Fear
Originally published on July 12th, 2018
They will try to break you.
They will try to make you into something you are not.
They will try to bend you, twist you, change you.
Do not believe them.
Do not believe the daggers in their eyes,
Or the fight that is in their hands.
Do not believe the venom in their mouths,
Or the anger that is in their feet.
They will force you into their idea of perfect.
They will force you into their metaphors,
Into their idea of self. Ignore them.
Become your own self.
See with your own eyes how precious you are.
Use your hands to do what you know is right.
Speak words of kindness like I know you can.
Do not let anger trample you.
Do not let the fear break you.
Do not let it make you into something you are not.
Do not let it bend you, twist you, change you.
Do not believe it.
America
Originally published on July 08th, 2018
America, on the fourth of July,
I stare up at the fireworks, and can’t help but ask why
This country is now the way that it is,
Where hope turns to fear and nothing is ours- it’s his.
Over the past few years my patriotic heart has been shot,
Months filled with news that’s hard to handle, and I always thought,
That this country was built on dreams fit for growing,
But now a bullet has penetrated the calm and instructed the storm to start blowing.
I know, I know, this poem may be hard for some to hear,
But discomfort can be good, and I won’t censor my tears.
So listen up, because I’m angry at all I’ve been seeing,
Angry at this country, and the actions of some human beings.
First of all, we are all human beings, and we cannot forget this,
We all want acceptance, and we’re all trying to escape the abyss
Of suffering and evil, so why aren’t we helping each other?
We are separating and hurting, instead of acting like sisters and brothers.
Stop pretending to love if that’s not how you feel,
At least have some sympathy, and don’t make excuses for the evil.
We are all to blame for something, so accept your consequences.
Do what you can to make things right, and help tear down these fences.
Stars and stripes and thoughts and thoughts and prayers,
Stop being enough when no one really cares.
I’ve read word after word of lives turned to ruin,
It’s like our hopes are gone and destruction has been blown in.
If this is not who we are, then more needs to be done
We’ve had protests and parades, but we can’t stop ‘till we’ve won.
Until everyone can laugh, learn, and love as they please,
Until our animals are safe, even the ones in the trees.
America, I still want to love you, but you’re making it hard.
You’ve closed up your hearts, and your borders are bared.
But someone once said our darkest nights lead to brightest days,
So I’ll look for the helpers, and try to count out the ways,
I’ve seen the hope through the hurt, and the good through the bad,
I’ve seen people makes others smile, and lend a hand to the sad.
I’ve watched the helpers become heroes, because that’s what they are.
I’ve watched strangers have empathy, no matter how far.
So give me your tired, your hurting and ill,
And I’ll give you my shoulder, a blanket and fighting will.
I’ll do what I can to set this ship back on course,
But I need you to join me, to be our fighting force.
Juggling Balloons
Originally published on July 05th, 2018
Back in April, I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week. The first week of the month consisted of musical performances, lots of essays and assignment due dates, and a general feeling of anxiety the whole time. I spent the entire week on the verge of tears, and on the Friday afternoon I wound up in the office of my then Religion teacher/vice principal crying.
Before I can get into the balloon part of this story, let's go through all that was going through my mind that week, shall we? My dad had just gotten married a couple weeks prior and my brother wasn't handling it well and I was worried about him. There had been hours of musical rehearsals and even though I was happy to be on stage, I was also not getting enough sleep. I was in the process of getting over a heartbreak and even though I'd been doing really well, a few things had happened that week that had caused me to step backwards a little bit. I had multiple assignments that were either due very soon or were a few days overdue. College was looming over me and I wasn't sure where to start with the enrollment process. My class had received multiple speeches about how some of us were in the red in terms of graduating, and I had taken all that stress and started panicking that I wouldn't graduate (even though there was no chance of that not happening). I hadn't had coffee that morning and even though it wasn't a big deal, it was the cherry on top of an awful ice-cream cone. And to sum it all up, I'd missed my therapy session that week.
So there I was, crying into my sleeve while my teacher nudged the box of tissues towards me. I ignored the tissues as she looked at me in sympathy and said, "Have you ever heard of the balloon analogy?" I shook my head no. My teacher smiled softly and told me about an analogy that changed my entire outlook on the remaining weeks of the year: "Imagine you have a blown up balloon. You can hold it and deal with it just fine, and once it deflates you can move onto the next one without any problem. Now, imagine you're holding two blown up balloons. It will take you longer to deflate them both. It's doable, but a little harder. You have so many, fully blown up balloons that you are trying to juggle. It's hard to take all of them and fix it by yourself, because you will inevitably drop a couple of them. Sometimes we need someone else to come around and take a couple of our balloons."
"My problem is it feels like I need to keep all the balloons because I'm the only one who can deflate them."
"I know the feeling. Think about it this way: Some of these balloons belong to other people. You're trying to juggle all of your balloons while also trying to help everyone else juggle theirs. It's okay to let everyone deal with their own balloons until you've popped most of your own."
I stayed in her office a little while longer, and after I left I felt much better than I had. When I went home I had some coffee and put the sunflowers my mom had got for me into some water. I did some work and then took a break. It had been a really long week, and taking a break felt really good.
In my teacher's office that day, I learned two things. 1.) When you have too many of your own balloons, it's okay not to help everyone else with theirs, and 2.) Popping balloons is extremely therapeutic, whether figuratively or literally. In realizing that I didn't have to take care of everyone else's balloons, I was able to have a less stressful end to my school year. I didn't start avoiding my friends and I didn't turn into a apathetic friend, either, but I was able to listen to them talk to me without turning their problems into my balloons.
I tell you this story because the balloon analogy was really helpful for me. It helped me put things into perspective, and that was something I really needed (and still need quite often). I have a feeling this analogy will stay with me for a long time, and I hope it was able to help someone reading this as well.
A Hand Movement
Originally published on July 01st, 2018
In August of 2014, I was in church when someone started talking about the end of the world. That night, I had my first panic attack. I felt out of control, and I felt claustrophobic and paralyzed in fear. I couldn’t get myself out of that anxiety because I was certain I was going to die a terrible death simply for something that I believed. It took me three years before I could even hear the words “end of time” without feeling a tightening in my chest. This fear and anxiety isn’t as strong as it once was, but I still get nervous when I walk into a church and listen to a sermon/watch a video about Daniel, Revelation, or Matthew 24.
In July of 2017, I was diagnosed with PMDD, which is a severe kind of PMS. This means I have about one week a month where I feel like myself, and the other three are covered in extra anxiety, extra insecurities, a sense of hopelessness, or all of the above. Because of this, I was on anti-depressants from July until December of 2017. I have failed two attempts at the written test for my driver’s license because of test anxiety. I had a panic attack on my last day of senior year because I felt out of control and couldn’t ground myself into logic. Sometimes I still get into anxiety spirals where it takes a while to get out.
I get nervous easily. When I’m driving with my mom and I see a car start to pull into our lane, my breath catches in my throat for a second. Worst case scenario is my default. Flying is scary to me because I feel out of control.
