Why I Loved "The Greatest Showman" So Much
Originally published February 11th, 2018
I wasn't someone who loved La La Land. Even though the same people who wrote the music for Dear Evan Hansen also wrote the music for La La Land, it didn't really touch me in the same way other movies and musicals have. Don't get me wrong, Mia's story as a struggling actress was something I find pretty relatable, but that's all I truly felt connected to. When Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, the writers of the previously mentioned musicals, announced that they had written ten songs for a new movie called The Greatest Showman, I watched the trailer, thought it looked interesting, and then put in a box at the back of my mind to take out on a later date.
Over Christmas break, my mom and I went to see it. After watching the trailer a couple more times and listening to some of the songs, I decided it was worth it. After seeing it, I can attest to the fact that it is a beautiful, magnificent piece of cinematic glory and everyone should see it. But before I can get into why I loved it so much, you need to know some of my backstory of Benj Pasek and Justin Paul.
You already know that they wrote Dear Evan Hansen, and if you want to see why I love that musical so much, you can read a piece I wrote at the end of August here. This was the first time I had ever listened to music by them, and, as you'll know if you've read the previously mention essay, I loved it very, very much. I also really related to it, which is the main reason I love Pasek and Paul so much. They write music that I can relate to, music that makes my heart happier and my dreams a little bit bigger. The music for DEH, Dogfight, and even La La Land each have songs that make me feel a little more understood, which is something we all could use every once in a while.
In terms of being understood, I often find that few people truly understand why I want to work in theatre. And I get it, it's not your typical dream job. Most people I know who want to work as an actor have the dream of working in TV or movies, but I've always wanted to be part of theatre. There have been a few times where I've told someone I want to work in a theatre/own my own theatre company/teach acting, and all I've gotten in return is a side glance, some rolled eyes, or a comment somewhere along the lines of "Well, that's nice. But what will you do if it doesn't work out?" Because of moments like that, it can be hard to remember why I've chosen theatre, and even harder to feel understood in my dreams.
Enter The Greatest Showman. A story about P.T. Barnum, the circus, underdogs, and trapeze love stories. When the first song, The Greatest Show, began, I was already crying. While the song played, we see Hugh Jackman and the entire circus (complete with elephants) going through the song. The happiness is infectious, and every time I watch that opening scene I get teary eyed. As the song ends, we see P.T. Barnum be transformed back to his childhood self, signifying his dreams to perform but that his life is stuck. The joy, feelings of hope and longing, and the infectious happiness are all things I can relate to, and in listening to that song, I felt understood.
Many of the other songs on the soundtrack did the same thing, mainly This is Me, and A Million Dreams. Pasek and Paul have this uncanny ability to put my feelings into music, whether I knew I felt them or not. I loved this movie because I felt understood. I felt validated in my choice of career, and I felt excited about the prospects. I could go into more detail about why This is Me made me sob profusely the first time I heard it, or why the end of the movie with the ballet recital made me think about a lot of things for a long time, but those are both stories for another time. For now, I want to say that everyone who has found something that they love should be able to do that thing without feeling misunderstood, or like what they love to do is something to hide.
The Greatest Showman reminded me of why I love theatre and music, and why I love the people who love those things as much as I do. Do what you love, find the people who understand why you love it, and find the people who love it as much as you do. Life is far too short to do the things that make you unhappy. Life moves too fast to give up before you even get a chance to start.
Why Switching Schools Was the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me
Originally published on February 08th, 2018
The first time I remember crying into a journal was March 03rd, 2016. I wrote a lot in the next few months, going through the last months of my Sophomore year and the time I spent at that high school. I told my friends I was moving over the course of a couple weeks. I told one of my best friends via text, another right before the start of World History, and another in the cafeteria, which caused her to throw her pencil case at me.
I didn't want to move. No, I don't think you understand. I really didn't want to move. I didn't want to start over again, and I didn't want to go to a new school where I literally didn't know a single person. I had never done that before. Every school I'd gone to had at least one person that I knew. So when the first day of my Junior year came around, I stayed in the car until my mom had to force me out. I went to the wrong side of the campus, had a couple eighth graders tell me so, and was late to a couple classes. It was easily not my favorite day. But slowly and surely the year progressed into something beautiful.
Some of the girls in the class above me took me under their wing and were like the six big sisters I never had. I've said it hundreds of times, but I don't think I can ever thank them enough. When I started at the school I'm at now, I had sunk back into this shy state, which is who I was when I was in elementary school. All of them lifted me up, made me feel smart, and raised my confidence to the highest it's ever been. As the progressed, I found myself being coined "the writer" and "that one girl who likes poetry," and I started using those things to my advantage. My instagram stories became the place I showed the books of poetry I had, and after starting this blog I showed it to a few (very few) people. I had always wanted to be the one who was known for writing and poetry, especially since starting high school, and now I was that person.
