Today was my last official day of high school (not counting the graduation rehearsal tomorrow). Forever. I’m not sure how to feel about it, honestly. I’ll really miss a lot of my classes and teachers, but I also want to try college. I won’t be living on my own—I want to stay with my mom and help out for at least another year or so—but I’ll feel much more independent nonetheless. I’ll also be an itty bitty freshman again. That’ll be fun.

Looking forward to summer when I can finally work on some art and writing. I’m going to write the heck out of my stories. Hopefully I can finish something this time.

I also seem to be unable to finish a complete thought, especially thoroughly enough to write here. I haven’t had a sign of senioritis yet, but I’m definitely slowing down, haha. I didn’t even have any finals at all, though I still came to school the past two days. Why? Not sure. Say bye to some teachers? Catch up on reading? See my few friends? A bit of each, I guess. Or maybe I wasn’t really ready to leave yet. Either way I enjoyed the relaxation time.

So goodbye, Marquette. I may visit some days, especially if I chauffeur my brother around.

Keep writing~



For orchestra, the seniors are contributing to a thing (wow I’m really tired. I can’t think of the right words) for our last concert on Tuesday. We’re to write our thoughts on our time in the Marquette High School orchestras and send in a photo to be plastered on a wall for all to see. I kept debating whether or not I wanted to do this because, well, “for all to see”, but hey, I’m a senior, I do what I want! I ended up writing an entire page in 10-point font, I think. Whoops. But I’m a writer, what’s to be done? Also I’m really glad I can title this along with my alphabet thing because I was lost on what to do for “f”, haha. But here ya go:

My four years in the Marquette High School orchestras has been such a wonderful experience. From a freshman to a senior I’ve learned so much. At first, I was apprehensive at joining such a large group. It was way out of my comfort zone. There were so many different personalities like there are in every class, but that also was apparent in the way they played. Starting off in chamber, I was afraid to step even more out of my comfortable, quiet place in the back of the room, unseen and unheard. It was that way for most of my classes. I was often that kid who never spoke in public if she could help it and always talked quietly when she couldn’t. That was just who I was. Eventually―I like to think with immense help from this class and my teachers―I crawled ever so slowly from my tiny box. In just about everything I became more courageous, even if it took a painfully long time. I’m still that quiet, anxious girl, but I’ve grown up.

Though the pressure in chamber wasn’t enormous by any means, it was enough to keep me occupied. I wasn’t too invested in the class as my future still stretched out far before me; I still had plenty of time until I graduated. But as the end of high school began to drew near, I realized I wanted to do more, to be more. So, at the end of my second year of chamber, I’d decided to audition for concert. I was terrified. I’d doubted my skills over and over until I was no longer sure if I even wanted to audition anymore. But I kept going. I’d practiced more than I remembered for the short passages required. My focus was totally narrowed; I was going to make it. It would not be for nothing. I would improve even if it caused horrible mangling grief and frustration.

And I did. I’d made it to concert. With lessons, my skills honed more and more. I kept working at it, trying to become the best I could be, until finally I’d reached concertmaster status this year, my senior year. Granted, it was only of fifth hour, meaning that there were two principles of the first violins in concert orchestra, but it was a substantial step for me. And I couldn’t have made it this far without Mr. Nacy, my amazing, hilarious teacher; nor my sweet, patient lessons instructor Mrs. Lindquist, who’d retired last year but continued the lessons of her final two seniors until tonight. A huge thanks to both fantastic people.

Every day was a great day in orchestra. Unless there was a playing test, of course, but I’ll admit each test was a good tool for learning and practicing when we were not quite motivated to. It was the time of day when I could laugh at the strangeness of the orch dorks, even if my day ranged from bad to absolutely awful. I knew I could always count on that class to lift my spirits. I certainly had days where I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there, but I’d always end up with a smile near the end. I also especially enjoyed my time as a teacher aide. Even if I ended up with doing hardly anything but expertly flicking the lights on and off, witnessing the chamber class grow to improve has been really fun. It didn’t hurt that I was able finish all of my homework by the end of the school day there, too. Without a doubt, orchestra has been my favorite class with my favorite teacher. Thank you again for being so great, and for this class of weird kids.

I’m turning it in tomorrow, so any feedback probably won’t be helpful in editing at this point, but still appreciated nonetheless. It also took me a surprisingly long time to come up with something to write. Probably my perfectionism wording everything a certain way darn it.

Keep Writing~


They say that when one learns a new skill, one must continue to practice said skill consistantly in order to ingrain it and at least have hope that one will keep the skill. This can be for a wide variety of things: languages, music, sports, art, and even writing. There’s even a memorable phrase: “Use it or lose it”.

I could probably appy this to my writing right now. Regrettably, I’ve been trading off writing for art and music lately, especially with this site. I fear my skill may be deteriorating over time. I hope that once I hit graduation, I’ll have much more time to do what I love in cycles rather than tradeoffs like I have during the school year. I have made some excerpts lately, and I’ve definitely started developing my story more with the help of my friend (who’s been making fanart of my characters aaah). It’s really fun going deeper into my characters and concepts. Maybe I’ll actually finish some chapters soon.

On another note, ironically, I’ve been learning more about grammar and English concepts–such as transitive and intransitive verbs, the way a sentence works with all of its parts, etc–in Latin class for one year than in most of my years of standard English classes. Hmm… 

This one’s short because I have to leave for a college thing today that I’m already late for okay bye.