During the last few months, all my emotions turned off. I didn’t let myself think of anything except the work that I had to do so I could finish the school year worry-free. What I didn’t expect was the lack of a return from my emotions. It took me until Friday night of graduation to finally let myself feel what was going on. Sure, I was sad and feeling nostalgic but I wasn’t really feeling those things. I just knew they were there. I was so preoccupied with taking control over something that I didn’t let myself focus on anything else, even if that something else was simply taking care of my own mental health.
Still, I am very lucky. I have access to therapy, I have a very supportive family, and I have friends who understand these parts of me. I can count on one hand the amount of panic attacks that I’ve had, and I am able to move through spirals of anxiety after a while. I have coping mechanisms, and I’m working on doing those things regularly. I am generally a happy person. I laugh at things and smile every day. I don’t feel enveloped in sadness very often. But I know that the bad things are still there, because if I pay attention to them for even a couple minutes it can take a few days for the thoughts to go away again.
Because of these things, I throw myself in writing. I write for this website, I write poetry, and I journal almost every day. I used to write songs, too. I act, I listen to music, and I go into stages of running a lot. I may get anxious in church sometimes, but I am able to separate God from the building, and that’s something that I have had lots of help with over the years. I may feel like I’m going crazy most of the time, but I have gotten to the point where I can recognize it and work through it. I may feel out of control sometimes, but I have a family who can ground me in logic. I may be afraid of flying, but I have been able to make my love for traveling greater than my fear.
Lastly, we need to be more open about mental health. Everyone gets worried, scared, lonely, and unhappy sometimes. Some people have things worse than others, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it. Lend your ears to someone who needs to talk, and your shoulder to someone who needs to cry. Give space when they need it and be there when they can’t handle any more space. Be there for yourself. Do the things that you know are good for you. Don't sacrifice your own mental health to take care of someone else's. Don't let your fears get in the way of your living. I know that you have something to offer this world. I know that you will work through all of this. To quote Christopher Robin, "Always remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."
Madisen Kuhn, one of my favorite poets, recently started #AHandMovement. This is a project used to open up candid conversations about mental health. This piece was my reaction to that project.
Books I've Read & Places I've Loved: June 2018
Originally published on June 28th, 2018
Remember last June when I didn't read any books and basically hid from the world all month? I'm very happy to say that this wasn't the case this year. Sure, June had it's ups and downs like every month does, but overall it was still a better month than June of 2017. This month I started an internship and got to spend lots of time with theatre oriented people who love many of the same things I do. I also read a book that gained a permanent place on my bookshelf.
BOOKS I'VE READ
Bossypants by Tina Fey
I've mentioned this a couple of times since October, but this year I really wanted to read more memoirs. I definitely haven't read enough of them yet, but this summer I wanted to change that. Last time I was at Barnes & Noble, I picked this one up. Bossypants was released in 2011, and I've been hearing about it almost ever since. I love Tina Fey, and after watching all of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, I decided to give her book a try. I finished it in only a few days, and I loved it. It made me laugh, and gave me much of the same information from Jenna Fischer in The Actor's Life, only with a more humorous take.
I recommend this book for: Fans of Tina Fey, memoirs written by comedians, or both.
I don't recommend this book for: Anyone who doesn't like any of the above, and anyone who doesn't like Saturday Night Live.
PLACES I'VE LOVED
Stage Right Productions
This month, I've been working as an intern for a nearby community theatre. I'm the intern for their production of The Music Man, and so far it's been a really good experience. There's still a few weeks to go, and they're going to be busy weeks, but I'm excited for them. I'm going to miss this internship when it's over, and I'll always be thankful that I had it. So far I've learned a lot that I wouldn't have learned otherwise, and it's all information I needed to know in order to grow and progress.
This has been a month of adjustment to a simpler life style and a slower life pace. I've spent a lot of time watching movies that have been in my Netflix List for forever (should I rename this Books I've Read, Things I've Watched, and Places I've Loved? Haha, nah...) and journaling. June has been a very reflective month, and I think we all need one of those every once in a while. Here's to July, I hope it's a good one for all of you.
Detox Tea Talk: June 2018
Originally published on June 24th, 2018
For whatever reason, this has been the hardest thing to write this month. I'm not sure why, but it's the Thursday before this goes live and I haven't started it yet. I've said this before, but usually the things I post are written two weeks to a full month in advance. These are different, of course, because they are stream of consciousness and I write them the month of, but still. Having something for this blog not be finished until the week of is very rare for me.
This month has been... interesting so far to say the least. Last year, this month was the hardest by far. The year before, July was the hardest. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to worry that August 2018 is going to be a rough month. This month has been okay, though, which is good. If you remember, Books I've Read & Places I've Loved: June 2017 had one place I loved and no books I read, which made me feel awful and honesty quite helpless. Reading is something that makes me feel like myself, and when I don't do it I'm not sure what box to put myself in. I don't think any of us really do fit in boxes, but sometimes it comforts me to know that I have a category I can call my own when everything else is so up in the air.
Like I said, this month has been interesting. I graduated on the 3rd, started an internship at a theatre on the 9th, and my anxiety started to return in full force on the 20th. I think the news has really gotten to me this month. My anxiety and mental health in general always suffer more when the news gets worse, and I don't think that's only true for myself. I've felt helpless this month, and that's not a good feeling for anyone. So I've been trying to find ways to get myself out of my shell.
I've been journaling a lot, but sometimes that keeps me in my own head too much. Working with the theatre is good, but I'm getting less sleep because of it and that's not great for me, either. This month has felt like a small adjustment as I prepare for the big adjustment- college. After graduation, I fell into a sort of void. The last two months were spent with musical performances, music tour, robotic babies, and finals, and I used up all my energy and emotion on getting everything done before graduation. Now that I'm finished with everything, I find myself struggling to fill my time with good, productive things. The internship is good, but it's only a small part of my summer. I find myself sinking further into the hole of Netflix and Youtube without giving myself an escape. Hopefully I can figure this out by next month,
~ Claira
When I Was Seven Years Old
Originally published on June 21st, 2018
When I was seven years old, I went to Rome. We were there on some of the hottest days the city had seen in a very long time, but we still ventured out of the hotel room and into some of the popular sites. One such site was the Colosseum. My mom wanted to see it, and although I had very limited knowledge of what it was, my religious upbringing had taught me enough to know that Christians hadn't always been very welcome in Italy. That knowledge hung in the back of my mind as we stood in one of the lines leading into what was now a popular tourist attraction.
At some point, someone sent me, my brother, and my dad to one line and my mom into another. Instantly, I felt panic set in. You see, I'd learned what the Colosseum used to be, but no one had told me that wasn't what it was anymore. And without that critical piece of information, I fully believed I was never going to see my mom again after watching her change lines. Tears filled my eyes and I felt myself begin to panic. Somehow, at some point, everything was resolved and someone explained to me what had happened. I don't remember the reasoning, but I remember the feeling of knowing that I wasn't separated from my mom anymore. She was okay. I was okay. Everything was okay.