Sometime during my Freshman year, I was texting one of my friends when I said I was pretty sure I wasn't being myself. I said I wanted to be the person who a little quieter, read poetry, and was known for being a writer. When I switched schools, I became that person. Not only did I become who I had wanted to be a couple years earlier, but I felt better about myself. Switching schools was the best thing that ever happened to me because I figured out who I was and who I wanted to be. I had the people to help me do that, and I learned the art of quiet strength.
I realized a few weeks ago that I'll be switching schools again next year. I'm going to college, so it's a little different, but it's a new school nonetheless. A new school, a new state, a lot of new people. It's scary, but part of me is looking forward to it. If I figured out more of who I was when I switched schools last time, I can only hope that the same will happen this time around.
You Came Into This World Dancing
Originally published on February 04th, 2018
You came into this world dancing.
I could recognize your feet anywhere,
They keep me on my toes.
You have always known the universe.
You are my favorite rhyme in the chorus,
And my favorite syllable in the metaphor.
You are your own compass,
And your own driving manual.
Little brother, you are more than I bargained for,
Yet more than I could have asked for.
You could solve the world with nothing but a smile and some time to spare,
And you could bring laughter from the shadows.
You were never meant to carry your darkness by yourself,
But instead you take yours and mine together, bundled up tightly in your heart.
So I’ll take your hand, your t-shirts, and half of the bundle.
We’ll make it over this mountain together.
I Hate Bridges
Originally published on February 01st, 2018
I hate bridges. Actually, I'm scared of them. I'm scared of walking across them, driving across them, or anything else that has to do with them. When I'm on a bridge, I start to panic about the possibility of falling off and drowning in the car that has submerged under the water. This fear, however, does not apply to my old friend, the Golden Gate Bridge.
When I was nine years old, Christmas was spent with my cousins, my aunt and uncle, and my aunt and uncle from England. Before the holiday, however, I went to the Golden Gate Bridge with my dad, my brother, one of my cousins, and the England aunt and uncle. The first picture below is of my and my cousin, Melody (I'm on the right), and we're probably just catching up on the last few years because we've never been the cousins who see each other all the time. This particular catch up moment, however, is probably my least favorite. While walking along the Golden Gate Bridge, I remember telling her about my parents, how I was pretty sure they were going to get divorced someday, and how I wasn't necessarily worried but definitely wasn't happy about it, either. As we all walked across the bridge, I remember thinking about how life as I knew it was going to change, and I remember not knowing how to feel about it.
The next time I visited the bridge was pretty similar. As I'd suspected, my parents were separated, but I'd come to realize a divorce was not far off. There are some really cute pictures of me and my brother from this trip across the bridge, but since I know he'd never forgive me if I posted them, we'll stick to the picture of me and my cousin. The point of me telling about this second trip is the same as the first: My melancholy, ten year old self was in a state of reflection. Something about the Golden Gate Bridge does that to me, I guess, and it always has. While at the bridge I thought about my family a little, but the thing I remember most about this visit is me thinking about my friends, or rather the lack of them. I had been at camp meeting with my dad, brother, and grandparents, and while there I had found a few kids my age who I'd been with the majority of the time, and I loved it. I knew, though, that when I went back to school all of that would change, and I really didn't want it to.
Flash forward a few years, and I was living in Cupertino, which, on a good day, is only about an hour away from San Francisco. My parents had been divorced for about four years, I had moved to a different school and had a good ground of friends. On this trip to the Golden Gate Bridge, my mom and I had actually taken one of those boat tours that pass under the bridge itself, and it was right before passing under that I took the picture below. The first two times I'd visited the bridge, I'd thought about the things in my life that I didn't like, mainly my family and lack of friends. This time, however, I distinctly remember thinking about all I had to be thankful for. As I wrote in an Instagram post that day, "...today, my heart was filled with peace, and I knew that even though life isn't always easy, I am happy with my family and my friends. I am happy with my house, and I am happy with my school. And I know that God had all of this planned out the last time I was at this bridge, praying for something good to happen." My time in Cupertino didn't end up being as perfect as my fifteen year old self so wanted it to be, but it certainly stood as a testament to time and all that it heals.
The next time I visited the bridge was only four months and three days later, on my sixteenth birthday. I'll probably write a whole post someday about my sixteen birthday (and the Halloween that followed), but right now I'll only say the good parts of that day. Being at one of the places that had meant to much to me on my birthday somehow made it seem extra special. Since it was my birthday, I was already feeling reflective, and being by the Golden Gate Bridge just made me more so. I remember that I almost started crying because I was getting older. All of a sudden, I felt the pressure of being closer to twenty than to ten, but then remembered how I felt when I was ten years old and stood exactly where I stood then and realized that life was far better now than it was six years ago.
