Auld Lang Syne!

Today is the last day of 2009 - the last day of the decade. A day of great emotion. A day to look back in memory and forward in expectation. To consider your mistakes and put them behind you. To imagine your coming triumphs! To-

Yeah, yeah, yeah. So another year has passed and another is coming. Same thing happens about every 365 days. I could say I feel sad that another year has passed, or excited about the new year coming, or scared of the great speed of time, but I won't because I don't. Not that I have something against those feelings. Go ahead and have them if you can! Lucky you! I just feel nothing. I never feel anything, so I'm pretty used to it. Every year on my birthday or the new year, I don't dwell on the fact that I'm older or another year has passed. When Christmas or vacation ends, I don't get the blues because it's all over. Some people may think that's a blessing. Some may say it's a curse. 

I'm undecided. Ask me later.

I'll Take a Pig Snort and a Punch in the Stomach

Who knew that you could shop for sound affects? Well, to answer myself, probably anyone who has ever made a film of any kind. For me though, there is another purpose. Those handy previews of the sounds are just right for thinking through an exact noise. Then, I'll be able to write it down better than before. Describing a sound is difficult, especially in writing when you can't use expressions like "whoosh, bang, phhhsshhhshttt" as much. It's even harder when you don't really know what it sounds like in the first place. I mean, I've never actually heard someone get cracked over the head with a baseball bat. I know a few people who I could try it out on... *ahem* maybe not.

So, my thanks goes to Donita Paul for suggesting a sound affects shop website.

So Long, Sonny!

He said he loved me.

Not that I believed him. Despite my sudden flightiness due to vulnerability, I have not become a ridiculous teenage girl. It is idiocy to think a sixteen-year-old guy can love you. When I read the message, I laughed. Laughed because it was unexpected. Laughed because it was unneeded. Laughed because it was hilarious. 

I didn't need that love. I don't need that love. My family loves me and God loves me, so why would I need a random guy's confession of commitment? Especially when it falls so short of true commitment. Is this reeking of bitterness? It sort of sounds like it, but honestly, I do not care enough to be bitter. 

I'm not sorry about that month in my life. God taught me an important lesson without letting me go so far as to truly regret anything. My mistakes are minimal. Our informal relationship was exactly what I longed for; we never even kissed. So the consequences are brought on purely from my own mind. The punishment: realized that for a short time in my life, I acted like a normal teenage girl: unconfident, in need of attention, starving for attraction. I dislike that greatly. I have never been normal, and I want to keep it that way. 

But let me continue to my main thoughtline for starting this post. What was he thinking when he said he loved me? What was his plan for those words? What is he thinking now, with a new girlfriend only two weeks after I told him to buzz off? I would love to ask him. Specifically, this is what I would say: "So were you lying when you said you loved me, or does your love just fade and change that quickly?"

I would love to hear his response.

I would love to get up the nerve.

It's not that I want him back. I don't even know what I ever saw in him. Sure, I want him to regret losing me. What girl wouldn't? Even the abnormal can't help wanting to be desired. I just wish teens nowadays would realize what all the word LOVE entails. It's huge. Bigger than their maturity can allow their hearts to stretch. And it is being so misused by teenagers around America. If I could change anything in the world, maybe I would make everyone realize the exact definition of love, and act accordingly.

For now...

I'm gonna wash ALL men right out of my hair, and send them on their way!

Wait - not all MEN. I'll take the men. It's the boys, guys, jerks, and idiots that I would like to do away with.

Forever Alone, Forever My Own

Why is it so hard to fit in? I used to say I was shy; but honestly, I don't think that is true anymore. I have no problem with speaking to people, joining in, being the center of attention. I don't really enjoy most of those things, but I can and will do it. There is just something about me that doesn't attach to other people well - I am different somehow. Often, I feel as though joining in with others who don't know me very well is intruding on their lives. I feel awkward because I assume they feel awkward. 

It shouldn't be that hard. Why can't I just make friends and feel comfortable talking to them at any time? Why can't I feel like one of a group? But I never have. No matter what group of people it is, I always feel a little out of it. A little separate. A little different. Most of the time, I convince myself I don't care. Many times I truly don't care. But there are times when it hits me hard that I don't belong. And I wonder if I ever will.

