March 21 - I pick it up, and begin again

When no ideas come,
I don't know what to do.
I'm left with an empty sheet of paper,
and a brain full of the knowledge that I need to begin.
Ideas swirl around,
but dissipate as quickly as they come.
I put my pencil to the paper,
and draw a half circle.
I lift the pencil,
and turn it around.
Drag the eraser over the line,
until it disappears.
I begin again,
put pencil to paper.
This time I draw a line.
When I get to the end,
I lift the pencil,
and erase.
I place the pencil next to the paper,
and breathe a sigh of exasperation.
I pick it up,
and begin again.

March 20 - Little Buildings

Little buildings cover my little map of Europe. Little representations of the big places lots of people were held in and killed at. Little red hotels for the extermination camps. Little blue cubes for the labor camps. Little yellow circles for the concentration camps. Little green houses for the mixed camps. Little black gems for the transit camps. Little representations of big, horrible, things. Little versions of the events that conspired between 1939 and 1945.

Big buildings covered most of Europe. Big places where people were held and killed. Big extermination camps. Small labor camps. Medium concentration camps. Large mixed camps. Varying transit camps. Big places that saw so many people, humans were no longer a big problem. Little people in the grand scheme of the events that conspired between 1939 and 1945.

WWII on the brain. My map can't convey everything that happened. Can't explain how many people were killed. Can't even begin to explain how horrible the events that conspired between 1939 and 1945 truly were.

March 16 - Little Moments

The last moment just before a test is over, or the way the ball flies into the goal. Those are the things that make me really happy. But recently, I've discovered that just before my first scene I feel the same way. Before I go out on stage and change the set, or sing a song, I feel really, truly, happy and excited. And like I can do anything. It's a wonderful feeling. And then there are the little things, like the way I feel like dancing every time a song plays, or the way I laugh with my friends. It's all those little moments that make life worth living.

March 15 - The Perfect Morning

The perfect morning is when your whole class is kept in the dark. You know something, and they don't. You know that you and your fellow 8th graders will sneak out and set up breakfast a block away at the beach. And you have to lie to convince them to leave you alone long enough that you can sneak to the kitchen without them knowing. Of course, they know something is up. Why else would all of the 8th graders leave at exactly the same time? But they don't know exactly what is going on. When you arrive at the beach, you kick off your shoes, and lay out the blankets and food. You draw boxes in the sand, in hopes of organizing everything. Then the birds come, and you have to chase them away. They leave you alone, so you go down to the edge of the ocean and watch the waves crash around your ankles. Before you know it, you can see the tiny dots of your class running down the stairs on the other side of the highway. As they get closer, you run out to greet them, smilingly stupidly from ear to ear. They aren't all surprised, but most of them are, and their faces are the best part of all.

March 14 - Ruining the Picture

Laying on the ground, wrapped in a blanket, next to people I have grown to care for, looking up at the night sky. That's where I am right now. We dragged a tarp and blanket over so we would have somewhere dry to lay amidst the wet grass. I can see so many stars from out here. They point out Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, Orion, and more as I stare out into the vast darkness above me. They tell the stories of how these creatures got to the sky, but that's all they are: stories. It's so beautiful. Looking up at the night sky, next to people I have grown to care for, wrapped in a blanket, laying on the ground. The only problem is, when I turn my head, I can see the lights of Denver glowing up from the earth, ruining the picture.

March 13 - Jammed Fingers

Soccer can be painful.
Blocking a goal can be dangerous.
And terrifying.
Because you see a ball flying at your face,
and you know that if you don't stop it,
it will go in the goal
and the other team will get a point.
But if you do stop it,
you can either use your face,
or your hand,
or your foot,
or any other part of your body.
Which can be painful.
When I jump to reach the ball,
in the top right corner of the goal,
I use my hands,
which turns out to be the best option.
The only problem is,
when I block the shot,
I jam the thumb and pointer finger
on my right hand
directly into the ball.

March 12 - So Far From Normal

I, myself, am so far from normal.
He, himself, is so far from normal.
She, herself, is so far from normal.
They, themselves, are so far from normal.
We, ourselves, are so far from normal.
You, yourself, are so far from normal.
That we can't even look back
and see
where
normal
is.

March 11 - From Summer to Summer

So bright.

Sunshine blanket.

Where's the shade?

Chilly air.

Leaves are falling.

Wear a sweater.

Flakes are dropping.

Everything's white.

Cold.

It's raining.

Drops from the sky.

Everything's wet.

Ice cream.

Drips down the cone.

Sticky.

March 10 - The Way

The way the grass smells just after it rains.
The way the sun shines from behind the tops of the mountains.
The way my shoes splash through puddles.
The way other units emerge from their houses.
The way everyone looks over the railing to see if it's still raining.
The way the trees glisten in the light.
The way you have to hike through the drizzle to do archery.
The way the radio crackles.
The way they tell everyone to go inside, away from the lightning.
The way everyone jumps when lightning hits the tree right outside the window.
The way the sky lights up when the clouds part.
The way a rainbow appears and you know the evening will be great.
The way a perfect day at Tomahawk goes.

March 9 - Wasn't Going to be Quite so Wonderful

Once upon a time there was a girl. This girl loved the fall, and all of the leaves that came with it. The crisp air gave her a rush of happiness, and she absolutely loved the smell of everything preparing for winter. The girl would play outside for hours. She liked to rake the leaves into piles, and then jump in them, or burry a small treasure inside and proceed to dig through till she found it. Sometimes she would just rake, singing softly to herself or whispering a story. But at the end of everyday, she would have to go inside, and leave the world she loved behind her.
One day she woke up and peeked through the blinds, ready for more leaves to have fallen. But instead of more leaves, there was a slight dusting of snow. The girl knew what this meant: autumn was over, and winter had begun. She could no longer rake the leaves, or play outside without a jacket. Her spirit sank just slightly, and suddenly her wonderful day wasn't going to be quite so wonderful.

