Blarg. I want my brownies.

The funny thing about a broken heart:

It sucks to find out you're unloved, and it's hard.

Hell, some breaks suck more than others,

But I assure you, neither of us has delt with so much

That we are left for nothing but heartache and sorrow.

Time, a little chocolate, a drink or two,

And the love of a friend lessen this pain.

Eventually, it won't matter anymore,

The loss of that love.

But you can't just sit there moping,

You have to get up, and find love elsewhere.

Let others in,

And move on.

A Few Thoughts on AOSFYC and love

If nothing else, the end is what I was getting to. The point. Skip ahead if you must.

For three years, three summers, I was a part of this astounding organization. No, not just an organization, but a family. Friendships and families spawned from it. Hell, people met, fell in love, and got married thanks to that place. I should know, I have two of the best parents in the world thanks to the 1981 youth choir, and because of it, my sisters. My parents were not alone in finding love. Countless others shared that gift. I believe I have made unbreakable bonds in my three rounds at the Ohio State Fair.

I may not have been the most popular person, but the ones who touched my heart, and who have allowed me to touch theirs aswell, have been with me through loads. Hell, I was even fortunate enough to be crammed in the same school with some of them. The way they have grown, helped me grow, and allowed me to help them in my own way has been a gift I could not change for all the gold, chocolate torte, or even music in the world.

Which is funny, since that's what brought us together in the first place.

18 days

64 songs

104 performances

120 miles.

Suddenly the "walk 500 miles doesn't seem so ridiculous...

"Keepers of the Light

Hand in Hand

The Road Home

Wow, before high school, I attended the state fair and followed the choir around on Alumni Day like it was a religion... The fact that Mom and David dragged me there every year was big part too, once in a while a tantrum on the horizon. Once I heard that choir though, it didn't matter. It did not matter that I had missed someone's pool party, that I wasn't in Findlay with my dad and friends, that I was burned to the point of raw. The music they made was beautiful. Anyone could see this was something words could not adequately describe.

Then at the end of sophomore year, I received my acceptance letter. Apprehension leaking from every pore, for fear of year two of rejection (ehh...I was on the very long waiting list the summer before... stupid inexperience, first soprano voice, and late send in.)It was a "Congratulations!"Then came the music packet.Hogwarts trunk packed.Off to "choir bootcamp"When I got there, EVERYONE was hugging.Slightly unnerving.

No time to waste though, had to unpack and sign in. 18 days had begun. 18 days of love, music, and new understanding. I guess you can blame my overly friendly and affectionate demeanor from the choir.

Granted my third year was cut short, the fact I was able to return at all was amazing. Though that year was tougher that most, and I was a baby about it, I'll admit, It didn't matter, I was back. Then, as soon as it had began, waltzing into my life, it was over. Not that I'm going to let it leave anytime soon. My first Alumni Day was a real eye opener, and afterward, I was conflicted. Unsure whether sadness or joy was the stronger emotion.

Youth Choir was something I could no longer be in anymore. Never again could I be a apart of the 200 plus singers, 18 days out of the year. But, I had been.

I finally realized, after 19 long years of denial, strongest this past year, that the love I had been running away from was there. It didn't matter whether romantic love or that between two good friends, whether choir members, staff members, C.I.T., or a pleasant mix. Love shouldn't be defined by how it's shared.

Shouldn't be measured by it's worth, as I once tried to do on a light BG spring day studying for my IPC final.

If I had learned anything from the AOSFYC "experience," it is that love was there. People are imperfect. Led by some god or by their own will, we have this uncanny ability to feel that love. Share it, let it grow, manifest in different ways.Though we may not be perfect, love is.

And to all those who have dealt with my "love is stupid and doesn't exist" ALL. LAST. YEAR. I apologize. And I promised you helped too,choir or not.Thank you Youth Choir. Sorry I've been so stubborn. See you next year.

Dreams invade my world.
Become my world.

When my head hits the pillow,
Dreams are my reality.

To get lost in the dreams,
To forget the day.

Night's playground.
Climb, jump, swing.

Join the Man on the Moon,
What a curious man.

Has he found love?
Does he know desire?

Is he afraid to face the day?
Is that why he hides up there?

What does he dream?
Who is it for?

One day she'll join him,
Up there in those stars.

They shall find love.
They shall know desire.

In the playground of the night.
In the dreams.

-------------------------------------------------

Desire is my constant companion.
To desire a life of love.
A life of beauty.
A life of splendor.
To reach for the sky.
Desiring each of these things.
To need them even.

Everyone craves something from this world.
Companionship.
Love.
Health.
Adventure.
Beauty.

I desire each of things in their own way.
But most of all I desire love.
And beauty.
In myself and the ones around.
A life I can look forward to
Each day.

I look to the sky for these things.

Funny thing is,
The Moon Man hides in it.
Afraid to be let down.
Afraid to see ugliness,
That so often shadows the beauty.
How could he know love,
In his solitude?

-----------------------------------

I like to think I am not so like
The Man on the Moon.
Not so alike, are he and I,
Right?
Instead of hide in the sky,
Only showing myself fully once a month,
The rest in secret,
The world can see my face.

I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Quick to let even a stranger in,
To know my secrets,
The big and the small.
Allow another to accept or reject me,
From the very beginning.

Is the Moon Man wise,
To hide himself save for that one night?
Or only a coward who hides behind a mask,
Of deceit.

Is he wise to let you in,
Slowly, but surely?
Or a fool for then shutting you out again,
Slowly, but surely,
When he sees the world is not such a
Bright and good place
As he would hope?

Why the push and pull?
As with the tide.
Hell, he is the tide.
Almost and cold.
That Moon Man.

To be continued...

The first ramblings

So, I have recently decided to try my hand at writing.

By recently, I mean, during my senior year of high school when I was forced to pick up a study hall at a point in the day that both the art and the choir rooms were unavailable to me. From the moment I stepped through that cafeteria door, I decided it was time to face my fears and begin to fill an extra notebook. Senior year was arguably both my roughest and easiest year, by far. Luckily, I found an outlet for my frustrations circling the loss of friends, college drama, and having to say goodbye to one of the few teachers that inspired me to continue what I loved, art.

(By the way, it was my easiest year because I spent half the day either in one of the two music rooms or in the art room...)

Once I began my collegiate career at the Bowling Green State University last year, my writing slowed down. My poor study hall companion that I had filled almost every centimeter with my tiny scrawl, was pushed aside, and I finally began to find my own way and friends. Spring semester, my writing, though poor, began again, and a leather bound friend found its way into my hands, courtesy of my "best friend, forever," Jaime. Unfortunately, as with the rest of my generation, I find myself spending far too much time at computers, (pauvre Phillipe) and have decided to record my thoughts in a blog.