I used to think having a guy - not a boyfriend - but a close guy friend who had the potential to be a boyfriend in later life, would solve my problems. He would somehow help me become like everyone else. Well, God has shown me first hand how false that is. I'm glad He gave me the opportunity to see exactly what I would do with a guy. My first and last experience taught me that guys do not solve problems; in fact, they sort of complicate them. Instead of him pulling me into the crowd, I more of pulled him out... for however long it lasted. God gave me exactly what I had been dreaming about for so long just so that I would know it doesn't work. Now I have only to wonder what would happen if the guy wasn't an immature jerk. But no, I can't be that mean. At his age, why would anyone expect him to act maturely?

Tidbit of Nonsense For You

Reality is the thing that squelches all your dreams. 

Fantasy is the thing that makes reality worth living.

Some people think you can live with only one of those things.

But for the best results, you need an equal dosage of both.

How Droll

Apparently, I am easily amused. I suppose I've always known this, but it didn't recently come to light until work the other day. I was exclaiming over the amazing principalities of a booklight that springs up to just the right angle when you press a button. My manager added it to his list of "Things that easily amuse Kaylee." I had to agree. And it got me thinking.

I think I've always been that way. I was the kid who would stare at the grass, waiting for a bug crawling through to make it move a little. I would stare at the carpet too. Don't ask me why; we rarely had bugs in our house. Once, I laid on my front lawn for a good half hour listening to the wind. It was great, until a guy driving by stopped and asked if I was all right. I guess I looked unconscious or something.

And so it has continued. I can sit in my chair in my room and stare out my window for an hour without moving. Seems like I'm doing nothing, but my mind is extremely active. I love to think, and I love silence. Those two ingredients make doing nothing, or being amused by insignificance, easy and enjoyable for me. 

My Not-so Birthday

Surprisingly, since I can be a bit vain, I have no problem overlooking my birthday. It's not one of those "women don't like to get older" things. After all, I'm only seventeen (that's new!). Maybe it's because I don't like being the center of attention unless I am performing. I need a script or a choreographed stage movement in order to enjoy having everyone look at me. I find it awkward when everyone watches me open my presents. So I prefer to make no big deal out of it, but let others do what they want.

So I guess I'm lucky (or blessed) to have been born around Thanksgiving. The rush of the holiday, even though it isn't nearly as busy as Christmas, takes away some of the attention that normally is lavished on the birthday girl. I don't mind having no special cake, I never have parties, and I'm okay with opening presents on Thanksgiving. God apparently knew what He was doing when He matched my birthday with my personality. Good to know He is in control of everything.

Three Cheers for Me!

Ahhhhhhh.........

A feeling of accomplishment washes over me.

Or rather washed. It's sort of faded away now. I mean, you can't be relieved forever. 

Anyway, to explain my sudden feeling of relief, I shall inform you that I have at last completed all the choreography for the three dances in our church's magnificent Christmas program. That would be about twelve minutes of dancing, often double-parted, for about a dozen performers. One on pointe, one ballet, and one stylized lyrical. Choreography 90% my own. Am I glad I'm done? Oh yeah.

Now there is just the job of teaching the others everything left and perfecting it... in less than three weeks. Everything has to come together: the extended stage, the orchestra and choir, the soloists, the costumes and overlays, the candles, the entrances, the staging, etc. I could look at all of that and then glance at my timeline and end by panicking. But I would rather assume it will all come together wonderfully in the end - just like it always does.

These Boots Were Made for Walking

How about a really random tidbit of nonsense? All about how I walk.

Despite being a dancer, I tend to walk on my heels. I must be heavy on my feet, because that was my downfall in ballet classes. I became known as the Elephant, along with being called a tornado (this had to do with my directional abilities when we did chaines, or fast turns - the teacher usually ducked for cover). In one class, my teacher made us all run around toe-first. We had to be extremely exaggerated, and I think we must have looked ridiculous. Oh, the joys of those little exercises for improvement. I still walk on my heels.