My most recent journey to the Golden Gate Bridge was a couple weeks ago. I went with my mom, and as we walked across I felt myself grow quiet. The first time I stood on the bridge, my family was changing. This time, as I stood there looking out onto the water, I realized that my family is changing once again, only in a very different way. The second time I stood on the bridge, I was heartbroken over my lack of friendships, and this time I realized I have come out the other side of that. Probably not for forever, but right now I have strong friendships all over the place, and I couldn't be thankful enough for that. The third time I came to the bridge, I was just thankful for everything that happened in the past four years, and this time I once again felt that feeling of gratitude. The fourth time, I felt the pressure of growing up, and that was still true this past time. This is my last year of high school, my last year at home, my last year of all that has been familiar. My sixteen year old self was worried about turning twenty one day, and if only she could imagine what my present, eighteen year old self is feeling. Even so, there is something about this bridge that takes away all my fears.
I'm afraid of bridges. I don't like them, and I avoid them whenever I can. Except for when it comes to the beautiful Golden Gate Bridge. This bridge, this place, reminds me of all that I've gone through in the past eighteen years. It reminds me of what life was like before my parents split up, what it was like right after, and what it's been like since. It reminds me of what it feels like to wander the playground by yourself because you don't have any real friendships, and yet it also reminds me of what it's like to have friends who want to take pictures with you on your sixteenth birthday (and also what it's like to have friends who will take care of you when you're sick and throw up all over the cabin floor. But again, the story of my sixteenth birthday is for another time). The Golden Gate Bridge reminds me of all I have overcome, and all I have to be thankful for. The bridge reminds me to take life one day at a time while still looking ahead to all the good things life will one day give me.
Life hasn't always been easy, and I know that fact won't change as life goes on. But while life hasn't always been beautiful, it has always had beautiful moments. While I may still be afraid of bridges, this one in particular will always have a very special, bridge shaped space in my heart.
Books I’ve Read & Places I’ve Loved: January 2018
Originally published on January 28th, 2018
Happy end of January! This month gave me hope for a fantastic 2018 with a couple trips, some good books, and a plethora of memories to last a lifetime. I hope January was good for all of you, or at least included good things for the upcoming months. But without further ado, here are the books I read and the places I loved this January:
BOOKS I'VE READ
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
So, I've actually read this a few times before, but this was the first time I listened to it. I've loved this story for as long as I can remember, and I spent this month listening to it while cleaning, doing laundry, and walking around my neighborhood. If you don't want to read or listen to it, then I would recommend the BBC mini series version of the story, which definitely does it justice. Even so, I still think there's nothing better than reading the book itself.
Turtles All the Way Down by John Green
This book came out right before my birthday, and my brother, sweet person that he is, bought me one of the signed copies for my birthday. I started it in November, but put it down for a couple other things before picking it back up again this month. I forgot how much I love John Green's books. His writing isn't something that you underline, but rather something that you ingest. This story has many different levels- mental health, friendship, tuatara, and, of course, turtles (though not in the way you'd expect). It somehow explained my own mental health while talking about something completely different from what I actually experience. After Paper Towns (which will always have a special place in my heart), this may have become my favorite book by John Green.
When talking about this book, John Green talked about how he put himself into this (fictional) character that deals with thought spirals and what goes along with them. If you want to hear him talk about this a little more, plus what living with OCD is like for him, you can click this link.
PLACES I'VE LOVED
Old Town Sacramento, CA
I know I mention this place a lot, but this month it was extra special because I got my senior pictures taken. My friend Natalie took them, and I've been using them all over this website over the course of January. I love Old Town Sacramento so much, and I'm very happy that it was the scenery behind many moments this year.
San Fransisco, CA
Because of MLK Day, I had a long weekend after going back to school after winter break. This was definitely appreciated since it gave me a chance to sleep in again, but it also gave me a chance to go on a mini road trip with my mom, which we haven't done since July. We went to Pier 39, where I took the picture of the seagull and we got to see sea lions, walked The Golden Gate Bridge, and went to the aquarium where we got to see river otters. It was a wonderful way to spend part of the long weekend.
_______________________________________
This month was filled with so many good things, from the beginning of musical rehearsals for Pirates of Penzance, to a day to trip to San Francisco. This month certainly wasn't perfect, but all in all I thought it was okay. I'm hoping that February is better, but there were still many good things that occurred in this past month.
Ballet, Auditions, & Fears
Originally published on January 25th, 2018
I did ballet for a long time when I was little. I had three teachers, a few performances, and many hours of practicing. When I was nine, I had a summer performance with the rest of my class. Since the dress rehearsal had been on a Saturday, and that was the day I went to church, I didn't go and showed up the next day oblivious to whatever might happen. My mom pulled my hair into the tightest bun possible, gave up on trying to put false eyelashes on me (I still hate them!), and we jumped into the car to head over to the performance center.
When it was my class' turn to perform, we went out onto the stage. Unknowingly, I stood where I thought I was supposed to, and put my arms above my head like I'd practiced. A couple seconds later, I realized I was in the wrong place, and skipped over to where I supposed to be (see picture below to see this moment). It was a small slip-up, but it was one of those moments where you know you messed up and you know that everyone else knows you messed up as well. Still, I was able to recover the mistake and still danced my little heart out like I was supposed to.
