I've been so busy, I can't recognize myself. Earlier this week, we had the two nights of my school's Christmas concert, which like the play, f*cked up my sleeping pattern. I am still trying to fix this, and I will attempt to sleep early tonight so I could catch "The Whitest Kids U'Know" tomorrow at 7. But I hardly believe that will follow through.
Despite my circadian rhythm being disturbed, I must admit, I enjoyed a couple of the songs. I loved Hallelujah Chorus from the Messiah (Mainly due to the fact that it's the only song I know how to sing properly for the alto voice part). I also liked Gloria in Excelsis Deo, and even the cheesy drivel that is I'll Be Home For Christmas grew on me.
However, there is one song that I hated. I hated it so much, I wish it were a concrete object so I could proceed to smash it against a wall and feed it to a rabid tiger named Daisy.
If anyone's seen the Polar Express, you may have heard of a jingle called "Believe". If you are a person who enjoys cheesy drivel cheesier than I'll Be Home For Christmas, you may be fond of this song.
Well I'm not fond of it. I'm barely fond of it. I don't even like it. I HATE it.
I'm one to give almost every type of music a chance, because at least some effor is put into it (Though I'm not quite sure if Justin Bieber counts for this chance). There are very few songs I truly and deeply hate. The majority of them are Taylor Swift songs and some other random variety. "Believe" makes it in this category, which basically means, I hate it. A lot.
I don't necessarily hate the way it sounds. If anything, the instrumentals are pretty. It sounds like little fairies are jumping on your head and sprinkling confectioner's sugar on your eyes. However, as important the sound of the song is, it can only go so far until I actually realize what the lyrics are. For example, Shots is a pretty catchy song. Then you hear the lyrics. If you know the lyrics, 'nuff said.
My main irk with the song is the stupid lesson it teaches. Underneath the Christmas spirit-laced cover lies the horrible lesson it teaches. For your dreams to come true, you must believe. You must have Christmas spirit. And you will have everything you need! Your dreams will FLYYY!!!!
Look, past all the "people need to be happier on Christmas", and "let peopleb e happy and all that junk", if you're one to take songs like this to heart, it's a horrible lesson.
Believing is 1/4 or the work you need to do to make dreams come true. For you dreams to come true, you need to work for it. If you sit on your fat ass "believing", nothing's going to happen except that you will grow a beer gut. It's important to believe, but if you don't do anything, you will find that your shirts can no longer cover your belly.
The second irk is the fact that I believe the lyrics are badly written. "Children, sleeping. Snow is softly falling." Come on, man. How many times have we used that imagery? "Give your dreams to fly." Talking about believing in your heart. Say your heart said you should go kill that annoying 12-year old boy who peed in your mailbox, would you? And last but not least the whole "hear the melody" business. OVERF*CKINGUSED. The melody, hear it, have heart next to it, then throw in a phrase about believing. It equals = unoriginal bull shit song.
The worst part has to be having to sing this again and again in rehearsal and to sing it onstage with annoying 12-year olds who probably pees on mailboxes and trying to look serious. F*ck the real voice part, I sung it flat.
You may absolutely love this song. Great. None of these is a fact, it's an opinion. You have yours and so do I. You may not agree with me. That tends to happen in the world.
Have a cookie.
Okay, I'm done ranting.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
I Am Sitting Here Hoping Lemon Tea Will Rid the Smell
That smell. The smell of grilled ribs. It makes my stomach turn sideways and over and out and jump through hoops.
Why? Well, it's a long story. I will tell you anyway because it is a blog, and blogs are meant to tell stories.
Three weeks ago, I volunteered to do stage crew for a play. We did Hairpsray, and despite the fact it fucked (pardon my French) up my sleeping pattern, I must admit I had fun and I will probably crew again.
As I've said before my school is a music school. We go all out for our performances because well, that's what we're known for. We had these great big sets that we moved, we had special lighting, a sound system, and basically the only thing us from being a Broadway production was being on Broadway itself.
Anyway...if you've seen the movie, you know that in the number "Big, Blonde, and Beautiful", there is a table of fattening, delicious, Southern comfort food in Motormouth Maybelle's record shop. My friend and I were in charge of that table, and the two of us assumed we were going to use fake food because our show was running for four days.
Then, on the first dress rehearsal, my theater teacher came in with real uncooked beans and pasta. The next dress rehearsal, she came in with rolls and ribs, both real, the ribs from Famous Dave's. We were concerned it was going to rot, but she said she sprayed both with acrylic (The same stuff you put on flowers to keep them for a long time).
It wasn't as bad at first, but as days went on, the smell only got worse. I don't even know how to describe the smell of rotting ribs and rolls coated in acrylic. The smell itself is so horrendous I believe a word stronger than horrendous should be made in the honor of this smell.
What made it worse was the fact that almost every night, I had to plate it. The skin was falling off and the gristles and bones stuck under my fingernails. Nobody wanted to go near the table. Anyone who came in backstage waiting for their cue immediately gagged at the stench of the ribs. And of course, I was given the honor to run the dreaded meat back to the fridge after the number.
Despite the fact we got new ribs on the third show, that did not make it any better. The stench of ribs was enough to make everyone's stomach backstage curdle and want to barf every organ in their body.
Even though weeks have passed, I still cannot get over that smell. That ribs-y smell that threatens me to purge everything I ate previously. Unfortunately, just a few minutes ago, I made the mistake of eating the beef brisket my dad made, which smells exactly like those damn ribs.
Now I'm sitting here, writing this post, chugging lemon tea, and hoping it will rid the smell that is now stuck in my nose.
Why? Well, it's a long story. I will tell you anyway because it is a blog, and blogs are meant to tell stories.
