En Memoriam

Scattered thoughts on death. Feel free to skip.
Andrew Sasse's story.

Someone died today.
                                                      People die everyday.
But he was a senior at my school. I knew him.
                                                                            Did you really?
People I know were really close to him.
                                                                  That's incredibly general.
People are crying. A lot. Everyone is crying or doing something. Why can't I cry?
                               You didn't really know him. Loss is simply the failure to reappear. You weren't used to seeing him, so not seeing him, knowing he won't ever return, is strange. But not.
Everyone is talking of tragedy, the senior class is pulling together. But I don't feel like I'm part of it. 
                            You didn't really know him.Your grief is more detached. 
It doesn't feel like I'm grieving at all. I almost feel guilty.
                                You are sad, thinking of all of the things he'll never do. But because you didn't know what he wanted to do, his secret goals and aspirations, the sadness isn't overpowering. Your belief in God and the afterlife absorbs any sadness at his passing. Don't feel bad.
Everyone is grieving. I'm still living. Thinking about homework, projects, and books. When I laugh, I feel guilty.
                      Another person's death is not an excuse to stop living. It will pass. It will be forgotten.
It will be forgotten. And that's the saddest part.
                                           That's the saddest part.

 Why can't I cry?

I've done it a million other times.

Moments of frustration and loneliness.

A thousand careless drops, shed for forgotten reasons.

Why can't I cry today?

I've sobbed and lamented over fictional characters,

alive only in impersonal paper, composed of inky dots by some distant author's hand.

The people of a dozen TV shows are more real to me,

their lives, lived in vivid color across the screen, are real to me.

I cried when Amy and Rory died, but not when Andrew did. 

And, for me, both deaths happened on Memorial Day. 

My feeling today should be one of grief, but instead, here I am
wondering. 

Someone died today 

Why can't I cry? 

We did nothing today, in at least 3 classes. We bonded together, wrote letters of comfort to the family, added our names to cards of support, and tied bows on a memorial wreath. 

But the other three were normal.

Dying on Memorial Day is a cruel, cruel trick of irony.

My friend was listening to Ke$ha's song "Die Young" when she heard the news.

Eliza sorted though "bengal gear" to wear in his memory today. One of the shirts said, "Class of 15, we've never felt so alive!" and the other one said, "Bengal Pride of Die!" She wore a different shirt.

Graduation is SO CLOSE. His parents were out of town.

I can add this to my list of major tragedies.

Sandy Hook

Aurora, Colorado

Boston Marathon

Andrew Sasse, dies in a hiking accident.

This one hit a little closer to home. It wasn't anyone's fault, no malicious wrongdoing. Still a tragedy.

News 8 interviewed me about it. I was waiting for my ride home on the nearly empty campus. I didn't want to. It wasn't that I was afraid I would cry. It's that I knew I wouldn't. I didn't want to help them make headlines out of our school-wide heartache. But I knew I could say something good. Something that might help. All I have are my words. I pour them out and my emotions are amplified. I want to give comfort and reassurance. I'd rather be a faceless, nameless comforter. But I hope it helps.

Every little bit helps, to fill the void.

Remember the boy.

Not at all what I hoped. I said so much more, and I thought it meant so much more.
 But that's the media for you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9hXCBLLzIo

Quotes

It's amazing what you'll say when you forget that people are listening.
Yesterday I typed out the quotes I've recorded from classmates, friends, and teachers throughout the year. Those were my words for the past week.

I also caught up on approximately 3 weeks of important stuff in my journal.
That's quite an accomplishment.

I'm including the quotes.... just for fun.

Mast Moments

“That’s like saying, ‘I need you all to tell me I’m pretty.’ I don’t, by the way. I know I’m pretty.”

“I will periodically lower my voice to add to the terror.”

“I’ll see you on the morrow…. well, not really. I’ll see you on the Monday, but the morrow sounds better.”

“I’m gonna have nightmares. You think I’m kidding.” (watching a modern Macbeth.)

“Am I wrong? Am I being rude? I am being rude, but am I wrong?”

“It’s just Hollywood. You got to let that crap go.”

“You have to put your heart out there, even though someone somewhere is going to stomp all over it. It’s how you learn to love.”

“It was pure, unadulterated, kindness on my part. Please take it as such.”

“Hush! This is not a critical conversation of any kind!”

“Are you bagging on Sarah McLaughlin? Aside from being Canadian, there’s nothing wrong with her!”

“Perfume and cologne. We get the idea that it’s expensive, so it must be good. It feels a bit like the ‘Emperors new clothes’ to me.”

“I don’t think that you can repent form murder. I think that that still gives you a 1^st class ticket to the hot place.”

“Whatever you do all day, that’s what you are. So if you want to be something, spend your time doing it. If you want to be a writer, you’ve got to write every day.”

“If you ever need to find peace go out in nature. That is where you can find solitude…. there are also animals that will eat you, but there you go.”

“Why would I make that up?”

