Tonight I'm all dolled-up for a night on the town. A night with my girls. A night to just chiiiiill. And you know what? For all of those cute boots I've gotten my shoe of choice is always my chucks.

What can I say. It's part of who I am. Cause as much as I can dress and act like a "grown-up" or "fiercely" I just love my Converse. There's always that something that will keep me young and keep me ME.

I run my mouth too much. And the sad thing is its never really out of anger or contempt for the other person, I just run my mouth because I can sometimes. Isn't that sad? That the power and intent of my words are lost at times for no reason? How dumb. So that's a part of my New Years resolution. I am going to pay more attention to what I say- who it affects, the tone, all of it. Cause I've got some important things to say, but every time I speak out of bitterness or anger *blip* it negates something nice I've said.

Sometimes I think I'm living my life backwards. I've learned some of the tough lessons that adults struggle with but I'm still stumbling over things most people learn in high school: what it means to be in a relationship, how to avoid gossiping, how to get along with parents-although I suspect many adults struggle with this one as well. I'm making the mistakes of my youth about 4 years after most people. But what can I do but learn and move on? And most importantly admit when I've been an ass. As Mraz said, "...make my mistakes look gracious and learn some lessons from my wrongs..."

I want to be less selfish in my relationships. I want to judge less. I want to see people for their whole story and even if I don't like it, respect it. I want to learn how to keep a secret.

And with that I am signing off. I hope you all have a cherished New Year with people you love.

I'm off to get crunk. Peace bitches.

Mariah

No, not St. Nick. St. Chris. He duh man.

Quarter-over.

Overall damages- Ended in the green this time! I had a really good jury, but I know I can still do better. Nevertheless, the performer in me is finally showing her face. My face. Our face?

I had all of these sweet ideas brewing in my head about things to write but I think I'm going to jot them down on my own first and polish them up a bit before spitting them out on the interwebz. I'm really only thinking of you folks. No point in wasting their time...which is what I'm doing now.

Is it weird that whenever I see "polish" as in a stone or a lacquer of the nail variety I read "Polish" as in someone from Warsaw or Cracow?

Anyways, Midwest was freaking amazing. I feel very pumped full of knowledge, but it is very frustrating because right now I don't have a program. So here I am with a huge amount of motivation and passion and no outlet. So I practice. A lot. Oh my God, I love my horn. It's pretty much an addiction at this point. Instead of taking all of this energy I have and investing it in thoughts that inhibit my success- giving energy to doubts and negativity- I just practice. And it makes me happy. There was a quote from the concert that was beautiful in its simplicity: "Just keep practicing...everything else will follow." Boosh.

St. Christopher is supposed to be the saint of travel, but I don't think that's what I get out of him. In case you aren't familiar with the legend of St. Christopher, this is it in a very small and awful nutshell:

He was a bigass dude with an awful Rasputin-esque face. He started following the devil because his king feared the devil. Then he found a man who claimed to be the devil avoid signs of the cross. He then magically decided to become a Christian and found Hermit X on the side of the road who taught him all about the faith. He decided that he can best serve Christ by utilizing his strength and height and helping people cross a dangerous river where they would otherwise die. One day he was helping a child cross on his shoulders. As he was carrying him, the child became heavy as lead and the river became swift and swollen with water. Still, Chris pressed on. Turns out the baby was Jesus, who revealed Himself as such to Chris and then peaced.

So, I don't really see the traveling thing. What I see and why I wear him around my neck is because he first chose to use the gifts that God gave him to help serve those around him. When the elements seemed against him and the weight of the world was on his shoulders he chose to persevere. His tale is a testament to strength and service even when it is the most difficult. When we are tired, we must continue to put once foot in front of the other because the other side of the river will come. And in the moment of revelation on the other side, it will make it all worth it.

Here's hoping I can do this. Or that all of us can do this. It's most of the battle I think. But what do I know?

Whatever happened to the 9o's style long hair on boys? Like Tommy on 3rd Rock from the Sun! I like it...

OK, bedtime. Wow, that actually turned into something!!!

MKH

The Hulk is Angry.

Mom, don't call me about any of this. I'll talk about it when I'm ready and it not I repeat not about you.

I am sick and tired of the one that tries to take things and learn from them. I am tired of being the one that gets discarded or takes a back seat. I am so freaking tired that every time I think shit's finally coming together, it finds a way to fall apart all over again.

I am a hell of a lot stronger than people think I am. They take my willingness to learn as weakness and that is their mistake. I will fight for what I believe in and what I want. And I'm so tired of playing the game, trying to act removed or "keep things in perspective" all the time. I dream big, but I have always achieved big as well. And if I want something I will sacrifice all that I have to make it work because I truly believe that if there's a will there's a way.

Maybe it's my turn to get pissed at all of it. Maybe it's my turn to be fueled by my anger and passion.

Jesus, I need a vacation.

Oh-Em-Gee, Music to Life Connection!

OK, here's a quick little thought that I may expand on later but wanted to release into the universe.

Dr. Allen today was discussing with Steven Bryant and Michael Gilbertson how he believes that it is the performers job to hone in on that moment of spontaneity that every composer has when they create and then convey that to the audience. That essentially it is our job to tap into the wild nothingness of the universe and bring to life this miraculous something-out-of-nothingness that occurs within every composer's head. I think that this is very true, that above all else most composers want to hear what is in their head and that spirit and spark of their creation. Or maybe it's just their interpretation of something boppin' around out in the cosmos. The point I'm trying to make is I think this can be directly applied to every day life. If we get so bogged down in the technique- aka overweigh every decision and thought- we miss the overall meaning and the music-making taking place in our own lives. We essentially miss that spark. The same is to be said about underpreperation. We do not want the music to be inaccurate or sloppy. When mistakes are made, we will learn from them and practice those skills until they are natural to us. But in the end the plane of existence we desire, whether it be on stage or on the street is a place where we feel our own spark and it feels natural. There is no thought required in this place of existence. We just kind of are.

And so my friends I retire to bed, tomorrow is another day of chasing that spark. God help me...

MKH

Finding Our Own Adventures

As a kid I was always in love with epic stories of adventure and heros. I became obsessed with Star Wars as a kid, then The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, and even today when I am exposed to these previous obsessions I feel this tug inside of me.