Three weeks ago, I volunteered to do stage crew for a play. We did Hairpsray, and despite the fact it fucked (pardon my French) up my sleeping pattern, I must admit I had fun and I will probably crew again.
As I've said before my school is a music school. We go all out for our performances because well, that's what we're known for. We had these great big sets that we moved, we had special lighting, a sound system, and basically the only thing us from being a Broadway production was being on Broadway itself.
Anyway...if you've seen the movie, you know that in the number "Big, Blonde, and Beautiful", there is a table of fattening, delicious, Southern comfort food in Motormouth Maybelle's record shop. My friend and I were in charge of that table, and the two of us assumed we were going to use fake food because our show was running for four days.
Then, on the first dress rehearsal, my theater teacher came in with real uncooked beans and pasta. The next dress rehearsal, she came in with rolls and ribs, both real, the ribs from Famous Dave's. We were concerned it was going to rot, but she said she sprayed both with acrylic (The same stuff you put on flowers to keep them for a long time).
It wasn't as bad at first, but as days went on, the smell only got worse. I don't even know how to describe the smell of rotting ribs and rolls coated in acrylic. The smell itself is so horrendous I believe a word stronger than horrendous should be made in the honor of this smell.
What made it worse was the fact that almost every night, I had to plate it. The skin was falling off and the gristles and bones stuck under my fingernails. Nobody wanted to go near the table. Anyone who came in backstage waiting for their cue immediately gagged at the stench of the ribs. And of course, I was given the honor to run the dreaded meat back to the fridge after the number.
Despite the fact we got new ribs on the third show, that did not make it any better. The stench of ribs was enough to make everyone's stomach backstage curdle and want to barf every organ in their body.
Even though weeks have passed, I still cannot get over that smell. That ribs-y smell that threatens me to purge everything I ate previously. Unfortunately, just a few minutes ago, I made the mistake of eating the beef brisket my dad made, which smells exactly like those damn ribs.
Now I'm sitting here, writing this post, chugging lemon tea, and hoping it will rid the smell that is now stuck in my nose.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Gym Class and Me = Raw Solid Sodium Block Dropped in Water
If gym was a person, he or she would probably enjoy waiting around the corner of my street and throwing eggs or other objects at me as I passed.
Dear Gym,
I haven't done anything wrong to you. I respect you deeply, I swear. Even though admittedly, I'm a couch potato who's very physically unfit (not fat, just a little flab around the stomach area), but see, I've never been physical even when I was a physically fit kid. It's not my fault I'm a preemie.
And it's not like I can go get after school tutoring to get better like in Geometry or English.
Love (Maybe),
Ellie.
Dude. I really hope you don't have to take gym in college.
Dear Gym,
I haven't done anything wrong to you. I respect you deeply, I swear. Even though admittedly, I'm a couch potato who's very physically unfit (not fat, just a little flab around the stomach area), but see, I've never been physical even when I was a physically fit kid. It's not my fault I'm a preemie.
And it's not like I can go get after school tutoring to get better like in Geometry or English.
Love (Maybe),
Ellie.
Dude. I really hope you don't have to take gym in college.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Boys Who Join Their Girlfriends in Cheerleading
We had the annual pep rally today. Like most pep rallies, there were awards for most spirited, cheerleaders cheering, half-court shots all over the place, and people screaming even though most of them probably don't care about what's going on.
What you'd probably notice is the cheerleading team. One look, and they're the usual. Girls with high ponytails, bubbly personalities, and skirts. Look again, and you'll see that half the team is made up of boys.
Wait, what?
Yes. You heard me. Half my school cheerleading team is made of boys. Why? I don't know exactly. People said it was because they thought they'd get girls that way, some said some boys joined the team with their girlfriends (well, three boys in the team are in there with their girlfriends), and some said they followed the lead of the one boy that joined last year. Another theory is that the winter musical we had encouraged people to dance.
Well, whatever it is, I actually think it's great. I hope the boys stay on because this is really a "pushing forward" thing. All my life, I've never heard or seen any high school boys have the desire to be in their school's cheerleading team.
It may have something to do with my school. See, I go to a magnet school for music. In a sense, my school is kind of weird (when I mean weird, I mean it in an affectionate way). It's not really so much of a bad thing I guess. It's actually kind of funny and interesting to see what's going to happen next. I can't fathom what it would be like if boys from other schools in my area tried out for their team.
Now all I have to do is wait for the girls to join the baseball team.
What you'd probably notice is the cheerleading team. One look, and they're the usual. Girls with high ponytails, bubbly personalities, and skirts. Look again, and you'll see that half the team is made up of boys.
Wait, what?
Yes. You heard me. Half my school cheerleading team is made of boys. Why? I don't know exactly. People said it was because they thought they'd get girls that way, some said some boys joined the team with their girlfriends (well, three boys in the team are in there with their girlfriends), and some said they followed the lead of the one boy that joined last year. Another theory is that the winter musical we had encouraged people to dance.
Well, whatever it is, I actually think it's great. I hope the boys stay on because this is really a "pushing forward" thing. All my life, I've never heard or seen any high school boys have the desire to be in their school's cheerleading team.
It may have something to do with my school. See, I go to a magnet school for music. In a sense, my school is kind of weird (when I mean weird, I mean it in an affectionate way). It's not really so much of a bad thing I guess. It's actually kind of funny and interesting to see what's going to happen next. I can't fathom what it would be like if boys from other schools in my area tried out for their team.
Now all I have to do is wait for the girls to join the baseball team.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Hi, Sir.
This is a blog. You all should know how it works. So I'm gonna post shizzbiscuits here and hopefully, people read it. I talk a lot sometimes, and sometimes I find that I can summarize thoughts into 3 sentences. Also, that thing up there is not a zebra, it's a UNIHORN. There's more info on it in the about page.
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