Keep writing~



Been a long time. I won’t say much here, though. I’ll just self-advertise about the thing I’ve been doing besides writing–that is, drawing. I have a few sites, but this one leads to the others if anyone wants to check it out: here. Don’t ask about the name. My brother came up with it a loong time ago.

I did write a little snippet of that book I’ve been “writing” since middle school recently. I want to draw a bit of the scene, though, and for that I’ll wait for the weekend when I have the optimal time to spend on the piece I’m imagining.

Hope these EOCs aren’t burning anyone out. The scheduling is messing me up.

Keep Writing~

Crystal Light

Continuing alphabet. Guys I have a problem. I’m addicted to Crystal Light tea. No other brand will do. Anything but lemon I will devour boxes within a matter of days. It’s so good. Wyler’s Light is a poor excuse of a tea brand in comparison but I need my fake tea.



Kind of abandoning the “‘[letter]’ is for” title I guess.

With the snow this morning, I had warned my brother that we should leave early to avoid slow traffic. As a side note, we’re a bit different than most people at our age. I, the girl, take little time each morning to actually get ready. I spend most of it waking up from grouchy-sleep-fog, taking the dog out, waiting, trying to remember if I forgot anything– things like that. My brother, however, the little diva that he is, takes his sweet time to get ready; his showers are long and he spends even longer just getting clothes on, washing his face, making sure his hair and outfit are perfect. I’m not sure why. But it’s often him that’s late if at all.

Despite my warning, he took his usual time. When I told him to hurry, reminding him again of traffic, he told me, “No, you’ll just be driving slow.” I am an extremely cautious driver, so yes I was planning on driving slower, but it still boiled my blood that he would say something like that. I wanted to yell, but I’ve been trying to get past that. It only strains the tenuous peace we have further. So I just silently sat in the car, waiting, staring at the clock.

Lo and behold, traffic was backed up so much that it took nearly an hour to get to school. An hour of slowly crawling forward bit by bit. An hour of silently fuming. The extra time he took to get ready probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway, but he should’ve at least considered my warning without sass. Maybe we would’ve made it to “beginningish of class” late rather than “middle-end of class” late.

Even now, when he stays after school while I go to my lesson, I told him to be ready forty-five minutes ago. He never said when he’d be done after I said I was here, waiting for him, and he asked if I could take someone home, too. Why are brothers infuriating?

Despite all of this, he’s still my brother (holy cow, that sounds cheesy). He’s a pretty successful kid–he’s always running around in choir, theatre, show choir; he actually likes science, once thinking he wanted to be some part of that; he has tons of friends all over the place; and he’s pretty charming. Of course, that makes it easy for him to lie or just plain be a butt with his hypnotic voice. Really, I wish I could be half as sure of myself as he is of himself. Just without the equal procrastination issues and sleeplessness mixed in. And horrible social gatherings he loves so much.

Keep Writing~

“A” is for Anxiety

Thinking of doing a series much like Maddey did with the ABCs of Me. I’ll try to keep it up. This time. Maybe.

So, I had an okay day today, much like every other day. I never describe my day as “good” or anything better unless most of my day consisted of actually good events, such as my classes did something fun other than a lesson plan or test or boring non-creative project. That doesn’t mean that my days are bad, though. I just set the bar at a certain standard so that my overwhelming mind isn’t constantly at war with itself. Most days are just that for me―days. Nothing special. However, I think my parents are worried that I have lots of bad days just because when they ask about my day, I say, “It was okay.” I don’t mean to worry them. I just don’t get overexcited at things that don’t hold meaning. Okay that’s a lie. I get overexcited, but in a way where I lie down and cry and want to eat ice cream all night because I can’t play a passage in my music properly the first few times. But, y’know, happy.

Then my brain decides to ruin it. Decisions are hard, even nearly impossible. I’m torn between different parts of me all the time. Memories fade faster than I can make them, making me constantly forgetful and unreliable in some situations. I have imaginary conversations in which I punch Freud in his disgusting psychosexual face and then apologize to my superego who is being forcibly high-fived by my id. I have fun in Psychology.

My dang anxiety. If I hear someone say, “Maybe you should calm down,” I may just slap them. I mean, why couldn’t I think of that in the first place? I sort of understand if someone is having an attack and can’t form coherent thoughts, and all they need is something to ground them to reality, but really? “Maybe you should calm down.” Psh. Maybe you should be quiet. Take that.

Anxiety is just a constant punch to the gut for no reason. Oh, someone cut in front of you in the lunch line? Boom, start crying. The one answer you happened to say out loud is the wrong one? Don’t say anything ever again in shame. Accidentally threw a frisbee in your partner’s face in gym? Feel bad for all eternity.

I can’t even talk to a teacher about something without doing it before or after class when no one is paying attention or staring or judging, then I can hardly get the words out. I hate talking to people. I always feel I’m saying the wrong thing or I’m wasting their time or something. And now, I realize, I’ve turned into those Internet people that post their sob stories to get attention.

Hmm, getting dark again. But this is about anxiety. Maybe this is why I settled for Psychology this semester (albeit forcefully when I had some speech class randomly in that slot and wanted to change it). I want to learn about my issues and deal with them. Or at least be more knowledgeable. Knowledge is power.

On a positive note, I’ve been drawing more. My sketchbook is nearly full. I may start a blog on Tumblr or something to post some stuff every once in a while. I’ve definitely been improving over time, even only over a few months. Next goal: digital art.

Keep Writing~