Last year, I got political a lot on this blog. During the 2016 election, I cried, I wrote essays, I yelled into a void trying to find answers to questions I didn't think I'd ever have to ask. Sometime in the last year, I stopped writing about my opinions on politics and stuck to simper things. Lately I've been writing about my graduation and nostalgia, and books and places and poetry and other good things. But in the past week I have once again been greeted with a stark reality.
There are children in this country who are being separated from their families. They are in a country they don't know very well, and they are in a country where they are not always welcomed with open arms. I'm sure some of them know this. There are children in this country who are being separated from their mothers. There is probably a line involved, whether literal or metaphorical. They are going one way and their mothers are going another. There is one major difference between my story and the one they are living right now: No one is telling them everything is going to be okay. Their mothers are not returning in a few minutes to give them a hug and a kiss and say it's okay, they are right here. Their mothers are not able to say they are okay, that their children are okay. They can't say that everything is okay.
I don't know how to make everything okay. I don't even understand how we got here in the first place. This is callous. It's shameful. It's disgusting. In fairytales, whenever a child is taken away from their home, we all know it's the monster who did it. The story continues and the monster is defeated. I don't know how to defeat this monster. I don't think any one person can defeat this monster. So I am leaving links at the bottom of this piece. Please do what you can. I'm a spiritual person, but thoughts and prayers alone cannot fix this anymore. The hole is too deep. We are all stuck in it.
Until we find a solution, please do me a favor. If you have children, hug them a little tighter today. If you have parents around, first remember a time when you thought you'd been separated from them, and then go give them a hug too. Be empathetic. Put yourself in the shoes of those children. We need to do what we can so soon someone can tell them everything is going to be okay. Soon, their mothers need to be able to give them a hug and a kiss and say that they're right there. We need to put these families back together.
My mom and me in Rome
Young Center for Immigrant Children's Rights
KIND (Kids in Need of Defense)
Urban Justice Center: Asylum Seeker Advocacy Project (ASAP)
To the Class of 2019: Some Things You Should Know
Originally published on June 17th, 2018
Real quick, while this is a letter to the class of 2019, I am specifically talking to the new senior class of the school I just left. Some of these things could apply to everyone who is graduating next year, but most of are specific to those graduating from the school I graduated from.
To the Class of 2019,
You're here! This is the home stretch of your high school career, and I can promise you one thing: it will nothing like you expect it to be. Yes, you may know which classes you're taking and where your locker is and who your best friends are, but you still have no idea how different this year will be from what you expect. With that in mind, I thought I would put together a small list of things I would have liked to know, so here you go:
This year will be more stressful than you thought, but it will also be less stressful than you thought. There were times last year where I wasn't stressed at all. Everything was going well. All my homework was done and I was working with people I liked for group projects. My family life was good, and I was excelling at the things I loved. But then there were times when I wasn't getting an essay in on time because the conclusion wasn't coming together. There were moments where I was so anxious everywhere I went that even my own room was a stressful place to be. I struggled with my mental health last year in ways I had never struggled before. Senior year is stressful, but there are good moments. Savor those good moments because they will make the stressful ones worth it.
You will experience things differently. If you're like me, you will feel nostalgic all year long until everyone else decides to be nostalgic as well. I was sad about graduating all the way from August to the end of April, and then May hit and all my emotions completely disappeared. I was so stuck in my stressful headspace that I didn't let myself think about anything besides school and homework and enrolling in college. By the middle of May I started to feel nostalgic again, but those feelings always disappeared almost as quickly as they arrived. In this upcoming school year, your floods of emotions may cause you to experience things differently than you have in the past. The Christmas banquet may be the best one ever, but you may find yourself on the verge of tears the whole time. Same goes for basketball games, and choir performances, and maybe even the last period of your least favorite class. Just remember that whatever you're feeling is completely valid, and it's simply your own way of preparing for the many changes that are ahead.
Teachers are there to help you, even though it doesn't always feel like it. I have always been that person who is on the teacher's side, but last month, during one of my few mental breakdowns, I exclaimed that none of the teachers understood all the stress I was under, and none of them seemed to care about it. My mom smiled and nodded and waited for me to climb out of my hole. There will be moments where it feels like no one, especially the teachers, cares about what you're going through academically. It gets really busy really fast, and the end will creep up on you no matter how many countdowns you have on your wall. When it feels like the teachers don't care about you, remember that it's their job to make sure that you do well. Ask them for help, and listen when they give you information that will inevitably come in handy later.
Some final things I'll leave you with - Remember that vulnerability is courage, and remember that you are all so brave. Remember that any of you can change the world. Remember that you are smarter, stronger, and better than you may think. I hope you all know these things, and I hope that you don't forget them when this upcoming year gets rough. Be there for each other, help one another through whatever this year will throw at you. Lastly, remember to have fun. This is your senior year, and there is nothing that feels the same as walking onto campus the first day and knowing that this is your year- the year where you know more than you have ever known, and the year where you are more prepared than you ever have been. Go out there and live your year to the best of your ability. I know all of you are going to do amazingly.
~ Me, Class of 2018
1,391 Days Later
Originally published on June 14th, 2018
My time in high school was anything but extraordinary. For the first two years, I went to a school in the bay area, surrounded by creative, technology-oriented people. I lived with my mom, brother, grandparents, giant golden retriever, and guinea pig, Bugsy. My Freshman year was spent trying to catch myself up on all the stuff I seemingly missed in elementary school, learning lines for drama class, and generally trying to get a handle on the whole "high school" thing. I asked a boy to a banquet and then couldn't go because I asked too late, went to Utah for the second time, and avoided my Religion teacher due to many differences of opinion. I spent a couple weeks the summer after the school year ended in England, Wales, and Scotland. That trip remains one of my favorites to this day.
My Sophomore year wasn't that different, except I quit drama, replaced it with yearbook, and spent most of my time writing songs in my bedroom for no one but myself (and, as I learned later, my grandparents. The walls were thin). My life was filled with Troye Sivan lyrics, origami dragons, and crumpled paper filled with ideas I'd decided weren't good enough. I won a writing contest and got a scholarship to a college I'm not going to attend. Bugsy died towards the end of my Sophomore year, and after a summer of heartbreak, Scout became a dear companion. I took piano lessons for a while, got calluses on my fingertips from guitar, and drove to school with one of my best friends while sipping Earl Grey tea. Looking back, I was happier than I realized in the moment. I wasn't in the best place geographically, but I was in a good place mentally.
By my Junior year I was living in Sacramento and had somehow ended up taking two English classes, both with more Seniors than Juniors. I befriended many of those Seniors, and some are still close friends of mine now. I spent Saturdays at my grandparent's house, started writing for this website, and practiced for a Les Mis audition that didn't go to plan. I still worked hard for the musical, and that experience is one I will hold close for a long time. My time was spent reading up on Romantic Era poets, learning music for The Messiah, and developing a strong addiction to coffee. Scout died in March, I had my heartbroken in April, and some of my best friends graduated in June. I spent time in Seattle the following summer, which turned out to be one of the best parts of my 2017. My Junior year had a rough beginning and ending, but a beautiful middle. Looking back, I'd consider it to be the best of all four years.