Kiss Me and Run

Today, (no this is not an MLIA) I wrote a more romantic lovey-dovey scene than I've ever prepared for a book I intend to publish. I must admit, it was a bit odd. Trying to describe the emotions and thoughts associated with a very distinctly important kiss is... well, interesting. I spent a great deal of time staring out the window and imagining myself being kissed. Yes, putting yourself in the place of the protagonist does help at times. 

However, I managed to write a good paragraph on it that I was decently happy with. Now the problem is, how do you continue from there? The best place for a kiss is at the end of a chapter in my opinion. Right where you don't have to tell about the awkward happenings that follow it. Sadly, that won't work for this one. If you were just kissed, what would you say? "So what's for dessert?" Not likely.

Fish - And Liking It

Guess what? I thought of the subject I wanted to write about a few days ago, then forgot about. I remembered! 

Do you know how when you leave a window open at night and the light is on inside, you can see everything inside the house? My sister refers to this as being a "fish in a fishbowl." Whatever you do is on display for the neighbors and passers-by. Is it extremely weird that I purposely leave my window open so that they can see me? 

Seriously, I secretly love leaving the blinds up and the light on in the room. I want people to see what I am doing, and, believe it or not, I even put on shows for them. I guess it comes from my joy in performing. It doesn't matter that there's no audience; I just pretend that someone is watching. It can be anyone - my choice (which makes it even more fun). Then I will dance, sing, act, or just sit and stare back at them. The best part about not knowing for sure if anyone is watching is being able to do anything. I never have to worry about making a mistake, or looking silly, or doing something weird. 

So every time someone walks by my room and shouts "Fish in a fishbowl!" (this is usually one and the same person), I begrudgingly lower the curtain on my act. No worries. There will always be another showing.

Scattered Passions

Usually, my interests, while staying the same in the back of my mind, take their turns in being first in my thoughts. For example, during theater camp last summer, my most common interest was in musical theater. I got little or no writing done. Then the next month, I was very focused on writing and musical theater was virtually ignored. At times, cooking comes to the front, or reading, or designing. 

Oddly though, at the moment, and for the last few days, I have felt drawn to all my interests at once. I feel a great desire to cook something amazing, I want to draw new designs and copy costumes again, I have been thinking a lot about reading (although I haven't done any), I have had inspiration on a new story and enjoyed adding to it, and I have thought much about dance and musical theater since I am currently choreographing some dances and preparing for more. That was a really long sentence, but you get the picture. My focus is currently scattered liberally but equally among all my main fields of interest. That's pretty darn rare for me. I'm rather enjoying it.

Another Update on the Life of Me

I had something I wanted to write about... a few days ago that is. I now realize that my constant desire to put on paper everything that comes into my head for fear that I will forget it in more than a few hours is well-based. I am so incredibly forgetful!!

Having said that, I will move on to what I can remember at this moment. I still feel like I am getting little done, since I have not researched publishers (which is the next large project on my list) or even worked on my first stage play. However, I have been very productive over the last few days. I was inspired with a new novel idea which turned out to be decently simple to write down. There are few holes, and considering that the idea came from a dream, that is amazing. Then, in a sudden thought while sitting at my dance studio waiting to be picked up, I came up with another novel idea (much more basic than the last one) that can be built upon when I finally decide to write my next fiction series. The next day, I thought of a topic for a series of children's books which I would highly enjoy writing. My list of projects expands. How can I ever be bored?

So if you could lick the sun, what would you want it to taste like?

What's Been Keeping Me Away

It's been a while. I know it well. However, I have done nothing about it... until now. I don't have a specific topic I wish to address in this post, so I will mostly be just talking. Not for long. I need to study for a history test.

How can I seem so busy when in actuality I have little to do? How can I list so many things that I should be working on, tell myself I don't have time to do it all, then look back on my day and realize that I haven't done any of it?

