I've come to realize many things over the course of freshman year. One is to look out for Louise, the ninja security guard; another, to avoid Barbecue Days in the quad. However, one of my greatest lessons thus far is perhaps the etiquette of bus commute.
Ah, yes, the public bus. The giant box on wheels that children everywhere dread, and that adults claim "builds character". I sit squarely in the middle, the naive, confused little elementary schooler stuck in a teenager's body, an individual with the need to be places and without the means to get there, stuck purchasing a bus pass on a Tuesday night in order to ensure another month of hassle-free, at least moneywise, bus commuting.
The etiquette of this mammoth public transport vehicle is strange, at best. In the mornings, backpacks sit squarely on the few empty seats available, giving the clear message that companions are unwelcome. A few older people are sprinkled around, grouped together or on their own. Any seats by said older people are also unavailable. Being so blessed as to be on one of the last stops before a clear shot to school, I am often left standing, clutching onto the metal poles for dear life so as to stop myself from shooting through the windshield. Of course, even standing up has its etiquette: if there is room to do so, keep at least a foot between yourself and other standing passengers. Do not, under any circumstances, have any bodily contact whatsoever with anyone. Stepping on shoes is a crime punishable by death.
However, the afternoon commute is a different matter entirely. There is no civility; seniors are crushed amongst freshmen in order to obtain a coveted seat for their ride home. Girls and boys are equal, and elbows tend to come in handy. The unlucky souls who are left seatless are crammed together, and getting to the door is an unfortunate task for those like myself, who get off at one of the earliest stops.
God, I wish I could drive.
But, despite my complaining, the bus does represent more than the irritation that plagues my mornings. It's a safe haven from the rain, cold, and wind. It's abandoning my friends, and being abandoned. It's leaving an upset, vulnerable friend on the bus, because it's my stop. It's a meeting place in the early morning, and a brief resting place on the way home. It's a little battle every day. It's freedom upon escaping, and sadness upon departure. Watching the bus leave me behind is just another symbol for the fleeting days of freshmanhood, of childhood, for my departing comrades, hopes, and notions.
In the end, it just means that things will be different, and things will be the same. Next year, there will be new people on that bus, and many of the veterans will be gone.
But next year, I'll still get off and walk by my old middle school, smiling faintly at the little blue uniforms running the track. I'll crunch the leaves from the expansive hedge, and trace a finger along the calla lillies on the corner. I'll press the button, wait for the walk sign, and walk across, cautious of the traffic. I'll walk down the street, looking up at the sky and remembering when I used to spend my time praying that he would like me back. I'll remember dropping my keys before opening the door to the worst news of my life. I'll remember my childhood. I'll open the door and sleep, or go babysit, or do homework.
I'll laugh at the irony that my parents are suspicious when I eat no dinner, yet I walked around with cuts on my arms and dark circles under my eyes and no one noticed.
And I'll go on living.
Little girl, little girl why are you crying?
Inside your restless soul your heart is dying
Little one, little one your soul is purging
Of love and razor blades your blood is surging
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Stargazing
I walk down the suburban street, familiar even in the shadows, with moonlight mixed with streetlight dappled over the sidewalk. It is silent; the nocturnal creatures keep quiet, and the creatures that are so loud and violent during the day hide within their picket-fence burrows.
It is a sudden urge, a whim. I act on it. I look right, I look left, and I step into the street. I sprawl out in the center of the road, the hard concrete soft against my tired back. I look straight up. The sky is a deep navy, sprinkled with bright pinpricks of light, oblivious to the troubles that they are sovereign over.
It is a calming sight in a desperate time. My life is insignificant. I am just another collection of muscles and bones wrapped in skin, and despite the problems that present themselves, the stars will still be blazing, careless and free. They live peacefully, and die without being burdens.
Perhaps, when push comes to shove, the world is in a bad way, we can remedy our hearts' pain by simply laying back and gazing at the stars.
It is a sudden urge, a whim. I act on it. I look right, I look left, and I step into the street. I sprawl out in the center of the road, the hard concrete soft against my tired back. I look straight up. The sky is a deep navy, sprinkled with bright pinpricks of light, oblivious to the troubles that they are sovereign over.
It is a calming sight in a desperate time. My life is insignificant. I am just another collection of muscles and bones wrapped in skin, and despite the problems that present themselves, the stars will still be blazing, careless and free. They live peacefully, and die without being burdens.