My Senior year was about as busy as they come. I was the Religious Vice President for SA, had a job with a retired teacher from the summer before until the end of January when I eventually quit. I participated in Pirates of Penzance as one of the General's daughters, and spent lots of time working up the courage to participate in a poetry open mic at a nearby library. Speaking of poetry, I wrote mountains of it. I took film and photography, wrote some articles for Journalism, and went to the fall banquet as Alice (as in Wonderland) where I got to wear a giant black bow headband. I went to England in March where I spent hours with four of my five cousins and then spoke in front of my entire school two days after returning home. I went kayaking and running and spent the majority of my time being very content with where I was. I was stressed and cried a lot, but I was still very happy.
High school for me wasn't anything extraordinary. I traveled a little, met some cool people, and wrote some things I'm proud of. I have lots of great stories that you'll inevitably hear about in the years to come, but it's not like I did anything extraordinary. If anything, my life is shaping up to be crazier now that I've graduated. I'm spending the summer in three countries, and this month has will be spent interning for a nearby theatre, and I'll continue doing that through much of July as well.
I don't think your life needs to be extraordinary to be amazing. I have been blessed enough to be surrounded by extraordinary people in some of the most ordinary of places, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world. In 1,391 days I traveled the world, had my heart broken and then mended it, and wrote lots of poetry. I started this website, made friendships that will last a lifetime, and read tons of good books. Although anything but extraordinary, those 1,391 were some of the best of my lifetime. If that's what ordinary looks like, I'd love to spend the rest of my life as ordinary as possible.
Ode to My Gazebo
Originally published on June 10th, 2018
You have been my place of comfort.
My place of security, and my place for solace.
I go to you to find a quiet space to read, to think, and to be.
You are my happy place.
You watched me in my loneliness, in my times of distress.
You watched me fall in love slowly, never all at once.
You saw me cram for tests during lunchtime as I ignored the sandwiches,
and you saw me help others study as they ignored their own.
You have watched me laugh, and you have watched me cry.
You have seen me shudder in the cold as I wrapped my coat tighter around my body.
You watched me notice the new kids come and go,
and you watched me turn pages slowly in the crisp wind.
When I leave you, be there for someone else.
Be there for their laughter, and for their tears.
Be there on their cold and lonely days, and on the days where they can’t stop smiling.
Be there when I can’t be.
Be there for the new girl who doesn’t know where she’s going next,
And be there for the boy who loves the girl and doesn’t know how to say anything to her.
Be there for the teachers who are running to a class they’re late to,
And be there for the fifth grader who fell and is trying to look strong.
You will always be my gazebo, though I’ll have to leave you soon.
You have given me ideas worth galaxies, and a place to lay my head after nights of no sleep.
You were there when no one else was, and when no one else wanted to be.
Be there for the new kids, and thank you for being there for me.
Not So Scary Anymore
Originally published on June 07th, 2018
At the end of season 3 of Gilmore Girls, Rory Gilmore graduates from high school. In the last scene of the episode, she and Lorelai are running through the grand entry way of Chilton, when all of a sudden, at the top of the stairs, Lorelai turns Rory around and says "See? Not so scary anymore." When I watched this episode at the beginning of this school year, I almost started to cry because it hit me right where it needed to. I watched the episode again last week, and it hit me in the exact same way.
I graduated on Sunday, and by the time you read this I will officially be a high school graduate, which is something I was starting to doubt would happen by the middle of April (senioritis is real, guys. Too. Real.) In watching that episode of Gilmore Girls I was reminded of my first day at the school I graduated (!!!) from. I've told this story before, but bear with me because I'm definitely nostalgic right now:
August 18th, 2016 - I wake up and look at myself in the mirror for a longer amount of time than I probably should. I turn on a playlist of songs that I hope will make me feel more excited but then quickly realize that it's not working. I get dressed in a gray skirt and a red sweater because I read once that by wearing red you can make people like you more. I spend the drive to the school telling myself that it'll all be okay, but when my mom pulls into the parking lot I slump down in my seat and hope for that cloak of invisibility to show up. My mom forces me out of the car after a few minutes and I walk carefully towards the playground, the whole time thinking that this is the scariest thing I'll ever have to do. I go to the wrong playground and am escorted to the flagpole by some eighth graders. I stand in the back by the gate while I wait for someone to talk to me. The gate is high and a dark black, looking strong and scary, and seems to symbolize all I am afraid of in that moment.
I spend my morning following the girl who had talked to me first to all the classes we had together. She introduces me to a few people, and I start to wonder if this won't actually be as bad as I thought it would be.
Then I realize I'm late to my first English class.
I come back from that class more nervous then ever. It had gone fine, but being late didn't help my nerves any, plus I can't find that girl and I don't know where to go next. I look up to the gazebo, where I see a few groups of people sitting and eating their lunches. I walk over to a couple of nice looking students, one who I recognize as being in my class. I ask if I can sit with them and the girl says yes. I sit there and listen to them talk for a couple minutes. They don't say anything to me, and I realize I am too afraid to say anything to them, so I get up and walk to the bathroom. It's empty, and I stand in the farthest stall and start to cry.
When I get home, I look at my calendar and count the days left until I graduate. "Only two years," I tell myself. I take a shower and think that no day could possibly be worse than the one I just had, and I tell myself that at least I never have to do my first day again. I go to sleep and can't help but say again, quietly, "Only two more years."
June 03rd, 2018 - I wake up and look at myself in the mirror for a longer amount of time than I probably should. I listen to music that makes me happy and a little nostalgic, and feel the excitement start to bubble. I put on my white dress with blue flowers, because I saw it online once and thought it was really pretty and got it specifically for my graduation. I drive with my mom to the school and look around, trying to take in the drive as much as I possibly can while being ridiculously happy and distracted by all the good things that are about to happen.
We pull into the parking lot, and my mom parks in a familiar spot. She turns to me with tears in her eyes, and I feel my eyes begin to do the same. She reminds me of that moment two years ago, when I wouldn't get out of the car. When I was afraid of the unknown, afraid that I would fall, and afraid that I would never find my place. I remember that day in August when I refused to step out into the unknown, and when I step out of the car on this June day I walk towards the gate without any fear, like I've done a couple hundred times since.
As we go through the morning, I stop and talk with the people around me who I have become friends with over the past two years. A few of us reminisce about our time together. We talk about how weird it feels to be standing in the courtyard wearing caps and gowns when just nine months ago we were correcting ourselves from saying we were Juniors. We say how this feels almost fake, like we're just practicing and it still isn't real.
Before I march, I give my economics teacher a quick hug. I walk through the sea of people and everything automatically becomes a blur. A happy blur, but a blur nonetheless. After it's all over, as I walk outside to leave the parking lot for the last time as a student, I stop and look at the gate. I take a deep breath, smile to myself, and say quietly "not so scary anymore."
