In just two days is the estimated day for a huge arrival. The biggest of my life.
Not my career. Not a new instrument.
But my first child. My son, Adam Zachary. He may get here earlier, may get here later. But it's his estimate.
I have many mixed emotions. The first is: I'M ABOUT TO PUSH A WATERMELON OUT OF MY WOMAN PARTS. That is pretty terrifying. I've heard many horror stories. No, I am not going to get an epidural. This is my reason: I don't want an IV or catheter, and I don't want a large needle being inserted in my back (and if they miss, you could have a headache or backache for weeks). I don't want to be tied to a bed on my back. Not knocking on anyone who has gotten it. I just don't want it. But I am scared to do it. Delivery is an unknown, and many women say it is the worst pain ever.
Second: I'm about to be responsible for a human. A human I have to raise and keep safe. I feel like I barely keep myself safe. Now I think about how big my cars are, how much food I have in the fridge (instead of how much I can live off of for a week with my husband and break a record), how much room my house has, safety of my house, items for his well being, parenting skills... the list goes on and on. And ON. I can't help but be filled with anxiety. Jonathan is the most level headed person I've met. He has no worry, and seems to have it together. I feel like my head is going to explode.
Third: I could go into active labor at ANY TIME. That doesn't help with my anxiety. I've been in early labor for days. Weak contractions that don't do a thing, little things here and there. My OB says wait until I can't talk through contractions, which actually happens! But they get weaker, and are eventually back to the annoyingly uncomfortable state. I would welcome a water break, because then I would know for sure that labor is starting. But that only happens in 10-15% of women. Most need their water broken for them.
Much of my day is cleaning, waiting, doctors appointments, walking, and trying not to be uncomfortable. I'm large enough I waddle, and what is crazy is knowing I'm carrying a 7-8lb kid in my abdomen. That is shocking.
I know this sounds crazy, but amidst this, I am pretty excited. I get to meet one of the most important people that will ever be in my life. I get to care for a child that is half me, half Jonathan and a whole new person. Our family is starting to grow, and that is pretty awesome.
I'd say this is the biggest change of all coming up.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Sexism: is it still prevelant in the USA?
This is a topic that has been beaten over heads of men and women everywhere. Chants of equal pay, equal opportunities, working woman have been echoed for decades now. The idea of how women were treated years ago, is now socially appalling.
Like this for example. It gives me a headache to look at this.
It was normal for men to be in charge, and for women to have a house as a domain. Then demands of the independent woman began cropping up and we started seeing the working woman.
This began an inspiring idea of the working woman!
And thus, social norms were changing. Women began to go to schools much more often and working became normal. There were still stretches and struggles, but overall, the woman life became much more equal to men.
Fast forward to now.
Stay at home dads are becoming much more common. A full time breadwinning wife and a full time worker is becoming much more common. You see men and women on near equal grounds. I can attest for that. As a working wife in the Marine Corps and a stay at home husband, it's normal and good for our relationship. He wants to be in charge of the home, wants to raise the kids, and wants to enjoy projects and not have a boss pressure the crap out of him. I want to work long hours, leave, come back, and I enjoy pressure from deadlines.
I've actually noticed that men are starting to have a hard time. With all the pressure to make women equal, now men are starting to decline. They are still expected to work full time and "provide" when they want to stay at home. They are pressured to be "tough" and only get what they're given, with now less opportunities than women. Or you see in media and television that men are incapable of raising children and can't handle simple menial tasks. It actually bothers me. My husband is the one staying at home with our future child, right? So we plan on formula feeding and he makes the decision on whether our son is circumcised and the sexual health of our child (because he has the parts and knows, I do not). While on convalescent leave, I'm going to mix breastfeeding and formula just so we can get some good antibodies and wean our kid to formula when I go back to work full time. We have a plan. And I've been told by people that I'm lazy and neglectful for letting my husband make these decisions, when I should be anti-circumcision and anti-formula. I'm pretty sure he's the stay at home parent with the male parts to make calls and he and I discussed these topics. So being told that he shouldn't have a say is offensive. It IS offensive and I always have to defend him. But WHY? Why should he have to defend himself when we have equal opportunity in our marriage?
This is happening to men everywhere. So much social pressure to be a certain way when the women culture gets a lot of opportunities. I'm not saying women in the WORLD are equal. Some women are killed in countries for being raped. Yes, because they're raped, they get killed. Because they drove the man to commit the act. Somehow. No, no, no. I'm talking in the United States. And yes, you can go on about the woman in the back country. Or the woman that still lives in an extreme conservative household. I'm talking about as a whole. I'm for equal opportunity, but I want it on both sides, not on just one side of the spectrum. If we continually make up for what has happened in the past, we can never look forward with a clear mind. And I believe that wholeheartedly. My husband has dropped everything to follow me and my career choice. I would do the same for him. It should be seen like that.
Now onto the point that has really been an unequal stance. Sexism in the military.
I work in the joint. I'm an active duty member of the Marine Corps. I went through bootcamp, went through Combat Training (for the non-combat MOS), and did my thing at MOS school. I'm now at my duty station. And yes, I am a bandsman (sue me, I love my job, and I love giving support to my fellow members and to civilians). I auditioned, and did my thing.
I never personally have shown any interest of being infantry, although if I were called to be deployed (yes they deploy bandsman in time of need), I wouldn't protest. It's what I've signed up for. Seeing opportunities for women to take place in a study to see if they could be in infantry has been a great thing for me to see. It's to see if they could change the MOS in the future to equal sexes versus just males. They didn't lower the standards for the females: they had to pass male PFTs to take part in the course. They had to keep up with the same loads. But only a few wanted to try and a few passed (it didn't even give them credentials, it was only a study). But the great part was, a group of women passed! Not just ones and twos! Great!
I was excited. Because I love equal opportunity for men and women. And this was a step!
Unfortunately, women in officer training course, wasn't so successful, but so few tried! Only 29 women tried. OUT OF 13580 active duty (and many weren't even eligible because they're enlisted)! That's .21% of the entire female population of the Marine Corps. It was a shame, and it closed out before any got to graduation day.
I was disappointed, but I didn't take it too seriously. I knew that there just needed to be a different time and more training on the woman's part before it could be done again.
But I started to notice something that REALLY bothered me. Men everywhere making comments about how weak women are. How women should've never left the kitchen. How women can't do anything anyway so why are they in the military. Some are trolling, because they're bored. But I realized that SOME MEN in the military actually think this way. They think women are a waste of space even after they do the same training. But then they make excuses why it's not the same, even as they're raising the bar for women in fitness tests. It's still not enough. I know plenty of women who ignored the female PFT standards and looked at the male PFT standards. They would get perfect female standards and say, "that's not the real standard. I want to get the 300 male PFT." And it's how I think! It's how we all should think, right? I want to get to that point. I want to be the best. I mean why not? But there is so many discouraging comments from the male side of the community. Sure, there are great men and supporters of us women. Some even think it's badass of us to work that hard. Woo! But it's still pretty skewed for some people in the military. They honestly see women as nurses and secretaries. It makes me wonder how I convinced myself that women aren't struggling anymore.
Honestly, I do think I'm in one of the few male dominated fields. 7% of the Marine Corps is women. Seven. Percent.
This is what 7% looks like. This is female population compared to male population in the Marines. Not a lot of people can grasp just how few this is. Army's is 15.7%. Navy is 18%. Air Force is 19%. Coast Guard is 15%. But the Marine Corps, even in it's smaller state still has smaller percentages. Many would say, "it's a man's job!" And it was....decades ago. Now, women are training with equal grounds and we still are a small amount of the Marines. I agree that there are mainly males in these fields. And many orders have been written to make things equal. Hell, the fact they were seeing how women would do in infantry courses made me happy! It means they're trying. It may not be time yet, to open up the MOS to women, but it's because we need more training. It is physically taxing on a woman, so they need to prep harder. You can't expect a 3rd class male to pass it, why is a woman any different? They need to be in pristine condition. I can't expect to get a 1st class without training. Same with a male.
The military is a different lifestyle. A lot less grey, a lot more black and white. It's straight to the point. I love it. It's in my personality. I'm full of grey, but I like how decisions are made.
I was just saddened to see this. I just hope it progresses. Equal opportunity.
I only realized there is still more work to be done. For men on the civilian side and for women on the military side. I don't want standards lowered and women to be babied. Just like I don't expect all men to stop working and ignore their careers or their desires.
All I want is equal opportunity for all without the oppression to our decisions. Stop making gender role labels. Stop seeing women as weaker and men as dumber. I'm tired of it. I'm ready for real progress in the gender roles when we don't have to think twice about it anymore. It's going to take some work, but I'm ready to jump in and make this world a better place by doing what I do best.
Working, supporting my husband in what he wants, and doing what's best for my family, my wellbeing, and his. If that means I'm an active duty Marine and he's a stay at home dad, then we are killing it! I just hope people can learn from example and someday it will truly be equal.
It was normal for men to be in charge, and for women to have a house as a domain. Then demands of the independent woman began cropping up and we started seeing the working woman.
And thus, social norms were changing. Women began to go to schools much more often and working became normal. There were still stretches and struggles, but overall, the woman life became much more equal to men.
Fast forward to now.
Stay at home dads are becoming much more common. A full time breadwinning wife and a full time worker is becoming much more common. You see men and women on near equal grounds. I can attest for that. As a working wife in the Marine Corps and a stay at home husband, it's normal and good for our relationship. He wants to be in charge of the home, wants to raise the kids, and wants to enjoy projects and not have a boss pressure the crap out of him. I want to work long hours, leave, come back, and I enjoy pressure from deadlines.
Look at that! It's happening more!
This is happening to men everywhere. So much social pressure to be a certain way when the women culture gets a lot of opportunities. I'm not saying women in the WORLD are equal. Some women are killed in countries for being raped. Yes, because they're raped, they get killed. Because they drove the man to commit the act. Somehow. No, no, no. I'm talking in the United States. And yes, you can go on about the woman in the back country. Or the woman that still lives in an extreme conservative household. I'm talking about as a whole. I'm for equal opportunity, but I want it on both sides, not on just one side of the spectrum. If we continually make up for what has happened in the past, we can never look forward with a clear mind. And I believe that wholeheartedly. My husband has dropped everything to follow me and my career choice. I would do the same for him. It should be seen like that.
Now onto the point that has really been an unequal stance. Sexism in the military.
I work in the joint. I'm an active duty member of the Marine Corps. I went through bootcamp, went through Combat Training (for the non-combat MOS), and did my thing at MOS school. I'm now at my duty station. And yes, I am a bandsman (sue me, I love my job, and I love giving support to my fellow members and to civilians). I auditioned, and did my thing.
I know people in the picture. Oh, and I'm in this band. Just not in the picture or in this performance. Because I wasn't in that band yet.
I never personally have shown any interest of being infantry, although if I were called to be deployed (yes they deploy bandsman in time of need), I wouldn't protest. It's what I've signed up for. Seeing opportunities for women to take place in a study to see if they could be in infantry has been a great thing for me to see. It's to see if they could change the MOS in the future to equal sexes versus just males. They didn't lower the standards for the females: they had to pass male PFTs to take part in the course. They had to keep up with the same loads. But only a few wanted to try and a few passed (it didn't even give them credentials, it was only a study). But the great part was, a group of women passed! Not just ones and twos! Great!
I was excited. Because I love equal opportunity for men and women. And this was a step!
Unfortunately, women in officer training course, wasn't so successful, but so few tried! Only 29 women tried. OUT OF 13580 active duty (and many weren't even eligible because they're enlisted)! That's .21% of the entire female population of the Marine Corps. It was a shame, and it closed out before any got to graduation day.
I was disappointed, but I didn't take it too seriously. I knew that there just needed to be a different time and more training on the woman's part before it could be done again.