After seeing Harry Potter at midnight I naturally passed out for about 4 hours. During this queer little nap all I did was dream like I was in Harry Potter- a stick in my hand held immediate power and good and evil were clear-cut. I woke up the next morning feeling very...empowered. As I went through my day however this feeling began to diminish due to the fact that my day was incredibly unepic in every way. As I analyzed my life and compared it to all of those stories I had read in books this shroud was thrown over my eyes and everything I saw was tinted grey. A good day was not good enough. A laugh, not hearty enough. As dumb as it was, I started to frown on my life. Where is that adventure I craved?

In hindsight, it was there all along. The reason so many people are drawn to stories and movies is because the lines of good and evil are definite and extreme. Does Frodo take the ring or no? Do Harry, Ron, and Hermoine decide to fight Voldemort or no? And we in the audience sit back and fantasize about what we would do in their situations, most of us thinking that we would take the challenge! There is an adventure to be had, a world to save! But I think now that maybe there is an adventure to be had in all of our lives. Granted right and wrong are less distinct, but in the end the lessons we learn are no less valuable. When we accomplish something difficult do we not feel triumphant? When we let go of someone we love, do we not feel pain? This life is as epic as any novel or tale, we just have to be willing to suck the very marrow out of it.

"Listen- are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?"

-Mary Oliver

I am grateful for my life, and not that I am in college or in music. I just feel grateful to breathe and live. And I am grateful for the control to take my life as far as I want it to.

Off for a few deep breaths and then counterpoint.

Here's to trying to walk the walk and not just talk the talk,

MKH

My Bucket List

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
— Mary Oliver (New and Selected Poems)

1-Stand on the White Cliffs of Dover

2- Make Dave Matthews laugh

3- Go to Africa. Learn from their resilience and spirit.

4- Love completely and deeply

5- Find a vocation that I #4

6- Write a song

7- Write a symphony

8- Go to culinary school

9- Visit a hot spring in Japan

1o- Take my grandmother back to England

11- Learn Russian

12- Write a book

13- Make a movie

14- Go back to Eastern Europe and explore

15- Bike across the US....or just down the east coast

16- Learn to surf.

17- Find the magic in this world.

18- Never let the dreamer inside of myself die.

I have not done any of these things completely yet. But I feel so much appreciation for the fact that they are even possible. I've forgotten what it's like to dream. And now I feel reawakened.

"When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."
— Mary Oliver

IMPOSTER!

A funny thought occurred to me recently: I am an imposter of myself. I know you're all going "What the hell is this chick talking about??" Let me tell you- I impersonate other people all the time and I am damn good at it. When I played sports or my horn or even interacted with those around me it seems like I am always trying to convey someone else. It's a strange way to live- I am constantly picturing myself through other people's eyes and how every action must look. Throughout my life I have encountered many people I respect, admire, and love. Without thinking about it I have taken what I like about them in terms of demeanor, body gestures, everything, and started doing them. It's really kind of creepy. And actually really exhausting. I'm kind of done living my life as a hodge-podge of different people. And I'm tired of seeing myself through everyone else's eyes. There's a ton of people who do that already. So mayyyybe I should just start living my own life. Just a thought.

On a lighter note- my cousin Jen's wedding last weekend was awesome. It made me realize how much I love my family. They surround me with love and laughter and acceptance. And food. Who else will play horse with me after too much champagne and still in clothes from the wedding? They will always be some of the most important people to me. Plus my sister and I got to bond which was so much fun. I'm kicking myself for pushing her away for so many years.

And finally- everyone should go see the Harry Potter movie. EVERYONE. End o' story.

Carpe Diem!

MKH

I F@$*ing Did It.

There was a Mraz post a little while ago that was titled, "You F@$*ing Did It." I thought it was a little ridiculous for a mantra, so it made me chuckle and then I moved on with life. But much like some Chappelle Show quotes which I shall not mention here, today this popped into my head.

Set at 73o AM

Warm-up

Classes

2 exams

1 6-page paper

1 concert playing

1 concert working

1 sectional

1 quartet rehearsal

Practicing

Dealing with cramps, which are more debilitating than men will ever know.

At school and focused from 73o AM- 1o3o PM. But all I can say right now is: "I F@$*ing Did It."

I am grateful for this newfound ability to focus. It's changing mah life.

Alright, I'm going to bed. I earned it!

Fierce+Weird= Weirce.

MKH

Ay, there's the rub

I can't keep my major for more than a quarter it seems. I just want to play my horn. And I want to teach...but horn. I want that more than anything, more than I would like to be a band director or any kind of music teacher.

Maybe it's time that I freaking admit that to myself and trust that belief.

Dear God,

I would really like to stop second guessing myself now.

Lots of Love,

Mariah

What a week...mungtastic

It has been quite a week....plagued by death and sadness and this little black raincloud that has followed around a great number of people I care about.

I am OK. My life is good. But it hurts me to see them hurting. And I have taken it upon myself to fix everything....and after an intense breakdown in my lesson that ended in me sobbing, I need to find my balance. Again. I can be a good friend, a caring person, but I can't fix people. It's not my job. I can only do so much.

"I am no superman/ I have no answers for you/ I am no hero aw that's for sure..."

I am kind of done talking about this now. Time to turn over a new leaf.

I got this sweeeeet hat. And a purple hoodie. Check it:

#1- I would never do that to Dave.

#2- I got nuffin.

#3- required apathetic hipster look.

A Very Sensitive Subject

There is a subject that has been eating away at me for a while and based on recent events I feel the need to speak up. I cannot stand for or support the stigma that surrounds mental health issues and therapy. As a country we are learning to incorporate extreme learning, physical, and mental disabilities but when someone talks about going to see a therapist I feel that many people still don't support that decision.

The human mind is the motor of our entire being. Just like a car, sometimes you need to take it to the mechanic for a tune-up. It may be something minor, like an oil change. Or it may be that all of the screws are coming undone. No matter how much you want to ignore the clunking, it will not get better.