Perhaps, when push comes to shove, the world is in a bad way, we can remedy our hearts' pain by simply laying back and gazing at the stars.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Musical Mayhem
Today, I inadvertently discovered that there are some songs that you literally cannot keep yourself from moving to. Green Day's ¡Viva la Gloria! being one of them (actually, this applies to basically everything in their repertoire, but I digress).This led me to analyze my iPod in search of more dance-worthy songs, but being easily distracted, I found myself musing amusedly (oh boy...) over how people would react to my taste in music. I'll put this out here right now: I was raised on punk, classic, and alternative rock. I was listening to Green Day, U2, and Bruce Springsteen in the car on my way to preschool. It often surprises people that the preppy, babysitter-tutor-good-grades-kid has willingly rocked out at a Green Day concert, to which I reply with nothing, other than humming Good Riddance under my breath.
My obsession with showtunes began to flourish around the 5th grade, after seeing Wicked for the first time. was never aware of how well ensembles could work together, or how so many voices could create such complex pieces, and was instantly taken. Mamma Mia! joined soon after, along with Phantom of the Opera, and, most recently, RENT.
However, what many may not know is that around the seventh grade, on a whim, I decided that I wanted to try something new. Pop was out, as well as techno; I looked upon rap and hip hop with disdain. And so, I entered with apprehension born of public opinion, the world of country music. And, shockingly enough, I enjoyed it. People assume that it's all old men with cowboy hats yodelling about drinking to a fiddle; to some extent, they're right. However, people tend to overlook artists such as Martina McBride and Rascall Flatts, who did Life is a Highway for the Cars movie.
Of course, these are only the three main genres; there is an eclectic dusting of pop, folk, electronica, and even rap residing in my iPod. I wonder endlessly about what other people listen to: Would they like this? Would this be on their iPod? After all, music tells a lot about a person.
My obsession with showtunes began to flourish around the 5th grade, after seeing Wicked for the first time. was never aware of how well ensembles could work together, or how so many voices could create such complex pieces, and was instantly taken. Mamma Mia! joined soon after, along with Phantom of the Opera, and, most recently, RENT.
However, what many may not know is that around the seventh grade, on a whim, I decided that I wanted to try something new. Pop was out, as well as techno; I looked upon rap and hip hop with disdain. And so, I entered with apprehension born of public opinion, the world of country music. And, shockingly enough, I enjoyed it. People assume that it's all old men with cowboy hats yodelling about drinking to a fiddle; to some extent, they're right. However, people tend to overlook artists such as Martina McBride and Rascall Flatts, who did Life is a Highway for the Cars movie.
Of course, these are only the three main genres; there is an eclectic dusting of pop, folk, electronica, and even rap residing in my iPod. I wonder endlessly about what other people listen to: Would they like this? Would this be on their iPod? After all, music tells a lot about a person.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
It's Been a Long Day
The rain gives everything a cleansed, albeit somewhat dreary look with the huge clouds and the tall trees contrasting against the gray sky. It provides an interesting medium for photography, everything at its freshest and cleanest.
I always walk by my old middle school on the way home, but I've always viewed it as the place that a year ago, was home to my laughter and tears, with fondness and bitterness remaining, but nothing more; perhaps a smile at watching the sixth-graders run around the track, or a laugh as they run from the evil pigeons.
Today, it was empty, lunch hour long gone, and the rain keeping the kids mostly safe and dry inside the gym, damage by basketball not included. It was by no means beautiful; beneath everything, it was still just one more public school education. But, it did have a glamour to it: the frayed basketball nets, the slippery blacktop, the naked tree in the middle of the stark green grass, puddles of water lingering in wavering rivers on the edge of the track.
I managed to get a few good shots, all the while inwardly cursing about my lack of a good camera, and, more importantly, photography know-how. I took a few pictures on my way home, to put in one of my compilations, and upon returning home, promptly fell into bed, fast asleep.
It's been a long day.
I always walk by my old middle school on the way home, but I've always viewed it as the place that a year ago, was home to my laughter and tears, with fondness and bitterness remaining, but nothing more; perhaps a smile at watching the sixth-graders run around the track, or a laugh as they run from the evil pigeons.
Today, it was empty, lunch hour long gone, and the rain keeping the kids mostly safe and dry inside the gym, damage by basketball not included. It was by no means beautiful; beneath everything, it was still just one more public school education. But, it did have a glamour to it: the frayed basketball nets, the slippery blacktop, the naked tree in the middle of the stark green grass, puddles of water lingering in wavering rivers on the edge of the track.
I managed to get a few good shots, all the while inwardly cursing about my lack of a good camera, and, more importantly, photography know-how. I took a few pictures on my way home, to put in one of my compilations, and upon returning home, promptly fell into bed, fast asleep.
It's been a long day.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Insomnia
Late nights
Insomnia
Dark circles
Empty rooms
Muted silence
Solitary lights
Unhealthy glow
No purpose
Wandering thoughts
Untouched blankets
Tempting bed
Tired eyes
Lonely nights
Good night.
Insomnia
Dark circles
Empty rooms
Muted silence
Solitary lights
Unhealthy glow
No purpose
Wandering thoughts
Untouched blankets
Tempting bed
Tired eyes
Lonely nights
Good night.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
RENT
Alright, I'm just going to start off tonight's blog by saying this: My life is complete.