But I started to notice something that REALLY bothered me. Men everywhere making comments about how weak women are. How women should've never left the kitchen. How women can't do anything anyway so why are they in the military. Some are trolling, because they're bored. But I realized that SOME MEN in the military actually think this way. They think women are a waste of space even after they do the same training. But then they make excuses why it's not the same, even as they're raising the bar for women in fitness tests. It's still not enough. I know plenty of women who ignored the female PFT standards and looked at the male PFT standards. They would get perfect female standards and say, "that's not the real standard. I want to get the 300 male PFT." And it's how I think! It's how we all should think, right? I want to get to that point. I want to be the best. I mean why not? But there is so many discouraging comments from the male side of the community. Sure, there are great men and supporters of us women. Some even think it's badass of us to work that hard. Woo! But it's still pretty skewed for some people in the military. They honestly see women as nurses and secretaries. It makes me wonder how I convinced myself that women aren't struggling anymore.
Honestly, I do think I'm in one of the few male dominated fields. 7% of the Marine Corps is women. Seven. Percent.
The military is a different lifestyle. A lot less grey, a lot more black and white. It's straight to the point. I love it. It's in my personality. I'm full of grey, but I like how decisions are made.
I was just saddened to see this. I just hope it progresses. Equal opportunity.
I only realized there is still more work to be done. For men on the civilian side and for women on the military side. I don't want standards lowered and women to be babied. Just like I don't expect all men to stop working and ignore their careers or their desires.
All I want is equal opportunity for all without the oppression to our decisions. Stop making gender role labels. Stop seeing women as weaker and men as dumber. I'm tired of it. I'm ready for real progress in the gender roles when we don't have to think twice about it anymore. It's going to take some work, but I'm ready to jump in and make this world a better place by doing what I do best.
Working, supporting my husband in what he wants, and doing what's best for my family, my wellbeing, and his. If that means I'm an active duty Marine and he's a stay at home dad, then we are killing it! I just hope people can learn from example and someday it will truly be equal.
This is a picture of my handsome husband I and I almost a year ago. Aren't we cute?? :)
Sunday, November 30, 2014
New Blessings and Exciting Changes
It has been almost a year since I've updated this blog. Surprising I still remembered that it exists.
If you have followed my blog in the past you probably remember when I apologized to the masses. I still stick by that. Now, I am about to move up to Stafford, Virginia, for my permanent duty station in Quantico, Virginia. My apartment is bigger, with two bathrooms, a bedroom, a study, and it is beautiful. My cat is tagging along, of course. Because we don't have a lot of stuff, we're moving ourselves with a trailer. It's not that expensive, we looked through our options.
I have finally finished my training. Three months of boot camp, one month of combat training, six and a half months of MOS school at the naval school of music, with 9 days of leave smashed in there. In one month I will have been enlisted for one year! That's a bit crazy. I'm just so excited to start my real job as a musician. I have a lot of work to do, though. I have to memorize a lot of music and get myself into high gear. But I know if I put the job first and work my butt off, I can do this.
Just as a reminder, Jonathan and I got married during my boot leave because we knew it was the right timing, and because of it, he was able to live with me while I was at school. He is such a blessing.
Another very pleasant surprise (it wasn't pleasant at first), was when I found out that I was pregnant. I'm at 8w5d, almost 9 weeks pregnant. The baby is almost the size of an olive. I'm so excited, but so terrified at mother hood. I don't feel like I'm mentally old enough. But I'm sure I will do okay (hopefully). So far, I'm nauseous at random smells (pickles, cigarettes), I crave chocolate pretzels, I and extremely bloated, and it's starting to show (I'm at the unfortunate stage of where I just look kinda chubby, not pregnant), and I'm SO tired. Very tired. Like I nap at random kind of tired. I have a doctor's appointment for the 10-11 week mark, and I'm excited to see the little heart beat and how he/she's doing (I think it's a boy, but it annoys Jonathan, so I don't say anything :P). So far, it has been a huge surprise, and my mother is excited about being grandma.
Right now, though, I'm preparing to do my job in the Marine Corps, until my body doesn't allow. I'm not really suppose to run anymore, so I'm going to be doing a lot of power walking, because I want to get back in the game strong. But I want to be the best clarinet player. I want to be the strongest female. I want to be a light in my future platoon. My dream has just started, and the baby isn't a deterrent, it's just another member joining us for the ride.
This is what has been going on! What a productive year!
If you have followed my blog in the past you probably remember when I apologized to the masses. I still stick by that. Now, I am about to move up to Stafford, Virginia, for my permanent duty station in Quantico, Virginia. My apartment is bigger, with two bathrooms, a bedroom, a study, and it is beautiful. My cat is tagging along, of course. Because we don't have a lot of stuff, we're moving ourselves with a trailer. It's not that expensive, we looked through our options.
I have finally finished my training. Three months of boot camp, one month of combat training, six and a half months of MOS school at the naval school of music, with 9 days of leave smashed in there. In one month I will have been enlisted for one year! That's a bit crazy. I'm just so excited to start my real job as a musician. I have a lot of work to do, though. I have to memorize a lot of music and get myself into high gear. But I know if I put the job first and work my butt off, I can do this.
Just as a reminder, Jonathan and I got married during my boot leave because we knew it was the right timing, and because of it, he was able to live with me while I was at school. He is such a blessing.
Another very pleasant surprise (it wasn't pleasant at first), was when I found out that I was pregnant. I'm at 8w5d, almost 9 weeks pregnant. The baby is almost the size of an olive. I'm so excited, but so terrified at mother hood. I don't feel like I'm mentally old enough. But I'm sure I will do okay (hopefully). So far, I'm nauseous at random smells (pickles, cigarettes), I crave chocolate pretzels, I and extremely bloated, and it's starting to show (I'm at the unfortunate stage of where I just look kinda chubby, not pregnant), and I'm SO tired. Very tired. Like I nap at random kind of tired. I have a doctor's appointment for the 10-11 week mark, and I'm excited to see the little heart beat and how he/she's doing (I think it's a boy, but it annoys Jonathan, so I don't say anything :P). So far, it has been a huge surprise, and my mother is excited about being grandma.
Right now, though, I'm preparing to do my job in the Marine Corps, until my body doesn't allow. I'm not really suppose to run anymore, so I'm going to be doing a lot of power walking, because I want to get back in the game strong. But I want to be the best clarinet player. I want to be the strongest female. I want to be a light in my future platoon. My dream has just started, and the baby isn't a deterrent, it's just another member joining us for the ride.
This is what has been going on! What a productive year!
Thursday, December 19, 2013
A price to pay from the younger years.
I've had a lot of alone time lately.
This isn't bad! Not at all: I'm just preparing for boot camp and mentally gaining my ground. You see, I'm now temporarily unemployed until I leave. I chose to quit a month in advanced.
Now, I leave in 18 days: 2 1/2 weeks. It beats down on me like the summer sun. I'm excited, yet frightened. I workout 3 times a day to prepare myself for it, to bring myself down to ship weight (I'm always on that pesky line of being "overweight"--I'm only 4lbs off from ship weight). I eat well and I'm careful about carb and sugar intake. I watch the excessive fatty food.
One thing that has really been smacking me in the face is people (figuratively, of course).
What happened with that one friend? Or why did I stop talking to that one person? Why did we suddenly stop connecting? Was it a past thing? I was pretty crazy in my late high school, early college years. Did people think I would never change? What had I said?
What's worse is that I don't really remember much from my freshman or sophomore year from college except Jason (we walked on the track every morning for months and played games), and I still have a lot of spotty memories.
AND that's what hit me: I was so focused on myself in the past that now, the me who wants to know everyone, is missing out. Now that I'm leaving the state, I will no longer have the opportunity to go to the movies, to go out to eat with that person, or to talk about random crap. The me who could care less about others' emotions and only about myself has ruined it for the me now.
I want so badly to see all these people I no longer talk to. A few I have reached out to, only one message has returned to me, and she lives in a completely different state. I can understand why people find me to be too much. Or that they're better off without, as I wouldn't be friends with my past self, either. But I just want so badly to make amends or to just at least see what is going on with them. To give a hug. I may no longer see these people again, and I may have ruined this, but one chance to clear the air and to see them smile again.
Now that I'm leaving and don't have time to distract myself, I will say this on the behalf of my past self and the fact I can't even remember what I eat for breakfast (because my memory is that bad).
I am so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry that I made up that rumor or that I lied. I'm sorry that I said I didn't care. I'm sorry that I ignored you. I'm sorry that I implied hurtful emotions. I'm sorry that I gave you a cruel look. I'm sorry for cursing at you.
I mean all of this. I never meant to hurt anyone, I just don't think I was thinking before. Now that I have time to think too much, this has been bubbling to the surface. Overall, I'm sorry I don't remember the one time the thing I said, because I really don't remember anything and grudges aren't my specialty for good reason: I never remember specific events.
I hate seeing pain or betrayal.
I will leave it at that. I want to see all of you before I leave. Have a cup of coffee. Talk about what you've been doing, what you plan. I want to hug you and keep you in my heart.
Hope to hear from you all soon.
This isn't bad! Not at all: I'm just preparing for boot camp and mentally gaining my ground. You see, I'm now temporarily unemployed until I leave. I chose to quit a month in advanced.
Now, I leave in 18 days: 2 1/2 weeks. It beats down on me like the summer sun. I'm excited, yet frightened. I workout 3 times a day to prepare myself for it, to bring myself down to ship weight (I'm always on that pesky line of being "overweight"--I'm only 4lbs off from ship weight). I eat well and I'm careful about carb and sugar intake. I watch the excessive fatty food.
One thing that has really been smacking me in the face is people (figuratively, of course).
What happened with that one friend? Or why did I stop talking to that one person? Why did we suddenly stop connecting? Was it a past thing? I was pretty crazy in my late high school, early college years. Did people think I would never change? What had I said?
What's worse is that I don't really remember much from my freshman or sophomore year from college except Jason (we walked on the track every morning for months and played games), and I still have a lot of spotty memories.
AND that's what hit me: I was so focused on myself in the past that now, the me who wants to know everyone, is missing out. Now that I'm leaving the state, I will no longer have the opportunity to go to the movies, to go out to eat with that person, or to talk about random crap. The me who could care less about others' emotions and only about myself has ruined it for the me now.
I want so badly to see all these people I no longer talk to. A few I have reached out to, only one message has returned to me, and she lives in a completely different state. I can understand why people find me to be too much. Or that they're better off without, as I wouldn't be friends with my past self, either. But I just want so badly to make amends or to just at least see what is going on with them. To give a hug. I may no longer see these people again, and I may have ruined this, but one chance to clear the air and to see them smile again.
Now that I'm leaving and don't have time to distract myself, I will say this on the behalf of my past self and the fact I can't even remember what I eat for breakfast (because my memory is that bad).
I am so sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry that I made up that rumor or that I lied. I'm sorry that I said I didn't care. I'm sorry that I ignored you. I'm sorry that I implied hurtful emotions. I'm sorry that I gave you a cruel look. I'm sorry for cursing at you.
I mean all of this. I never meant to hurt anyone, I just don't think I was thinking before. Now that I have time to think too much, this has been bubbling to the surface. Overall, I'm sorry I don't remember the one time the thing I said, because I really don't remember anything and grudges aren't my specialty for good reason: I never remember specific events.
I hate seeing pain or betrayal.
I will leave it at that. I want to see all of you before I leave. Have a cup of coffee. Talk about what you've been doing, what you plan. I want to hug you and keep you in my heart.
Hope to hear from you all soon.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Wedding things!
There is something that I haven't really talked about that I'm really really excited about. Mostly because I have been so wrapped up in my career and leaving that my woman instincts have been turned off.
Today, though, I went to a bridal store with my future sister-in-law, Samantha. She is much more of a womanly person and she's also my main planner and sharing the role of maid of honor with my best friend, Jason (who is actually the 'man of honor').
I had never really thought of what kind of dress I enjoyed, until I tried one on. If you see my facebook page and my "secret album" (the one Jonathan can't see), you can see the dress that I fell in love with. It is so beautiful.
Another thing I decided is to have it at the Portland World Trade Center.
Today, though, I went to a bridal store with my future sister-in-law, Samantha. She is much more of a womanly person and she's also my main planner and sharing the role of maid of honor with my best friend, Jason (who is actually the 'man of honor').