Over the next few years, I had many more slip ups and potential mistakes, but my ability to recover easily worsened. I talked myself out of singing for a talent show when I was in eighth grade, and then developed a bad case of stage fright my sophomore year of high school that eventually led to me dropping out of drama. Over the last two years, I've gotten slightly better at managing my stage fright, but I still don't like auditioning. I actually never have. When I was thirteen I auditioned for I Dreamed a Dream by signing in the instrument closet loud enough so my teacher could hear me. I like to think I've improved in the last five years, but auditioning is still very difficult for me.
About a month ago, right before finals, I had my audition for Pirates of Penzance, my school's spring musical for this year. The day before, I cried to my mom in the In-n-Out drive through. I told her I was *this* close to not going at all and skipping the whole musical because I was so terrified of "failing" again. (Spoiler alert: I'm one of the General's daughters, and the audition could have gone so much worse.) I spent the morning of the day of my audition on the verge of tears, and even texted my mom saying I wasn't sure I would go through with it.
At some point during math (my last class on Fridays), I left and went to the empty bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror and whisper/yelled to myself "I don't care if you go in there and cry. I don't care if you go in there and apologize thousands of times or make excuses. I care if you don't go in at all." That's right, I yelled at my reflection in a school bathroom. I soon left and went back to math but didn't feel any less nervous then I had before leaving.
I have a fear of messing up. I have a fear of looking ridiculous, and I have a fear of failure. I don't like being pitied and I definitely don't like messing up. I've realized that I need to listen to nine year old Claira and take some advice from her. After all, she was able to handle a slight mishap in front of hundreds of people, most of whom definitely noticed the mistake. The auction went well, and I was proud of myself after it ended. I knew that I did my best, and that's all I could ask of myself. That all I can ever ask of myself. I still have a fear of messing up, but it looks like I'm going to have to put on my big girl ballet shoes and realize that even though there's always a chance I'll mess up, there's also a chance I'll come out of it a more capable person.
Me, second from the left, realizing I was facing the wrong way and skipping way to the right mark.
The Art of Pretending
Originally published on January 21st, 2018
On the first day of 2018, I went into Old Town Sacramento wearing my banquet dress and a sweater that makes me feel like a Van Gogh painting. A few months ago I asked a photographer friend of mine if she'd take my senior pictures for me, and lucky for me she said yes. The pictures turned out beautifully, and I've put some of my favorites at the bottom, but before they were taken I was incredibly nervous about the whole ordeal.
I chose my friend Natalie to take the pictures because I figured I'd feel more comfortable taking pictures if someone I knew and got along with really well was behind the camera. Even so, I was still nervous for the months between asking her to be the photographer and the day we actually took the photos. I spent the weeks leading up to the actual day talking to my mom and explaining my fears- each of which came from a place of deep insecurity. I hadn't realized up until this whole thing that I was as insecure as I am. When the day came, I curled my hair and put on my banquet dress, and got into the car.
As my mom drove (sigh... I still don't have my license. I'm working on it, I promise!), she told me all the things I would say to someone else who was nervous: You're going to look beautiful, pretend these are headshots that you need for a job, etc., etc., etc. But even though I knew the pictures would look great because Natalie is an amazing photographer, I couldn't get out of my own head. When we reached Old Town Sacramento, Natalie was already there. I got out of the car and tried to look as though I was the confident person I wish I was. We started taking pictures right away, and it was then that I remembered the phrase I hear all the time- Fake it 'till you make it.
When I was in eighth grade, my english teacher used to say this before we had a presentation or we were reading one of our short stories. At the time, I wasn't really insecure at all, at least not when it came to speaking in front of people (just wait until you're 16, 14 year old me). When I started taking drama my Freshman year, my teacher said it before most of our performances. Now, my choir teacher always tells us to "walk with a purpose," which I've taken as almost the same thing. So as Natalie started taking pictures, I decided to practice the art of pretending, and faked it until I made it.
The actual process ended up being really fun for me. Old Town Sacramento has always been one of my favorite places, even before I moved here, and even though it wasn't my first choice for where I wanted the pictures to be taken, I'm still very happy with the outcome. It just goes to show that sometimes faking it can make yourself more real than anything. Sometimes when there's something you have to do that scares you, it's easier to put yourself in a state of pretending. Sometimes when you have to do something that makes you feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out again, it's easier to tell yourself that you're not actually yourself in that moment- you're the person you wish you were (which, most of the time, is actually who you are but you just don't realize it yet).
Pretend yourself into a place of confidence, and don't let yourself shrink down into something less than you actually are. The next time you have to do something that scares you a ridiculous amount, fake it until you make it. You never know how real you may end up becoming.
10 Essays I Don't Know How to Write
Originally published on January 18th, 2018
10 essays I don't know how to write:
1. How my swim teacher/coach changed my life for the better.
2. My early childhood and how it messed me up but brought me to where I am now.
3. What it's like having a brother with autism.
4. What it feels like to be sort of broken up with in a hotel lobby even when you weren't exactly dating the person in the first place.