Today, around 10 am, my best friend came to my house, and about 20 minutes later, we set off for Sacramento. About 2 hours later, we pulled up, went for lunch, and went to the theatre to see RENT, with two of the Original Broadway Cast members, Adam Pascal as Roger Davis and Anthony Rapp as Mark Cohen. It was my first time seeing it, although I've watched the movie many times.
It was nothing short of spectacular.
The costumes, the set, the staging, it was drama heaven... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
First of all, it was considerably different than the movie, but in a great way. Extra songs, less dialogue, more narration, less scenery, it all fit together to build the perfect NYC onstage. The language and such was raunchier than the movie, but again, it all worked.
The cast: fantastic. Having only ever seen the movie cast, with the OBC, Rosario Dawson, and Tracie Thoms, I was pleasantly surprised. Justin Johnston made a fabulous Angel, and Lexi Lawson was a gorgeous Mimi. I was a bit shocked by how Benny was acted, portrayed as more of a bad guy than in the film, but a great singer nonetheless. Maureen was superb, and I thought that the portrayals of the "extras" were hilarious. (Honest living, honest living, honest living) The cast interacted so well together, and had I not known better I would have thought they had been acting together for years.
The extra songs, including "Voicemails #1-5", "Tune-ups #1-3", and "Contact" filled in the story wonderfully. The voicemails were funny and short, and the tune-ups were vital information, while still interesting and to the point. "Christmas Bells" and "New Year" were funny and sad at the same time. "Contact", however, was like a grotesque nightmare scene, terrifying and fascinating at the same time, a collision of the need for touch and contact, and the terror of death.
While my favorite changes every week, I'm going to have to say that for now, it's probably the reprise of "I'll Cover You". The sorrow of a love ballad turned mourning song was overwhelming, and the final, haunting note layered over the final chant of "seasons of love" was beautiful.
Of course, while the show itself was absolutely phenomenal, afterwards, my friend and I raced to the stage door. I got a poster and a t-shirt, and we managed to get autographs from:
Roger(!!!!!!!! He almost never comes out, so I was ecstatic)
Angel
Mimi
Maureen
Joanne
Many of the random Bohemians
And, just as I was losing hope... out came Anthony Rapp. I saw Anthony Rapp. I was less than a foot away from Anthony Rapp. The Anthony Rapp. I nearly hyperventilated when I got his autograph. Understand, I have a thing for him, of fangirl proportions, although I do respect the fact that he has a boyfriend. But still, that man is... wow. *squeal* He is so cute in person, oh my god...
I apologize for that. But, I also saw who I'm 90% sure was Johnathan Larson's dad, which was pretty damn cool.
The point is, I can't say more good things about this show. It's a true shame that today was the last day of this tour, and that the two leads are probably not going to reprise their roles again. Considering this came out a couple of weeks after my birth, I consider today the end of an era. The end of seeing Adam Pascall and Anthony Rapp belting out "What You Own" together, or watching the Mark dance wildly like a dork, or tango with Joanne, or watch the Roger sing his love to Mimi.
But, it couldn't stay the same forever. So, to every other RENThead out there, viva la vie boheme.
Because there's no day but today, right?
Today, around 10 am, my best friend came to my house, and about 20 minutes later, we set off for Sacramento. About 2 hours later, we pulled up, went for lunch, and went to the theatre to see RENT, with two of the Original Broadway Cast members, Adam Pascal as Roger Davis and Anthony Rapp as Mark Cohen. It was my first time seeing it, although I've watched the movie many times.
It was nothing short of spectacular.
The costumes, the set, the staging, it was drama heaven... but I'm getting ahead of myself.
First of all, it was considerably different than the movie, but in a great way. Extra songs, less dialogue, more narration, less scenery, it all fit together to build the perfect NYC onstage. The language and such was raunchier than the movie, but again, it all worked.
The cast: fantastic. Having only ever seen the movie cast, with the OBC, Rosario Dawson, and Tracie Thoms, I was pleasantly surprised. Justin Johnston made a fabulous Angel, and Lexi Lawson was a gorgeous Mimi. I was a bit shocked by how Benny was acted, portrayed as more of a bad guy than in the film, but a great singer nonetheless. Maureen was superb, and I thought that the portrayals of the "extras" were hilarious. (Honest living, honest living, honest living) The cast interacted so well together, and had I not known better I would have thought they had been acting together for years.
The extra songs, including "Voicemails #1-5", "Tune-ups #1-3", and "Contact" filled in the story wonderfully. The voicemails were funny and short, and the tune-ups were vital information, while still interesting and to the point. "Christmas Bells" and "New Year" were funny and sad at the same time. "Contact", however, was like a grotesque nightmare scene, terrifying and fascinating at the same time, a collision of the need for touch and contact, and the terror of death.