I had never really thought of what kind of dress I enjoyed, until I tried one on. If you see my facebook page and my "secret album" (the one Jonathan can't see), you can see the dress that I fell in love with. It is so beautiful.
Another thing I decided is to have it at the Portland World Trade Center.
This is where the ceremony would take place.
This is where the reception would be held.
I really love how it looks. It's so me and Jonathan. We love the environment and the beauty. And the prices are very good for a venue, and it includes catering.
This weekend, we are going back to David's bridal to see other deals on bridesmaid dresses and find a cheaper look alike for the dress. Then, we're going to the Men's Warehouse to find Jonathan's and the groomsman's tuxes. I'm so excited, and Jonathan is smiling more, which is showing more excitement on his end.
We have other ideas on items like cakes:
The first cake is our number one choice, but the second is something we like, too.
And the floral arrangements:
These are still in debate.
But I'm so excited! I will update more when more happens! :D
Saturday, November 16, 2013
I'm so ready to start my life.
I'm at that point.
You know. That point.
As many of the people I talk to/follow me on social networking, I leave pretty soon. Fifty-two days, in fact.
As my career and new life begin to approach me, the time seems to slow down. And I'm noticing something about my life now: I'm starting to look back on my high school and college years and a lot of emotions come rushing through. Confusion, shame, guilt, frustration, and straight anger.
I thought to myself and wondered why these could be? I didn't want to look back and only forced myself to think forward.
One thing that made me realize why I had so much guilt was because I was extremely selfish and lonely. I wanted people to notice me. But I wouldn't try hard for a friendship. Out of all honesty, I was burned a lot as a child. But my thoughts were "if they love me, they will reach out to me." When they did, I did, but I never tried on my own. Especially in college. I was so angry. So so angry.
I was angry that I wasn't good enough in my standard. I was angry that I was never part of the "crowd." I was angry that I never lived up to expectations. I was angry that I didn't go out with people to movies. I was angry that I was not exceptional but okay to good. I was angry that people found me to be annoying. I annoyed myself, but no one really knew that the anger stemmed from the loneliness and fear. And yet, whenever I tried to say anything to anyone, trying to let people know how I felt, I was shut down often. Told to get over it or that I could think about it later. I was often dropped when people found me to be emotionally more work than just a shallow conversation. And I'm sure that there were many busy people, but it was sad. Being told that Jesus loves me with a pat on the head is not really a way to make anyone feel better. I needed a form of love, and the lack of it created walls in my mind.
The reason why I majored in music was for me. I love band with everything I have. Since I was eleven, it was everything. But I was lazy in my mind. People said I worked hard, and I felt the opposite. I should have majored in only performance, but people told me to "be realistic" about my abilities. This made me angry, too. The anger turned to eating. I ate candy and junk consistently. See, my stomach would ache severely when I ate sugar because I'm insulin resistant. I would purposefully eat sugar so I didn't have to eat normal food and I would starve and binge. Of course, I would never lose weight. I gained. Now, I look back, and I realize I most likely had an eating disorder. My paranoia began to rise, and the few people I trusted and wanted to be around were "too busy" to put stock in me, but found times to go out and spend time with others. The pain of rejection flowed and by senior year, my experience at George Fox turned for the worst. My instructor told me I was B- average in performance and kept telling me I would have to "work harder" to be a performer. She consistently implied that I wasn't going to make it. Depression overcame me, and I just wanted most of it to end. On top of that, my relationship was rocky. My instrument became my only friend. But even then, it mocked me and I felt like I could hear my instructor telling me how weak of a player I was. But the only thing I could look forward to was band. Rehearsing. Even though the people in the group may have had better friends and found me to be annoying, and even crazy, I felt like through the music I had an unspoken bond.
When I played music, the paranoia, worry, sadness, depression and exhaustion melted away. The anger at my peers dissipated and I could only feel music. It's how I knew it was to be my career. I was looking for a way to play professional without having people give me that look and tell me "good luck." And don't get me wrong, I'm sure people had faith in me. But I often got that look.
Around November of last year, I talked to a Marine about the band. I heard from director and something nudged me to think about joining the military band. My director gave me a card and let me know that a Marine had passed through. I called and got some questions out of the way. At that point, I visited the recruiting station in Beaverton a few times and eventually set up with an audition set for January. A part of me felt like I would fail this. I felt like I was set up for failure. But it was a professional chance. I practiced, went to my audition, and passed. I was so excited. Finally, my first lead. My first chance. Many were excited for me, but I could sense some disdain in a few. My instructor seemed to have the idea I was sliding by on "dumb luck." Then came the next goal: losing 40lbs. With my eating disorder and pain, I was worried. But I started to work. And I realized that teaching, was maybe in the late future, and performing was now. I got my degree and continued to lose weight.
Around July, I switched recruiting stations, because I needed a change and I was ready for it. I worked harder, and lost all my weight by August. I enlisted into the Marines in September and was given a date for boot: January 6th.
Thinking about that, I'm excited. But I keep thinking back to high school and college and wonder, "why am I still upset and afraid?"
And then I realized that I was afraid of what people were thinking about me still. I found out that people would not talk to me because they were "warned" that I was moody and unpredictable. I didn't even realize it (I have a face that looks permanently pissed...not sure why...). A couple of people who still went to get to know me anyway said that they couldn't believe people would think this way.
I think what people saw in the moodiness was my sadness, anger and loneliness, not toward other people, but by the disappointment in myself. I still don't like to think back to college. High school isn't as bad (but it's probably because it's been over four years now). By the end of college, I didn't care. There were a couple of people I cared about, but I was angrier than ever. I just hated. Anger. I felt like my leaving was just a relief to people.
I just want to lead a life where I don't feel pissed off or guilty anymore. Where I can just be me and not have to worry about laziness or someone telling me that I'm not good enough.
So far, since I decided for the Marines, I have had nothing but encouragement and people who have pushed me. I can pursue my music career like I dreamed. I have developed great relationships with recruits and I feel close to my poolee family.
But I have to wait a little longer, and I'm sure it will do me some good. Patience has not been a virtue of mine. I should probably develop it. And this is not a directed at any single people I have associated with in the past.
I just felt like getting this down and letting people know what was in my head is healthy and a way to move on from this burden sitting on my shoulders. I love many, and often I cry for those in pain. But I wanted some of you to know what was going on in college and why I hid from a lot of you. It was all internal, and I had no rage toward any individuals.
For those of you who were there, thank you. You were the reason why I continued to trudge.
I'm ready to start my new life, and I hope to write most of you.
You know. That point.
As many of the people I talk to/follow me on social networking, I leave pretty soon. Fifty-two days, in fact.
As my career and new life begin to approach me, the time seems to slow down. And I'm noticing something about my life now: I'm starting to look back on my high school and college years and a lot of emotions come rushing through. Confusion, shame, guilt, frustration, and straight anger.
I thought to myself and wondered why these could be? I didn't want to look back and only forced myself to think forward.
One thing that made me realize why I had so much guilt was because I was extremely selfish and lonely. I wanted people to notice me. But I wouldn't try hard for a friendship. Out of all honesty, I was burned a lot as a child. But my thoughts were "if they love me, they will reach out to me." When they did, I did, but I never tried on my own. Especially in college. I was so angry. So so angry.
I was angry that I wasn't good enough in my standard. I was angry that I was never part of the "crowd." I was angry that I never lived up to expectations. I was angry that I didn't go out with people to movies. I was angry that I was not exceptional but okay to good. I was angry that people found me to be annoying. I annoyed myself, but no one really knew that the anger stemmed from the loneliness and fear. And yet, whenever I tried to say anything to anyone, trying to let people know how I felt, I was shut down often. Told to get over it or that I could think about it later. I was often dropped when people found me to be emotionally more work than just a shallow conversation. And I'm sure that there were many busy people, but it was sad. Being told that Jesus loves me with a pat on the head is not really a way to make anyone feel better. I needed a form of love, and the lack of it created walls in my mind.
The reason why I majored in music was for me. I love band with everything I have. Since I was eleven, it was everything. But I was lazy in my mind. People said I worked hard, and I felt the opposite. I should have majored in only performance, but people told me to "be realistic" about my abilities. This made me angry, too. The anger turned to eating. I ate candy and junk consistently. See, my stomach would ache severely when I ate sugar because I'm insulin resistant. I would purposefully eat sugar so I didn't have to eat normal food and I would starve and binge. Of course, I would never lose weight. I gained. Now, I look back, and I realize I most likely had an eating disorder. My paranoia began to rise, and the few people I trusted and wanted to be around were "too busy" to put stock in me, but found times to go out and spend time with others. The pain of rejection flowed and by senior year, my experience at George Fox turned for the worst. My instructor told me I was B- average in performance and kept telling me I would have to "work harder" to be a performer. She consistently implied that I wasn't going to make it. Depression overcame me, and I just wanted most of it to end. On top of that, my relationship was rocky. My instrument became my only friend. But even then, it mocked me and I felt like I could hear my instructor telling me how weak of a player I was. But the only thing I could look forward to was band. Rehearsing. Even though the people in the group may have had better friends and found me to be annoying, and even crazy, I felt like through the music I had an unspoken bond.
When I played music, the paranoia, worry, sadness, depression and exhaustion melted away. The anger at my peers dissipated and I could only feel music. It's how I knew it was to be my career. I was looking for a way to play professional without having people give me that look and tell me "good luck." And don't get me wrong, I'm sure people had faith in me. But I often got that look.
Around November of last year, I talked to a Marine about the band. I heard from director and something nudged me to think about joining the military band. My director gave me a card and let me know that a Marine had passed through. I called and got some questions out of the way. At that point, I visited the recruiting station in Beaverton a few times and eventually set up with an audition set for January. A part of me felt like I would fail this. I felt like I was set up for failure. But it was a professional chance. I practiced, went to my audition, and passed. I was so excited. Finally, my first lead. My first chance. Many were excited for me, but I could sense some disdain in a few. My instructor seemed to have the idea I was sliding by on "dumb luck." Then came the next goal: losing 40lbs. With my eating disorder and pain, I was worried. But I started to work. And I realized that teaching, was maybe in the late future, and performing was now. I got my degree and continued to lose weight.
Around July, I switched recruiting stations, because I needed a change and I was ready for it. I worked harder, and lost all my weight by August. I enlisted into the Marines in September and was given a date for boot: January 6th.
Thinking about that, I'm excited. But I keep thinking back to high school and college and wonder, "why am I still upset and afraid?"
And then I realized that I was afraid of what people were thinking about me still. I found out that people would not talk to me because they were "warned" that I was moody and unpredictable. I didn't even realize it (I have a face that looks permanently pissed...not sure why...). A couple of people who still went to get to know me anyway said that they couldn't believe people would think this way.
I think what people saw in the moodiness was my sadness, anger and loneliness, not toward other people, but by the disappointment in myself. I still don't like to think back to college. High school isn't as bad (but it's probably because it's been over four years now). By the end of college, I didn't care. There were a couple of people I cared about, but I was angrier than ever. I just hated. Anger. I felt like my leaving was just a relief to people.
I just want to lead a life where I don't feel pissed off or guilty anymore. Where I can just be me and not have to worry about laziness or someone telling me that I'm not good enough.
So far, since I decided for the Marines, I have had nothing but encouragement and people who have pushed me. I can pursue my music career like I dreamed. I have developed great relationships with recruits and I feel close to my poolee family.
But I have to wait a little longer, and I'm sure it will do me some good. Patience has not been a virtue of mine. I should probably develop it. And this is not a directed at any single people I have associated with in the past.
I just felt like getting this down and letting people know what was in my head is healthy and a way to move on from this burden sitting on my shoulders. I love many, and often I cry for those in pain. But I wanted some of you to know what was going on in college and why I hid from a lot of you. It was all internal, and I had no rage toward any individuals.
For those of you who were there, thank you. You were the reason why I continued to trudge.
I'm ready to start my new life, and I hope to write most of you.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Proposal and engagement: a beautiful outcome.