5. The rest of my series about Senior Survival.
6. That day in seventh grade when I almost decided to leave the school I'd been at for eight years.
7. Why I connect with Zoe Murphey from Dear Evan Hansen so much.
8. How I suddenly understand why the saddest people create the most beautiful things.
9. How I'm not sure what love feels like. Which is why I'm scared I'll never know when I'm in it.
10. How I'm not sure how to be a better writer.
Wildfire
Originally published on January 14th, 2018
In the distance, I can see smoke rising.
Red flames engulfing the trees,
The sky changing colors in the wind.
I can hear the sounds of sirens.
I can feel the hot, heavy air.
I can sense the dwindle of silence.
I am not big enough for fire,
I feel myself shrinking with the smell of smoke.
I do not know how to save you.
We have turned you into a land of wildfire.
With our neglect, we have caused smoke,
With our anger, we have brought flames.
I do not know how to put the furnace out.
I do not know how to make the sky clear again.
I do not know; I do not know.
Things We Need More of in 2018
Originally published on January 11th, 2018
This year, we need more of the good stuff. 2016 and 2017 were both really weird years, and while they had their good moments, 2018 still needs to be different. With that in mind, here are 10 things I think we need more of this year.
1. Long conversations with the people who mean the most to us.
2. Kind honesty. Saying what you think and believe but not doing so in a cruel manner.
3. Houses filled with music.
4. Listening to someone with a different opinion without thinking about you're going to prove the wrong. Listening to understand, and then trying to be understood.
5. Long walks outside when the air is the perfect balance between windy and still.
6. Underdogs.
7. Coffee in coffee shops and tea in window sills.
8. Ideas that seem crazy and unrealistic. Because those are the best ones.
9. Doing the thing that scares you when you know it'll be worth it.
10. Creativity
Resolutions
Originally published on January 07th, 2018
I know, I know. Last week I literally said I didn't necessarily like making New Year's Resolutions, but that's why I came up with my own system. Instead of making a set of resolutions for the whole year, I've decided to give myself until the end of June. I'm still giving myself the full year to accomplish each resolution (really they're more like goals/things I want to do or accomplish, but whatever), but I'm going to give myself until the end of June to see if each resolution is still important to me. If it's not a priority anymore, then away it goes. There's no point in holding on to a resolution if I'm going to stop caring about it and then feel bad about that at the end of December. With all that said, here are my 9 resolutions for 2018:
1. Read 20 books (I'd also like one of these books to be Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen)
2. Run a 5k.
3. Finish this blanket I've been knitting for about a month now.
4. Buy hermit crabs.
5. Go back to therapy.
6. Be nicer to myself and change the way I think about myself.
7. Have a summer job.
8. Be able to read children's books in French.
9. Do as many things to open as many doors of opportunity for myself as possible.
As some of you may remember, I set 9 goals for myself to accomplish before I turn 19. Those goals and these 9 resolutions are all the things I hope to accomplish in 2018 (9+9=18, get it? Ha.) The idea of not continuing with a goal when it stops being a priority also applies to my 9 goals before turning 19, so I'll be checking in with myself in April about all of those. This is all because while I want to accomplish new and exciting things, I also don't want to put negative pressure on myself that will only make me feel bad later.
I really want this year to be good. I'm trying not to put too much pressure on it to be amazing, but it definitely needs to be better than last year. I'm hoping that by making these resolutions I put myself in a good place for making this year good for myself.
Happy New Year!
Originally published on January 04th, 2018
Happy 2018! As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not really one to make resolutions, but I still like to reflect on the previous year and think about all I want to accomplish in the new one. This year, as I’ve said, I’m definitely working on making sure I’m okay in the midst of helping other people. Aside from that, I really want to improve with writing, and that’s where this website comes in. We’re coming into the second full year of this, and for me that’s a pretty big deal. I want this website to be filled with more stories, pictures, and happiness. Last year I got deep most of the time, and while I can’t promise that won’t still be the case (I’m a reflective person by nature), I want this year to be filled with happy, story-filled essays. Everyone has something they want this year to be more of, and I hope all of you find that thing and succeed in it.With that said, I hope you had a very merry holiday season, and happy New Year to you all!
~ 182 words
Books I've Read & Places I've Loved: December 2017
Originally published on December 31st, 2017
Guys. This series is officially a year old, and that's the longest I've held on to a project. I remember dreaming this up and thinking how much fun I'd have making it, and that's still true. Even though sometimes I spend hours hurriedly taking pictures of the books I've read and remember all the places I visited in a month, I still love it and I still have fun making it. I see this as a summary of my month, and I look back over past editions often to remember the feeling that went along with a specific month. With all that said, here are the books I read and the places I loved in December of 2017.
BOOKS I'VE READ
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
I have watched A Muppet's Christmas Carol every Christmas for as long as I can remember. Because of this, I spent much of this book thinking "that's not how it is in the original!" before realizing that, oh right, this is the original. I love this story because it's a mixture of my favorite things- Christmas, nostalgia, and, of course, redemption of the 'villian.' If you're a fan of any movie adaption of this story but haven't read the book, I recommend reading it next December (or anytime you could use a little Christmas spirit).
