened to spill over from shame. I think he could tell, because he quickly looked away. I guess he felt awkward or something.

I turned in my audition packet to a group of college guys at the registration table, where I received my audition number. 1. I was number 1. The first one the judges would hear, the first one to attempt the sight-reading, the first one to be finished and get to come home. I was both relieved and terrified. I proceeded nervously to the percussion warm up room, where I sat with my drum and mallet bag in an awkward posture-perfecting chair near the door and picked all of my nail polish off in my anxious panic. The room slowly filled with the people who would be competing with me, mostly guys from all over the state. I literally think there were about 6 girls in there, including myself. People warmed up on their snare drums and the provided timpani and xylophones. Some even worked on their tambourine-playing and triangle technique. The room was dominated by the complexity of our prepared piece, played overlapping itself by 72 percussionists from all over Virginia. It was almost surreal, how we had all learned the same music, and played it together, although almost none of us had even met each other, and would probably never see each other again. Almost nobody spoke, not only because it was so ear-grindingly loud but because we were either too nervous to open our mouths or too competitive to try to make friends. For me, it was both.

I sat there from 7:45 until 9:30. Auditions started later than they were supposed to, which was horrible. I just sat there and observed my competitors. There were the ones who were obviously drummers, not percussionists; they were twirling their drumsticks in ways usually reserved for the football field. Some were from the really wealthy schools, who looked sneeringly at the warm-up instruments provided to us, because they were apparently used to better ones. Some were obviously forced to audition but didn't really care at all, and some were still in the process of learning their music, even daring to ask others how to count rhythms. It was ridiculous. It wasn't anything like what I had expected. Of course, many of them were much better than me. I knew that before I agreed to try out. But I didn't expect such a wide range of players.

I also didn't expect for all of us to have matching circles around our eyes and the same callouses on our hands. Clearly, I'm not as unique as I like to believe. It was humbling.

Finally auditions began, and I was first. Apparently it was a big deal for a girl to be going first, because the four guys in my group whistled in awe and looked impressed. And maybe even jealous, I guess because everyone in that warm up room watched me leave, and knew that I was number one, not them. I went into the first room to do snare, and I won't go into all of the details of my audition because it would be too boring, the majority of people wouldn't know what I was talking about or wouldn't care, and it was rather painful anyway. I'll just say the sight-reading was worse than I expected. Like my prepared piece, it didn't look like music at all. I sortof butchered it. I'm not proud of that. 


At that point I was beginning to panic and lose my head a little, and I had cottonmouth like crazy. I forgot that I would have to use my snare drum again and started to dismantle it, actually, because I was that flustered and confused. I went to the mallets room next, which was significantly better than in the snare room, but still not my best performance. Nerves were really starting to kill me at that point. In the timpani room, I don't even remember what happened. Everything was getting really chaotic, my hand was bleeding all over my mallets from an old blister that chose a really bad time to pop, and I was nearly in tears. The audition assistant was staring at me as well, because that was his job, to make sure I wasn't having any sort of problems. But at that moment, I hated him. I wanted to yell at him to leave and go and get me a bandaid and stop staring at me because I knew I sucked and he didn't need to make fun of me. But I couldn't (thank goodness) because we aren't allowed to speak in audition rooms. So I held my tongue.


In the last room, I felt about ready to faint. I managed to get everything set up in under 30 seconds, which was a miracle because there was so much to do and at the point I was completely going insane. I'm sure I looked like a complete madwoman.I sure felt like one. I played my prepared piece (I mean, I suppose I did. I actually don't remember. That happens to me when I get too panicky.), grabbed all my stuff, and walked out. I never want to set foot in those rooms again. I hate them. I hate how they made me feel, and I hate how they showed me how weak of a player I am. They made me hate percussion. I've honestly been forcing myself to play ever since.


I stopped by the warm up room to wish my friends from my district good luck, and to gather the rest of my things. I said a quick goodbye to my band director, avoiding eye contact at all costs because I knew if I looked at him I would lose it. I located my dad and headed to the parking deck, where I counted my mallets to make sure I hadn't lost any in my panic (I hadn't) and ate a sandwich before I fainted.


