My First and Last Elementary Tour

I realized a lot of things today.

I realized this is my last year of high school; more importantly, it's my last year of band.

I realized all of us DMs need to practice conducting without the doctor.

I realized that children seem to be shrinking every year, like we're devolving or something.

I realized I like George's hugs and talking to him about books and marriage and hair and taking a 30 second nap on his shoulder/torso/crook of his arm whatever.

I realized my brother doesn't think I'm a total nerd.

I realized Summer does, and I'm okay with that.

I realized that everyone has something different that holds special value to them, be it band or debate or coming up with funny names to order food with.

I realized I look like a joke on job applications.

I realized I am totally screwed this week when it comes to homework and that it might affect my poor partner and that it'll probably be like this all year.

I realized that some flutes drank caffeinated soda for the first time ever, and it made them bonkers.

I realized we don't eat as much here as we did at Westwood.

I realized that staying up late to read my Latin textbook is an extremely poor decision.

I realized that maybe California wasn't as poor as I thought it was when we lived there and that I am quite grateful for that fact.

I re-realized that Logan and McKay are without a doubt my favorite snares.

I realized that I will probably cry a lot this year. Band can't end. I need another chance. I need my time to be and become Logan, the one whose name and poor little colorguard girl didn't know who grew to overcome their fear and difficulty with speaking in front of the band after a year. I need to stay with my juniors and send another year off. I won't be able to handle being the one sent off.

I realized that band is... band. It is just utterly remarkable and I don't know where I would be without it and I miss Eli and Alaina and Abby and Keenan and Julia and Taylor SWAG and Heidi and Fred Omega Pye.

I don't know how to end this post.

I don't know how to accept this change.

There's no point pretending that you won't burn out

(Sure, I'll just use the most depressing line from a happy song as the title. I'm not crazy^^)

I start school tomorrow (I've always been a little slow to follow the trends.)

Wish me luck-- oh dear heavens, I am certainly going to die this year.

I haven't even practiced my horn this summer. AND I'M GETTING BRACES.

Sucking at euphonium+brand new braces+wind symphony=Miller will be disappointed for all eternity

I am so ready to just accept being a hipster, just throw on green pants and a dingy looking nevershoutnever tshirt and old converse without a care, and resign myself to a life where girls ignore me and boys are afraid of me.

Good Morning Sunshine

I Just Need Books (Supposedly)

Sabrina saved me. My last day of summer was about to succumb to the planning of the funeral and cleaning my room though there's nowhere to put myself and watching tv while eating crap when she appeared while I was picking up my books. I went shopping for school supplies and found her to be the master of sales. We hit Sonic during the prime happy hour. We shopped for French bread and fancy cheese. We talked. We sang. We navigated little brothers and family home evening and embarked on the wonderfully awkward adventure of visiting Cameron. I should've expected nothing less than to find him, not at his house, but biking up by the rec center, enjoying nature and conquering a massive hill. We gave him cookies ad bananas and went on our way.

Back to my books: they bring me great joy. I am so terribly excited to receive assignments to read all the fascinating diagrams and examples in my psychology book, to decipher and translate the foreign and frightening passages in my Latin. I haven't had the chance to examine my other books. I did, however, purchase a pocket thesaurus. Gosh, I'm such a nerd.

What is the deal with all of these girls who are dating one guy and kissing another and madly in love with yet another? More importantly, why can't I just have one? That's all I could ask for, all that I could ever want. To be lucky enough to have one boy like you and for you to like them back, that is precious. If I were to find one boy, I would be satisfied, grateful, happy. I'm not trying to be self-righteous; I just want someone to give me a chance.

Every time I wind up back at your door

[An Open Letter to Micaiah]

To my dear, my sweet, my lovely:

Sometimes, I appear to hate you.

The animosity I express when recounting tales of broken promises and poor decisions and exgirlfriends, the blame I place for past possibly immoral conduct and current romantic misfortunes, the memories of horrific name calling and swearing and the red handprint I left on across your face; it all might lead some to the conclusion that I don't like you.

And then I tell my friends that I'm done speaking to you and beg them to not allow me to even have a thought about considering Oklahoma State University.

All in all, I make a very poor case for you.

But when I was floundering in possible depression, you gave me your number. I had no need for it, having not lost my contacts nor ever forgetting the only number I will have memorized forever. But still, it was a sign that it was okay for me to text the college boy that I have thought I'd lost so many times before.