To be completely honest, that isn't true. I don't think a day has gone by this week in which I have done absolutely nothing on my current list. That's good. I am busy; I have trouble finding time to do things like write letters and posts. And yet, I still find time to do nothing. Today, I managed to finish all my schoolwork, finish a book I was reading, choreograph a good section of the dance I'm working on, listen to some music I need to muse over, add a nice chunk of inspiration to my current dream, go to the store for my mom, buy tickets for Broadway, and make dinner. I still have time to study and possibly watch a movie. 

And I didn't think it had been a very productive day until now. I guess listing what you've accomplished helps you realize it happened. I don't need to do one of my large projects (such as writing a stage play, writing a novel, or researching publishers) in order to have a productively filled day. I'm so glad I just came to that conclusion!

Purity Song

I was singing in the shower tonight (after all, it has the best acoustics in the house) and trying to come up with some new lyrics. So I juggled around a few phrases, converted them into lines, had nice long pauses in between while attempting to rhyme; all the usual business of my songwriting moments. 

But one chorus did stick out to me as a keeper. I don't know what I'll do with it, but I liked the lines and the tempo I used. I had just watched Taylor Swift's music video to "Fifteen" and had been considering the lack of purity in teenage girls nowadays. This is what came to mind.

"Don't give yourself away,

Wait for that special day.

When you are his and he is yours

The license signed

Then you can close the door.

But not before."

It's pretty simple lines, perhaps over-used, but I liked how they fit together. And of course, it's a message that never gets old. It needs to be heard. So many girls are giving away the precious gift God bestowed on them simply because they feel insecure and unloved. If they could only realize that they are forever loved by their Creator.

The Best Feeling In the World

What is the best feeling in the world?

Wow. Is that debatable or what? But I guess I can say what my best feeling of today was. At approximately four o'clock this afternoon, I wrote the final words on my second novel. It took me until 5:30 to grammar and spell check it though. Either way, today I finished my novel. It was definitely a glorious feeling. Now pardon me while I go to a two minute victory dance in celebration.

Okay I'm back. That may have been a really cool feeling, but it gives way to not-so-cool ones. Like the thought that now I have to print it out and send it out to editors. That's not so bad since my editors are my friends. The next step is editing though, and that can be very boring. In addition, I am going to send out my first novel to more agents and companies while I'm waiting for the second to be edited. This is a dreaded job because even if I think my novel is amazing, I never feel entirely pleased with my query. However, if I ever want publication I have to keep trying until I get it. Never give up!

Of course, there's one more thing finishing one's second novel gives way to: starting the third. Luckily, I can wait a few months on that or even to the end of the year. Writing my third novel will be difficult since it is supposed to be very deep and spiritual. I think I need to grow a little more.

But all in all, it was a nice feeling. To have two completed novels before you are even 17 is awfully encouraging. But the best feeling in the world? When an agent calls to tell me they want to by my manuscript!!

The Almost-Kiss

Today I did something I had not yet done in my true novels (granted I have done more in my short stories and random chronicles). I wrote an almost-kiss. By saying I've done more, I mean I've written plenty of kisses. But those were in stories that didn't matter because no one besides me would ever read them, so I was allowed to be shallow. In my second novel, I have to be deep because I am aiming for publication.
You would never guess how hard it is to write an almost-kiss without being mushy or blatant. For example, I could go for the romance novel for adults angle and say something like, "A hungry look filled his eyes as they dropped down to gaze at her mouth. He swallowed hard and leaned intimately towards her until reality seemed to infiltrate his mind, causing him to step away."
Or I could have done the cheesy, unrealistic, this-is-a-worldly-novel-written-by-a-shallow-author take on it, like this: "He stepped closer to her and leaned down. Her heart skipped a beat; was he going to kiss her? But no, a second thought turned him away an instant later, leaving her with only a memory of the would-have-been kiss."
Is it just me, or do both of those ways seem incredibly blah. So I decided my readers are going to be smarter than I usually assume they are (I like to think everyone in the world is less perceptive than myself for some reason) and went with a simple implication. I believe it ended up something like this. "She wiped moisture from her eyes, then looked up at him. He was still staring at her; there was a sort of hunger in his eyes. He leaned towards her, paused, then stepped away, rubbing a hand over his face."
Simple, well-put (if I do say so myself) and enough for any smart girl to know that he was about to kiss her. Now, I'm not really sure about guys... but they can ask their sisters.