So, I understand that this is one side of the blog I have stopped updating as much, mostly cause I haven't had much push to update. A lot of my changes have been outward, and much of time, I take my inward changes for granted.
The last year and a half has been nothing but change. I finished college, I have signed up for the Marine Corps for music. I have lost a bunch of weight and gained my health back. And on top of this, I was in a relationship with Jonathan Casey.
Jonathan came into my life partway through my junior year of college. I never knew I would have committed to him. I really thought it wouldn't last. I was planning on breaking up partway through, but there was something about him that I could place my finger on. I really found him intriguing. About a month in, he told me he loved me. I was alarmed, because I was pretty sure he was just experiencing infatuation. But there was something in his eye that told me that he really loved me. As months passed, I started to feel like I had known him in the past. I felt like I had known him before. For many lives before. And we began to grow even closer. At that point, I was very busy with finishing school and deciding what to do with my life. He had gone through a lot of depression and rough times. I was extremely busy with my life. But I stayed there because I wanted him to be with me and I figured that I could be there just a little longer. But I realized that my love for him was deeper than I thought. And I really figured that I wanted to be married to him.
I'm going to fast forward to, well, yesterday.
Jonathan was strangely nervous and wanted to get me out of the house on time. He was ready to get me out. He told me we were going to the store. I got into the car, and he calmly says, "we're not going to the store, we're going downtown." I'm thinking ooooooo, adventure! But he drives us to downtown Portland and parks right next to Keller fountain. We pay for parking, and he proceeds to pull a basket out of the back and tells me we're going to have a picnic next to the fountain. It was a cloudy day, but I could tell that it was beautiful, even with the gray overcast.
He then looked me in the eye and smiles, as we find a spot next to the falls at the top. He proceeds to take out a bunch of food can eat like greek yogurt, sugar free candy, cheese and veggies. He, of course, being Jonathan, pulled out M&Ms cause he couldn't help himself.
We eat for a few minutes, and he tells me he wants to go at the bottom of the fountain. I agree and we walk around. Little did I know, his sister and aunt were going to sneak around to help him with a couple of things, and I almost found them. But Jonathan, knowing my affinity for cats and kittens, happened to point out a kitten on a woman's shoulder. It was perfect timing. I started talking about my cat. Yes, I am secretly a crazy cat lady.
So we get to the bottom of the fountain and he wants to take me behind a fall. It was cold, but so beautiful. Jonathan found I was shaking from the temperature drop, so he hugged me and proceeded to tell me how much he loved me after he kissed me. I noticed he was nervous, but I thought it was because of the fountain. He really loved that freaking fountain. He talked about swimming in it all the time. After a few minutes of looking around and him taking a phone call from his roommate (I told him to answer, because I found their interaction hilarious). He grabbed my hand and led me out from behind the fall.
And that was when I spotted a giant heart shape in the center of the bottom of the fountain, made of pink rose pedals. I looked at Jonathan, trying to rack my brain, trying to figure out if that was there before. I do have terrible memory. "That wasn't there before was it?" And Jonathan avoids eye contact, as he does when he's nervous and says "nope." So he says to me, "I have something to tell you."
He pulls me next to the giant heart and places me upward, so he's a couple inches shorter than me. He pulls out a letter and reads from it. It was basically telling me why he loved me so much and everything he loved about me. About second line in, he began to cry. I could see him try to make eye contact, but he couldn't really speak. He was getting choked up already. Hearing his beautiful words, and watching him, I begin to cry. And it was right when he finishes, he gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring and asks, "Michelle Gabrielle Kingsbury, will you marry me?"
I nearly choke on my tongue, tears coating my eyes and I grab him. Well, more like hug-glomp. And I feel him sobbing. I tell him in his ear, "of course I'll marry you." All I can remember from then on is kissing and hugging this man who had just asked the question. This wonderful man, that I felt so connected to. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. His sister, Briele, and aunt Sarah had set up the rose pedals and recorded the whole thing. They had been so excited, and were sneaky about everything. They took pictures and recorded. We even had our own little audience at the top of the fountain. Even had a woman who was apparently gaping, and holding her mouth. It was so sweet, intimate, and yet, so beautiful. It was perfect.
And that's how Jonathan Casey proposed to me.
Now, we're planning a wedding, and fast. I will be in boot camp in a month time. I will have three months of that, six months of training. So we will be able to save up. Jonathan's sister, Samantha is a crazy good planner, and we're working on it now.
We're both so excited.
The last year and a half has been nothing but change. I finished college, I have signed up for the Marine Corps for music. I have lost a bunch of weight and gained my health back. And on top of this, I was in a relationship with Jonathan Casey.
Jonathan came into my life partway through my junior year of college. I never knew I would have committed to him. I really thought it wouldn't last. I was planning on breaking up partway through, but there was something about him that I could place my finger on. I really found him intriguing. About a month in, he told me he loved me. I was alarmed, because I was pretty sure he was just experiencing infatuation. But there was something in his eye that told me that he really loved me. As months passed, I started to feel like I had known him in the past. I felt like I had known him before. For many lives before. And we began to grow even closer. At that point, I was very busy with finishing school and deciding what to do with my life. He had gone through a lot of depression and rough times. I was extremely busy with my life. But I stayed there because I wanted him to be with me and I figured that I could be there just a little longer. But I realized that my love for him was deeper than I thought. And I really figured that I wanted to be married to him.
I'm going to fast forward to, well, yesterday.
Jonathan was strangely nervous and wanted to get me out of the house on time. He was ready to get me out. He told me we were going to the store. I got into the car, and he calmly says, "we're not going to the store, we're going downtown." I'm thinking ooooooo, adventure! But he drives us to downtown Portland and parks right next to Keller fountain. We pay for parking, and he proceeds to pull a basket out of the back and tells me we're going to have a picnic next to the fountain. It was a cloudy day, but I could tell that it was beautiful, even with the gray overcast.
He then looked me in the eye and smiles, as we find a spot next to the falls at the top. He proceeds to take out a bunch of food can eat like greek yogurt, sugar free candy, cheese and veggies. He, of course, being Jonathan, pulled out M&Ms cause he couldn't help himself.
We eat for a few minutes, and he tells me he wants to go at the bottom of the fountain. I agree and we walk around. Little did I know, his sister and aunt were going to sneak around to help him with a couple of things, and I almost found them. But Jonathan, knowing my affinity for cats and kittens, happened to point out a kitten on a woman's shoulder. It was perfect timing. I started talking about my cat. Yes, I am secretly a crazy cat lady.
So we get to the bottom of the fountain and he wants to take me behind a fall. It was cold, but so beautiful. Jonathan found I was shaking from the temperature drop, so he hugged me and proceeded to tell me how much he loved me after he kissed me. I noticed he was nervous, but I thought it was because of the fountain. He really loved that freaking fountain. He talked about swimming in it all the time. After a few minutes of looking around and him taking a phone call from his roommate (I told him to answer, because I found their interaction hilarious). He grabbed my hand and led me out from behind the fall.
And that was when I spotted a giant heart shape in the center of the bottom of the fountain, made of pink rose pedals. I looked at Jonathan, trying to rack my brain, trying to figure out if that was there before. I do have terrible memory. "That wasn't there before was it?" And Jonathan avoids eye contact, as he does when he's nervous and says "nope." So he says to me, "I have something to tell you."
He pulls me next to the giant heart and places me upward, so he's a couple inches shorter than me. He pulls out a letter and reads from it. It was basically telling me why he loved me so much and everything he loved about me. About second line in, he began to cry. I could see him try to make eye contact, but he couldn't really speak. He was getting choked up already. Hearing his beautiful words, and watching him, I begin to cry. And it was right when he finishes, he gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring and asks, "Michelle Gabrielle Kingsbury, will you marry me?"
I nearly choke on my tongue, tears coating my eyes and I grab him. Well, more like hug-glomp. And I feel him sobbing. I tell him in his ear, "of course I'll marry you." All I can remember from then on is kissing and hugging this man who had just asked the question. This wonderful man, that I felt so connected to. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. His sister, Briele, and aunt Sarah had set up the rose pedals and recorded the whole thing. They had been so excited, and were sneaky about everything. They took pictures and recorded. We even had our own little audience at the top of the fountain. Even had a woman who was apparently gaping, and holding her mouth. It was so sweet, intimate, and yet, so beautiful. It was perfect.
And that's how Jonathan Casey proposed to me.
Now, we're planning a wedding, and fast. I will be in boot camp in a month time. I will have three months of that, six months of training. So we will be able to save up. Jonathan's sister, Samantha is a crazy good planner, and we're working on it now.
We're both so excited.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Life is wundorfool. Some days.
As many of you know, I have had a crazy roller coaster of learning, career decisions and future things.
Let me get the great stuff out of the way! ;) I passed an audition for the Marine Corps band in January, and I plan on going to MEPS in hopefully April. I would like to, I just have some weight to drop. I've already taken off a third of what I needed to. It was an answer to prayer, and I know this is going to be the career for me.
I just received my cap and gown today! This is a big deal, and I cannot wait to graduate! To get out and see the world. It is something I've been longing for for days and weeks. I want to be done.
For the thoughtful deep stuff, I've been questioning what it means to be a "soulmate." Does it mean to love and receive love? Does it mean to be with a person for a few years then say you're a soulmate? I discovered that I never really quite understood the meaning of it. I think, personally, it is a toss around word in America. We like the person we're with, so they're now a soulmate. Right? It annoys me. Some may have the answer to this, but as many times as it has been explained to me, the more lost I become. I will admit that I have over used this word, as well. I'm no one special. I guess I just didn't realize how much I have over done it with words. Like how I use the word "love" too much. You all know what I mean.
But anyhow. . .
I will update soon again, I just thought to give this blog some meaning. ;)
Let me get the great stuff out of the way! ;) I passed an audition for the Marine Corps band in January, and I plan on going to MEPS in hopefully April. I would like to, I just have some weight to drop. I've already taken off a third of what I needed to. It was an answer to prayer, and I know this is going to be the career for me.
I just received my cap and gown today! This is a big deal, and I cannot wait to graduate! To get out and see the world. It is something I've been longing for for days and weeks. I want to be done.
For the thoughtful deep stuff, I've been questioning what it means to be a "soulmate." Does it mean to love and receive love? Does it mean to be with a person for a few years then say you're a soulmate? I discovered that I never really quite understood the meaning of it. I think, personally, it is a toss around word in America. We like the person we're with, so they're now a soulmate. Right? It annoys me. Some may have the answer to this, but as many times as it has been explained to me, the more lost I become. I will admit that I have over used this word, as well. I'm no one special. I guess I just didn't realize how much I have over done it with words. Like how I use the word "love" too much. You all know what I mean.
But anyhow. . .
I will update soon again, I just thought to give this blog some meaning. ;)
Saturday, November 17, 2012
A Defined Answer
This is my answer. I was very excited about graduate school. I was even planning on saving for an A Clarinet and getting in connection with the professors. It seemed like everything I ever wanted.
But I notice something: I am getting tired and burnt out. I love school, but the idea of having to take more classes and having to write a thesis is really gross to me. I am tired of it. Not that I'm lazy, but I'm just tired. I wasn't going to be 100% into it.
I was freaking out. I wanted to perform. It was all I wanted. And I noticed something: I would have a hard time getting hired after my grad degree. I would truly be a "starving artist." And something didn't settle right with me after I left. I was extremely impressed with University of Oregon's music department and their programs, but I had a strange nudge that was doubtful. Something wasn't right.
I began to think of no solutions. I wanted to perform.
I wasn't entirely sure when it hit me. I knew it was another choice in case grad school didn't work out. Veterans day came and went, and I started to develop my doubts about graduate school. I got a lot of mixed feedback about joining the military band, but I felt strangely pulled to it. I decided to talk to my uncle Karl, who is in active duty in the navy. He had told me to audition before joining the branch. Or any branch for that matter. It was on my mind consistently. After a couple of days, I went to go talk to Pat about my career choices and he randomly handed me this brochure about the marine band. I was extremely surprised, and took it without question. It was all strangely eerie to me, though.