In a stunning reversal of roles, you helped me when I was broken down and hopeless and plain old silly. You told me that I had worth and that I am good at making people happy. When I sarcastically agreed that I was doing such a great job at that with myself, you made a sad face. You tried and succeeded at making me smile. You offered help, though there was clearly nothing you could do. You even said you'd take me on a proper date if I could ever make it to Oklahoma.

I will hold you to that. Though it's practically impossible for me to make it down there, I WILL hold you to it.

So many times before, I've said that I'm done with you. My heart has been broken so many times by you that the pieces don't really fit together anymore. But it's times like these, when I need you the most, that I realize that we did, and do, have something good going on.

I've known for a long time that you're a liability. I've also known for just as long that you are priceless. Wonderful. Irreplaceable. My first kiss and, so far, my last. I will always care about you, and though it's sometimes harder to see, you will always care about me.

But don't flatter yourself too much, dear. I'm not in love with you. Like, at all. Thank goodness, for both of our sakes.

I love you, lovely.

Sincerely, the pug

Castaway

I've effectually been sent to bed at 4, and to keep myself from going crazy, I'm just gonna type up as many of my thoughts as possible.

Please just don't read this post. I won't have any friends.

I wonder if I could climb out of my room. But where would I go. Loser.

should a fire turn to dark, take my heart with you

I'm going to be the evil mother-in-law someday.

I'm going to be bald by the end of tonight. I've already lost the chance to cross off today on my chart, and I ripped out an 8-inch chunk of hair.

I hate how my family keeps pointing out how small our house is. That won't make it any bigger. It's so small. Too small. I want to curse about how small it is.

i keep you secretly

Wait. I won't be the evil mother in law. That would mean I'd have to have children. That would mean I'd have to have a husband. That would mean I'd have to find a boy that liked me. That would mean I'd have to find a boy who would ask me on one measly date. I'll be the crazy aunt that would get drunk at normal weddings, but has to settle with hiding in the corner petting cats and holding babies and singing taps while everyone stares at her. Like today.

It's been 21 minutes. I'm a failure.

I wish I was a boy. I could pee out the window when the time comes. I don't think I'm tall enough though, actually. That sucks. If I wasn't afraid of heights, I could pee out of the tree.

Cameron. I miss Cam. At least he hugs me on occasion. That's a lot more than I can say about pretty much everyone on the planet. Has it really only been two days since I saw him? I'm pathetic.

My teeth hurt.

Maybe I should dye my hair black. I'm serious. My roots are showing anyway. Maybe then I'll look creepy and boys will have a legitimate reason to stay away from me. I probably sound like a bitch right now. Maybe because I am one.

The back of my box of Nerds says, "Want to know where WONKA candy comes from? Read all about it in Charlie & the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl." My faith in humanity is restored.

I could live in here forever. I've got food, candy, deodorant, a phone and an iPod and a charger for both, wifi, clothes, a mattress and Snuggy Blanket, and my glasses. It's a good thing I don't have water cuz I still haven't figured out how I'm gonna pee.

This would be a perfect time for you to drive up and catch me when I jump out the window so you can whisk me off to Mexico, Micaiah. Do you remember that? Or have you just completely forgotten about me. You don't care about me. It seems you haven't cared for over a year. Thanks.

Turns out my cat is in here. I'm lucky. I don't have any allergy medicine, but it's okay because I have nothing to drink it down with. Except my pee. I'd rather risk falling to my death to leap into the tree outside.

47 minutes. I'm never gonna survive.

my love, the reason I survive

trust we'll be together soon

should a fire turn to dark, take my heart with you

My face is dangerously close to the socket. What if I fall asleep and drool and electrocute myself?

That reminds me of Monday night of band camp when the storm came and we had to evacuate from outside to in. Logan, Cameron, and I stayed to help the band dads load up percussion. As I ran with one of the boys on either side of me, we skidded to a stop as a lightning bolt struck right in front of us, perhaps only three or four yard lines in front of us. It was so bright, I could see it long after it was gone. At one point, Logan was wheeling a timpani in and Cameron was sprinting back to gather more instruments. Lightning flashed above the building, and I was overcome with the idea of being hit. I saw my skeleton light up through my skin like a cartoon as I screamed and collapsed in the parking lot. I saw the boys' ears perk up as they turned and shouted, trying to see what happened. Logan would burst back through the double doors and Cameron abandon a xylophone as they ran to meet me in the middle, hearing me call out their names. They'd reach me as I went unconscious, my skin burning or purple lines crisscrossing my arms or whatever happens when you get struck by lightening. They'd fall to their knees and try to save me somehow, but there would be nothing they could do. The adults and band kids and a bewildered Caitlin would run out to see the three of us, drowning in a puddle in a parking lot in Delta, struggling to breathe, struggling to die. There was no dramatic kissing or crying or cursing the heavens. No ambulance or priesthood blessings. Not even a death. Just sadness. This entire scenario flashed through my mind before the next burst of lightening, and I found it do entrancing, intriguing, painful.