What's Up?

Well, I've been pretty busy lately with different activities, and that will probably continue for the next several weeks... actually until Christmas. What's taking up so much time of a homeschooled teenager? Writing is one thing. Dancing is another. My sisters and I are now starting a dance corps at our church - just in time to choreograph, teach, and rehearse three numbers for our Christmas production. But how on earth do you get three girls together to choreograph when they all have different schedules and are only home all together for a good amount of time on Sundays? Have I mentioned that our Sundays will now be taken up having rehearsals at which we must teach others our choreography? So needless to say, I'm just trying not to panic or anything. I'm sure everything will come together in time, and it will be fantastic. 

As for my other occupation, I'm doing pretty well. Or was until today. I will most likely attempt to write today. This will be the scenario: I will do everything else I need to do such as typing up some flyers for auditions, then I will open my book and stare at the page. I'll place my fingers on the keys, look at the time, and decide it's time to play some games. Once I finish with that, I will once again go to the book, stare at it, and prepare to write. Then I will decide to go try some choreography. In this way, I will probably waste all day and never get more than a paragraph written. Anyone who thinks writing is easy should have their head examined. I can't imagine what it would be like if I were under a deadline! Panic extreme!

In One So Small

In One So Small

The world has ended

No one else realizes

But I know

They keep going

But I will never move again

There is a hand drawing me close

Words of comfort whispered in my ear

But I do not feel it

I do not hear them

Nothing can penetrate the darkness surrounding my heart

I am not sad

I do not feel sorrow or even grief

Those words are not strong enough to express my emotions

They are shallow

What I feel is so much deeper

There is no word for it

Tears roll from my eyes

But they are just a reaction

They do not show how deeply this pain cuts

Then something touches me

A tiny hand grasps mine

I look down

A little girl looks back up at me

Just a child

Barely more than a baby

Her eyes are wide

Her face is troubled

She whispers

"Don't cry, Mommy

I love you"

Can God have placed Himself in one so small?

I gather her into my arms

Draw me close to you, O Lord

Just as I draw my child close to me

Comfort me

Just as I comfort her

I finally realize

I still have something to live for

Things are not better

I do not laugh

I do not even smile

My life isn't fixed

My heart isn't healed

But I have a purpose

Time and prayer will heal these wounds

Can anything erase the scars?

But I have a hope

And a future

A reason to live

A reason to move

Can God have placed Himself in one so small

Just to remind me?

In honor of all those left behind - our prayers are with you.

"For we do not mourn like those who have no hope..."

Matt and Brody Knapp

May 7th 2009

Marcos Gonnet

September 8th 2009

Rejoice In His Presence!

What the....????

Last night, my sister walked into the living room and was greeted by an interesting sight which I thought would be fun to chronicle. So here it is.

My mom was sitting on the couch with a fuzzy striped sock on her hand (named Fuzzy Wuzzy of course). Next to her, my brother was sitting on the floor, singing a perpetual round of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." He was on 62 and still counting. Beside him is my older sister's boyfriend; he was wearing a girl's cowboy hat (tightly secured around his chin), holding two wooden spoons, and repeating everything he said in a language that sounded half like German and half like Chinese and could only be titled Gibberish. My older sister is scrunched up on the floor with her elbow on the colorful gameboard sitting on the table. In the center of the board there is an egg, and beside it, a plank of wood. Someone rolls the die and suddenly two people whip out finger pistols, shouting, "This town ain't big enough f

or the both of us!" Another person tells my older sister that it's her turn, and while she whines for the next fifteen seconds that it isn't her "time to go," we all point fingers at the one who dared to use the forbidden word.

What possible reason could there be for this ridiculous mayhem? One word: Quelf. 

Haven't heard of it? Neither had we until very recently. Don't have it? I suggest you get it - but only if you don't mind making a fool of yourself.

God's Tears

This is a song I wrote half while in bed when I should have been sleeping and half while in church service when I should have been listening. However, although I wasn't doing what I should have been doing, I like the result.