Another day later, I went to listen to the navy band on youtube and I clicked on Maslanka's fourth symphony and it was SPECTACULAR. Now, this really captured me when I started learning the music. And I felt like time had frozen, and I had an epiphany. Maybe I was suppose to be part of this kind of band? The idea put my worry at ease and I took note of it: I was suppose to be in a military band. It was what I wanted. Paid full time to be part of a military branch and play music? I wanted it.
The branch I chose, after much consideration and talking to recruiters is the Marines. I went to call the local recruiter in Beaverton, and he was kind and took out time and effort to talk with me for a couple of hours. (I'm well away that that is their job--to convince) He and I talked about service and being a marine along with being a musician.
I knew it was what I wanted. I passed the first set of questions and assessment. I also found out I am twenty pounds over the mark to be sent to basic training in, but the recruiter offered to train me and help me keep my diet in tact (said to cut down on sugars). I wanted to be in this band. I still do. The passing score in playing is a 2.7, and if I pass, I'm guaranteed a spot in one of the marine bands. 3.0, I would get to choose where I was based and which band I played with. On top of this all is the idea of serving. I want to make a big difference, and I know it's what I want. I plan on leaving in June.
I will be a Marine.
And I will remain a musician.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Oh, more school? Maybe? This just seems like TREBLE.
Now that I got your attention with an awful music pun, there has been a major change in my life.Well, it's not emotional, it's more career.
I went to Eugene with Jonathan on Thursday, last week. I was checking out the graduate program, meeting the clarinet instructor, and checking out the school itself. In case you're still confused, it is University of Oregon. There's a picture in case you're still confused.
Now, I came from a mediocre music program at best, with no private training (I didn't know it existed), with a plastic Bb Bundy clarinet. I played on 4 reeds, had a beginner mouthpiece, didn't know what solo contests were, didn't know All State existed, didn't know anything, really.
George Fox University turned my life completely around. I found out that I didn't even tongue. I had awful reeds, my clarinet was worthless, my embouchure was wrong, completely (I played with an oboe embouchure), my hands were stiff, my tone was edgy, and I was clueless entirely. Until I was whipped into shape. My instructor, despite our strained relationship, turned me from a weak, non-existant player, to what I am now. She broke all (that I know of) of my bad habits, taught me how to play and caught me up to the level I needed to be for advanced undergraduate. I bought a professional clarinet, mouthpiece, and improved my reeds, while expanding my repertoire. At first, I was thoroughly discouraged. Why would I be a performer? It's what I originally wanted. But I felt like there was no way to catch up. But I still loved music, so I inherited Music Education into my major, creating a double major.
Last spring, Pat decided to send Alyssa (a bassoon player) and I to the CBDNA conference. We were to play with the intercollegiate honor band. I felt excited. This was the first collective band I had played in (keep in mind, I didn't know All State existed until college). Let me tell you, I was HUMBLED. These players were GOOD. I was fifteenth chair out of twenty(secretly amused I beat Linfield), and the first chair was spectacular. In fact, his intensity scared me a little. I wanted to be like him, but I felt like all hope was lost.
On the last day, the director asked us to raise our hands to which major we were. I realized I was the only third that was performance, and I was even further discouraged from performing itself. Until he said what I didn't expect. This was what changed me forever.
"If you want to perform, perform! Don't just sit around and watch other people do it. Some people start at different levels. Some will take more work, some will take less, but if you work hard enough, you will eventually get there. Don't sell yourself short."
I sat there stunned. I had convinced myself in three years that I wasn't worth it. I loved teaching, but I LOVED performing. The high, the love, the fact I could influence, and the way I understood the music. I felt my eyes tear up, and I felt like, in a way, he was speaking directly to me. I wanted to perform. Why did I tell myself I couldn't?
So, after that weekend, I focused on performing. And I realized that I wanted to go to grad school. University of Oregon wasn't even on my list of options until a professor mentioned graduating from there and the good program it had.
Again, I was stunned when I arrived. There were 15 clarinet majors. Only 2 here at Fox. And these were amazing players. But I only felt driven at that point.
I told the instructor that I would do anything to be the best and I noticed that I was echoing the same words I had spoken to Pat Vandehey when I auditioned for the George Fox band. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to perform. I still want to be the best and perform, and I felt myself tearing up while talking to the clarinet instructor at U of O last week. I was conveying my heart, much like I had during my GFU audition. It was all I wanted. To perform and be the best. It was strange how, even though I myself have changed immensely, that the love and drive has not changed. It may have been widened due to teaching, but it has stayed with me for four years.
After all this time, since I have started this blog, I can honestly say that that will never change.
In a sense, not changing is also a strange thing, too.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Life flashing before your eyes.
I never thought I would be confronted with such a thought.
Monday night, at about 10:15, I was in a severe car accident. I was driving 219, the curved back road back to my home in Beaverton. The roads were slick and I remember I was going about 35 mph on a suggested 30 mph curve, the speed limit actually 55 mph.
I lost control of the car, causing my car to slam into a tree (the passenger side), the back of the passenger side pushed, the momentum causing my car to flip twice, landing on it's back. I was extremely disoriented and felt immediately freaked out (of course, I had extreme amounts of adrenaline). The first thing I thought of was, "I gotta turn off this car, or it could catch fire" and followed by "how the hell do I get out of here??" I had a hard time breathing because of shock. Somehow, I had found my seatbelt, unbuckled it, found the door and despite the smashed state, I opened it, crawling out. The key had slid out of the ignition (it had done that before, it was just a flaw, as it ran just fine), so while shaking severely, I hunted down the key, turned off the car and had a hard time standing, because I felt so dizzy and the shaking was not, in any way, helping. I dragged my things out of the car, and tried to call Jonathan. I left a thirty second voicemail of me screaming. I wasn't sure what to do, say, or think. I just kept yelling "help." I wasn't aware it had gone to voicemail.
When I realized no one was about to pick up anytime soon, I decided to flag someone down. I held onto the car for support and began to feel aches in my legs, nose, neck, and lip. The second person stopped his car and made a call to 911. Then it hit me: I almost died. I had come inches away from death. I began to hyperventilate, because I felt like my lungs had closed off. Tears formed in my eyes and I couldn't stop sobbing. I couldn't believe I was alive. It was at that point that a bus of kids stopped and two coaches stepped out to see if everything was okay. They stayed with me until the EMT arrived (which was quick, considering it had only been 10 minutes). I still had no ability to discontinue my crying.
When the fireman talked to me, he calmed me down and asked if anything had hurt. My neck hurt the most. I told him, and he said that he wanted to send me to the hospital because any kind of spinal damage could really hurt me in the long run. So, I was sent to the hospital after being strapped onto a board. At this time, a cop was talking to me, picking to see if I had done anything against the law. He asked me if I had been speeding: I said no, I was going twenty under. Drinking? I said no, I had come back from Fox. When he found out I was from George Fox, he put his citation pad away quickly. Apparently, we have great reputation, even with the police department. He only wanted my information to take a report.
I arrived at St. Vincents and spent about 2 1/2 hours in the hospital, they checked me over making sure I had no permanent damage or bleeding. Surprisingly enough, I had no lasting damage. The worse was to my neck: I had strained it from whiplash. I didn't have any bruising from the seat belt, no bleeding, no concussion, and the only things I had bruised was a small part of my nose, my shins, and a part of my wrist. A very small bruise. They told me I would be sore for a few days, and to take it easy, also stating that the seatbelt had saved my life. I cried again, more out of shock, because I still couldn't believe I was alive. Jonathan had arrived at the hospital, and his eyes were red from crying. He couldn't believe it and was so relieved I was alive.
I was alive.
I realize that that night, I was spared from death. The Lord was really watching over me. That I happened to land on the only patch of concrete in the entire back road. That I happened to have a stuck seatbelt that stayed firm. That I happened to walk out and go to school on Wednesday/Thursday.
I saw death before my eyes. I was spared by the Lord.
This was my Monday night.
I didn't see my life flashing before my eyes, but it was definitely a moment where I was spared from death.
Praise God.
Monday night, at about 10:15, I was in a severe car accident. I was driving 219, the curved back road back to my home in Beaverton. The roads were slick and I remember I was going about 35 mph on a suggested 30 mph curve, the speed limit actually 55 mph.
I lost control of the car, causing my car to slam into a tree (the passenger side), the back of the passenger side pushed, the momentum causing my car to flip twice, landing on it's back. I was extremely disoriented and felt immediately freaked out (of course, I had extreme amounts of adrenaline). The first thing I thought of was, "I gotta turn off this car, or it could catch fire" and followed by "how the hell do I get out of here??" I had a hard time breathing because of shock. Somehow, I had found my seatbelt, unbuckled it, found the door and despite the smashed state, I opened it, crawling out. The key had slid out of the ignition (it had done that before, it was just a flaw, as it ran just fine), so while shaking severely, I hunted down the key, turned off the car and had a hard time standing, because I felt so dizzy and the shaking was not, in any way, helping. I dragged my things out of the car, and tried to call Jonathan. I left a thirty second voicemail of me screaming. I wasn't sure what to do, say, or think. I just kept yelling "help." I wasn't aware it had gone to voicemail.
When I realized no one was about to pick up anytime soon, I decided to flag someone down. I held onto the car for support and began to feel aches in my legs, nose, neck, and lip. The second person stopped his car and made a call to 911. Then it hit me: I almost died. I had come inches away from death. I began to hyperventilate, because I felt like my lungs had closed off. Tears formed in my eyes and I couldn't stop sobbing. I couldn't believe I was alive. It was at that point that a bus of kids stopped and two coaches stepped out to see if everything was okay. They stayed with me until the EMT arrived (which was quick, considering it had only been 10 minutes). I still had no ability to discontinue my crying.
When the fireman talked to me, he calmed me down and asked if anything had hurt. My neck hurt the most. I told him, and he said that he wanted to send me to the hospital because any kind of spinal damage could really hurt me in the long run. So, I was sent to the hospital after being strapped onto a board. At this time, a cop was talking to me, picking to see if I had done anything against the law. He asked me if I had been speeding: I said no, I was going twenty under. Drinking? I said no, I had come back from Fox. When he found out I was from George Fox, he put his citation pad away quickly. Apparently, we have great reputation, even with the police department. He only wanted my information to take a report.
I arrived at St. Vincents and spent about 2 1/2 hours in the hospital, they checked me over making sure I had no permanent damage or bleeding. Surprisingly enough, I had no lasting damage. The worse was to my neck: I had strained it from whiplash. I didn't have any bruising from the seat belt, no bleeding, no concussion, and the only things I had bruised was a small part of my nose, my shins, and a part of my wrist. A very small bruise. They told me I would be sore for a few days, and to take it easy, also stating that the seatbelt had saved my life. I cried again, more out of shock, because I still couldn't believe I was alive. Jonathan had arrived at the hospital, and his eyes were red from crying. He couldn't believe it and was so relieved I was alive.
I was alive.
I realize that that night, I was spared from death. The Lord was really watching over me. That I happened to land on the only patch of concrete in the entire back road. That I happened to have a stuck seatbelt that stayed firm. That I happened to walk out and go to school on Wednesday/Thursday.
I saw death before my eyes. I was spared by the Lord.
This was my Monday night.
I didn't see my life flashing before my eyes, but it was definitely a moment where I was spared from death.
Praise God.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Questions and Answers
A lot has been on my mind in the past few weeks. These things generally:
But this is a summary of my thoughts. Penny for yours? ;)
- Children
- Disease
- Sociopathy
- Love
- Addictions
- Pain
- Pursuing dreams
- Career
All to say, I think I'm going to give a short summary to all of these, and don't worry, they're all connected. I just think I'll start at the top.