Me, feeling not so scared anymore.
To Those Who Brought Me Here
Originally published on June 03rd, 2018
This letter was taken from the family tribute I read during the first night of my graduation weekend. Most of this has already been read out to them, but I've added more since then.
There have been a few times in my life when I have had to take a step back and look at all the people who have helped get me to this moment, but none of those times have felt like this one. This one feels a little bit bigger, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing, but it definitely feels strange. There are so many people I could thank. I am constantly surrounded by friends and teachers who have helped me become this person that you see standing here right now, but there is no way I would be this person without my family. So, to…
Grandmom & Poppy - Both of you up the most generous, kind, hardworking, and intelligent people I know. You have fed me, housed me, helped me through geometry and algebra. I don’t think I will ever be able to fully comprehend all that you have done for me. Both of you have made my life as wonderful as you possibly could. You are my twin pillars- strong and sturdy, there to lift me up when I fall and to show me how to catch all the stars I could possibly hold. Without the two of you, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I am so proud to be your granddaughter.
Mom - For the past 18 years, you have given me everything I could possibly need or want. Notebooks for school and for writing down poems. Food for our house and for SA events. You have showed me how to see the good in everything. You have talked me down from many a figurative ledge, and you have always been there to pick up the pieces when I’ve fallen apart. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have a best friend for a mom, but I’m glad that I did. You have filled our home with love and with music, with poetry and with happiness. You have made my life what it is, and while I know it hasn’t always been easy, you have been the strongest role model I could have asked for. I love you so much. I am proud to be your daughter. Thank you for everything you have given me.
Austin - For the past sixteen years, you have been the constant in my life. Throughout our childhoods, we have shared rooms, toys, and fights. We have gone through ups and gone through downs, but, still, you have always been there. When I have a problem, I know you are there to listen. When I need someone to be excited about something with me, you are the person I know I can always go to. I am so proud of everything you have accomplished in your lifetime, and I know that you will continue to do amazing things. I am proud to be your big sister, and I love you very much.
The "Senior" Girls - All of you will always be the senior girls to me. My life would not be the same without all of you. Each of you have shown me how to be a better thinker, better speaker, and better person. Without any of you I wouldn't have become the person I am. I wouldn't have grown up this much, and I wouldn't have learned all I did in the past two years. All of you have touched my life in ways I didn't even think were possible and my life will never be the same, and for that I will be eternally grateful. To all of you- thank you for believing in me and encouraging me to be better. Without you, I truly don't know where I would be.
There are so many more people that I could thank for all they’ve done. Friends, teachers, people who have lifted me up when I’ve fallen and placed me on higher ground so I could regain my standing. Those of you who have taken time out of your busy schedules to talk me out of the ditches I’ve dug for myself, thank you. You know who you are. Thank you for listening to my stories, my thoughts, and my qualms. Thank you for early mornings and Friday talks. Thank you for making me smile, making me laugh, and for crying with me when I needed you to. I don’t know where I would be without any of you. I love you deeply. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Love,
Me
Books I've Read & Places I've Loved: May 2018
Originally published on May 31st, 2018
Before we begin, I think it should be noted that yesterday was my last day of high school. Tomorrow begins my graduation weekend, and wow did I start to think this day would never come. This month was insane. Parts of it dragged by while others flew by faster than I could blink. I'm glad this month is over, and I'm glad that this school year is over, even if I am getting more nostalgic by the minute. With all of this in mind, here is the book I read and the places I've loved from this month.
BOOKS I'VE READ
Helium by Rudy Francisco
Rudy Francisco has been one of my favorite poets ever since I saw him recite his poem entitled Scars/To the New Boyfriend. He has a way with words and metaphors that is just so beautiful, and his book was incredible. Some of my favorite poems that were included are To the Man Standing on the Corner..., Sister, Strength, and Museums.
I recommend this book for: Those of you who like poetry, especially poetry that talks about mental health and race, as well as poetry written for poets.
I don't recommend this book for: Anyone who doesn't really like poetry, or who wants poetry that's a little more on the tradition side in terms of form.
PLACES I'VE LOVED
Campbell Heritage Theater
I ended up not going on my class trip, so over Memorial Day weekend I didn't have anything to do. This was really great, because I finally got the break I so needed, but I also got to go to my first high school's graduation. I told a couple of my friends and surprised a couple others, and got to sit and watch my first group of real best friends graduate high school. It was really cool to see three of my best friends walk across a stage to get their dimplomas when I'd known them Freshman and Sophomore years. They all worked so hard, and I'm very proud of them.
The Gazebo
When I first started this website, I told myself that even though I have loved this gazebo since starting at this school, I wouldn't include it in these things until I was about to graduate. And here we are. This gazebo has been there for everything in the last two years, and I actually have a poem going up soon (Ode to My Gazebo), because I'm just kind of cheesy like that. This gazebo will have a special place in my heart forever, and I will miss it very much.
Mentally, this month wasn't the best. My emotions were numb 90% of the time, and that isn't a feeling I'm used to. I was really stressed and my anxiety crept up on me a couple of times. Still, I'm glad that this month was what it was, because having gone through the last 31 days graduation seems even sweeter. My emotions have definitely returned, and the feelings of nostalgia are back as well. I'm ready for next month, even though I'm not really sure what to expect.
5 Things My Senior Year Taught Me
Originally published on May 27th, 2018
I have five days left of my senior year. I'm a puddle of nostalgia, stress, and nerves right now, but that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking of all I've already learned this year. Since I have only five days left, I thought it would be nice if I shared with you the five biggest things I've learned this year:
1. I am not the same person I was on August 16th, 2017.
I have changed so much since I started at this new school, but most of that change happened this school year. At the beginning of the school year, I wrote a piece where I mentioned that I had no idea what this school year would hold, and I was totally right about that. So much happened this year that I couldn't have anticipated- some of it good, and some of it bad. A lot changed this year, the main thing being myself. I am definitely not the same person I was when this school year began. From senior survival, to being part of SA, to quitting my job, to crying in multiple classrooms, to music tour, to now with five days to go, I've changed a lot, but in good ways. I've become stronger, and I've become more myself than I was nine months ago.
2. Who people see you as isn't necessarily who you actually are.
You aren't always who people think you are. You also aren't necessarily what your accomplishments are. You aren't just the person who is part of SA. You aren't just the person who was part of the musical. You aren't just the person who spoke for Student Week of Prayer. Yes, you are those things. Those are accomplishments that you should be proud of, but they don't make up your entire being. Those things are a part of you, but they aren't all of you. Who you are perceived to be isn't who you are, and that can be a really good thing.
3. Friendships grow, change, and sometimes disappear.
I had a lot of friends move away for school this year, and that was really hard. Luckily I haven't totally lost touch with any of them, but my friendships with them have changed a lot. Instead of seeing them in class every day, I now call one of them every so often and respond to Instagram stories of others. I've also had a friendship completely disappear this year without really noticing it, and while that's sad, I've realized that I'm better off because of it, and I think they are too.