The thing that frustrates me the most are the people who think that a mentally ill person can just "suck it up." They can't. They are SICK. If your child had a fever raging inside of them, wouldn't you take them to the hospital? This is the SAME thing. It cannot be ignored. I have learned recently of a young man whose parents ignored his mental issues even after concerned professionals contacted them multiple times. He ended up taking his own life. The thing that is most frustrating to the people who knew and loved him is that his death could've been prevented. Take a moment and let that sink in....there is a strong chance that this man who filled the world with love and light would still be here if his need to seek professional help had been supported.

So many people suffer needlessly. It's just heartbreaking. And it's time that it's stopped.

So Damn Lucky

Hi guys,
I just wanted to say that it never ceases to terrify and amaze me at how fast our worlds can be turned upside down.
On the way home today Robyn and I saw a car crash. It wasn't good...
One of the members of the CCM horn studio fell off a roof and died...
A friend of one of the freshman horn players committed suicide...
That decision that maybe a heartbeat alone doesn't mean you're living...
Danny...
Poppie...

I urge you all, whomever this reaches, please find something you are grateful for. Even if it's the fact that you drove the ten minutes to work today and made it safely. There will always be something. What are YOU grateful for?
All of these aspects of our life that we find immovable and stagnant, the ones we take for granted, they are all more fragile than we can possibly realize.
Pray with me for all those who are hurting tonight. Chances are, as bad off as you think you are there is someone who is doing a lot worse than you. If you have time and energy and this blog is even on your priority list, you are so damn lucky.

Mariah

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HaMLF4GQQU

HalleBOOia

Sup ya'll,
I don't have much to say cept hello. It's gonna be a busy weekend for me! Plus I get to go to Washington DC for the second time in my life for the Rally to Restore Sanity. Huzzah to history.

I am watching Little House on the Prarie. This is quality shit. OK, anyways....

HalleBOOia concert is gonna be great. That's all I've got to say. I hope everyone is well, please be safe and HAVE FUN on this festive weekend.

I'm grateful for: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymKLymvwD2U&ob=av2n
Do work. Hayyyyy.
MKH

Normal's Cool Too

I feel normal today and I am diggin' it. Nothing it dramatic or full of emotions. It is what it is and that's all that it is, and quite frankly, that is freaking awesome.
Go Bucks,
MKH

Today was a strange day- I woke up at ten, something that is completely unheard of for me. As I went about getting ready for the day, it constantly seemed like there was this shroud around me. The weather agreed- it was warm and almost a little dark, as if the sun were hesitant to let itself shine through the clouds. The entire day had the feeling of twilight.
After a sectional, scheduling, and lunch I knew it was time for a bike ride. I haven't been on one in quite a while but I knew that before another crazy week started I needed to center myself. These bike rides are one of my favorite ways.
Being in nature is so important to me- it always has been. Think of a tuner, the really old ones that have many different circles, all of them checkered and spinning quickly in opposite directions. Essentially it looks like many different roulette wheels, one inside the other, with the directions of those wheels alternating; clockwise, counter-clockwise, clockwise, counterclock-wise. Now, when you play the wheels speed is based on how out of tune you are- the further out of tune, the faster the wheels spin. However, when you play in tune the wheels slow down and begin to line up.
In general I would say my wheels are spinning quite quickly. I live inside of my head for a very large portion of my life. When I'm on that bike path though, all of my wheels slow down. Any swell of frustration or joy that I feel only fuels my legs. Sometimes I feel like running away from everything, from all of my obligations not only as a student but as a human being. Today I felt bogged down by the people around me, by their baggage and their choices and their negativity in some cases. That is why I just needed to go for a while. Get away from everything.
It was absolutely astounding.
The sky is always the first thing I look at when I ride- who doesn't like to observe how the heavens above us look on a daily basis? Today...wow. The sun was partially covered but would poke out with the brightest angel rays I've ever seen. The clouds were dynamic, large and wrinkled, with an occasional smear near to the horizon. Every bit of sunshine today seemed like it was intended just for me, that God had nothing better to do in this world that to make sure that I knew I am being watched over. There was a warm gentle breeze that caressed me. This is how God, a God of love over all things, hugs me. I felt invincible and joyous.
I don't think I have ever been so in awe of autumn as I was today. In summer all of the green meshed together, it was easy to see the forest but very difficult to see the tree. That is not the case anymore- with all of their leaves stripped from their bodies I could see every naked form. Still, they were not sad or ashamed of being seen so exposed an vulnerable. They stood tall and unmoving in their bareness. Every angle of every branch beckoned, outstretching it's hand to me. So many arms reached toward me, welcoming me. Again, God was hugging me.
A hawk passed above, hovering for a second before beginning to circle the field ahead of me. People were out in droves; some of them were alone, meandering on their bike or feet and looking all around, taking in the beauty around them. There were the exercisers, those who looked much more focused on their speed and pacing than the beauty unfolding all around them. There were couples, holding hands and enjoying each other's companionship. And there were families, parents taking their kids to go explore the wonders of Mother Earth. I swear to you, I do not see people as consistently happy as they are on that trail. There are smiles everywhere.
I finally reached Antrim Park, swooping around the corner just in time to get a bug square in the eye. I stopped to get it out and when I finally did I took a moment to look around.
I think what I experienced was one of the most beautiful emotions I've ever felt. The sun was perfect and golden, the clouds had parted to one of the bluest skies I've ever seen. The color of the water reflected the sky, and the trees were exploding with color on the other side of the lake.
It was perfection.
So that was my ride, a bit of perfection. It always brings my mind back to this shirt I saw at blendapparel.com. There was a picture on this billboard that said "Everything will be OK." but someone had crossed off "will be" and written "is already". "Everything is already OK." It's those moments of perfection that string you along in this space.
Cause we've got some joy up in this place. Bitchez.

I'm grateful for the fact that I had Bush's Baked Bean and then uncooked cauliflower for dinner. Ah, college.
Sorry mom.

I am sitting here, listening to DMB and watching Henry and Mike play Halo. I am full of spinach, lentil soup, and jimmy john's day old bread. And a few beers.

And in this moment I just wanted to say that I am so happy. About everything. I FEEL SO HAPPY!