“It’s the awareness that separates you from childhood. Awareness makes you an adult.”

“A real laugh is unrestrained joy.”

“The whole “pre” thing is, I think, incredibly dumb. If you’re ‘pre-boarding,’ you’ve already boarded. If you ‘pre-ordered’ it, you’ve already ordered it!”

“All things you can know, but not say.”

On Edgar Allen Poe: “My guess is that, when the 3 women you love cough up all their blood and die…. it affects your writing.”

“I made that crap up.”

“Look at how hip I am! Or I play Guitar Hero. That could be it.”

“Blowing your nose is a different experience with a mustache. It’s like having a waste-station for snot.”

“Valentine’s Day is a crap holiday. You are supposed to do something nice. If you want it to mean anything, do it a week later, when they aren’t expecting it. And for the single population…. It’s welcome to hell.”

“I feel like the Bengal Pageant is a male beauty pageant. Which isn’t ok on any level.

About Dawn, Melissa, and Alayna: “Those three are slow as mud. Really really smart mud, but mud all the same; The quintessence of mud. I’d say that’s a compliment.”

“How are we on time? Oh, we’re crappy.”

“I don’t think they should let regular humans sit by the emergency exits on airplanes. They should have to pass an IQ test or something.”

“I don’t worry about you. Are you going to stumble? Of course! Some of you are going to flat out fall, but you’ll be ok. You are on the right path, and you’ll be just fine.”

“We make walls around our hearts; you don’t have that many yet, but you will. I have fortifications.”

“Jealousy is a learned [human] emotion. It’s not until there’s another human there to take your crap or have better crap that you realize your crap is crap!”

“You can’t plan for pirates.”

“I have always thought that sunflowers were creepy.”

“Did you just call me a Hufflepuff?! Get out of my room.”

On Faulkner: “He had an issue with drinking…. well, I guess not an issue. He was actually really good at it.”

“As a writer, you control the time and space of your novel. It’s kind of like being a Time Lord.”

 

The rest of us:

“What’s the point of High School? To prepare you for college. What’s the point of college? To prepare you for life. What’s the point of life? To die in the end.”                -Melissa Balconi

“Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us…. oh, and you too.”   -Alayna Een 

“Eventually I will ask you for your opinion, and you’ll have to give me the correct answer.”-Mr.Mar

“I feel like when we put on our hoodies we look like the KKK.”-Nadine Aleman

“You’re always so stylish! Not in a gay way, in a cool way.” –Melissa Balconi

“I can’t be that ugly; I have friends.”- Melissa Balconi

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Vending Machine. We should make a musical!”-Dawn Dimick.

“It isn’t cheating because there are no rules. You just do what you have to do to get the job done.”-Mr. Nicholson

“Why is it that my best thoughts come when I have food in my mouth?”-Nadine Aleman.

“That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever seen at this school…. and I wore a cheer-leading outfit yesterday.”-Ash Johnson

“Nobody can beat me at a Slurpee contest. Don’t got no brain to freeze!”-Ash Johnson

 “That was my fake laugh at your non-funny joke.”-Mrs. Farmer

“If you ever need to make out with someone, use this lip-gloss. It’s so amazing.”- Melody.

“She’s a nice lady, but I’m going to shoot myself. ‘On tomorrow,’ seriously?” –Mrs. Farmer

“This kid-every one is worth saving- and I got this one.” Mrs. Farmer

“I mistakenly made a mistake.”-Mr. Mar

“Lavish me!”-Nadine Aleman

“I was going to say something profound like, ‘If we don’t have dreams, what do we have?’ But no.”-Mr. Farmer

“Point me in the right direction; show me a different way to go. Give me only soft correction, only this way can I grow.” –Alayna Een

“Oh… I shouldn’t be saying that. You guys say it, and I’ll just laugh.” –Mrs. Farmer

“She’s beautiful, but she looks like a lesbian.”-Melody

Melody: “How do you know everything about relationships?”

Arlene: “I watch the Mexican Soap Operas.”

“Obama is my favorite president. He hangs out will so much celebrates.”-Arlene.

“Mermaids are sexy. I wanna be a mermaid. But they don’t wear bras.” –Arlene

Melody: “I wear Sports Bras instead of tank tops, and nobody notices. I wore one yesterday.”                                           Morgan: “I noticed.”

 

Just a little chicken

Some people count their chickens before they hatch.
Not me.
I wait until they've come out of their shells, dried their feathers, stumbled around a bit, made it past their first winter, and been immunized against bird flu. 

THEN I count them.
I just like to be ABSOLUTELY sure before I put my trust in something.

When I entered High School as a wide-eyed freshman, I had dreams of being valedictorian. 

And then life happened, and my first B's since elementary school (thank you, Mr. Nelson) blotted out that dream.

But it was ok.

I realized that High School is a lot harder than middle school, and I couldn't hold myself to the same standard of excellence. It's a bigger pond. I'm still a little fish.
So I resigned to do my best, and be content with that.