While my favorite changes every week, I'm going to have to say that for now, it's probably the reprise of "I'll Cover You". The sorrow of a love ballad turned mourning song was overwhelming, and the final, haunting note layered over the final chant of "seasons of love" was beautiful.
Of course, while the show itself was absolutely phenomenal, afterwards, my friend and I raced to the stage door. I got a poster and a t-shirt, and we managed to get autographs from:
Roger(!!!!!!!! He almost never comes out, so I was ecstatic)
Angel
Mimi
Maureen
Joanne
Many of the random Bohemians
And, just as I was losing hope... out came Anthony Rapp. I saw Anthony Rapp. I was less than a foot away from Anthony Rapp. The Anthony Rapp. I nearly hyperventilated when I got his autograph. Understand, I have a thing for him, of fangirl proportions, although I do respect the fact that he has a boyfriend. But still, that man is... wow. *squeal* He is so cute in person, oh my god...
I apologize for that. But, I also saw who I'm 90% sure was Johnathan Larson's dad, which was pretty damn cool.
The point is, I can't say more good things about this show. It's a true shame that today was the last day of this tour, and that the two leads are probably not going to reprise their roles again. Considering this came out a couple of weeks after my birth, I consider today the end of an era. The end of seeing Adam Pascall and Anthony Rapp belting out "What You Own" together, or watching the Mark dance wildly like a dork, or tango with Joanne, or watch the Roger sing his love to Mimi.
But, it couldn't stay the same forever. So, to every other RENThead out there, viva la vie boheme.
Because there's no day but today, right?
Friday, December 18, 2009
Letting it Out
Today I was thinking (yeah, big shocker) about Vincent Luu. It's sad beyond words, but it brought to mind how little we say to those we admire, and how the only time your admiration may come to light is in their obituary. I tried making a list of how many people I admire who I've never said a word to, and who might never know. As a teenager, I know firsthand there will always be dark moments when you think nobody cares. I don't want people I know leaving without knowing that somebody thought they were cool, even if that somebody was just a freshman sitting in the corner or a little girl watching from the sidelines.
If you are on this list, I may not know you that well, but you may have made an impact on my life that I will never forget, you may be someone I admire, or, in a lot of cases, I may not talk to you a lot, if at all, but I think you are really cool.
1. Thomas
2. Mike
3. Rachel
4. Alix
5. Ben
6. Wolfe
7. Stephanie
8. Ava
9. Sushii
10. Keien
11. Alex
12. Yuling
13. Ali
14. Amanda
15. Sara
16. Aldrich
17. Juan
18. Thais
19. Saadia
20. Mr. Marra
21. Ms. Hill
22. Ms. Couper
23. Ms. Paregian
24. Ms. Trombley
25. Keisha
26. Tim
27. Elliot
28. Ryan
29. Mike
30. Maya
Disclaimer: If you are not on this list and call me a friend, then know you're not here because you should know that I love you and think you are amazing :)
This isn't some stupid chain letter, something I saw and felt bad about and posted, this is something I thought might make a difference. Guys, tell people you respect that you respect them; even the awesomest people have their doubts, and need to know that someone, somewhere, is better off because of them. Do this yourself if you feel like it, or not; just please think of the people you know, and let them know that they make a difference to you. No anvil's going to fall on your head if you don't do this, but if you do, post a note, make it your own, and spread the word. Thanks for bothering to read :)
-Ali
If you are on this list, I may not know you that well, but you may have made an impact on my life that I will never forget, you may be someone I admire, or, in a lot of cases, I may not talk to you a lot, if at all, but I think you are really cool.
1. Thomas
2. Mike
3. Rachel
4. Alix
5. Ben
6. Wolfe
7. Stephanie
8. Ava
9. Sushii
10. Keien
11. Alex
12. Yuling
13. Ali
14. Amanda
15. Sara
16. Aldrich
17. Juan
18. Thais
19. Saadia
20. Mr. Marra
21. Ms. Hill
22. Ms. Couper
23. Ms. Paregian
24. Ms. Trombley
25. Keisha
26. Tim
27. Elliot
28. Ryan
29. Mike
30. Maya
Disclaimer: If you are not on this list and call me a friend, then know you're not here because you should know that I love you and think you are amazing :)
This isn't some stupid chain letter, something I saw and felt bad about and posted, this is something I thought might make a difference. Guys, tell people you respect that you respect them; even the awesomest people have their doubts, and need to know that someone, somewhere, is better off because of them. Do this yourself if you feel like it, or not; just please think of the people you know, and let them know that they make a difference to you. No anvil's going to fall on your head if you don't do this, but if you do, post a note, make it your own, and spread the word. Thanks for bothering to read :)
-Ali
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