All the way home, I tried to admire the mountains, but I was too worried about my performance and too distracted by the abundance of people texting me, asking me how it went. I finally felt free, however, and that was totally worth it. It was great to go first and get out of there before 10:30, and I still had time to go home and get some essays done before having my first Girl's Night in over a month. Freedom was something that I didn't realize I had missed so much, and I still haven't gotten over actually having time to enjoy myself yet.

~ ~ ~

So it turns out, I got 59th chair. Out of 72. After all of my hard work, I was extremely disappointed in myself. I felt like I had wasted my entire month, been miserable all for nothing. That is, until my percussionist friend encouraged me. He was proud, and he didn't think I wasted my time, because having such a difficult musical experience made me a better player. Plus, now I know what to do when I try out next year.

Maybe next time, my states story will have a happy ending instead. For now, #59 is fine with me.

My All-States Experience (Part 2)

Saturday morning, February 25th, I woke up at 4 am. I actually don't remember waking up at that time because I was so tired. But I did, because that's when my alarm clock was supposed to go off and I know for a fact I wasn't late. So apparently I woke up on time, gathered my snare drum, mallet bag, and music, and set off down the road with my dad in the driver's seat. I actually don't remember anything before I-295.

Of course, due to the fact that it was almost 5 am, it was still dark outside. I was also half-delusional with nerves and exhaustion. I remember staring ahead of us at the road, with Repo! The Genetic Opera blasting into my ears. The reflectors on the sides of the highway were the only things visible, because there were hardly any other cars on the road at that time of the morning. I could see about a half-mile ahead of us, and I watched the reflectors fade into darkness, or sometimes curve like the tracks of a roller coaster into the trees. For some reason I was reminded of Space Mountain in Disney World. I know I spent a good 20 minutes just staring at the reflectors and subdividing my music in my head. I marveled at the things I had never noticed about the songs before, because I'd never listened to them that closely in such a silent atmosphere.

Whenever we came across another lonely car on those highways, I wondered what bought them there at such an obscene time of morning. Were they going to states auditions too? Were they perhaps my competition? Or were they making a road trip? Maybe they were on their way to work....or possibly on their way home, if they had the misfortune to  work night shifts. I wonder if the people in those solitary cars were wondering the same things about me, or if they were just tired like I was and didn't really care. It was a lonely trip, and my mind was in some strange places.

Around about 5:30 the sky started to slowly turn from black to indigo to navy to teal and suddenly it burst into color. We were heading west, so of course the sunrise was behind us the entire time. Looking out the front window, I still saw darkness, with the shapes of trees and distant mountains beginning to appear. I watched the sunrise in the passenger side mirror. It was another glorious dawn, and it lasted for 2 full hours, since we were driving away from it the entire time. I took it as an acknowledgement to all of my efforts that I had the privilege to watch something that beautiful for so long.

Another benefit was the fact that I'd never driven through the mountains before, so that was quite a unique experience. I'd never seen mountains so massive, and I'd never looked out of my car window to see a sheer cliff face 10 yards away. Rocks and dirt protruded in geometric shapes from the mountainside, and I tried to take pictures with my phone but failed due to the sun's glare and the speed at which we were moving. Every once in a while I'd see a grand and isolated house perched in a bald spot on the mountainside, overlooking the valleys and pastures filled with cows, sheep, and horses. It struck me as an especially serene place to live. If I ever lived on a mountainside, I'd wake up every morning and make hazelnut coffee to watch the sun peek over the edge of my world.

It snowed briefly during the drive. For literally about two minutes, there were flurries in the mountain air, mixing in with the thick fog that the sun had not yet burned away. I'd never seen snow in the mountains either. So that was another first to mark off of my list.

~ ~ ~

My All-States Experience (Part 1)

So as you've most likely figured out already, I am a band kid. I play percussion, and I am WAY too competitive and strive to be the best, always. My competitiveness has not always earned me a top spot (I was second in this year's District band, so close!), but it has helped me to be motivated to improve. In this case, second chair qualified me to audition for All-States band, which was a huge and terrifying honor that I was not prepared for.

The evening after our All-District concert, I stayed up until midnight (despite being exhausted) in order to download my states audition music as soon as it was available. Finally, after waiting for an extra 45 minutes, the music was posted. I clicked on the percussion link, and I waited for my Adobe Reader to open the document....