4. I have a really strong intuition.
I also knew that my gut is never wrong about things, but it wasn't until the beginning of this year that I realized just how strong my intuition is. A lot of people don't believe me when I tell them something that I suspect, but then when that thing happens a couple months later, I realize that I'm not totally crazy after all and was actually correct all along. This isn't always a good thing, though, and that's something else I learned this year.
5. Although there are hard moments, overall I have a really good life.
On any given day, I am surrounded by amazing, talented, beautiful, kind people. I have spectacular teachers who challenge my thinking and encourage my intellectual side. I have friends who support me and a family who loves me. Up until this year, I knew that I was privileged in many areas and that I was blessed in ways others weren't, but it wasn't until this school year that I realized just how true that really was. I'm so thankful for the life that I have, and I'm thankful for the life I'm in the process of building for myself.
It's been a good year. A long year, but a good year. Before I go, I thought I'd share what I wrote at the beginning of this year, right after my first day: "The thing that gets me the most is that three years and five days ago I had no idea what was to come. I didn’t know any of the people I would soon meet, and I had no clue how they’d affect me in the long term. I hadn’t failed the tests or passed the finals yet. I hadn’t been to those disaster banquets or those amazing ones yet. I hadn’t cried in bathroom stalls yet or jumped for joy with my soon to be best friends yet. When I think about it that way, I can’t help but think that I, in this moment, have no idea what this next year has in store me. And that, my friends, is a really exciting idea." (read the whole post here)
I was right, I didn't know. I didn't know about the rejection or heartbreak or failure this year would bring, or the many wonderful changes. I didn't know about the friendships I would make or the essays I would ace yet. I didn't know that I'd speak for Student Week of Prayer or go to England or spend hours in coffee houses with my best friends. I was right about something else, too- it's exciting to not know what's to come. I don't know what will happen this summer, or next school year, or any other year after that. And that's exciting. It really is.
Deviled Eggs: A Letter to My Best Friend
Originally published on May 24th, 2018
Annaliese,
I remember the day we met. It was August. I was very new and you really weren't, and we had both gotten our ears pierced a few months earlier. You were wearing those clear earrings that you can get away with at small Adventist schools, and after you introduced yourself to me, I asked you where you'd gotten them. We went past the usual small talk and I learned that you used to do cross country running and were the Religious Vice President.
Then we didn't talk until May.
Okay, so we talked a little bit. I sat by you at the Christmas Banquet and messaged you on Instagram that one time, but that's about it. We didn't really talk until Ditch Day when we were in the same car to the bowling place and ended up bowling at the same lane. I saw you were following someone on Instagram who I also follow, and we started talking about it. We haven't stopped talking since.
In our year of friendship, we've managed to do a lot. You changed my mind about college without ever asking me to switch. We watched the sunrise at 6'AM over the Junior/Senior retreat, and we've had many, many cups of coffee. We've watched Gilmore Girls and have had multiple debates about who Rory should have ended up with (I will never stop trying to change your mind about Logan. That is a promise). In the past year, you have given me many things.
You've given me food when I'm hungry and people to be around when my extroverted self is about to go insane. You've given me rides home at 1'AM and encouragement when I'm nervous about open mics. You've helped edit posts for this website and you've given me books of poetry for my birthday. You have listened to me rant about everything going on in my life, and you've braided my hair before the second act of the musical. You've called me when you have news and you've fought me about my love for Jess (Rory should have ended up with him. I will never stop trying to convince you of this. That is also a promise). To sum all of this up, you've given me a best friend. You are my best friend.
You are the best friend who looks at me during class with a look that tells me everything you'll exclaim later at lunch. You've given me a best friend who is more excited about my poetry than I am sometimes. You've given me a best friend who, when seeing deviled eggs and the person who brought them, will look at me and cause us both to break out into laughter at a Gilmore Girls inside joke. You've given me a best friend who is willing to live with me for an entire school year. You have given me a best friend. You are my best friend.
We graduate in eight days, and then you're off to work at summer camp and I'm off to who knows where. I hope you know just how thankful I am for all the car rides, coffee, and laughter you've given me in the past year, and I hope you know how excited I am for next year. Thanks for putting up with me this year, and thanks for everything else. Here's to the end of our high school careers, to an amazing summer, and to our upcoming Freshman year.
Love,
Claira
A photo booth picture from last month.
Detox Tea Talk: May 2018
Originally published on May 20th, 2018
This month has a weird one. As of today, I have twelve days until graduation, and let me tell you the number twelve has never seemed sweeter. Even so, the waves of nostalgia haven't hit yet. This month has been one that has left me almost numb to all my emotions. I've been so busy with getting all my school work done before my senior class trip that I haven't let myself get nostalgic or sad.
I was talking to my therapist on Thursday (as I have done almost every Thursday since February), and she said that getting all my work done as quickly as possible may be my own form of self-care. Getting everything done earlier means I won't be stressed about it later, and I really don't want to be stressed about all of this once finals week hits. I finished all my math for the year on Thursday as well, and that was a huge weight that was finally lifted off my shoulders. This year, and this month in particular, has been filled with more stress than I was anticipating, and I'm really glad I only have twelve days left until it's all done.
With that said, I am still sad to be leaving my class and others in grades below me when I leave. It's a weird feeling to look around your class during Economics or Religion and think Wow, I won't be seeing 98% of you every day next year. I'll see Annaliese every day since I'll be living with her, but apart from her and one other, in twelve days I'll be saying goodbye to some of my favorite people. These are people who have made my life fuller and brighter, with more laughter and smiles than I thought possible. People who will be very hard to say goodbye to.
But, even though I will miss them all, I'm still not feeling nostalgic or sad yet. I've been thinking that maybe those feelings won't show up until during the class trip, or maybe even until after I get back and finals week begins. Being such a nostalgic person most of the time, this feeling of numbness is very strange, and I don't like it. Whenever I feel like the feelings are going to rush in and I sense tears coming to my eyes, they disappear almost as soon as I notice them. It's like my mind just isn't ready to be sad yet, and while normally I'd say that's a good thing, right now it's just weird. I guess we'll just have to wait and see when my strong emotions return,
~ Claira
Thoughts from the Top of St. Paul's Cathedral
Originally published on May 17th, 2018
Two and a half years ago, I visited St. Paul's Cathedral for the first time. I climbed up to the Whisper Gallery, but because I have a slight fear of heights (or so I thought), I told myself that one day I'd return to go up the rest of the way. Back in March, I did it. Even though I wanted to stop once we got to the Stone Gallery, my aunt convinced me to keep going (like a good aunt does), and I'm really happy I did. Throughout the climb, thoughts circulated through my head, and this post is how I'm organizing all of them.
Whispering Gallery - Do the thing that scares you because it scares you.