March 8 - This is How My Tuesdays Go

I sit down after exiting on stage right, and look back at where Ursula, Triton, Ariel, Sebastian, Flounder, and many other characters are. We just finished the possibly worst scene in the entire show, though it's mostly supposed to be terrible. The mersisters have to sing in the contest, and we have to be terrible so Prince Eric doesn't choose us. Then Ariel jumps down and begins dancing, and we have to laugh at her. The problem is, none of us are very good at the choreography, and we look unsure the entire time. The scene that follows our scene is much better, mostly because Ursula is a great and powerful character, and it is much more practiced than our scene. Anyway, so here I am, watching the second to last scene, and writing this post. This is how my Tuesdays go.

March 7 - At Least, For Now

Sometimes the best thing to do,
is to just do it.
Just get it done.
Once you do it will be over.
Finished.
And you can put it behind you,
at least for the time being.
Now you don't have to worry,
or fret about the time it will take to be completed.
You can turn it in,
and it will be over.
At least,
for now.

March 6 - A Rant

Edouard Manet is arguably the most annoying artist out of every artist ever. He's this super important guy, but I had never heard of him until now, and probably never would have. I'm being forced to take Art History, which is fine, but I really don't like research projects, especially ones that lead to oral presentations. Which this one does. Manet is like Monet, but not as commonly known, and probably more important. Manet was basically the father of impressionism, which, for those of you who don't know, is an art era that lasted from about1865 to about 1885. It was all about painting real lower and middle class people, and using lighter and less brush strokes. It didn't last very long, but was important and lead to paintings like Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh. Anyway, I have to make a flyer on Edouard Manet and give a presentation on Wednesday, as well as complete a painting with Hailey HH that mixes Manet's and Michaelangelo's artistic styles, which will be really hard. Come to think of it, Michaelangelo is pretty annoying too. Why are all artists so hard to understand? Why is art so hard to paint? Why is this assignment so hard?!

March 5 - The Wondrous Joys of Shopping

Go all day,

To every store.

Try every option,

In all sizes.

It doesn't fit,

Try again.

Feet hurt,

Don't sit down.

Keep going,

Don't stop.

I need new cleats.

Emphasis on the need.

The wondrous joys,

Of shopping.

March 4 - Excpet for the Goat Heads

Goat heads are a pain. Quite literally. They get everywhere. In your socks, your shoes, your volleyball, your hands. And they hurt. A lot. They have, like, a billion little points that stick in everything. And they're everywhere. Literally. We had to go to Ute Mountain Tribal Park at the last minute when Chaco Canyon closed, and there's this big field full of goat heads. I brought a volleyball cause I thought it would be fun to play in our free time, but it's nearly impossible to play without getting goat heads stuck on the ball every time it touches the ground. I swear when I get home I will find goat heads in my volleyball that just seam to magically appear. They're on everything. Packing the tents will hurt a lot. The bus will probably get a flat tire from all the little holes poked in it. But at least we found some old red hair spray, and I'm folding, like, twenty little paper cranes to give to Brynn. And we can eat wherever we want, and get to look at cool old kivas. So I guess maybe it's not so bad here, except for the goat heads.

March 3 - Homonyms

Today I experienced two different types of shots. The first occurred this morning at soccer practice. We did a drill that involved shooting on goal, however bad at that I may be. I made at least a couple goals, though got out eventually. About five hours after practice ended, I had a doctors appointment to get the second of my HPV shots. It wasn't that bad, but hurt a little. That's the funny thing about homonyms. They are the same word, but mean totally different things.

March 2 - All I Can Do Is Get Better

Even when I study, even when I practice, it doesn't feel like I'm prepared. For anything really. I studied and studied until my brain just about exploded, but I still didn't know the title of the painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I practiced and practiced, but still felt like I wasn't in the right place to intercept the ball. I've had the last four years to practice being a buddy, but still felt like I wasn't prepared for the forceful attitude I received today. I thought I knew how crisis six would work, but it turned out I missed a whole paragraph. But that's all I really can do, right? Practice and study until I remember when Mannerism was popular, or figure out where to be so the stopper doesn't have to do all the work. If I practice and study, all I can do is get better.

March 1 - An Overwhelming Sense of Accomplishment Washes Over You With the Sun

There are some times when all that is necessary is the serenity of the moment. Like when you reach the top of a mountain, or sit and listen to the rain falling outside your window. After hiking four and a half miles up five peaks there is nothing better than sitting down, drinking some water, and finally getting to eat your lunch. There are no words that fully express how much your legs burn, or how painfully your backpack rubs on the back of your sunburned neck. The fifth peak was probably the hardest. You have to go straight down the back of fourth and then right back up the front of fifth, the steepest of the quintet. But one you get there, you're no longer having to stop every thirty feet to catch your breath. The clouds blot out the sun, and you can see almost the whole valley. You really are quite a distance above the bottom. The clouds blow out of the way, and again you are blinded, but it's okay this time. An overwhelming sense of accomplishment washes over you with the sun. You made it to the top. You've hiked half of Fifth Peak, the longest hike at camp. You know you will have to go back down, but it's all okay, because you made it when you thought you wouldn't, and you know you can do it again.