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
This was December's book club book, and I have to say it is definitely my favorite that I've read so far. I loved it so much that I've been recommending it to everyone who asks me for a book recommendation, and I've been singing it's praises to anyone who will listen (and some who probably couldn't care less). Even though I've been recommending it to everyone, I will say one thing- it certainly isn't lighthearted. It's heavy, deep, and at times difficult. The writing is beautiful and fairly easy to read, but the story itself is one of the hardest I've read to date. Still, it's beautiful and one of the best books I read all year.
PLACES I'VE LOVED
My School's Gym
Yeah, our Christmas banquet was in the gym. It was beautiful though, with colors and streamers and a Christmas tree on the stage. I already wrote about how the banquet went, so I won't go on for too long, but I wanted to say again that it was beautiful, nostalgic, and I loved it. This was by far my favorite banquet that I've gone to. Probably because it came with a lack of expectation, and I was with some of my favorite people the whole time.
Starbucks
Like last month, breaks from school mean that I get to see my friends who now go to college (which, not gonna lie, makes me feel weirdly old). It was really nice to catch up with one my bestests of friends, and afterward we went to the Trader Joe's across the street where I bought flowers for me and my mom. This was easily one of my favorite days of the break, and there were many of those.
________________________
Happy end of December! I hope this year was good for all of you, and that it brought you lots of good things. Like last year, this is the last post that will go up this year. With that said, I'd like to leave you with a quote I found recently that I've come to love: "I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're doing something." ~ Neil Gaiman
I hope you all have a wonderful last day of 2017, and that 2018 is your best year yet.
2017 Was My 2016
Originally published on December 28th, 2017
It came to me at around 8:00 on a Wednesday night. I was curled up on the guest bed at my grandparent's house next to my mom, crying because I was sad and angry and didn't know why -either that or, I did know why, I just didn't know what to do about it. I realized that while 2016 was the year everyone and their goldfish thought was a disaster, I actually had a great time. (This is, of course, excluding politics and terrible gun control.)
But 2017 did not turn out the same way. For me, it still had its good moments, but most of it was covered by a dark cloud. I failed two attempts at the DMV knowledge test. I got a hard job that requires more energy than I tend to have on a typical Thursday. My friend's lives seemingly fell apart, and while trying to put everything back together, I ended up forgetting myself a little bit. I very nearly failed Chemistry, got a far below average SAT score, and I didn't succeed at any audition I went to.
I've never been one to think of the new year as a new slate. For me, yeah, it's time to change calendars and write a bigger number at the end of the dates on my essays, but other than that it's just a new day. But this year feels different. 2018 feels different. It needs to. For a long time, every one of my years as a teenager seemed better than the last. 14 was far better than 13, 15 far better than 14, and so on. But 17 wasn't better than 16. I'm still unsure of how 18 will turn out.
I'm worried about this year. There's a lot that I'm unsure of, and I'm honestly tired of feeling like I have to be the old soul I am. I'm tired of thinking that since I've always been mature for my age I have to somehow be okay with everything that happens, or that I have to go through it only thinking about the positives. No, I should be able to feel whatever I'm feeling and move past it when it makes sense to. Not a minute too early.
I don't like New Year's resolutions because they always feel like I'm setting myself up for failure, which is something I could really do without in the new year. So this year I'm making a deal with myself: I'm not going to let myself take care of everyone else while ignoring myself.
I can't tell myself not to take care of others because that goes against my nature. But I definitely need to revise the idea that I have to be completely unselfish all of the time. 2017 was my 2016, but that doesn't mean 2018 has to be.
Burned Out
Originally published on December 24th, 2017
I got burned out. Between finals, Christmas concert preparation, auditions, and hasty gift wrapping, I lost all motivation to do anything other than sleep and binge watch whatever was first on my Netflix queue. Because of that lack of motivation, I missed a website post for the first time in over a year. This may not seem like such a big deal to anyone, but to me, it consumed me for days leading up to last Thursday until now, when I’m writing this.
I need to be better at letting things go, and that certainly doesn’t come naturally. I have more posts written and scheduled so this shouldn’t happen again for the foreseeable future, but I still need to be able to move on if something does come up and I can’t finish a post in time. Please forgive this weird rambling, but I needed to write something or I’d go crazy about the blank space in my website plan.
Seriously. I need to get better at letting things go…
~ 170
A Year of Lasts
Originally published on December 17th, 2017
Yesterday was my last high school Christmas banquet. It wasn't until last Monday that I realized this, and when I did I started to realize all the other "lasts" I'll be experiencing this year. Last Thursday I talked about the Christmas Concerts and how they've affected me over the thirteen years I've been a part of them, and today I wanted to look at lasts as a whole, while also looking back on some of the unfortunate banquets I've gone to (because it's funny to look back on now).
My Freshman year was filled with many things. New friends, new teachers, and new classrooms to name of few. One of the things I hadn't really thought about until November, however, was the fact that I would have to add "banquets" to the list of new things. Now, the story that follows is one that was terrible at the time but it now absolutely hilarious for myself and my friends from my first high school to look back on.