God's Tears

Teardrops of heaven

Falling from God's eyes

To touch the world that needs

Spread the love He holds inside

Love 

Raining down

In every drop from the sky

Waters the ground

Bringing hope

Renewing life

For a single drop becomes a flow

That turns to torrents ever so

Giving love to the farthest soul

Hallelujah love rains down

Hallelujah love rains down

Hallelujah love rains down

As God cries for the ones He loves

Teardrops of heaven 

Falling from my eyes

To touch the soul beside me

Spread the love I hold inside

Love 

Raining down

In every drop from my eyes

Touches the ground

As I worship God

Adore you Christ

And that single drop becomes a flow

Passing on so now I know

Give out love to the farthest soul

Hallelujah love rains down

Hallelujah love rains down

Hallelujah love rains down

As I cry for the one He loves

Random Fads

I was thinking through what I've written lately, since I haven't been adding to my manuscript very much, and I found the results interesting. Two nights ago in the shower, I came up with and typed out a comedy bit for a middle-aged male comedian. That night, I wrote an introduction paragraph to a fairytale. The next night in the shower, I came up with a dialogue between two prim 1900's English ladies. What do you call that? Random? Normally, I would say yes, but I'd rather call it diversified now.

Here's why: have you noticed that lately (within the last year or so) it has become extremely popular to be random? Even before this style, it was becoming fashionable to be weird, but now it's mostly just randomness that people like to flaunt. It sort of irks me for shall we say a random reason. Most people aren't! It's so annoying when countless people advertise themselves as random teens, when in reality they hardly fit the bill. Fake! Call me weird (I don't mind since that apparently is still in style as well) but I don't like it that everyone has so readily accepted random weirdness from others and sought to mimic it. Few people are truly random.

For this reason, I think I am no longer going to call myself random or weird. If you know me, than you know why. I don't like following the crowd; I prefer to do the opposite of everyone else. So now, if anyone asks, I am special, versatile, and diversified. Not weird, not random. Just thought I'd let you know!

The Best Time to Write

11:30 on a school night, and I am in bed, the covers pulled over my head. What do you think I am doing? Sleeping right? 

Are you kidding??? What idiot sleeps at 11:30 on a school night while in bed? Ahem, well I suppose most people. Actually, it's probably me who was the idiot, but I had a moment of inspiration. And when a writer gets inspiration, she writes. So there I was, hiding underneath my covers and writing in my five-section notebook by the light of my ipod while trying not to wake up the sister in the lower bunk.

How do I go from drifting to sleep to frantically scribbling down an idea? Well, you have to understand my thought pattern I guess. Let's see if I can trace it for you.

The farthest back I can remember is when I was thinking about The Chronicles of Narnia. This led me to think about C. S. Lewis's use of mythological creatures. This led to thinking about other books that follow that same line, such as Lord of the Rings, Ella Enchanted, and Puck of Pook's Hill. This made me want to write a story about a time when fantasy took place in the form of mythological creatures. Naturally, I began coming up with the first chapter before I even considered a storyline. But I got all the way through the first paragraph, and this is what I wrote down to the light of my ipod.

I'm not going to start this story with the traditional "Once upon a time." I mean, that's so vague! It doesn't even give an estimate of what time the story is once upon. I'd rather start like this: this story happened at a time when decent rogues still fought with swords instead of just shooting each other, when women were expected to wear long gowns and be beautiful unless they were witches, and peasant was a common noun directly opposite of royalty. It is a time before mythological creatures became scared and started hiding and became endangered, hence gaining the title "myth." That is the time this story is once upon.

Anyone got an idea for the rest of the book?

Peer Pressure... In Church?

We've been talking about peer pressure in Sunday School for the last few weeks - positive, negative, how to deal with it, who and where it comes from, etc. Where does it come from? We all say things like school, work, extracurricular activities. But there's one thing we never mention: church. 

Is it only because I'm not in public school that the majority of my peer pressure comes from Christian friends at church? Odd as it may sound, I think it's much harder to deal with the pressure in church than at school. Take this example: 

A non-Christian friend from school walks up to you and says, "Hey, a bunch of girls are getting together at my house to watch The Notebook. Do you want to come?" This would be my simply given answer: "I'm sorry, but as a Christian, I believe in keeping my mind pure from the images and ideas portrayed in movies like that." Simple! 