When the page opened, my jaw dropped. It didn't even look like music. It was like somebody had sneezed dots and lines and dynamic markings on a sheet of paper. I almost gave up right then and there. I was supposed to switch between snare drum, triangle, timpani, tambourine, and 3-mallet xylophone. The notes were cramped together, the tempo was obscenely fast, and the time signature went from 5/4 to 6/4 to 5/4 to 9/8 to 12/8. I had no idea how to even approach a piece of music that difficult. But I am stupidly competitive, so I decided I had to try anyway.

For the rest of the month of February, I skipped lunch to practice in the band room. I practiced from when I got home from theater rehearsals until my parents told me they needed sleep too, and then I'd cram in homework. My grades dropped, I didn't see my friends, and many blisters and callouses found new homes on my hands. I took lessons from a certain percussionist who I can never thank enough, I bought new mallets, and I was basically miserable for an entire month. That was a month of having meltdowns in the drum closet, and hiding there because I didn't want to return to class after a particularly brutal practice session. Yes, the same drum closet I wrote about here. Despite being disgusting, I love that closet.We've cleaned it over and over again, and we recently acquired a door for it. That closet is like a second home for me, where only percussionists are allowed and where we've always gone to escape from the rest of the band. The secrets concealed in the ceiling and under the shelves have been there for years, and I plan to leave my own before I leave. The closet is a place for private talks, mental breaks, and chill-and-forget-about-what-people-think-of-you time.

The week before the audition was the worst week of my life, there's no doubt. Even though I'd worked so hard and exhausted myself, I was still not prepared for my audition. Nerves were getting the best of me, and it effected my performance in all of my classes. I was irritable, depressed, and hopeless. I was afraid to fail after putting so much time, energy, and money into preparing. Friday night, I just cried. It was all I could do. It was too late to prepare any more. My percussionist friend and my student teacher encouraged me and told me how to stay calm and told me they were proud, and it was so touching. But it made me that much more nervous, because I didn't want to let them down and have wasted their time as well.

~ ~ ~

A Riddle

How is a Raven like a writing desk?

Poe wrote on both.

Dear Blog,

I miss you. Why don't we hang out more often? I really enjoy writing in this little grey-rimmed box, and looking back, I've used some descriptions that I'm really quite proud of here. I mean, come on. I called my printer an alien spaceship with which I had to have a nuclear battle. And I used the phrase "begrudging snobs". How many times in life will you hear that phrase?

Sure, all of my stupid typos are out here for all to see (ironically I just misspelled the word stupid twice), but I refuse to go back and fix them. The flaws make this more real, more human. I don't want to seem like a professional here. I'm not an author, and I don't want to be. Not anymore, at least. NaNoWriMo ruined that for me. I want to write for fun, not because I have to. That's why I started this blog in the first place, rather than taking a Creative Writing class at school. Sure, I could ace it. But I'd be REQUIRED to share what I wrote. And I'd have deadlines. And I couldn't start sentences with the word 'and'. Here on this lovely little blog, people can see what I write, but barely anyone does. I like my small audience. I wish I had more feedback, but still. Small is good. And I don't get stage-fright here, because I'm not anticipating having to read my essay to the class. There are no grades, no deadlines, and no length requirements. Ironically, that makes me write more.

Oh, so you're saying it's my fault we haven't chilled much lately? Well.....I guess that's true. I mean, I have been struggling not to fail AP Physics, as well as going to both District and Regional competitions for theater. And there's something I'm forgetting.......oh yeah. I auditioned for All-State Band. That's right. Get on my level :P I'll be writing about that soon; it was quite an experience.

Anyway blog, I've missed you a lot. I just wanted to tell you that. Mainly because I felt like writing tonight but I'm literally too lazy to get up and go and get my journal. Also, my wrist hurts from over-practicing for states. I know I've posted recently, but I wrote those things because I had to. The percussionist essay was originally written for AP English, and although I am immensely proud of it I wish I had done it by my own free will. I feel like I had to try really hard to write that essay, as opposed to right now, when I'm literally just sitting here with my laptop and a can of Pepsi, listening to Repo! The Genetic Opera and typing whatever comes to mind. And as far as the virtually nonexistent post goes.....I wrote that on a night when I was so stressed I actually could not concentrate on practicing anymore. I needed a distraction from my nervousness and anger at myself, and I felt like I owed the internet an apology anyway. I mean, I ditched it all at once. Seven different websites in one night. I bet it was heartbroken (ok not really).