I was fifteen, and while I hadn't given much thought into banquets as a whole, I liked the idea of getting asked to one. Although this started as a simple thought of "oh, it would actually be nice to be asked to something like this," it ended up with me being stressed out beyond relief. There was a guy in my Physical Science class and at the time I thought going to the banquet with him would be a good idea. To make a long story slight shorter, he asked four girls and all of them said no. After P.E. one day, I was going to get the permission slip for the banquet (a funny sentence) with some of my friends when I hear a guy in my class yelling out "FIFTH! FIFTH!" and I promptly ran to the step to wait for my mom. To make the story even shorter, the guy asked me on one knee surrounded by lots of other Freshman. Apparently I hesitated before saying yes and then ran behind a wall and started crying, but I don't remember a lot of what happened between seeing someone on one knee and me crying behind a wall. The Living Skills/Spanish teacher ended up making sure I was okay and telling me I could say no later if I wanted to. My best friend's mom saw her making sure I was okay but thought she was the one making me cry so started honking her car horn. It was a cacophony of events in only about five minutes.
I rarely think back on this story. The actually banquet itself was slightly better, but that's a story for another day. Whenever I do think back to that December afternoon of Freshman year, I think about the banquets that followed. My Sophomore year I studied for a vocabulary quiz because I was lonely, my Junior year I delt with a slightly disastrous miscommunication and jumped in puddles at Winter Wonderland, and my Senior year I laughed with my friends in a school gym filled with Christmas lights.
If I'm honest, I think part of the reason this year's banquet was so great is because it came without much expectation on my part. In the past, I've gone into December completely stressed about banquets for a myriad of reasons, but this year that wasn't the case. This year, I sat at a table with some of my favorite people and drew smiley faces over the sheet of paper. I took polaroid pictures with my friends and wore purplish heels that I carried out to the car because my feet hurt (but in a good way!). Last night was a beautiful end to the series of high school banquets, and I'm very glad it was.
Each "last" of this year comes with its own set of emotions. If I'm honest, I wasn't expecting to be hit with these nostalgic feelings until April at the earliest. Knowing me, that's a ridiculous statement because I'm a nostalgic person by nature, but I still wasn't expecting to be writing a post like this quite yet. Still, here we are. This is going to be a year of lasts. Last Christmas concerts, last banquets. Last locker, and last year at home. This is a good year, but also an incredibly nostalgic one. I just need to remember to take it all in for what it is, instead of constantly living in the past. Before I know it, I'll be writing about my senior year of high school- how long ago it was, how I had so much to learn, and how much I've grown. Before I know it I'll be wishing I was right where I am now. Nostalgia has its place, as long as I remember to live in the now. The now and all it has to offer me.
Me before my first banquet. A 15 year old who wasn't sure how to curl her hair yet. Also the side bangs, people. Not a good time.
A Christmas Carol (or, A Christmas Concert)
Originally published on December 14th, 2017
I was six years old when I had my first Christmas concert. Of course, in preschool, I'd done things for Christmas, but I don't remember there ever being music. When I got to kindergarten, however, that changed. I found myself standing in a line with the other seven kids in my class, learning the parts we were going to sing. The song had to do with the spelling of Christmas, and each letter represented something seasonal. I remember asking my mom, who was my teacher at the time, if my part could be with the letter C, simply because my name started with the same letter.
The next year, I auditioned for my first solo. I went to the teacher who was leading the concert and sang as well as my seven-year-old self could. The next week, my teacher told us who had gotten the parts, and I held my breath. My teacher had us clap for the other people who had gotten solo parts in other classes, and I'm told that when she read my name, I had the biggest smile on my face. Things continued in this manner for the next three years. Second, third, fourth grade Christmas Concerts were relatively similar. I tried out for parts, practiced them over and over again, listened to the songs while doing school work and kept memorizing.
But then, in fifth grade, things changed. At the school I went to, fifth and sixth graders weren't in choir. Instead, I spent my time learning how to play the flute well enough so I wouldn't horribly embarrass myself. Even so, me and a couple of my friends had been asked to participate in the skits that went between songs. The story went something like this- two sisters and their brother are at their grandparents house. While there, they learn stories of their family and, of course, the Christmas story. This was one of my favorite memories because it's yet another moment when I was doing what I love- acting and making people laugh.
Sixth, seven, eighth, and on through high school were all similar in Christmas Concerts. I joined the older choir in sixth grade, and happened to be the only one my age who did. In seventh and eighth grade I continued with this choir and the concerts were relatively similar. A few mishaps along the way, a few solo tryouts in the music closet due to a random bout of stage fright, but the concerts themselves were the same.
