How must I become a Marching 100?

 School has taken all of my blogging time and I have been in a whirlwind preparing an article for the school paper.  Finally, there is time for blogging. I have been a closeted band nerd since sixth grade, so there is
no suprise the Marching 100 is on this blog.  Saying  the Marching 100 is the a fantastic band is becoming an understatement. The band has played alongside Kanye West at the grammy's, performed at France's independance day, and the their tubas bring the funk.  The band is performing Micheal Jackson tunes along with his choreography.

stress

   I'm not dead, although I have been buried in notebooks and textbooks. Surprisingly, American History

  has been my favorite class of this semester so far.  My history professor is quite the comedian; he  talks about  early American history as if his on Comedy Central. However, I'm less enthused about the thirty minute group presentation about Ben Frankiln.  Working in a group is not me,plus I have to speak   for thirty minutes to a  class room of forty strangers. I haven't done public speaking since the third grade and I was pretty good at it. Working in a group, however, always ended with two people ditching the assignment  on presentation day.  English has been the most anticipated class of the summer. Since this blogging came in my life, I needed an outlet to hone my newly found craft. Journalism has also helped my writing abilities, which suddenly reminds me that I have to get that skinny jeans article finished. There is nothing much to say about algebra other than me and mathematics do not get along.  Feel in love with song and the video especially.

Best of my life

Looks as though this blogging may be more than a suppresion for my bordom. Today, I joined my college news paper and if all goes well I could be the staff blogger. I  fall into many activities,but the love of writing may be a profound passion.  Wish I could share more, but we know how somethings go. Plus, I'm in my college library discussing this spirited moment in my life.  Sadly, I have to leave, American History in  5 minutes.

    

back to school

   Due to constant procrastination and lack of ideas,  I purposely abandon my  blog. Carelessly  forgetting about those that take  the time out of their day to read about me navigating my way through  life.  My dearest apologies to all of you.

With the fist day of school looming over the horizon, I should have a  novel worth  of words to describe the  ever changing kaleidoscope of emotions I have.  For starters, I have never been so excited about going to school; it has never been a place of friendship and  first crushes for me. School was less than an institution for learning, and more of a boxing ring every  fourth period  gym class. As of this day, the sound of a whistle  makes want to scream.  Today, I am more confident than the  312 pound  teenager from high school.

College is the most free spirited place I will probably ever encounter. There, no one gives a damn about who's wearing the flyest khicks, or the guy who walks with a switch in hips.  Last semester I arrived  to my 8am English late and standing before the entire class; wearing a white tank top with ketchup stains, shaggy ripped jeans, and a pair of  sneakers with no designer logo stitched to them . That whole wardrobe is definite fashion faux pas  in public school,and  if   worn to a pep rally or during lunch  I would probably have to pack myself in a box and relocate to another country because the  teasing  will never cease.

My self-esteem wounds are finally healing from the piercing jokes about my weight and  my period which made herself widely noticed on the back of my jeans during a school assembly.  It was those moments of  humiliation when I wanted to tear my flesh and become something other than human.

two-step

Sorry If this clip seems a bit strange from all the other apples in the sack, but I had to post this. It's  been a year now since I've began  dieting. Lately, I've  really became bored with the typical thirty minute work out. Dancing  have became my primary source of calorie burning. Every moment I'm  doing some random jig at work or  in the elevator to a disco medley .  The routine in the video is a crowd spectacle and the dancer really   crush  alot of stereotypes about rhythmically challenged Caucasian people.

life

   

I received heart breaking news about   the passing of a dear friend of my family. He was killed in a car accident on his way to work.  Allen  left behind a wife and four small children who will never feel his touch or hear his laughter ever again.  I've came to the twenty first year of my life, I can sleep with the lights off, tie shoes laces,even ride a bike without falling on unforgiving ground. But death remains one of those childhood stepping stones I have yet to grasp . 

 What is death and what does it look like? Maybe it's a heavenly translucent figure with wings and a halo, or some ghastly horror ripped from the scenes of an   X-Files episode.  Death is most perplexing to me  when one can have a conversation in the supermarket with a long lost friend , or a wave hello  across the street to an acquaintance  and  within the next day or moment that person is dead. 

 It's been 48 hours now since Allen  has left this earth , and still there is this stubborn part in me that won't accept his death.  Although I have heard the gossip of strangers and the confirmation by witnesses of his death, I believe Allen is home with his kids.  Maybe If  I see his bruised corpse the truth will sink in, or perhaps the dismantled SUV both Allen and his wife were driving in during that dark morning of his death.  

I was raised to beleive that earth is not our home, that God has a closing time on all of his children. The most challenging part of this belief is never knowing when it's your time to leave all wordly possesions behind and journy to another realm.   After I click the publish post button, I'm going to  value human life and thank God for every breath . I'm gonna laugh longer and cry while I'm laughing. I'll give forgiveness a try.

Gregg Breinberg and the PS22 choir

 I'm probably the last blogger on earth to post about Gregg Breinberg and the PS22 choir, but I don't care.  As always I was on YouTube and discovered this man and his  fifth grade students.  Every clip I saw of them gave me goosebumps which have yet to disappear.  I'm a firm believer in the power of art; that it broaden horizons, and builds both character and self-esteem. Seeing such a prolific power being expressed through kids is indescribable.  I attended an underfunded public school throughout my school age years and music classes were  more than a curriculum,but rather a major event.  Through out many American public schools, the arts are considered a needless waste of tax dollars. Thus, leaving students with a void of self-expression and talented teachers in the unemployment line.  Hopefully, the PS22 children will capture the heart of a politician or educational leader to enforce more creativity in public schools. Watching Greg Breinberg in his hipster attire, really wish I had him as a band directer.