An hour and sixteen minutes. I am so proud and disappointed in myself.

I listened to Yellowcard's new album in its entirety on YouTube. Thank you, Janelle and Tony. It's grand, and I love it.

I have now eaten all of my Pringles and most of my Nerds. I need real food.

Alex Day is brilliant. As is Charlie.

It has now been three and a half hours, and I am in pain. My teeth hurt so badly, and I should've taken medicine. I'm scared to go there, but I need to drink water and find soft food and use the bathroom. The tree is not an option.

Update: it has now been four hours, I really want to watch some low budget and poorly acted Mormon films, and I'm still scared.

The End of An Era

Band camp was astonishing, in so many ways. That's the best way to describe a week that broke me and built me up in ways I couldn't have imagined. After four years of pain and tears and triumph, I told a curious freshman that I wouldn't cry on the last day. But when the five senior trumpets stood in a circle once everyone had left and played this year's ballad, I couldn't help it. I cried, and it felt like I didn't truly stop crying for hours.

I was filled with so much emotional pain this morning, and then found out that my grandpa died.

Thank heavens for Janelle. She invited me over to take part in a night that settled down comfortably wrapped up in the epitome of innocent youth. After hopelessly trying to watch the middle half of the second Sherlock Holmes movie, I sat around a firepit roasting twinkies and starbursts with Janelle, Heather, Taylie, Tony, Erik, Breanne, and Brayden. We wasted the night away, talking of irritation and admiration for adults and hypocritically begrudging the existence of haters and awkwardly skirting around mentions of make out sessions and ex boyfriends. The conversation was so full of life and passion and heartache and joy; I never wanted it to end. We were just a group of punks who were behind on French packets, struggling with swearing problems, dealing with feelings of jealousy and abandonment, and accidentally hitting themselves in the face with roasting sticks. We were so imperfect and so ready to embrace our adult cards while basking in the light of adolescence. It was beautiful, and I can feel now that it was my last night of my childhood summers.

DMA, girls camp, band camp, the few nights like this. I'm glad I got to be a teenager in love and with friends and loss and hope and dreams and opportunities to try to write beautifully at least once in my life.

State of Residence: Confusion

Girls Camp turned out alright. I cried and wanted to come home a couple of times, but then I just sang louder and smiled more and it was all good. Not a lot of people in my ward, but I met lots of great girls in my stake. I don't want to spend time writing about it.

People are bothered by things. They have reason to be. Heck, I'm even bothered by it. But what happens when my own parents were in the same situation as them and I supported the decision, or when I took part in the same questionable behavior as someone else at an even younger age? I feel like it could be justified by freedom of speech or the fact that I have changed, but I really just feel like a hypocrite. Why do I feel I have to agree with everyone on these issues? Do I even agree of my own accord?

I got to see some of my church friends from Texas at a wedding reception tonight. It was lovely and awkward, the usual at such events, and then one girl just had to ask if there was a boy in my life. I laughed and said no, partially because my mother was five feet away and mostly because in reality, there is no boy.

I'd like to pretend I have something to hide behind flushed cheeks and knowing eyes, that tales of wrinkled notes and first kisses and magical car rides to mundane destinations were creeping up my neck and being exhaled with the lightest of breaths.

But no. I have a troubled nonexistent love life. I'd like to say that getting back to school to learn Latin and study psychology and play euphonium will take my mind off of him them nobody.

A Not-So-Pleasant Surprise

I'm going to Girls' Camp. Tomorrow. With an entire stake of people I've never met I found out this afternoon.

Sure, it's great. It's the only time I get to go with my sister. We're in tents which is... new and... interesting, I guess. I'll get to go to my last year of camp after having the chance stolen by my trek-ridden ward.

