Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Sophomore year

My second year in high school I began to learn that every little action I took did have consequences. My actions consisted of me not wanting to do homework. I had absolutely no motivation to do it. It was like eating chalk for me, excruciatingly boring and painful. At the beginning of the school year I was dating a Mexican, white boy. As in he was of Hispanic heritage but the boy doesn't speak any Spanish. You'll see a similar pattern throughout my high school years. He was sweet and stuff, and since he was going to a different school I would only text him literally every night until one am or something. 

One day I'm pretty sure it was a Sunday, it was a weekend for sure. We broke up, or he broke up with me, telling me that we would get back together one day, just that his mother wasn't happy that he had a girlfriend AND terrible grades. I don't know about you but I am not the cause of someone else's bad grades when I don't see them. So I said no, if we were breaking up then we were breaking up. And we did. Rumor was that he got a new girlfriend and it didn't bother me. That was when I knew that I didn't love him, and no matter how many times he told me, he didn't love me.

A month or two passed, and I was clearly failing at life. I was pretty sure I was failing all of my classes except for band. Band, a year prior I was a pit player, now was playing the Sexy Saxophone. I was in beginning band before hand and desperately wanted to play the Sax since my two middle school best friends no longer have band so it felt like a tribute for them. My original plan was to be in the Front Ensemble, or Pit, for Marching Season, and Saxophone for Concert band. Anyway it was the first year that I was going to march and it was extremely scary. I was nervous and anxious but the year turned out to be really good. Although I did fail four classes, it was over all an amazing experience and I'm glad I wasn't persistent. The band not the failing part.

Anyway a month or two later I met this white boy, who doesn't know Spanish. My family makes fun of the fact that I date English-speaking only boys. Yes, I did date him. He was sweet and made me see a lot of things differently. Yes, somethings I did not agree but everyone is enticed to their own beliefs. But I doubt you would want to learn about a teenage girl talk about her ex-boyfriends. Although I will say that with every relationship I've ever been in, which is only three, we have not ended in bad blood.

This year in my high school marching band experience we ended in 6th place but I'll probably write about that later in a different post, just because I can. Although I will say that, that year has had some drama with no buses.

In this post I want to talk about my depression, overall sophomore year it was well hidden on my part. I was just sad, extremely sad. I don't know why, at the time I would blame my insecurities and the bullying I had to deal with at school and at home in the past, no I am not an abused child. My mother blamed that fact that most of all of the people I hung out with were extreme depressed people and it was getting to me. Now looking back at it I honestly don't know why I wanted to die so badly. It stared the year of 2014 all that year the end of sophomore year and ending in the middle of junior. Honestly it hasn't ended, I just come to the conclusion to deal with it the best I can. Being positive and smiling the most I can.

I don't know about you but I don't like to go outside in the dark alone. It's not that I'm afraid of monsters. I just have this irrational fear of being killed by a gun. My neighborhood hasn't had a shooting or a drive-by since we first moved in about seven years ago, but I just can't help but imagine what it would feel like to feel that bullet go into a person. The immense pain that for a weak person like me would be unbearable. I began to feel low and hollow. Everyday going to school felt like a cycle of doing things over and over again with no purpose of anything.

I felt like a thirty year old man with a nine-to-five job sitting behind a computer everyday wondering what happened to the good times, and if he'll ever find happiness ever. Most people don't understand what it's like to want to give up. When someone dies of a terminal disease they weren't at fault. Depression is a disease, I find it hard to believe that someone so innocent would want to kill themselves just for the show, unless they were sick.

Depression wraps around the victim, it is something that is very hard to escape. It makes you wonder if there is anything better in life. Or if that is all to be seen. I experienced very little of this and yet was in a firm lock that is yet to be open. So I completely understand why people do things others find selfish. Like cancer patients trying to find ways to survive there are suicidal students trying to live a better life. I have seen people use many methods of expressing themselves. Music, drama, TV, youtubers, actors, bands, the list is endless. The only thing that is stopping us from allowing to express ourselves whether it's the music we listen to or the things we like is the judgment that surrounds us every single day.

Whether it's spoken aloud or not, it is there. Have you ever found yourself thinking negatively about a person and stop yourself from saying more because it's rude and you don't know the person personally. People suffer through their own battles and people don't see that. You judge because it's a human thing to do. Whether the judging is positive or negative that's up to the person who is judging. The school needs a whole less of it. There are a lot of comments and little things I hear everyday that boils my blood. And it isn't just my school it's everyone. It's bullying in a different method.

This post I understand is very disorganized and confusing. But that's me, my thoughts are disorganized and confusing. I will not hold back on posts.

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

My First Marching Band Experience

Let me explain my marching band experience, four years of the whole thing begins to feel like a natural thing, like having a second mother from a very young age, but everyone experiences it differently. My Marching band experience is yet to be over. We have one more official competition before I can say goodbye that is if we don't make it to State. And then there is also the Marching Expo. Where all of the Bands in the District come to say goodbye, or at least I do. Others, the good ones just show off at how much better they are.

My story really begins at the year of 2011, my eighth grade year. The year that I was clearly the worst percussion player of them all. First let me say that I joined band in 6th grade but got out due to the fact that I am a slow reader despite the fact that I love reading. The others clearly stayed and learned what was needed. My friend Luz was in it, she was really good until she decided to get out. Anyway, eighth grade, I hated being in the band. The best player was named Cesar, he was also a really good soccer player and my sister's best friend's first boyfriend. But that's another story.

I hated being in the band because of one person, the band director. I will not name her though because I just don't want to. The band director is the kind of person that has favorites and keeps them. Gives them the solos, the best equipment and makes everyone else feel like terrible. I felt like terrible, and because of it that was the start of my insecurity as a band kid. She gave me no chance on proving if I was good or not, I was just in the back playing the cymbals on 1&3. I don't know about you but that is very offensive I wasn't allowed to even touch the snare. So everyday I would hope that I would be sick just so I wouldn't go. I'd even pretend to be sick.

So by the summer of me being a freshman I was planning on being in the Beginning Band and that would be it for my Band experience. Yet, my twin sister, who plays the flute, got a call from Marching Band Drum Major, who also plays flute, to ask if she was going to join or not. She asked me why she had gotten the call and I told her I signed up for her the day she was absent when she got the surgery. I thought she would like it, but she began to beg for me to join her. I didn't want to I thought that it was a waste of time on my part, but I still agreed.

The afternoon that I went we were late, by an hour. Everyone was in the gym learning how to march. I was with the Front Ensemble, or the pit as some like to put it so I was in the auditorium. I was learning how to do the things I was never taught. I was put in the Auxiliary parts, or the toys, and I thought I was going to be doing the same thing, I didn't like it but I stayed. It was loads of more fun than I thought it would be. My parts according the the band geeks were important. I was just a freshman that new nothing. By my first competition I was a little bit nervous and prayed I didn't forget my parts. I don't know if you noticed, the rush and the amazing feeling it is to preform in front of all those judges and all of those other band kids and band parents.

I honestly won't sit here and write that my first competition was amazing and I will never forget it because in all honesty I did forget it and I don't remember what happened. All I really know is that that year we made it to state, not only did we make it to state but we made it to Super State, or Championships. It was a first for the Carl Hayden Falcon Marching Band history. It was something I didn't expect to happen to someone like me. Go to Championships and be a very bad percussion player. That year we made 8th place. The following year we made it to 6th, but again that is another story.