I'm really going to try and come back to you, blog. I promise we'll have a special Bro Night sometime soon. Now that you are my primary interweb attraction, you will get all the attention. In the next month, I promise to write more real things and (hopefully) they will be more interesting than this is.

I Am Virtually Nonexistant

So those of you who read this most likely found this blog through my Twitter....which no longer exists. I deleted it, along with my Tumblr and many other websites that I formerly used to procrastinate, and honestly I've never felt more free. I've already mentioned once here on this blog about how I "don't want to put too much of myself out here on the internet" and how I don't think it's necessary to pretend to be friends with people who I barely know at all, so I don't need to be redundant here and rant about that again. But my point remains the same, and I don't want to be a part of that sort of immature society, who doesn't know how to communicate without a keyboard or camera-phone.

I honestly don't see why people want to tie themselves down to the internet so much. I mean, it's a wonderful tool for research; I've learned endless amounts of interesting things from websites like Youtube (the Vlogbrothers on their new shows SciShow and Crashcourse mostly) and StumbleUpon. I've also been much more up to date on the news thanks to access to SourceFed, Phil DeFranco, and CNN Student News. I have enjoyed entertainment from Youtube (can you tell I'm a fan?) and Symphony of Science, as well as Memebase and of course other blogs, which I have also mentioned here before. Don't get me wrong, I love the internet. I just don't want to let it rule my life.

Back when I was still a Twit, I had a deadly routine. I'd get home from school, fire up the trusty laptop, open up Firefox intending the check email and start on homework, and end up automatically typing Twitter into my address bar. I'd then waste about 30 minutes browsing through the silly things that people tweeted during my school day, none of which were important at all, as well as checking out the pages of the people I was closest friends with. I would follow all of the 'interesting' links (from people whom I trusted of course; there is a lot of Twitter scamming that goes on these days), look at all of the Twitpics, participate in discussions, and overall just waste my time. What made it worse was the fact that I also had Twitter on my phone, so I was connected 24/7. Sometimes, I'd end up having 2 conversations with people at the same time, one over texting and one over Twitter. It all felt so fake. It was fake. I cringe to think about all of the time I wasted on websites like that, all of the hours I could have been catching up on sleep or preparing a little bit more for auditions and such. I feel like I missed out on part of my summer as well, because I was too busy tweeting about the good times I was having to actually enjoy them.

I was also constantly worried about censorship. On Twitter and Tumblr, people can be anonymous or easily conceal their identities. You have no idea who sees what you type. I have no idea who is reading this right now in fact. You could be my mother, or my English teacher, or a college professor or potential employer checking out my internet profile before you hire me. On Twitter, it was always so easy just to tweet on a whim, and there were many times when I was overreacting over personal situations which didn't belong on the internet at all and yet, boom, there was my personal life, in under 140 characters for all to see. Later I'd feel guilty and stupid and delete those posts, but of course, once something is on the internet, it never goes away. I am ashamed of that.

I was actually in the process of 'tidying up' my Twitter page when the annihilation of my virtual self occurred. I realized how much of myself was there on that public webpage, despite the discrepancy of the individual tweets themselves. Anyone could learn almost anything about me, simply by reading a few hundred of them. I realized how scary it was, and how I was tired of worrying about whether people thought my tweets were funny or interesting, or what my darned Klout score was. What is that anyway? Who is Klout, to say how interesting it thinks I am? So it was quick and painless. I hit deactivate. And since then, I haven't looked back. My phone is quieter, I get my work done more efficiently, and despite feeling isolated from everyone else socially, I am relieved that I don't have to hear about every little occurrence in everyone's lives. Sure, I might not be the first to know if so-and-so broke up or if there is a marathon of America's Next Top Model on or if #TeamInsomnia is trending in Australia, but that's fine with me. I have my own life and my own goals to worry about. Who needs those kinds of distractions anyway?

Also, if not having a Facebook means that I get to own an Invisibility Cloak, that's totally cool with me.

Now don't worry, I'm not going to delete this blog. It seems to be a really healthy outlet for me to get all of my brain clutter every once in a while. I actually wish I had time to blog more. And I'm not leaving Youtube either. I still love the internet- just after the real work is over with.