But again, I don't know anyone. At all. I've not been part of any of the YCL planning or training. I have no idea how we're going to shower. I'm going to miss band, and I won't be able to pass off by Thursday since I'll be in the mountains. I'm missing my first real ortho appointment and helping out at drum camp. School and band camp and Ariel's wedding are all coming up while we move into our new house, and I'm not ready for anything. And again, I don't know anyone in that stake, let alone ward. I'll just be the awkward YCL in the corner that doesn't know anyone's name and doesn't participate in teaching anything.

Yay.

Hello Stepchild

This blog has not been getting any love. I keep thinking of ideas for posts and then I end up writing a similar post on Something Legendary and then giving up by the time I reach this one. My brain think SL is adequate, but then I realize that none of you read that blog.

I'll try to do better. I'll try to actually tell you things, maybe let you in on some of the secrets, pour out a little of my life.

Wow, blogging's narcissistic. At least the way I put it^^

Team Rankings:
Peeta > Finnick > Cato > Gale

That's how unTeam Gale I am. Just sayin'.

Esther Day

August 3rd is Esther Day, the day where Nerdfighteria honors the late Esther Earl by telling the people they love and care about that they love and care about. It's supposed to stress the importance of sharing your feelings of platonic love especially, since our families and friends often receive far less verbal confirmations of love from us than our boy/girlfriends or spouses or even crushes. I epically failed at completing this task, bringing my grand total of people I told I loved to four. This post is address those I left out, in hopes that they might see it and know that I'm sorry for failing them. Since many of them don't even know this blog exists, this post will also serve to remind me to tell these people as soon as possible.

Sabrina, I love you. You are always so willing to drive me around and buy me food and donate school supplies. You have been in on Taco Tuesday from the beginning, and you listen to me for hours the way I should be listening to you. I love the fact that the future Disneyland Tinker Bell blasts Slim Shady in her car. Thanks for trusting me.

Sierra, I love you. I'm sorry I always make fun of your height and name and awkward moments. That's not how I should treat one of my best friends. I love the fact that you stay around despite all my crap. Let's sing a lot this year, okay? As your drum major, I order you, and your not allowed to dance around that one.

Caitlin, I love you. How could I not? You are the sweetest person ever, and your spirit inspires me. You stick with me, no matter what happens, so I'm never alone. I love the weird looks we get from the boys when we sing or merge together, and when you hugged me yesterday when I wanted to give up, I felt strengthened. Thanks for being my friend from the beginning of this.

Janelle, I love you. You remembered me, even though it seems I've forgotten you. I think about you often and miss your smiling face, but I can honestly say I'm excited for fourth block Financial Lit. You love matching socks "I Will Follow You Into the Dark." It's like we were meant to be. When's Chalk the Block, and is it too late for me to join you, dear?

Allison, I love you. I have so much fun when I'm with you, it's like I'm a different person. Thanks for giving me a second chance, even after you were beaten in bed by yours truly. Goodness me, that sounds wrong. I would love to sign your yearbook.

Sam, I love you. You are my reprieve from Happy Valley. I loved lying on the band room floor on homework days and seeing you wear mascara with a singular purpose to guard competitions and squealing with you every time Wind Symphony played. We'll have to cut that tradition as we'll in it this year. I look forward to our future.

Arianna, I love you. You always express love and affection towards me, and it brightens my day. You are beautiful and seductive and hilarious and talented. I envy you. Holy crap, we'll get to salute with each other at band competitions. Thanks for thinking I'm adorable when I'm quite clearly less than in your presence.

Heather, I love you. I love how hard you work and easily you play. I love how you entertained my ideas of Christmas in July, despite it's lackluster turnout, and how you always welcome me to your parties, group dates, etc. I love your kilt and your doorstep that I'm allowed to show up on and your fiery spirit. Also, you're one of the few guardies that has a glimpse of concert band, and that is priceless.

Erin, I love you. You make me laugh almost every time I see you. It was always so great to dance and share rooms on tour and complain about Stadium of Fire together. You seem so effortlessly smart and talented, and it drives me crazy how you're a grade younger, yet exponentially better than me at pretty much everything. I'll forgive you for that, though, so we're all good.

Maddie, I love you. You are my ginger, my babe, my savior. You always comforted me, whether I was experiencing physical, mental, or emotional pain. You are so thoughtful with your houndstooth alerts and constant acceptance of flirtatious actions on my part. I hope I'll continue to be allowed to rest my head on your lap for the remainder of my high school career.

Here's where it gets harder:

Tony, I love you.

Davis, I love you.