My freshman and sophomore years were at a school with a music teacher who took the Christmas concert incredibly seriously. We spent months working on the songs, and on the night of my Freshman year concert I remember feeling very proud of the effort and the response we received. The same feeling returned my Sophomore year, and even though the two concerts were similar, the feeling was it's own thing in itself. When I changed schools for the remaining half of my high school career, I once again joined choir. I wrote about my thoughts and feelings around my Junior year concert last December, but the feeling of being proud was still there. This year, however, was different. Don't get me wrong, I was still proud of myself and the choir as a whole, but the concert itself felt different. After thinking about it for a few days, I realized why- this was my last Christmas concert.
As of right now, I don't plan on being in a choir when I go to college. I have a feeling I'll be too busy with other things, and while I intend to surround myself with music and theatre, I don't think choir is one of the ways I'll do that. So when I walked off the stage in my black choir dress, I got this feeling of "that's the last time I'll do that. I won't have another Christmas concert again." My six year old self, in all her joy and excitement for her first Christmas concert, joined with my eighteen year old self, in all her anticipation for what's coming next but still excited to be doing what she was doing.
I'm happy for all the Christmas Concerts I've been a part of. I'm thankful for the solos I've song, the groups I've been a part of, and all the people I've met along the way. While this may seem like a simple Christmas tradition, it's been a big part of my life up until now. It's one of those happy memories that I have, and hopefully I will never forget anything about it.
When the Devil Wears Heels
Originally published on December 10th, 2017
The devil is not stupid. He is cunning, and he is insidious.
He sits behind his screen, typing words meant to spear the souls of the good.
He runs to the weak, threatening them with darkness.
He walks to the strong, shoving defeat down their throats.
The devil is scared. He is a coward, and he is insecure.
There are people who fight back. People who type back.
The weak stand up and realize they are taller than him.
They threaten him with light, with good, with strength.
He shrinks smaller, and smaller, and smaller.
The devil is not tall enough, so he wears heels.
He overcompensates for the darkness and defeat.
We know we can stand together, and we know we don’t need his division.
But he is not stupid. He knows how to get to us.
He knows how to use our weaknesses against us, and he knows our insecurities.
But we are not small. We are not weak. We know how to stand against the weaknesses.
The devil is not tall enough, and tall scares him.
So when the devil wears heels, we know we’ve won.
Lemon Cake in a Scottish Castle
Originally published on December 07th, 2017
I try to find things to be thankful for everyday. Those little, ordinary things that bring joy to our everyday lives. Today, however, I wanted to go through a few of those things that are less ordinary, and a little more extraordinary.
Lemon cake in a scottish castle
Lattes with a hint of rose outside a food truck in Portland
Christmas music
Curtains falling for the last time and the excitement that ensues behind them
Finding old stories I wrote when I was little
Walking through Seattle when the streets are busy but not too busy
Hugging a friend you haven’t seen in a really long time
~ 107
Fifteen New Songs
Originally published on December 03rd, 2017
Last month, Taylor Swift released her sixth album, entitled Reputation. I haven't really stayed on top of the news surrounding her in the last year, mostly because I've been focused on other things. Even so, when the album was released, I felt this sudden need to memorize the new fifteen songs, and at first I wasn't sure why. It's not that I loved every song, quite the contrary, actually. There are a few I like quite a lot, but there are others I'm pretty sure I'd skip if I bought them and they showed up on shuffle. No, I think my sudden need to memorize every lyric was instead due to my past with Taylor Swift herself.
In middle school, I didn't like talking about music. Not because I didn't like it or didn't listen to anything, but because I didn't want anyone to judge me based on the kind of music I liked. If I was asked what kind of music I liked, I'd usually shrug and say I was more into books than music, and that would typically end the conversation. But then something happened.
I found Taylor Swift.
When I was ten, I was in a ballet class that used Love Story as the background music for our end-of-year recital. This had been my official introduction to the world of Swift's music, but it wasn't until seventh grade (three years later) that I became obsessed. When I'd finish my homework, the first thing I would do was go onto youtube and watch music video after music video. I got hooked during the Red era, but I found myself listening to the Speak Now album on repeat while doing homework. My favorite videos were from Fearless, and her debut, self-titled album had songs that resinated with me, too.
As I dove deeper and deeper into who Taylor Swift was, I found many similarities between us. We both have brothers that are two years younger, and they happen to have the same name. We're both blonde, which ended up being extremely comforting during high school when I was one of three blonde people in the entire school.
When I was in eighth grade, my mom and I went to visit the area we'd be moving to in about two months. While there, I mentioned that I liked Taylor Swift, and that prompted the mother of my soon-to-be best friend to introduce me to her daughter. I spent the entire summer texting her about our favorite songs, and she introduced me to other music that as since become some of my favorites.
I have Taylor Swift to thank for my friendships the first two years of high school. I have her to thank for getting me through middle school. I have her to thank for giving me an answer to my least favorite question. So I feel the need to memorize the fifteen new songs because it's almost as though I owe her something. But in reality, I don't owe her anything. My music tastes have changed, and that's okay. If it was anyone else, I probably would have stopped listening to them long ago. This was different because of this history, and that's okay too. But I should be able to go on to other things that bring me more joy, and grow further as both a person and as someone who loves music.