And that I love you all. Maybe it's the alcohol talking. Or the fact that I'm about to go to Dave Hedgecoth's house, a man who I think I will very much like but never had a chance to talk with.

I am giving my 2 weeks notice at work tomorrow. And I played the shit out of Strauss 1 today.

In conclusion, a very sloppy one I might add, I am sending so many good vibes to all of you right now.

Boop-a-doop my little boo-boo bears.

Fierce.

Beerce.

Tearce.

MKH

I am just gonna spit a quick something out before I peace for another shift at the grinds.

Dear strings teachers,

#1- if there's more than one of you please maintain consistency in what you ask for. I am doing what one person tells me only to have the other person come by and correct me, then the original person come back and tells me to go back to what they want. If this is confusing to me as a college student imagine much inconsistency can affect kids.

#2- plan your lesson plans to actually fit the schedule. I understand that you want us to learn good form with these new instruments but at least at this level we have weekly quizzes. When you actually put the bow on the instrument for the first time for maybe ten minutes before the quiz and run through the exercise just four times, that's not very effective.

#3- Be accurate and specific in naming body parts and describing motion. I was told repeatedly to bow and lead with the top of my hand. This leads to too much wrist and a considerable amount of tension in the right arm. Instead, I should be leading with the side of my hand when it is in proper bowing position, the space between the thumb and index finger.

In reality I just feel incredibly overstimulated by learning the violin at 8 3o por la manana. Everything moves. Everything. It's all so external....it's so weeeeeird.

OK, that's all.

I'm grateful for the Titanic Soundtrack. Epic horn guys. Really.

MKHizzle

Wonderwall

This is perhaps my favorite quote by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love:

“…I’ve come to believe that there exists in the universe something I call “The Physics of The Quest” – a force of nature governed by laws as real as the laws gravity or momentum. And the rule of QuestPhysics maybe goes like this: “If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared – most of all – to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself….then truth will not be withheld from you.” Or so I’ve come to believe.”

I have had many teachers in my life, many of whose wisdom or lessons I didn't allow to penetrate my ego. There are many times I think we all choose not to face and forgive the ugly truths about ourselves and the lives that we lead.

For me, the "Wonderwall" is almost a realization of this, a moment where you look at the journey ahead of you and realize there is this huge barrier between you and a better life full of a little more love and centeredness than you have now. And as you look at the wall, you have to decide, "Do I climb over it? Or do I just turn around and walk at the base of this giant partition?"

Rest in reason. Move in passion.

Make the climb.

I am so lucky that that choice unveiled itself to me and, although I did not recognize it at the time I think it will ultimately shape how I live my life. Not just because I have looked at that one wall and scraped my way up one side and flailed down the other, but because I now have the knowledge and the courage to know that if I continue following my own little red line of life that the truth will not be withheld from me.

So for my own Wonderwall, the person who taught me this lesson for the first time and who helped me to see that I am strong enough, know that I am grateful for you. I appreciate all of the teachers I have had, some of whom are continuing to teach me. But know that I will carry you in my heart always.

Afterall, you're my Wonderwall.

MKH

"But I see in you a beauty that shall not fade away, and in the autumn of your days that beauty shall not be afraid to gaze at itself in the mirror, and it shall not be offended." - Kahlil Gibran, Jesus The Son of Man

My past is a golden blur.

It radiates and pulses, it is alive.

If I turn around, it blinds me-

Angel rays in my eyes.

So instead I turn towards the darkness

that lies in front of me.

It waits for me.

It calls to me.

I look to both sides-

I see friend and foe

I see heros and heroine addicts.

All of them take steps into the dark-

They are just like me.

They are me.

I see a friend falter-

I watch a friend fall...

Then a man, glowing of his own light

walks over and holds out his hand.

And he says,

"I cannot pull you up alone.

You must first take my hand."

I see my friend hesitate;

Tired of the exhaustion

Tired of the unknown

Tired of wandering in the dark.

But then!

I see a hand unfold

A connection the likes of which have not been seen

Since the day God sparked Adam to life-

As a part of Himself.

As the man lifts my friend to their feet, he looks:

I can sense his warmth

I can feel it engulf me

I can see him banish the dark and the unknown.

I am lost in love.

He says, staring into my friend's eyes,

"There is always the choice to get up.

There is always the choice to continue with the journey.

Most important of all, there is the choice to take my hand-

It is always outstretched and waiting."

And all of us on our paths stop

We watch as the man, burning with the brilliance of

True Enlightenment

Forges fearlessly into the dark

Until he is nothing more than the tiniest pinprick

in the distance.

My friend

Begins shuffling forward

As we all do-

Made One by our journey

Our pasts a golden blur behind us

Our futures nothing but a pinprick in the distance.

Do you ever stop for a moment and think about everything that you do in the day? I'm not talking about "I go to class, I go to work" blah blah blah. No, I mean every minute detail. Walking, chewing, spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread even. We all operate on these minute little details that our bodies know how to do. We have all learned how to grip a knife or walk up stairs and all of these tiny little muscle movements that are involved in all of these activities.

Here's my next question- have you ever started overanalyzing these everyday tasks so it actually becomes difficult? Test it out sometime- the next time you go to brush your teeth, micromanage everything. Think about how your fingers shape and grip to open the toothpaste, or even how your wrist moves when you are moving in the proper circular motion for 2-3 minutes at least twice a day. You will find yourself faltering, the brain is trying to comprehend and cognatively manage everything. Even worse is when you find yourself doubting your ability to do something you've done a million times before. For example, the other day I was riding my bike home after a really crappy day. My lesson was despicable, class was dry and unfulfilling, and I was just exhausted and cranky. While riding up the slope to my apartment, I though, "Watch me fall off my bike, that would be the perfect cap to the day." Sure enough my foot slipped not two seconds later and off I tumbled. The fact that I fell off my bike is ridiculous- I ride all the time. At the risk of being cheesy, my bike and I are one. I just feel comfortable when I ride. Nevertheless, on one of the easiest sections I've ever ridden off I flew.