Now take that same thing and switch it to a Christian friend at church. She asks if you want to hang out at her house to watch The Notebook. What do you say in response? You are both Christians, so if you say the same thing you said to the girl at school, it's like saying you're more righteous because you have higher standards or you're passing judgment on her for having lower ones. You would come across as a snob, no matter how you said that. Or you can tell her your mom won't let you watch it, and thereby seem like you're hiding behind your mother's skirts. So instead, you have to come up with an excuse like, "I already have plans that night," or "I can't make it." Then you feel like a liar because, while that may be the truth, you have left out the real reason.

That is why I think peer pressure at church is harder to deal with. In the past, people have thought I was a stuck-up snob because we have such tight morals in my family. It wasn't easy. God has taught me over the years how to put things the right way so that I stand up for what I believe in, but don't drag others down for how they think. There's nothing wrong with the difference of opinion; it just needs to be handled wisely. I thank God that I continue to learn to overcome the peer pressure at church in a way that He would be proud of.

Pool Model

Did you ever have a really weird dream when you were a kid? I'm not talking at night when you're asleep - I mean something you wanted to do with your life that was completely abnormal. I had one.
Two or three times a week, I would go to dance. But I didn't dream of being a prima ballerina. No, I had a much different desire. Every time we would drive past a store that sold pools. In a fenced-in area beside the building, they had several examples for show. My dream job: to be a pool model. I wanted to work there, swimming in the pools all day long to show how much fun they are to the customers. If they saw someone enjoying the merchandise, how could they resist purchasing it? At least, that was my train of thought.
I don't remember when I finally stopped dreaming about that. I don't even remember how old I was when I started, although I hope I was decently young enough to not be considered incredibly stupid. I never told anyone though; it was my secret dream, and I loved having it. How many kids have weird dreams like that - dreams that they would never tell anyone about, but secretly wish would come true?

Scream? Me?

Have you ever noticed that people are noisy? It seems everywhere you go, someone is making noise. Babies are screaming in the aisles of Walmart. Kids are yelling across the bins at Toys R Us. Teens are shouting across stores to find out what shoe size their friend wears. Adults are talking on their cell phones in a normal voice in public dressing rooms, rest rooms, restaurants, and movie theaters. Society has become a very noise-filled place, and this trait seems to be passed on to the new generations.
So is it incredibly weird that I hate making noise? When I was younger, I couldn't stand vacuuming because it was so loud. I don't yell, and I never scream. Even when riding the Titan, the sound I made was closer to an "oop" than an "ahh!" I seriously have a problem with making noise! And I didn't really realize it until I took a musical theater class in Dallas Summer Musicals Academy.
I wasn't projecting well. So I went home, waited until I was the only one home (which is not easy in a household of eight), and started singing at the top of my lungs. That was pretty fun. Then I decided to practice something I never did. You got it: screaming. I was all alone; no one would hear me. But it was so incredibly difficult! I didn't know how to scream. I wasn't sure what sort of sound to make, what syllables to form. Needless to say, it didn't go very well.
Since then, I've practiced a few more times and gotten better. The test came just last summer though, when I had to play the Wicked Witch of the West in a performance. Naturally, the scene included one of her infamous laughs. I couldn't do it. It just wouldn't come out right. In desperation, I started practicing in the shower at home. I think I freaked my family out a couple of times until they realized what I was doing. At last, I had a pretty good laugh... but it was still in the shower. I was hoping and praying that when I got on stage it would come out as a great, loud "Yeeehaaaaaahahahahaha!" instead of a small "heeheehee." Guess what? Complete success found me. It was very loud.
So is it good to be loud? Well, I must say, noisy people sort of annoy me. I cherish silence most fondly. But if you're going into musical theater, you might want to make sure you can scream. If I ever teach a voice lesson of any sort (hey, we can all dream), especially if it's for musical theater, the first thing I will have my students do is scream at the top of their lungs. Just to make sure they aren't like me.