Well, that's what I told myself.

It isn't entirely true. 

You see, it's easy to be good. Any decent person can manage that.

I need to be.... impressive.

I want to be remembered.

And I always knew that I wanted to do something at Graduation.

I realized this while I was talking to my friend, the valedictorian, and she openly confessed that she has absolutely no desire to talk at graduation. She has nothing to say.

I have so much I want to say.

We joked that I might write her speech for her.

We were never really serious.

A few weeks ago, I was given my chance.

A friend from the Student Council called me, saying that they really needed to find someone to sing at Graduation. I really wanted to. She said "great" and just needed to check with the Adviser, before it was all settled. 

So I waited for her to contact me.

I kept quiet.

Don't count your chickens before they hatch.

 Some people knew. She called me during mutual, and my Young Women's adviser overheard, was SO proud of me, and then posted it on Facebook. But I waited. 

After a week and a half, I'd had enough of waiting. 

I texted her.
Within moments, she texted back. "Sorry. Hunter found someone else."

Oh.
I never had the heart to correct my Young Women's leader... so I just let it go, hoping she'll forget.
And that was it.









But not exactly.

Because, as I found out very recently, I am salutatorian. 

Almost. I'm tied with a lovely ginger girl who also happens to be an amazing person and a friend.

So our assistant principal called us in and told us to write a speech (2 minutes long) for graduation, and based on last semester grades they would decide who got to give it.

I immediately despaired.

I felt that I was so close.... and doomed to fall short.

again.

By the way, the ginger girl also happens to be Student Body President.

She is giving the intro to graduation and has no desire to give another speech.
And she is pretty sure that she is going to get a B in Math this semester.

So.... I'm going to end up giving the speech.

Probably. Hopefully. If it all works out.

 

Some people count their chickens before they hatch.
Not me.
I wait until they've come out of their shells, dried their feathers, stumbled around a bit, made it past their first winter, and been immunized against bird flu. 

THEN I count them.
I just like to be ABSOLUTELY sure before I put my trust in something.

I wrote my speech. It's 3 seconds under two minutes, and it's pretty good. But there is still so much I wish I could say.

My friend, the valedictorian, wrote a speech that is three lines and 45 seconds long, because she didn't really want to say anything nice or sentimental about the student body. 

So, that is my writing this week. But I'm not actually posting it until after I've given it. And I might make an extended version for my blog, just to add some of what I wish I could have said. 

But at least I get to say SOMETHING.

Probably. Hopefully. If it all works out. 

I am Number 4

Every year in May, Bonanza has  Bengal Art contest. I've participated in it every year, trying to make them a little different each time. Each year I've done better in the line-up (7th, 6th, 3rd), and this year... hopefully first. But with the rush of AP classes and other second-semester-senior distractions, the deadline caught me off-guard. So I had 10 days to finish this. I have two art classes (one is technically Photography, but I still worked on it during that time), which means I had approximately strangely dispersed 16 hours to finish this thing. Which, factoring in how I typically work on something and the weeks I spend on projects... was a crunch.

This was my reference.

Tuesday (3rd period)
Charcoal cheat, tracing from the projector

Wednesday (3rd period)
Chalk Pastel, basic coloring

Wednesday (6th period)
Black, ear work, specified shading

Thursday
Fur detail work

Friday
Refining the stripes, more detail work, eyes (aren't they pretty?)

Monday
Refining of nose shading/texture and stuff.

Tuesday
Black

Wednesday. (3rd period)
Black on the face

Wednesday (6th period)
Black above the nose and Whiskers on the other side. coloring on the chest.
(AP test on Thurday...)

Friday
Signed, sealed, delivered. I'm yours.

And just for fun, let's see that reference again.

Testing Testing

I wrote a lot of essays for the AP test.
That's enough writing for now.

Tick tock click.

Tick tock click. Time beats by. 

tiny increments, followed by a sigh.

Silence in the house, until another tick

another second gone, an absent-minded click. 

The pattering of keys in a random rhythm flows

the music of a silent house that no one ever knows.

Earlier this week we read a poem by that matched some simple words with the fading of a heartbeat. A poem has more than words. It has rhythm and meter. I was trying to think of some way to re-create that kind of meter, while staring at the screen and begging the words to come. I kept getting distracted by the quiet of the house... and the loud the sound of our various clocks ticking away the seconds. So there it is. The rhythm seemed pretty natural when I wrote it (it helps to say the poem out loud), but I want to see if it carries over when someone else reads it. Anyway, just a fun little experiment.

That's about half

Hey, remember that time I said I'd do a picture of Cambodia?

Ya. You probably don't. It was back in... February. 

I meant to have it done for Aria's birthday. 

I was supposed to take "progression" pictures.

But no. Instead, this is it. 

It took WAY longer than it should have. Colored pencil is harder than I thought. It isn't very big, but there it is.

P.S Aria, this is for you.... anytime you want it. Happy Birthday? ;)