Here is my point- this whole thought process directly relates to horn. Sorry if the end point is a bit of a let down... but hey, horn=life. I've played for over ten years now, over half of my life. I have played basically every note on my horn at least once. I need to stop doubting myself so much and just play. Granted I can make everything "easier" as Henniss would say and my consistency can go up, but I need to trust that I've got mad horn skills. In the words of the Barenacked Ladies, "It's all been doooone befooooore." So yeah, I need to pull my head out of my head and just know that I've been playing horn almost as long as I've been riding a bike.

Alright, that's all I've got.

Gratitude: This sermon:http://www.stonybrookumc.org/Websites/stonybrookumc/Images/One_Month_to_Live_Living_the_Dash_Rev_Dr_Mike_Bowie_October_3_2010.mp3

Also Arnold Palmers. Dericious.

Facebook Creeping

I have a sort of daily regimine for facebook creeping. There are certain people that I check every day- family, dear friends, etc. Other people I avoid altogether either because they annoy me or various other reasons. There is one person that I check up on frequently that I really have no connection to.

Her name is Kaitlin. She graduated from Brockport High School one year before I did. I remember her- we played softball together and once I actually nailed her in the head with a hard throw. And I was the second most powerful arm on the team...that must've jostled some stuff loose. Poor girl...

She has a kid now, a son named Dylan. I see that she's back with the baby's father after they split for a little while. She is back in school. For some weird reason I find myself just wanting her to succeed- to be a good parent and to be able to provide a comfortable life for her and her family. I want to see her happy and fulfilled.

I think in many ways it's sometimes nice to get that kind of "this is what my life could've been if I made different choices" perspective.

I am thankful for my path but also very grateful that she is on hers and doing the best she can. In the end I think that's really all you can do.

I apologize if this post is kind of creepy.

Different strokes for different folks-

MKH

Ode to Dave Matthews

Dear Dave Matthews,

I do not know why I am so in love with you. You are 44....you have 3 kids and a wife....you are kinda pudgy and balding.

But I am totally in love with you.

You don't really speak in sentences, you just kind of send out garbbled fragments into the world. You've smoked half the pot the world has ever produced.

But your voice is like sex to me. It's so smooooookey.

Probs from that pack a day thing.

Your mouth and eyebrows are incredibly engaging.

I like the way your leg jiggles when you play and sing.

And I know that if we ever actually had a go:

1- this would never happen

2- I would probably become annoyed at your inability to form complete sentences and your abstract metaphors.

3- your wife would probably kill me....understandably

So for now I will leave my slight obsession with you in the category of "life's mysteries".

Grateful for: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I8aFX3fJNV4

"And he thanked God for the weed."

Also, feel free to ask me about my original composition "Night Tuna". It's a keeper.

Mung it up.

Mariah

The last ones a poster in my room. Shh, don't tell.

"Don't Ever Let Your Mind Stop You From Having a Good Time."

Hola, mis amigos. Lo siento para no escribiendo para una semana.

I am pretty sure most of that is incorrect but hey, it's been going on 5 years since I took spanish. Me gusta tocar la guitarra.

Allllright. This has been...just a weird-ass start to the quarter. It feels so completely different that any other year I've been here, and I think it's a good thing. I think this is a fresh start. I think that maybe I have nothing left to lose in the scholastic and horn sense.

On Wednesday I saw Jason Mraz for the third time. Let me tell you, that man is absolute magic. Because we want to help the earth and also because it was an absolutely gorgeous day, Jena and I rode our bikes and arrived with wind-swept hair and rosey cheeks. We both had ordered through the fan club which means we got "jump the line" passes which allowed us to enter the gates 15 minutes before everyone else. In a general seating venue like the LC, THIS IS A BIG FREAKING DEAL. We were second row. Second....row.... as in, there was the stage, then a fence, one person, THEN US. Oi.

The opening act was really cool and set the vibe up for Mraz really well. If you get the chance check out Luke and the Lovingtons. The first thing I noticed is that Luke made eye contact with me. I have never been to a concert, classical or otherwise, where this happened. Those kind of seats are so cool because it makes the whole experience so personal. Throughout the concert 5 people were called up on stage, one of whom was the girl standing directly behind me. She was screaming in a high-pitched voice, "I LOVE YOU JASOOOOON EEEEEEEEEE OH MY GOD JASOOOON I LOVE YOUUUUUUU." Over and over again. Another was a girl who screamed, "I CAN BE YOUR COLBIE!!!!" while Jason was singing "Lucky" and then elbowed her way up to the front, pushing me and Jena out of the way. Then when she was called up she didn't know any of the words, prompting Mraz to change the lyrics to "Oh my God..." at one point.

My mind wandered back to auditions and the masterclass we had on this past Tuesday. It seems that the world rewards the people who blindly go after what they want, even if they sacrifice tact, respect, and kindness. The world responds to blind ambition.

I wanted to be asked on stage...

I wanted to dance with Jason....

I wanted to be in Wind Symphony...

So here I am meditating on this. I don't judge these people for doing what they did- most of them turn out to be hilarious and even if they weren't everything that has happened I believe is appreciated by the people whom good fortune has smiled upon. But still, I sit here and think if I should give up being kind and respectful. I wonder if maybe being vain or selfish is a good thing because it seems to me that you almost need to be to be successful. I think about this. I envision myself acting that way. And I always come back to the same conclusion: I am not that person.

I will always try to act out of kindness and selflessness. I will always be respectful of music and people, even if that means that I don't get called on the stage. My strength will not be from being picked out of a crowd but rather by connecting with everyone in that crowd. And I have to believe that God knows that I have this power and strength inside of me and because of that, I don't need to make Wind Symphony just yet. My ego, my heart can take the blow this time. And I will look back on what happened, brush myself off, and tell myself that it was for the best. Because when I auditioned, I played for a chair. I played for the approval of Mikkelson, Allen, and Henniss. When I played, it was for all of the wrong reasons. And that is why I failed. It is my job to sacrifice all that I can for the music itself. It is not about what chair I am or who beat me, but rather about the message that I can convey with my horn and the lives that I can touch by doing what I do. All of it, the degree, the etudes, the scales, all of it doesn't matter if it's not going into the music. I am not here to be lifted up or any of that. In the end, I will take off my shoes, unbutton my pants, sit down, and play the shit out of my horn.