EmmaLee, I love you.

Kayla, I love you.

Erik, I love you.

Eli, I love you. You are such an enigmatic character, so loud and vulgar and incredibly right wing and self-deprecating. But you have DCI as your ringtone and love Dr. Horrible and you accepted me. The way you let me be your cuddle buddy and how you asked me on the best date ever and how we could hold hands like we were both lovers and five year old girls skipping down the road, you made me realize that there is still hope for both the men in this world and for me.

Alaina, I love you. You are one in a million. Well, I imagine there are countless girls who are hippie-ish Nerdfighters who have no problem singing in public or discussing politics, religion, and attractive boys all in one sitting (I, for one, am one of those girls). But you are so in love with band and so content to be chill and to be who you are, even if it costs you a friendship, it's inspiring. Add to that your YouTube recommendations and the best compliments about myself and my fellow drum majors, and you've got gold.

I apologize in advance, for I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell these next few that I love them to their face:

Cameron, I love you. You are so interesting, so complex, so strange on so many levels; it's entrancing. You have this cool, confident, nonchalant side of you that makes me enjoy feeling in the shadow of something great. But then you have this romantic, capital "r" Romantic, and bordering-on-frantic pre-teenaged girl side that makes me adore you. To realize that you can trust me with that side it something I appreciate to no end. Thanks for smiling at me and asking if I'm okay and sleeping on my shoulder.

Logan, I love you. It's hard for me to even type this because you are so awkward and I am so awkward. But honestly, it's our awkward moments I love the most. From the moment when you handed me kisses from my dad to when I explained the beauties of color-coordinated underwear to when you let it slip that a stranger was cute, I am grateful for our strained silences and rolled eyes and nervous laughs. It's the fact that we can continue on past them that makes them great. And honestly, I'm just glad I can sing "Peaches" with you. If you were being honest with me and yourself when you said you were interested in joining guard, please consider it.

Ellie, I love you. It's hard to only have one sister and have her be at such an unfortunate age difference that's neither close or far enough for comfort, but I'm glad I have you. You're the only one in this household that understands the Vlogbrothers and Doctor Who. Your plan for high school band involvement fills me with joy, and though I don't let on, I like to spend time with you. I'm sorry I'm so mean to you most of the time.

Isaac, I love you. You're my Kyogre buddy. I love that you're in band now, even though you have mostly only complaints. I love how your voice gets higher when you try to deny something that's embarrassingly true. I love how we pretended to be mobsters and drug cartels today when you traded me York Peppermint Patties in exchange for the use of my computer so you could play Pokemon. If you could just accept the fact that you're a nerd, all would be right in the world.

Kristian, I love you. You have shared your beliefs with me while helping me realize some of my own. You are a far better Christian than I am and inspire me to always do better. I shared some of my greatest high school moments with you and continue to laugh and cry with and because of you. The fact that you showed up to my going away party in your mariachi uniform makes me love you. I am forever grateful for your unconditional love for me (even the minuscule amount of slightly heterosexual love you constantly squash) and your teaching me the Mexican national anthem.

Micaiah, I love you. I will always love you. No matter how times you give up on yourself, even if I give up on you, I will still love you. You were once such a part of me, and that carries on still to today. I am the person I am because of you. I am drum major because I believed in myself enough to audition because I had made guard captain at Westwood because I didn't quit guard because of you. That's just one example. You have such great potential, and every time you soar, I pray and give thanks that I had the opportunity to be a part of your life.

...

To my Austinites, you might warrant your own separate post at a later date. I consider Austin my hometown because of you guys. I'm sorry I've neglected the large majority of you since I moved, but that doesn't mean I don't think about you, miss you, cry over you all the time (well, I don't cry all the time. Hardly ever, these days. Sorry.) To Maddie and Gina and Gena and Krista and Jenna and Susan and Shauna and Natalie and Elijah and Lauren and Melanie and Cassandra and Becca and Cody and Angela and Chloe and Abby and Cassidy and Nuts and Emily and Sedge and everyone else I loved and cherished at some point in that state, I promise I love you. I'm just sorry I had to leave you.

To anyone and everyone I've forgotten, I apologize. I've been writing this for nearly two hours, it is no longer even August 3rd, and I am scheduled to pack up my current house and begin moving into my new one tomorrow. I ask that everyone actually tell the people they love that they love them. You never know when you'll lose the opportunity to say so.

(and for that, I apologize, Nathan.)