Ever since I left home, I've been the type to think I would have kids later. I'm starting to think that maybe I won't. I don't think I could handle it. I wouldn't have the guts to give up my life for a kid. I want to teach, yes. But not have my own kids. I really have a major fear that I will pass down Muscular Dystrophy to my future kids (which really scares the ever-loving hell out of me) and I couldn't do what my mother does and stays home with my baby brother, Josiah. I couldn't stay home with my kid. I feel extremely selfish, but I feel like this is a legit fear. This is where the thoughts of disease plays in. I'm basically a breeding ground for disease. I have bad skin, have chances at 3 different types of cancers, I currently have high blood pressure, diabetes risk, fatigued, asthma, bad joints, bad eyesight, PCOS, MD carrier, malignant hyperthermia (which is connected to MD), I had childhood epilepsy and social issues, as well as an auditory dyslexia problem (which I still occasionally deal with). I just have bad health all around. Oh, and I struggle with weight. I just don't want to pass any of that to my future kids. At all. So I should probably not have them. Just as a safety mechanism.
Speaking of not wanting kids.
I've been looking up sociopathy because I have tendencies toward it. And it's kinda unnerving that some days, I could care less about how a person feels, as long as I get what I want and do anything to get to it. I'm not a sociopath. I care too much about others and what they think. I just have tendencies and will occasionally display signs of it. I'm currently writing a novel about a male with two different personalities, the human good side and the demon side. The demon, is a sociopath. I have a friend who told me that I wrote too naturally as a sociopath. Said I sounded like I lived it. That made me a tad nervous. Sociopathy is generally not a good thing to society.
Ever since I left home, I've been the type to think I would have kids later. I'm starting to think that maybe I won't. I don't think I could handle it. I wouldn't have the guts to give up my life for a kid. I want to teach, yes. But not have my own kids. I really have a major fear that I will pass down Muscular Dystrophy to my future kids (which really scares the ever-loving hell out of me) and I couldn't do what my mother does and stays home with my baby brother, Josiah. I couldn't stay home with my kid. I feel extremely selfish, but I feel like this is a legit fear. This is where the thoughts of disease plays in. I'm basically a breeding ground for disease. I have bad skin, have chances at 3 different types of cancers, I currently have high blood pressure, diabetes risk, fatigued, asthma, bad joints, bad eyesight, PCOS, MD carrier, malignant hyperthermia (which is connected to MD), I had childhood epilepsy and social issues, as well as an auditory dyslexia problem (which I still occasionally deal with). I just have bad health all around. Oh, and I struggle with weight. I just don't want to pass any of that to my future kids. At all. So I should probably not have them. Just as a safety mechanism.
Speaking of not wanting kids.
I've been looking up sociopathy because I have tendencies toward it. And it's kinda unnerving that some days, I could care less about how a person feels, as long as I get what I want and do anything to get to it. I'm not a sociopath. I care too much about others and what they think. I just have tendencies and will occasionally display signs of it. I'm currently writing a novel about a male with two different personalities, the human good side and the demon side. The demon, is a sociopath. I have a friend who told me that I wrote too naturally as a sociopath. Said I sounded like I lived it. That made me a tad nervous. Sociopathy is generally not a good thing to society.
This leads to love.
I wonder what it takes for someone to love unconditionally. Just a thoughtful question. God? Good experiences? I know the obvious Christian answer. But what about a philosophical one?
Anywho . . .
I know people who struggle with love addiction. I'm not one of them. I will gladly love and accept love naturally and not obsessively. But when I was talking to the counselor, I realized I have an addictive personality. To cope, I become a workaholic. Or I eat too much. Or I find something else to binge on. Luckily, I have some amounts of common sense, so I stop when I realize it's getting unhealthy (it's probably why I'm not a drug addict). But then I latch to something else. Yet another thing to work through, I suppose. Most of this is result of pain I didn't deal with until now. My issues of my past have leaked out in many ways, and addictions are one of many ways I've mentally coped. I know that when I work through, I will still have my dreams and drive, but it won't be so unhealthy to the point of exhaustion.
My career path totally changed this last week. I still want to be a teacher and I only have one year of school left. Might as well get my music education degree. However, I really want to be a performer. I had many arrows in Reno point me to performing. And so, once I confirmed it with myself, I upped the practice, I'm currently raising money for a new instrument, and I am meeting with the instructor at PSU in two weeks to take a lesson from her and get more information about their masters in performance. I just want to perform. Endless hours of rehearsal actually appeal to me. Very few actually like that. And few would put in the hours of practice. I want to. It seems like the right choice. However, I've accepted the fact I will never have money. Musicians are poor as hell. :P
I wonder what it takes for someone to love unconditionally. Just a thoughtful question. God? Good experiences? I know the obvious Christian answer. But what about a philosophical one?
Anywho . . .
I know people who struggle with love addiction. I'm not one of them. I will gladly love and accept love naturally and not obsessively. But when I was talking to the counselor, I realized I have an addictive personality. To cope, I become a workaholic. Or I eat too much. Or I find something else to binge on. Luckily, I have some amounts of common sense, so I stop when I realize it's getting unhealthy (it's probably why I'm not a drug addict). But then I latch to something else. Yet another thing to work through, I suppose. Most of this is result of pain I didn't deal with until now. My issues of my past have leaked out in many ways, and addictions are one of many ways I've mentally coped. I know that when I work through, I will still have my dreams and drive, but it won't be so unhealthy to the point of exhaustion.
My career path totally changed this last week. I still want to be a teacher and I only have one year of school left. Might as well get my music education degree. However, I really want to be a performer. I had many arrows in Reno point me to performing. And so, once I confirmed it with myself, I upped the practice, I'm currently raising money for a new instrument, and I am meeting with the instructor at PSU in two weeks to take a lesson from her and get more information about their masters in performance. I just want to perform. Endless hours of rehearsal actually appeal to me. Very few actually like that. And few would put in the hours of practice. I want to. It seems like the right choice. However, I've accepted the fact I will never have money. Musicians are poor as hell. :P
But this is a summary of my thoughts. Penny for yours? ;)
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Another 90 Degree Angle.
Of course this reflects my blog name. This blog is about tracking the process of change, am I right? Well, I've been seeing a therapist (and quite frankly, I think everyone should, because everyone has something they're carrying around). And I've recovered some memories of my childhood that one should not remember. Quite frankly, I was glad my mind decided to block it out till now, because it's something I wouldn't've handled well until about now, anyway.
t is going on, I can patch it up. My moods and my thoughts have improved. Instead of feeling supremely pissed at situations, I feel only irritated. Instead of having downward spirals in thoughts, I have a step downstairs and I step back up. It was amazing how different I felt and continue to feel.
It was when I realized that I probably had a few other things in my childhood that was blocked in my mind, and a lot of my deep rooted issues was in these situations, and I think it was a memory block that keeps these locked away out of protection for my previous mental state. But now, since the blocks are becoming a negative force, I have to find them and push them out of the way.
20 It
So overall, now, I feel like I have a path and a direction when it comes to positive change. This will be painful for a while, but I know overall, it will help me become the person I was born to be.
Out of this I really feel like the tattoo I'm getting tomorrow is appropriate. Here is the design:
The font will be much more formal, and the tattoo artist is tweaking it to make it more symmetrical.
This tattoo symbolizes that even in the dark times, even when I have nothing left, the Lord is always there and he is to be given glory to. He is my light.
"19 The sun shall be no more your light by day,
nor for brightness shall the moon give you light;
but the LORD will be your everlasting light,
and your God will be your glory.
20 Your sun shall no more go down,
nor your moon withdraw itself;
for the LORD will be your everlasting light,
and your days of mourning shall be ended."
--Isaiah 60:19-20
It is so weird that all of this should come together when I have this inspiration of a design. I believe my body is the temple of the Lord. The temple is unique, and I think that if I have a permanent marking, it should glorify God, because I am a temple. So, this marking is very important to me. It marks a new turn, just as the one on my ankle does. :)
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Masculine and Feminine Traits: Are they legit, or are they just society produced?
This is something I've always questioned.
I grew up with a sense of being a Tomboy. I was very sensitive, but I wanted to spit, play in dirt, play outside, and be tough like a boy. I remember that very well. Until middle school, which ensued and awkward phase of wanting to be feminine. I wanted to be girly so the boys would notice me. Like every middle school girl. Then high school, where I went through about 10 different phases and ended up like a "jock", letting myself become consumed with my letterman, swimming and sweatpants. It was pretty masculine, the way I dressed and acted.
In college, I took on the primary identity of a musician, and I haven't looked back since. I became almost a combo of masculine and feminine. But now I wonder what the real definitions of these are? So I looked up each definition in the dictionary and found:
I grew up with a sense of being a Tomboy. I was very sensitive, but I wanted to spit, play in dirt, play outside, and be tough like a boy. I remember that very well. Until middle school, which ensued and awkward phase of wanting to be feminine. I wanted to be girly so the boys would notice me. Like every middle school girl. Then high school, where I went through about 10 different phases and ended up like a "jock", letting myself become consumed with my letterman, swimming and sweatpants. It was pretty masculine, the way I dressed and acted.
In college, I took on the primary identity of a musician, and I haven't looked back since. I became almost a combo of masculine and feminine. But now I wonder what the real definitions of these are? So I looked up each definition in the dictionary and found:
- Masculine
Having qualities traditionally ascribed to men, as strength and boldness.
- Feminine
Having qualities traditionally ascribed to women, as sensitivity or gentleness.
I felt strange when I read these. I knew what I was getting myself into. My mother use to joke that I would have the perfect personality to be a male. Driven, determined, strong, bold. But I have less traits of feminine as a female, like this gentle, quiet, and nearly submissive role. I want to push those traits away. I don't think it would make sense to waste my personality and down what traits God gave me to please society or any labels. Luckily, we live in a world were the labels and the lines are starting to blur, so now, it is less of a taboo to think of myself more masculine.
Don't get me wrong, folks, I'm well aware I'm female, and inward, I'm a female. I'm a woman, I accept. I'm not a transsexual. But to be forced with a label that implies that I'm the opposite of strong really frustrates me. Sure, there's exceptions to the rules. Women have shown that they can be strong, yet sensitive and gentle. I will dress "woman-like" in professional situations, like working in an office or observing in a classroom to appear "conservative" and older, or because it makes me appear less like a marshmallow. Occasionally I do enjoy the feminine things. However, in how I act and think, it tends to be more male. In a novel I'm currently working on, I'm writing as a first person male. And I've had people tell me that the way I write makes it sound like a man is writing it.
Why are some people in society still against women taking on the male role? What is wrong with a working mother and stay at home father? I see nothing wrong with it. Some people just don't like change. The church especially. I still see myself as part of the body of Christ, but not the physical church. Church frustrates me to no end. Every time I go, I'm always asked about a male. Or I'm told the same message of: women are to be submissive. What about the passage of men to also be submissive? I don't understand. Why must I bow to a male figure? And on top of this, I've been told that "no, it's not like that, they just have their roles." Right, nice politically correct way to put it. What about people like me who are good for masculine roles and leadership? Why, because I am biologically female, must I get married, have a bunch of babies, be a housewife, and submissive? I don't understand this logic! I am both masculine and feminine. But I tend to lean masculine.
This post was a bit disorganized, because my head is a bit disorganized. But you get my drift.
Don't get me wrong, folks, I'm well aware I'm female, and inward, I'm a female. I'm a woman, I accept. I'm not a transsexual. But to be forced with a label that implies that I'm the opposite of strong really frustrates me. Sure, there's exceptions to the rules. Women have shown that they can be strong, yet sensitive and gentle. I will dress "woman-like" in professional situations, like working in an office or observing in a classroom to appear "conservative" and older, or because it makes me appear less like a marshmallow. Occasionally I do enjoy the feminine things. However, in how I act and think, it tends to be more male. In a novel I'm currently working on, I'm writing as a first person male. And I've had people tell me that the way I write makes it sound like a man is writing it.
Why are some people in society still against women taking on the male role? What is wrong with a working mother and stay at home father? I see nothing wrong with it. Some people just don't like change. The church especially. I still see myself as part of the body of Christ, but not the physical church. Church frustrates me to no end. Every time I go, I'm always asked about a male. Or I'm told the same message of: women are to be submissive. What about the passage of men to also be submissive? I don't understand. Why must I bow to a male figure? And on top of this, I've been told that "no, it's not like that, they just have their roles." Right, nice politically correct way to put it. What about people like me who are good for masculine roles and leadership? Why, because I am biologically female, must I get married, have a bunch of babies, be a housewife, and submissive? I don't understand this logic! I am both masculine and feminine. But I tend to lean masculine.