Mraz did look at me, 3 or 4 times in fact. And although it was only a few seconds of eye contact it meant the world to me, because from that one look I could tell that he wasn't here for himself. He was here for the music. And he was here because whatever he had tapped into had found a way into all of our hearts and changed us. I felt his gratitude and love. I felt his humaness. And I know it sounds cheesy to say that all of that came from one glance, but it did. You could FEEL it.

I will let my love radiate from within me. I will not operate out of blind ambition, but rather blind FAITH. I will trust that if I put one foot in front of the other I will get there. I will be fueled by my love for music and improvement and those times that you hit a note in the dead center and the lights overhead rattle as if God is saying, "Yes, that's the spot!"

I will practice hard so I can follow this dream. Cause I know that if I trust in everything that has happened and where I want to go, I will get there.

Get some.

And maybe try smiling at everyone you meet tomorrow.

Peace out girl scout,

MKH

I am grateful for the part of me that sits there and just smiles back at you. Howdy. How you doin?

The Turning Point

I wrote this poem in 9th grade, called The Pivot. It talked about this pivot point, to turn one direction is one life. It is a life full of questions with answers and comfort. The other way is a long road, many questions with few answers. This life is a journey.

So I think I've finally hit this pivot. Tiffany was talking about how this happens sometimes, you reach a point where you either chose the road to improvement and mastery or chose the road of comfort. I do not want to do anything else with my life, I do not want to major in Russian nor do I just want to be an educator. Education is not a back-up, I believe that all of the knowledge I'm gaining is making me a better musician. And I also believe that I will enjoy teaching very much. HOWEVER- I want my freaking turn in the spotlight. I see concerts and I feel a pull to be up on the stage. When I feel the most comfortable it is when I'm sitting in an ensemble and just surrounded by music. THIS. IS. WHAT. I. WANT.

I know that I've said that I'm realizing how much it takes, but this time I am making the conscious choice to stop being scared. I am not going to be hesitant. I am not going to be overly-concerned about working around other people. I am done with reflecting and letting personal problems get in the way. You wanna know why? Cause fuck that. I am strong, smart, and I don't need you to like to me to prove my self worth.

You ain't seen nothing like me yet.

And so it begins....again.

I am sitting here in my kitchen with my lovely roomates. Aka friendmates, a term coined by my friend Stephanie who at one point was a friendmate of Henry but not me, but still a friend of mine. We tight.

Auditions are over! I did alright I think- mostly I just enjoyed the interaction between myself and the panel members. Those guys crack me up, and the chemistry between Dr. Allen and Dr. Mikkelson is hilarious. For example, before I played my audition Dr. Allen told me that he actually knew where Brockport was. In fact he had been there. That has literally never happened since I've been at OSU. Not by one person. Ever. Naturally, I automatically fell in love with Dr. Allen. On my way out he asked, "Oh...what's the name of the coffee place on main street, to the right...right after the bridge?" I instantly answered the only coffee place in Brockport- "Oh, you mean Java Junction?" "Yes!" Meanwhile Mikkelson is sitting there cracking up. I don't really know why but I think it was because of the huge lack of relevance. Personally it put my mind at ease.

It was also great seeing everyone back- I really did hate seeing the school of music so completely DEAD. It was creepy. Now the sounds that used to annoy me such as the blarring trumpet on the 4th floor or the jazz sax playing the same I find comforting. Yeah....that will last all of a week. If that. Actually make that the end of this week.

Some goals for the quarter:

1- I am just taking the classes I need. I meant to take Ballet but I think it will just be too much. Instead this open spot will go to practicing. That way I can get most of my practicing out of the way by dinner time, which means after dinner can go to homework!

2- Naturally I will become amazing at horn. This is a given.

3- 4.OH. This is completely plausible.

4- Professional standing in 1 quarter. Boosh.

5- Work. Cause I have to. 25 to 3o hours a week.

6- Exercising slash taking care of myself.

That's about it. In case you didn't know, I can do this. It will happen.

My apartment is AWESOME by the way. I finally have a home of my own. Ahhh. More to come later on that, probably an entire post. There may be pictures involved. I know, this is a very enticing proposition.

Here's to doing your own thang.

MKH

I an grateful for not coming out of the audition in tearce. I am also so very grateful to see so many people that I really like spending time with. I am a very fortunate person.

First off- I apologize for the last post. Everyone has their dark times but I apparently feel the need to publish mine? I don't know why, but I know it got me into trouble in high school, looks pathetic, and really is no one else's business. So, in the future I will keep that shit to myself.

Here are a few of my thoughts recently:

I am sick and tired of the disclaimer that comes with college relationships, everyone having the expectation that it will fail. Don't get too entangled, you are only 20, chances are it won't work out, etc... Do you know how old that gets? Even if it's true, especially in terms of financial entanglement I would like to say 2 things- #1 I am not an idiot. I know that a large percentage of college relationships don't work out. So I will not start a joint bank account or anything with a man I met 2 years ago.
#2- I don't think that anyone realized how much it hurts to have people expect your relationship to fail. That is not fair. Because if something is repeated by so many people in your life, it does set in. Even if I don't believe it, my mind still takes the time to decide to reject that idea and in that time it's implanted itself in my brain. It's not worth my time. So stop bringing it up. It is so incredibly rude really and the future is scary and uncertain enough without your lack of support. So, in conclusion, shut up. I don't appreciate your lack of faith. Duh end.

The other thought I am too tired to completely write down right now- it's been quite a weekend. Because of the tornado on Thursday I didn't leave for New York until Friday, when I drove for 7 hours from Columbus to Syracuse. I then proceeded to fit in a summer's worth of fun into one night. I then drove up to Rochester for my cousin's bridal shower- I am so excited for her! I freaking love weddings. After that my family and I visited my grandparents, my sister and I went to the mall where a substantial amount of female bonding occurred (for the first time in a very long time!), and then to an old firehouse remodeled to be a restaurant for some grub. I love my family in such an intense way. All of them really, but the women I find really inspiring. And despite the moaning about cramps, hormones, and a decent amount of maintainence, I LOVE being a woman. Fierce!

I have an idea that is starting in my mind of a special performance at the end of my recital. It's supposed to be a celebration after all!