Anyone who has climbed up St. Paul's cathedral, or even up the 257 steps to the Whispering Gallery will know that it isn't an easy thing to do. When my aunt and I got to the Whispering Gallery, we stopped and looked up the ceiling for a while. It's a beautiful ceiling, full of intricate paintings done by someone brave enough to go up to a great height without all the safety measures of the 21st century. I'm a little bit scared of heights and tight spaces, so even though I wanted to get to the top, I was nervous about it. That's when I told myself what I've been telling my friends for years: Do the thing that scares you because it scares you.
Doing things that scare you isn't always a bad thing. Sure, doing something dangerous just because it scares you would be stupid, but when there's something safe that still scares you, doing it is good. Climbing up to the top of St. Paul's Cathedral was safe, but is still scared me so much. The fact that I was scared just made the whole experience even better, and it's a cool to story to tell now.
Stone Gallery - Change is a good thing.
Over the course of my life, I have consistently been very resistant to change. For as long as I can remember, I've been happiest when nothing has changed. When everything stayed the same, I felt secure and happy. But, as with everyone else, as I've gotten older more and more has changed. When walking up the stairs to the Stone Gallery, I remembered that two years earlier, I never would have climbed that far, let alone any higher. I realized that in the time I'd been spending being afraid of change, I'd been changing anyway, only in good ways. I've become far braver, more able, and more sure of myself in the last few years, and none of those are bad changes.
Change is a good thing, even when it seems bad at first. Everything has a way of working out the way its supposed to. All the bad stuff figures itself out, and all the good stuff stays around as long as it is needed.
Golden Gallery - Be like the brave artists.
While sitting in the Whispering Gallery, my aunt mentioned that the process of painting the ceiling would have been insane. I then started thinking about how scary it must have been to paint your art that in that high of a place, without the safety measures we'd have today. They were brave artists. When I was walking up from the Stone Gallery to the Golden Gallery, I felt the anxieties of being in a tight space while going up steep steps. As I went back down to begin the descen back to the first floor, I again felt that fear. But I kept reminding myself of those brave artists, the ones who put their love of art above whatever fear they may have felt.
The job I want is not something that will come easily. I've read book and listened to talks and if I've learned one thing from those, it's that sometimes it isn't about talent but rather about who you know and when you know them. That's a scary thought to me, because I don't want to worry about missing opportunities so much that I end up miss them anyway. I strive to be like the brave artists, who don't let fear get in their way.*
*but I am definitely not painting the ceiling of a cathedral. That's too much for me.
A picture I took after climbing up. An odd angle, maybe, but I still kind of love it.
1/3
Originally published on May 13th, 2018
Mom. If I could be 1/3 of what you are, I will count myself lucky.
Mom. The one who lifts me up when I can no longer stand. Who raises me up above herself and teaches me to believe in myself. Yet she still teaches humbleness, and showed me how to let others speak.
Mom. The one who laughed and shook her head when she found out I watered the orchid every day. I wondered why it had died so soon…
Mom. The one who befriends the hummingbirds and the squirrels. The one who pauses to take pictures of the moon and of the pomegranate seeds. She taught me to notice the small things, the big things, and all those in between things.
Mom. The one who loves and loves and loves and loves. The one who gives all that she has and then some. Who knows how to hold on, and how to let go.
Mom. The one with green eyes and a green thumb. A mind with many words but a mouth that knows silence is at times golden. The one who taught me kindness is what matters most and patience is a virtue.
Mom. The one who I aspire to be. The one who showed me what love is. The one who told me I can do anything. The one who shows me generosity in the best ways, and strength in the hardest times.
Mom. If I could be 1/3 of who you are, I will count myself lucky.
An Ambush
Originally published on May 10th, 2018
I was thirteen years old the day I was ambushed in a school kitchen. I was sitting out in the courtyard area of my elementary/middle school and had just finished eating lunch. I was about to walk back to my classroom to set up my stuff a little early (as I often did in those days), when suddenly I heard a voice say "Claira? Can we talk to you for a second?" I turned around and saw the woman who served the hot lunches and her daughter looking at me through the window. I nodded and walked into the kitchen where I was escorted to the pantry area at the back. What followed was something that can only be described as anambush.
The daughter of the woman who had called me over sat down on a small stool. Let's call her Tina. I'm pretty sure she sat down so she could be more on my level, but Tina was already shorter than me to begin with, so when she sat down I just felt like I was towering over her. I stood there with my hands in my jacket pockets, which was something I'd started doing to keep me from biting my nails when I was nervous. Something about this already seemed weird, and it only got weirder when Tina opened her mouth.
She started to tell me how awfully I was treating her sister (who we'll call Leslie) and how I was always sticking up for her when a boy in the class above us (who we'll call Sam) treated her badly. I waited until she was done talking, and then said that, from what I had witnessed, Leslie was the one mistreating Sam, and every time I was "sticking up for" Sam, it was with good reason. Tina rolled her eyes and said something about how I needed to start treating Leslie better because I was being a bully. I knew Tina didn't have the full story, and I knew that she probably never would, so I took a deep breath and said, "Okay, can I leave now?" Tina rolled her eyes (again), said "sure, Claira" and then left before I did. When the door opened, I could see Leslie sitting outside, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened.
Sam and I hadn't always been the best of friends. We met when I was seven and he was eight, and we've stayed in touch over the years, but there have been moments in our friendship where we really haven't gotten along. But I knew that Leslie wasn't treating him well, and while I don't remember the details of it anymore, I do know that what was happening really wasn't okay. I knew things about Sam that Leslie didn't know, and I also knew things about Leslie that Sam didn't know. It could be said that I was stuck in the middle of these two people, but I wasn't impartial. I knew one of my friends wasn't being treated well, and I had talked to Leslie about it. I knew that I wasn't being mean to Leslie, and I knew that something was really off about my interaction with Tina. So I did what I always did when something felt weird at school: I left the kitchen, and went straight towards the playground where my mom was sitting and watching her students.*
I sat down next to her and told her what had just happened. I have never seen my mom get that quiet in the face of anger before, but I remember that she took out her phone. I didn't learn this until a few years later, but my mom went up to Tina and told her that she couldn't trap me in a kitchen and talk to me that way without her around, and also that she should have known better because she was older. An ambush like that never happened again.
Doing the right thing isn't always going to be appreciated, and sometimes the right thing is going to look like the bad thing to the bad people. Sometimes the "right thing" doesn't even feel like a big deal. Me being nice to Sam and not letting Leslie teat him unfairly didn't seem like a "right vs. wrong" situation, it just felt like the decent thing to do. Later that same day, when I was talking to my mom again, I told her that even though the interaction with Tina didn't seem like a big deal, it had left me feeling really bad. My mom looked at me and said it was probably because someone had tried to take my power away. Tina may have sat below me so I was standing above her, but her words and the way she said my name at the end made me feel so small she could have squashed me with her pinky toe.
There are few moments in my life where I have felt small, but that one day in the school kitchen was definitely one of those moments. This story is just one example of a time when someone made me feel small, but since that day I've learned that even though people may make you feel small, that doesn't mean you actually are. When people do things to other people and make them feel like they have no value in the world, that makes them the small ones. When people try to squash you down, know that they are actually lifting you up higher. Know that you are the one who will fly into the world stronger, and know that you are the one who will build everyone else up because you know what it feels like to be knocked down.