This post was a bit disorganized, because my head is a bit disorganized. But you get my drift.
Monday, February 13, 2012
My true love and hobby outside of others.
So, this post will be about music, because it's what I've been able to sort out first.
My life is all about music. I've always loved to dance and sing when I was a child. At the age of 11, I joined beginner band, and fell in love with my Clarinet. I hated being in classes and the children hated me. But band and playing my Clarinet was my escape. I was able to immerse myself in the music.
I had three middle school band directors in each grade, so I never had the privilege of a single director. At the beginning of 7th grade, I moved from a huge middle school to a small back-country middle school. I remember their exact names: 6th grade, Matt Whitehead; 7th grade, David Church; 8th grade, Roger Wilhite. The two I remember the most are my 6th and 8th grade teachers. Mr. Whitehead instilled good habits of posture and encouraged me in the high register. I was the first player in 6th grade over the break, and I remember his smile and praise when I did it. It made me want to play more and more. 7th grade was an awkward transition year, as I had moved schools and my mother had remarried. I don't remember much about that. 8th grade, Mr. Wilhite was the biggest encouragement I ever had. He always told me I was talented, pulled me aside to tell me I was a hard worker and that I would succeed. He is the real reason why I continued onto music. He treated me with respect and even today, when he runs into me says, "Well hello Miss Kingsbury! You still playing that Clarinet??" And I can't help but grin. He doesn't know, but he changed my life for the better.
High school, I wasn't so fortunate. I decided in middle school that music was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life and that I'd be a performer. But my director never supported me. Never told me about All State, or how to get better. He never encouraged me. Even told me one day that I was "too intense" and needed to tone it down. I was never his favorite, because I cared too much. I know that's hard to believe, but it was true. I loved music, and a lot of my fire was doused by his indifference and mean sense of humor. He had a temper. The only thing that kept me going was my love for my instrument and my 8th grade director. If it wasn't for my natural love, I would have quit. Plain and simple. He once told people that my brother wasn't talented and was a show off and gossiped like a school girl. My brother has more talent in his pinky than me or my stupid high school director. He never practiced and sounded glorious. He took up percussion in high school, stepped up to the plate, and the director still treated my brother like shit. My brother is the type if you discourage him in such a way, he will become indifferent and quit. HE IS BEYOND TALENTED. I envy him every day and wish I had his talent and abilities. And this man, because he was a douche, caused my brother to discontinue (he still wants to minor in music and play some, but he could've become a major! OR a performer for all we know). Ever since I've taken secondary methods, I've realized that my high school director did everything you never do in a high school classroom. Like play favorites. Or being passive aggressive. Or letting students conduct. Or being late. Or lazy.
In college, I was hit hard with shock. I was take under the wing of Pat Vandehey, which everyone who's everyone knows of him. He's a "legend" director. I was below ability of what I should've been. But I wanted to be the best and I knew it was all I wanted to do. I told him that, and because of my drive and spirit, I was granted a scholarship. In all reality, I should have never had the money. But Pat believed in me. And this band was spectacular.
Let's put it like this. The warm up note gave me chills. THE WARM UP NOTE. I'm not entirely sure if that's because my high school band was that crappy or the band was that good. But I was immediately stricken and it was confirmed that it was what I wanted to do.
Anyway. I came in with no private experience. No soloing abilities. No confidence. Nothing. My clarinet was my only friend. My parents tried to buy me a new clarinet, but it was not a good instrument. Pat helped me get an intermediate clarinet. The first year, my freshman year, I cried a lot. I didn't realized how bad I was. I was afraid. But my instructor began to build on me. During this time, I decided I wanted to become a band director. I wanted to be that influence on adolescents and the love of music in such a way that I didn't have to have people like my high school band director discourage the potential.
My sophomore year, I jumped in ability and even managed to pass upper division. I observed a high school classroom and had an "ah-hah!" moment. It was confirmed that I wanted to conduct and be the band director. I was placed in first chair of the band (and I'm sure I wasn't ready for it). I was able to play a high solo by the end of the year and earn my spot as principle.
Now, I'm currently in my junior year. My love for music is more than I can share. I had a half recital of music, playing a concerto and two sonatas. I loved every minute of performing (not so much the before prep). The issue with me is, I can't rehearse well at all. But I perform much better, so my instructor was having heart attacks quite frequently. I passed my recital hearing (but barely). The recital confirmed how much I loved performing. So I kept my performance major with my education major. Now, I'm working with my great section for a major work and I'm excited. I'm excited of what I can do to inspire others.
I have a full recital coming up, with over an hour of music. I have one more year of college. I'm saving up for a professional instrument.
And now, more than ever, even after all of the obstacles, music is my life.
I can't imagine my life any different.
My life is all about music. I've always loved to dance and sing when I was a child. At the age of 11, I joined beginner band, and fell in love with my Clarinet. I hated being in classes and the children hated me. But band and playing my Clarinet was my escape. I was able to immerse myself in the music.
I had three middle school band directors in each grade, so I never had the privilege of a single director. At the beginning of 7th grade, I moved from a huge middle school to a small back-country middle school. I remember their exact names: 6th grade, Matt Whitehead; 7th grade, David Church; 8th grade, Roger Wilhite. The two I remember the most are my 6th and 8th grade teachers. Mr. Whitehead instilled good habits of posture and encouraged me in the high register. I was the first player in 6th grade over the break, and I remember his smile and praise when I did it. It made me want to play more and more. 7th grade was an awkward transition year, as I had moved schools and my mother had remarried. I don't remember much about that. 8th grade, Mr. Wilhite was the biggest encouragement I ever had. He always told me I was talented, pulled me aside to tell me I was a hard worker and that I would succeed. He is the real reason why I continued onto music. He treated me with respect and even today, when he runs into me says, "Well hello Miss Kingsbury! You still playing that Clarinet??" And I can't help but grin. He doesn't know, but he changed my life for the better.
High school, I wasn't so fortunate. I decided in middle school that music was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life and that I'd be a performer. But my director never supported me. Never told me about All State, or how to get better. He never encouraged me. Even told me one day that I was "too intense" and needed to tone it down. I was never his favorite, because I cared too much. I know that's hard to believe, but it was true. I loved music, and a lot of my fire was doused by his indifference and mean sense of humor. He had a temper. The only thing that kept me going was my love for my instrument and my 8th grade director. If it wasn't for my natural love, I would have quit. Plain and simple. He once told people that my brother wasn't talented and was a show off and gossiped like a school girl. My brother has more talent in his pinky than me or my stupid high school director. He never practiced and sounded glorious. He took up percussion in high school, stepped up to the plate, and the director still treated my brother like shit. My brother is the type if you discourage him in such a way, he will become indifferent and quit. HE IS BEYOND TALENTED. I envy him every day and wish I had his talent and abilities. And this man, because he was a douche, caused my brother to discontinue (he still wants to minor in music and play some, but he could've become a major! OR a performer for all we know). Ever since I've taken secondary methods, I've realized that my high school director did everything you never do in a high school classroom. Like play favorites. Or being passive aggressive. Or letting students conduct. Or being late. Or lazy.
In college, I was hit hard with shock. I was take under the wing of Pat Vandehey, which everyone who's everyone knows of him. He's a "legend" director. I was below ability of what I should've been. But I wanted to be the best and I knew it was all I wanted to do. I told him that, and because of my drive and spirit, I was granted a scholarship. In all reality, I should have never had the money. But Pat believed in me. And this band was spectacular.
Let's put it like this. The warm up note gave me chills. THE WARM UP NOTE. I'm not entirely sure if that's because my high school band was that crappy or the band was that good. But I was immediately stricken and it was confirmed that it was what I wanted to do.
Anyway. I came in with no private experience. No soloing abilities. No confidence. Nothing. My clarinet was my only friend. My parents tried to buy me a new clarinet, but it was not a good instrument. Pat helped me get an intermediate clarinet. The first year, my freshman year, I cried a lot. I didn't realized how bad I was. I was afraid. But my instructor began to build on me. During this time, I decided I wanted to become a band director. I wanted to be that influence on adolescents and the love of music in such a way that I didn't have to have people like my high school band director discourage the potential.
My sophomore year, I jumped in ability and even managed to pass upper division. I observed a high school classroom and had an "ah-hah!" moment. It was confirmed that I wanted to conduct and be the band director. I was placed in first chair of the band (and I'm sure I wasn't ready for it). I was able to play a high solo by the end of the year and earn my spot as principle.
Now, I'm currently in my junior year. My love for music is more than I can share. I had a half recital of music, playing a concerto and two sonatas. I loved every minute of performing (not so much the before prep). The issue with me is, I can't rehearse well at all. But I perform much better, so my instructor was having heart attacks quite frequently. I passed my recital hearing (but barely). The recital confirmed how much I loved performing. So I kept my performance major with my education major. Now, I'm working with my great section for a major work and I'm excited. I'm excited of what I can do to inspire others.
I have a full recital coming up, with over an hour of music. I have one more year of college. I'm saving up for a professional instrument.
And now, more than ever, even after all of the obstacles, music is my life.
I can't imagine my life any different.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
A 180 degree angle.
My life is always changing. But lately, it's gotten even stranger.
I thought I knew what I believed and that I had a good grasp on life, however, I didn't.
I have so much in my head that I want to say, but there are individuals who would not understand my transformation. In fact, I sense a lot of lectures and judgments that would be sent my way if I were to even address such thoughts.
I love my instrument, and I figured that I do really want to be a performer, which would be spectacular. However, I'm not up to the level I'd have to be at. I'm not good enough. I am saving up for an instrument, however. x) I only need $1,700 more for a new instrument. I already have $1,000 saved up. It will improve my tone quality by about a 100%.
My entire view of the church and sexuality has changed. That is another story for another time. I'm just stating it.
I have too much in my head. I shall update about these other things when I can sort them out! :o
I thought I knew what I believed and that I had a good grasp on life, however, I didn't.
I have so much in my head that I want to say, but there are individuals who would not understand my transformation. In fact, I sense a lot of lectures and judgments that would be sent my way if I were to even address such thoughts.
I love my instrument, and I figured that I do really want to be a performer, which would be spectacular. However, I'm not up to the level I'd have to be at. I'm not good enough. I am saving up for an instrument, however. x) I only need $1,700 more for a new instrument. I already have $1,000 saved up. It will improve my tone quality by about a 100%.
My entire view of the church and sexuality has changed. That is another story for another time. I'm just stating it.
I have too much in my head. I shall update about these other things when I can sort them out! :o
Monday, January 2, 2012
2012 is CRAZAAAY.
Happy new year, my kind blog followers and all others! :D
This will be an intense year. I will be starting my senior year of college and it will be the year of many career decisions. Grad school, career apps and others will be well in my future. I have another recital coming up in about ten months with band music for two semesters, orchestra music, and individual solo music for this coming semester ALONG with the hour of recital music. I will hopefully have passed piano proficiency. This semester is where it all ends and everything will begin.
My roommate, Vicky, is getting married this summer. So are my friends (and together! :) ) Jessica and Peter. There are like ten couples but those are the two that come to mind. This is the year of many changes.
Presidential election is coming up. Our country's future is decided. EVERYTHING happens this year! Oh, and summer olympics are coming too, I love the olympics. In London, BABY! Favorite events: swimming, diving, water polo, track and field, and gymnastics. I know you're all freaking excited as much as me.
2012 is a crazy awesome year.
I also found myself sick of myself. I have much support around me, but I found I never supported myself. I have one goal: to finish a marathon, with guns a-blazing.
I have other goals, like finishing two triathlons and two 5ks. Those are my small goals. But I want to have the fighting mind. I know once I have that mind, I will win. I will succeed. But something is holding me back. I found this quote on a website for how to train for marathons and it really encouraged me!