I am grateful for my family and for coming from a family with such beautiful and strong women. They are all an inspiration for me.

Boop-a-doop,
MKH

"I'm not coming out of this box until everyone has forgotten me."- Julia Nunes

I've gotten to the point where I don't know if I need a therapist or a priest or a hug. Get low, baby. It's time for me to get low and let go.

An Apology

Henry David Thoreau once said,"I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience."

I find this completely true. I cannot judge the world based on anyone else's experiences, only what I see through my own eyes. There is the hope that deep down in all of us there is a common ground but we are all taking different paths to be there, so by really knowing yourself you are actually getting to know others.

Nevertheless, I wanted to apologize to anyone who reads this- if anyone reads this- for consistently rambling on about myself. I promise that once I actually start socializing and interacting with other people again this will change. After all, how can I write about things that I don't find to be true though my own experience?

Dreams

I've never been quite sure of what dreams are. My parents made me believe that there is something of importance to be found in them, especially those dreams you just can't shake when you wake. The people who say that they mean nothing....well quite frankly I think they are dumb. There has to be something causing these complex thoughts and situations in our brains when in reality the only thing we are seeing is the back of our eyelids. One group of people says it's your subconscious trying to feed you what going on inside of you. Another says that dreams are God trying to communicate with us. Another says they are memories from a past life. And even another says they are just the products of your imagination, the human creative spirit at work. I think maybe it's all of these.

When I was little I had normal dreams- there was one I had in 1st grade where I flew! I was jumping from one giant geometric shape to another; cube to cylinder and then, when I tried for the sphere and slipped off, I simply took flight. It was amazing. My nightmares were normal, spiders chasing me, always something chasing me. I had such an overactive imagination that I pictured the villains and monsters of my nightmares chasing my into my parents room as I leapt into their bed for comfort.

When I got older the spiders turned into something a bit more sinister- Nazis. A lot of them. I would always try to be invisible, always concentrate all of my energy on just being overlooked by them. And there were times that I escaped, but then again there were times I did not. People underestimate how exhausting dreams can be. I would wake up tense and exhausted.

There was also one time I prayed the rosary and to God to help me find my Area All-State music because I had misplaced and I was in DEEP shit. I had a dream that it was in a file cabinet, in a plastic bag with a bunch of other papers. I woke up and told my mom about it who then riffled through plastic bags full of various papers from our messy lives and, sure enough, there it was. See, God will provide!

There was another time I dreamt I met God in the post office. He leaned down and whispered something in my ear. I remember that dream because I woke up just feeling this light bursting within me, all of this love radiating throughout my body.

Recently, my dreams have taken a dark turn. Pretty consistently actually. It started with the Holocaust dreams- almost weekly I would dream of being a Jew during WWII and subsequently the Holocaust. Other than that, I have been to a slumber party that turned into everyone hanging themselves. I have also identified my father in a morgue, but he was wearing mime make-up for some weird reason. I have seen Henry shot in the back of the head, I have been hunted by a serial rapist and killer and that my father was a serial killer. And Irish one actually. I have awoken so many times with such grief in my heart, I don't know what to do about it anymore. These are not normal dreams. I would kill to just be naked in public, pop out a baby, or lose a few teeth, all of which are "normal" nightmares.

I don't think I am a morbid person. I really just don't understand why my mind is full of these constant and REALISTIC thoughts of death. It sucks.

Good dreams are nice too- I had one where Dave Matthews gave me a private concert. I also had one where I was getting a free lesson from Gail Williams. I just think that to counterbalance my bad dreams, I need it to be Christmas every day in my good dreams. Do they have dream analysts?

Get me one of those.

Funny enough, it is time for bed.

Good night everyone! Sweet dreams.

Mariah

I had a cannoli over the weekend...2 actually. And then an Italian bakery sub- roast beef, lettuce, tomato, onion, provalone. Bread baked that day. Oh my god, delicious. I also consumed- organic and locally grown apples, fresh mini-donuts fried right in front of me smothered in cinnamon and sugar. Homemade oatmeal raisin cookie. BBQ chicken, cornbread, seafood corn chowder, mac and cheese, and a peach "round pie". Aka tart. Greens and beans- my mom's specialty- which consists of sausage, escarole, and a certain kind of bean. And fresh baked rye bread. Ice cream. 2 Pumpkin spice lattes with soy. Frozen grapes, a cheese sandwich, and a tomato, feta, and onion omelette. I ATE IT ALL! And you know what?

IT WAS FREAKING DELICIOUS.

I love food, I do. In my family it has always been a way to show love and caring. Dinner time was a very big deal for my mom who would come home after a full day of teaching and cook us a meal. My extended family also values food- good food, good beer, and good people. That is our unspoken motto. There is a very sincere possibility that this is an unhealthy attachment and has probably lead to my struggles with weight. Foods trigger memories- my grandfather picking me up from preschool and giving me a few slices of sharp cheddar. Candy corn reminds me of the time I was sick for Halloween and my cousin went trick-or-treating for me and gave me all of the candy. And perhaps the most delicious memory of all- turkey, stuffing, gravy brussels sprouts on a Sunday after youth orchestra. I absolutely love brussels sprouts...and asparagus for that matter. I do however HATE lima beans...it's a texture thing. And of course lima beans remind me of Alexander and the No Good Very Bad Day, a children's book my mom used to read us.

To me, food means family and friends. It means comfort and warmth. I am learning self-control when it comes to food and have almost been forced to learn this as a very poor college student. Maybe it was the independence of finally shopping for myself that has alighted my love for cooking. I will always have onion in my house. That is necessary. I really enjoy the European outlook on food. Italians and the French eat buttery croissants and drink whole milk cappuccinos but they have LESS of it. Granted the first paragraph is the opposite of this philosophy, but think about how much more satisfied you are after you head a delicious and well-prepared meal versus ordering a Big Mac. That need to keep eating disappears because you appreciate what you are putting into your body and savour every bite. I am seriously considering living on produce, fresh baked bread, and olives next year. Oh and cheese. Mmm cheese.

In conclusion I am actually just very hungry and waiting for work to be over so I can go eat dinner.