*quick side note: I've noticed that whenever I tell stories from my elementary school days, there always seems to be a moment where I mention that I went to find my mom. Apparently this happened more than I had thought. Okay, back to the story...
Four Years of Music Tours
Originally published on May 06th, 2018
I've been in choir for all of high school, and that means I've had music tours for all of high school too. I recently came back from my fourth and final music tour, and it's put me in a very reflective state of mind (though, when am I not feeling nostalgic?), and I wanted to go through all the days I've ridden in busses with my friends, slept on gym floors and in hotel beds, and talked until 2'AM every night. I'm going to go day by day, year by year. This is probably only interesting to me and maybe the people I've traveled with, but nevertheless, this is all I felt like writing. So here you go:
Day One:
Thursday - April 23rd, 2015: This was the first day of my first music tour, and it was a good one. The first night consisted of me talking with one of the senior girls for a couple hours (even though there was no reason she had to talk to me), and then one of my best friends and I went outside to the swings. I've actually written an entire post about this day, and if you want to read that you can do so here.
Thursday - April 14th, 2016: The first day of my second music tour wasn't as interesting as the first year. What I remember the most was the first night, when we were staying in a school gym and it was so windy that the windows at the top kept banging open and shut. This was also the day where I listened to Hamilton for the first time, as my friend Janae had been trying to get me to listen to it for forever and realized she had a chance to make me listen to it when I had no way of leaving. I'm glad she made me, though, because it's one of my favorite musicals two years later.
Wednesday - April 26th, 2017: Every time I've moved while in California, I've gone further and further north. This means that when your teacher decides to go to LA for music tour, it takes longer than when your teacher from your old school decided to take you to LA for music tour the previous year. The bus ride seemingly took forever, and I remember that all I really did was play Heads Up with three other girls from last year's senior class.
Wednesday - April 25th, 2018: This day was a weird one for me. We didn't have to travel very far, so the bus ride wasn't that long, but after spending three hours in a mall during a stop for lunch, I was more emotionally exhausted than I tend to be on the first day of music tour. Because of this, I wasn't in the most social mood, and I couldn't have been happier when I found a quiet place to read in the midst of the busy hotel.
Day Two:
Friday - April 24th, 2015: Day two of year one consisted of me finding more swings, listening to the band play songs that would be stuck in my head for the remainder of the school year, and finding some more swings to occupy my time when there wasn't much else to do.
Friday - April 15th, 2016: Anyone who has been reading these consistently for the past couple months will know that I love Los Angles. When my school took us there for music tour, I was happy to know that I'd be able to visit the city itself for a few hours. I went back to Griffith Observatory and sat in front of the star wall for longer than everyone else, and went back to Tom Hanks' star even though I'd just been there a few weeks earlier (because of course I did).
Thursday - April 27th, 2017: Day two of my third music tour is arguably one of the worst days of my high school experience. Parts of the day (like singing at Knottsberry Farm) were really cool, but other parts of it left me in my hotel room crying while on the phone to my mom. But even though this day isn't one that I look back on fondly, I learned that I have really good friends, and that's always good to be reminded of.
Thursday - April 26th, 2018: The second day of my final music tour was spent in San Francisco, where I had one of the best days of 2018 thus far. I walked around Pier 39 with some of my favorite people and ate the most delicious strawberries I've ever had. I had an amazing macchiato and an even more amazing gluten-free sandwich with avocados. Thursday was a really good food day, but also a really good music day. We were lucky enough to see the San Francisco a symphony, where we listened to an incredible group of musicians and I sat next to my most sarcastic friend and nicely mocked the tippny player. This was a good day.
Day Three:
Saturday - April 25th, 2015: What I remember most from this day was eating lunch at the church we'd been singing at and then singing our thank you like I'd seen multiple high school choirs do over the years. It was strange, and I'm glad I haven't had to do that since. I also remember that I played a flute for the first time in about a year. It was just a scale, but it was enough to remind me why I still don't play now.
Saturday - April 16th, 2016: I don't remember much of this day, but I do remember that I was really happy the whole time. I borrowed jeans from another friend because I always under pack for music tours. I took polaroids with other friends and talked by our sleeping bags for hours.
Friday - April 28th, 2017: This was a good day. There were beautiful sunsets, a beautiful church, and I laughed a lot. Considering the day before had been an utter disaster, this day was a breath of fresh air. There were chairs that would shock you if you moved them too quickly (as I learned from experience), and the sound of some of my favorite people singing some of my favorite songs.
Friday - April 27th, 2018: I am someone who, while scared of many things, doesn't mind facing their fears every so often. One of my biggest fears is wide open waters that I could potentially drown in. Still, upon hearing that we'd get to go kayaking on our third day, I was excited. Annaliese became my paddle buddy as well as an encouraging teacher. Even though there were moments when I was definitely afraid of what I was doing, I can honestly see myself kayaking again in the very near future.
Day Four:
Sunday - April 26th, 2015: The last day of my first music tour was spent at Six Flags, and I quickly discovered that Six Flags and is not for me. I've never liked roller coasters, so my time there was spent watching everyone else's bags and acting like the mother of the group. It really wasn't my favorite day, but I liked listening to Hamilton on the way home.
Sunday - April 17th, 2016: Once again, I found myself at Six Flags for the last day of music tour. This time, though, I couldn't escape the arms of my friends as they dragged me onto a roller coaster. "It's for little kids," they said. "It'll be fine!" they said. They lied. After looking at the chart later, I discovered that the roller coaster they'd chosen for me (appropriertly named Ninga) was one of the worst ones, though it was pretty short and had no loops or drops. My friend Joli actually took a video of me on the roller coaster, and, let me tell you, it was a sight to see.
Saturday - April 29th, 2017: This was a day that I will always look back on with happiness. It was my half birthday, which always fills me with an odd sense of joy. I undid a braid of my friend Julia who had been swimming and ended up with broken elastics and wet jeans due to her dripping hair (but I wouldn't trade that hour of laughing and listening to Ed Sheeran for anything). I saw Into the Woods, and took pictures that I always look back on with feelings of love and peace.
Saturday - April 28th, 2018: I'd forgotten just how much I love being at the beach and playing in the waves, and this was the day where I was happily reminded. I know I said earlier that I'm afraid of open oceans, but I do love the waves, and running around in them as a highlight of this music tour.
In my four years of high school, I've had really good experiences and opportunities to go to cool places. Being part of choir gave me many of those opportunities, and these four music tours will always remain some of my favorite memories from high school. I've come back from some heartbroken and sunburned, but I've come back from others happily refreshed and ready for the homestretch of the school year. Music tours have been a time where I look back on the year I've just had, and try to imagine what the year ahead will bring. They are a time when bonds grow closer, and a time when you start to realize how important everyone around you is and just how much you love them. I've been very lucky to have four years of these experiences, and I wouldn't trade any of them for anything else.