This will be an intense year. I will be starting my senior year of college and it will be the year of many career decisions. Grad school, career apps and others will be well in my future. I have another recital coming up in about ten months with band music for two semesters, orchestra music, and individual solo music for this coming semester ALONG with the hour of recital music. I will hopefully have passed piano proficiency. This semester is where it all ends and everything will begin.
My roommate, Vicky, is getting married this summer. So are my friends (and together! :) ) Jessica and Peter. There are like ten couples but those are the two that come to mind. This is the year of many changes.
Presidential election is coming up. Our country's future is decided. EVERYTHING happens this year! Oh, and summer olympics are coming too, I love the olympics. In London, BABY! Favorite events: swimming, diving, water polo, track and field, and gymnastics. I know you're all freaking excited as much as me.
2012 is a crazy awesome year.
I also found myself sick of myself. I have much support around me, but I found I never supported myself. I have one goal: to finish a marathon, with guns a-blazing.
I have other goals, like finishing two triathlons and two 5ks. Those are my small goals. But I want to have the fighting mind. I know once I have that mind, I will win. I will succeed. But something is holding me back. I found this quote on a website for how to train for marathons and it really encouraged me!
"Now if you are going to win any battle you have to do one thing. You have to make the mind run the body. never let the body tell the mind what to do. The body will always give up. It is always tire in the morning, noon, and night. But the bod y is never tired if the mind is not tired."
-George S. Patton, U.S. Army General, 1912 Olympian
-George S. Patton, U.S. Army General, 1912 Olympian
Amen, right??
This applies to me especially. I need to learn how to fight, and I do fight. But not as hard as I can.
2012. Hell yeah, what a god year this will be. :)
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
I'm still alive . . . I think.
So, thankfully, I am still alive. :P
This semester has been a little more than interesting. I feel like everything happened in a four month span.
Let's start with September/October, shall we?
I took 20 credits of classes. Yes, I am insane. I really want to graduate in time. And sometimes you have to destroy your brain to build it up. At least, that's what I tell myself. Keep in mind, as a music major, that's about eleven or twelve classes. And no, it's not just fun and games with playing music. This crap is difficult. I love this crap, but it challenges me. And I had a recital I prepared for and finished. It was exhausting. My load was easier once recital was done. At the end of October, I started a relationship. Wooooo! It's my first one in over two years, so I'm a bit rusty, lemme say that now.
November.
I may have had a lighter load, but the band traveled to Seattle, WA to play at WIBC. We did spectacular. So much so that our conductor, Pat, said we were going to do David Maslanka's fourth symphony. I'm freaking excited for that, by the way. But right after WIBC, christmas concert was on my tail and I was just exhausted. Luckily, I had support all the way around from many people. I was tired, though. Very tired. I slept maybe 5 hours a night. Had a lot of work to do. Even did NaNoWriMo. It was insane.
December.
This was by far the most difficult month. I had the concert, had to learn both choir and band music. And finals week. So much to do. The only thing on my side happened to be that I didn't have to do a jury for Clarinet (because of the recital). That made me extremely happy. But my instructor was still relentless. When the week was over, I felt relieved. I was done with the semester.
That's a short recap. VERY short recap.
I'm glad I'm still alive.
But anyway, I have a few projects planned for next year. I'm going to finish Man of War, a book I've been writing about a half demon exorcist (Ironic? Why yes it is). I'm going to train for marathons and triathlons (for my health, and I need a goal), and I plan on taking up archery. These will be my hobbies for sure. I need them.
I will be applying to grad schools, because music is crazy competitive. I need to do it now. I'm really nervous. Beyond nervous. One slot is open in the PSU grad conducting program. I really want it.
This semester has been a little more than interesting. I feel like everything happened in a four month span.
Let's start with September/October, shall we?
I took 20 credits of classes. Yes, I am insane. I really want to graduate in time. And sometimes you have to destroy your brain to build it up. At least, that's what I tell myself. Keep in mind, as a music major, that's about eleven or twelve classes. And no, it's not just fun and games with playing music. This crap is difficult. I love this crap, but it challenges me. And I had a recital I prepared for and finished. It was exhausting. My load was easier once recital was done. At the end of October, I started a relationship. Wooooo! It's my first one in over two years, so I'm a bit rusty, lemme say that now.
November.
I may have had a lighter load, but the band traveled to Seattle, WA to play at WIBC. We did spectacular. So much so that our conductor, Pat, said we were going to do David Maslanka's fourth symphony. I'm freaking excited for that, by the way. But right after WIBC, christmas concert was on my tail and I was just exhausted. Luckily, I had support all the way around from many people. I was tired, though. Very tired. I slept maybe 5 hours a night. Had a lot of work to do. Even did NaNoWriMo. It was insane.
December.
This was by far the most difficult month. I had the concert, had to learn both choir and band music. And finals week. So much to do. The only thing on my side happened to be that I didn't have to do a jury for Clarinet (because of the recital). That made me extremely happy. But my instructor was still relentless. When the week was over, I felt relieved. I was done with the semester.
That's a short recap. VERY short recap.
I'm glad I'm still alive.
But anyway, I have a few projects planned for next year. I'm going to finish Man of War, a book I've been writing about a half demon exorcist (Ironic? Why yes it is). I'm going to train for marathons and triathlons (for my health, and I need a goal), and I plan on taking up archery. These will be my hobbies for sure. I need them.
I will be applying to grad schools, because music is crazy competitive. I need to do it now. I'm really nervous. Beyond nervous. One slot is open in the PSU grad conducting program. I really want it.
But this is the current me. :)
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Why must everyone bash others!?
Alright, I'm posting this because it's really been bothering me the last few days, and bare with me, cause this isn't directed at anyone. I just notice it because I'm part of this group and it really irritates me.
Why the hell are only Christians pointed out for their faults?!
I am a believer, and I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Does me saying this mean I shove a religion down someone's throat? Apparently. If someone were to say they were a Buddhist, they're okay. But to say that one loves Jesus, not okay.
I'm so annoyed at this notion.
Here are my reasons why I get so livid at this:
1) There are extremists in every religion. EVERY SINGLE ONE. There are muslims who think killing other off that don't believe in Allah is okay. There are Buddhists who think that all should become monks and live for only achieving nirvana. How about we not point out one group's faults? Doesn't this make you look judgmental, by judging? Saying, "how dare you!" and pointing out douche ways makes you look like a douche. It shouldn't be done.
2) Not everyone is perfect. No one is, in fact. So to point the finger, again, at someone and say "look! hypocrite." Well, so are you. Yes. We all are. Stop that now. Jesus didn't come into the world for healthy people, he came for the sick. It is guaranteed that that Christian that just screwed up knows they did and are praying for forgiveness. People don't need to just get pissed off at each other. I'm sure they have all messed up too.
3) Just because we talk about our beliefs doesn't mean we're trying to convert and brainwash. Maybe we just like to talk about it. It is our life. It fascinates us. Getting angry over talking about it and dwelling on God is not a bad thing. We're PASSIONATE about this. We love God. Whether you think he exists is not our business. We're here to worship God and we're proud. Stop getting upset by it and let us do so.
4) We have our beliefs. Just as anyone else on the planet. Now, if we believe in an afterlife, and hell, or whatever, we believe it. It really shouldn't affect you if we think sin hurts you, or sends to hell. It's kinda lame to get upset when you don't even believe in the hell. So, instead of insulting, let people believe what they believe. Some think that the clouds are a god. So? Some think layers of heaven exist. And?
This is my rant. I'm so sick of looking at the media and people point the finger at one group. It is so rude and frustrating, as I am a part of this group you bash. I am part of the one church, ruled by the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
If you don't like it, tough.
Read above if you need a recap.
(Disclaimer: not directed at any individual or one group)
Why the hell are only Christians pointed out for their faults?!
I am a believer, and I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Does me saying this mean I shove a religion down someone's throat? Apparently. If someone were to say they were a Buddhist, they're okay. But to say that one loves Jesus, not okay.
I'm so annoyed at this notion.
Here are my reasons why I get so livid at this:
1) There are extremists in every religion. EVERY SINGLE ONE. There are muslims who think killing other off that don't believe in Allah is okay. There are Buddhists who think that all should become monks and live for only achieving nirvana. How about we not point out one group's faults? Doesn't this make you look judgmental, by judging? Saying, "how dare you!" and pointing out douche ways makes you look like a douche. It shouldn't be done.
2) Not everyone is perfect. No one is, in fact. So to point the finger, again, at someone and say "look! hypocrite." Well, so are you. Yes. We all are. Stop that now. Jesus didn't come into the world for healthy people, he came for the sick. It is guaranteed that that Christian that just screwed up knows they did and are praying for forgiveness. People don't need to just get pissed off at each other. I'm sure they have all messed up too.
3) Just because we talk about our beliefs doesn't mean we're trying to convert and brainwash. Maybe we just like to talk about it. It is our life. It fascinates us. Getting angry over talking about it and dwelling on God is not a bad thing. We're PASSIONATE about this. We love God. Whether you think he exists is not our business. We're here to worship God and we're proud. Stop getting upset by it and let us do so.
4) We have our beliefs. Just as anyone else on the planet. Now, if we believe in an afterlife, and hell, or whatever, we believe it. It really shouldn't affect you if we think sin hurts you, or sends to hell. It's kinda lame to get upset when you don't even believe in the hell. So, instead of insulting, let people believe what they believe. Some think that the clouds are a god. So? Some think layers of heaven exist. And?
This is my rant. I'm so sick of looking at the media and people point the finger at one group. It is so rude and frustrating, as I am a part of this group you bash. I am part of the one church, ruled by the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
If you don't like it, tough.
Read above if you need a recap.
(Disclaimer: not directed at any individual or one group)
Sunday, October 23, 2011
I think I may have realized something.
So, I never really thought much of my emotion. Or rather, I thought too much when I was younger.
I locked it away (poorly) after a romantic relationship with a person failed my senior year of high school (pretty much the end of that). I'm not good at hiding emotion, by the way, so it wasn't very good. I fell into depression, angst and sadness.
My sophomore year, it got better, and I learned how to be myself and still feel. However, I kept the emotions away. I became a legitimate workaholic. I chose to not think of my problems. At the end of my sophomore year, I realized how destructive my actions were to my heart and mind, and I learned the true meaning of vulnerability.
During the summer, I had a short-term romantic relationship that crashed and burn, setting me back a few steps. It reminded me of what happened my senior year. But, I knew better this time. Not to close others off. I grew exponentially and learned that I could love and I could allow love, opening myself up, in essence being truly vulnerable. It was strange at first, to feel what I hadn't felt in a very long time. My heart grew a lot bigger than expected.
I realized today, that because I became vulnerable, God has done something amazing. I can feel what I haven't felt in years. If I get hurt, I'll be okay. Knowing I am vulnerable to a person, and allowing that has made me grateful. I can finally love again.
Finally.
I am waiting, arms open.
I am not ashamed.
I locked it away (poorly) after a romantic relationship with a person failed my senior year of high school (pretty much the end of that). I'm not good at hiding emotion, by the way, so it wasn't very good. I fell into depression, angst and sadness.
My sophomore year, it got better, and I learned how to be myself and still feel. However, I kept the emotions away. I became a legitimate workaholic. I chose to not think of my problems. At the end of my sophomore year, I realized how destructive my actions were to my heart and mind, and I learned the true meaning of vulnerability.
During the summer, I had a short-term romantic relationship that crashed and burn, setting me back a few steps. It reminded me of what happened my senior year. But, I knew better this time. Not to close others off. I grew exponentially and learned that I could love and I could allow love, opening myself up, in essence being truly vulnerable. It was strange at first, to feel what I hadn't felt in a very long time. My heart grew a lot bigger than expected.
I realized today, that because I became vulnerable, God has done something amazing. I can feel what I haven't felt in years. If I get hurt, I'll be okay. Knowing I am vulnerable to a person, and allowing that has made me grateful. I can finally love again.
Finally.
I am waiting, arms open.
I am not ashamed.
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