I am grateful for Jena Shellhammer. She is back in the United States today. And I see her tomorrow. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! I am also very grateful for Henry coming to New York with me. I also just love New York. I am proud to be from there and always will be.

Love you all,

MKH

Letchworth State Park. It's in New York. Ownage.

A man just hit on me by saying, "Come paint my house, baby!" while staring at my unmentionable parts. Ohhhhhhh man. Sexy.

OH MY SWEET JESUS I NEED A CANNOLI. Very rarely to I crave something this hardcore. But...I need one. Who wants to fly me to Boston so I can go to Mike's? Hmmm?

OK, heading home for the weekend. Henry's back which makes me very happy- we went to the season opener yesterday! Spontaneously! It's very exciting for me to see Henry goes through his professional life and see things come together for him. Every audition, every band, and every performance is one step closer to being the complete musician that the military bands are looking for. As you get older- yes I'm aware that we're barely out of our teens- but I think it's getting to be more obvious to both of us that life is about the journey, not the destination. Cliche, yes but also very correct. I am so proud of him.

Boosh- MKH

Dead Gnats, Hair, and Mouse Crap- OH MY!

Moved myself out of my apartment today. Subsequently exhausted. Will probably only speak in sentence fragments.

Mouse in mah house- found it earlier in the week. Poop everywhere when cleaning. Worried about disease ie plague? Carried by rats? Wait- maybe the asian black rat? something weird like that.

Dead gnats all up in the fridge. Scared to eat my food.

Hair...everywhere....shower drain....like a freaking horror movie.

So so tired- hard to carry a mattress anywhere by yourself. Also didn't eat anything but a banana till 8pm.

Now I have an Arnold Palmer. Lite of course, watching the flab as always.

May take multiple showers until I feel clean.

Henry---> auditioning tomorrow for Army Ceremonial Band. Please send lots of good juju his way.

Night loves.

Mariah

Splatitude of gratitude:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8x-7v3PJ6Eg

Pictured: Cathedral in Kosice, Slovakia. Most beautiful church I've ever been in. Trumps St. Patty's.

My Baby Blue

I still think about him a lot, maybe more than I should.

It was February 2nd, my sister texted me, "Danny Langfelder killed himself!" I was at a concert that the Berlin Woodwind Quintet was putting on; talk about a punch in the stomach. At intermission I called my mom. All she said was, "Oh Mariah..." and I knew he was gone.

"And you'll forever my baby be..."

My dad was one of the first people Danny's father Robert called. Danny was found in his dorm room, not breathing. We later found out that he had been missing home for some time previous to this day. He had struggled with depression and some other issues in his life, but he was on his way back. He talked to his dad earlier that day saying that the medication he was on was finally starting to take effect and he was feeling better. No one knows if that was the point he decided to take his own life, or if the medication altered his mental state and made him think that taking more pills would make him feel better. The reasoning is still a mystery but the outcome was inescapable.

"I confess I'm not quite ready to be left..."

Danny and I were childhood playmates, thrown together because our dads were good friends. I remember little snippets of our time together- we always used to make Creepy Crawlers together. That was OUR thing. I also remember going to his birthday party and not knowing anyone there (we went to different schools) but still feeling welcome. That was the thing about Danny, he always made everyone feel like they belonged. No matter how alone or disliked you thought you were, one look from those baby blues and you knew you had a friend.

"You give, you give, to this I can attest."

Danny and I eventually drifted apart. The last time we hung out he had moved to Brockport. He showed me his drum set- the boy was a beast. We saw each other at school, always exchanged smiles. He was such a light in the hallways, he radiated. It's funny how I found out more about him after he passed than I knew about him in life. Maybe not funny. Maybe tragic. He was a young man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn't understand the cruelties he saw, how people could be so ugly to each other. I never saw or heard of him turning his back or judging a single soul. He was too good for this world.

"I will forever cause you'll forever be my one true broken heart."

I wish more than anything that I could have been there for him. I wonder if he knew what was happening, if he was scared. He went when God called him but I long to have been there to hold his hand, to put his head on my lap, stroke his hair and tell him that it was going to be OK. It was not his fault, I don't think. I just pray that he is happy. Danny touched so many lives with his kindness, his quirkiness, and his spirit.

"You're my baby blue."

My parents told me about the effects Danny's death had on his parents. They had to overcome some of their religious views about suicide. I cannot believe that God would abandon those who took their own lives. Can you imagine how alone they must feel in order to think that taking their own lives is the only way out? Or how much despair and hopelessness shrouds them? Or even how sick they were, how their brain screwed them over? There is no way a God of love would turn his back when his children need him the most. Danny's dad especially rediscovered his spirituality and grew more excepting. As Kahlil Gibran writes, "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain." There was a memorial service in Brockport for Danny at a skate park he used to frequent. My parents said that a large array of people showed up to share stories about Danny. Danny enriched the lives of people from every social class and click. That memorial service was a conglomerate of who wouldn't normally meet but who were brought together to remember this remarkable life. Even after he was gone Danny was bringing people together.

I think about you all the time, Danny. I am so grateful to have known you. I think you are happy up there; maybe that burden you carried all your life is finally lifted. I miss you. And I will always miss you.

I love you.

"You will rest your head, your strength once saving

And when you wake you will fly away

Holding tight to the legs of all your angels.

Goodbye my love into your blue, blue eyes.

Your blue, blue world-

You're my baby blue."

New Tattoo?

I think I'm going to get a second tattoo...not sure where. But this is the last one, promise. The first one was a personal reminder and this one is just...awesome.

Lila (Leela):

"literally 'play', 'amusement' or 'pastime'; the idea that the apparent creation is a diversion for a creator - a means for Him to enjoy Himself."

It perfectly plays off of my געדענקען (remember in Yiddish) tattoo. For me this was meant to symbolize remembering the past and incorporating it into who you grow into. Life is cummulative so we must try hard to learn what we can from all of our experiences and remember those lessons as we move on in life.

Lila, or लीला balances that ideal- while it is important to remember and learn, sometimes you must have a little fun. Dance, play, be free! If life is just a diversion and past time for God, who are we to take it so seriously?

The only problem is I'm slowly becoming a collage of random languages.

Also- I have a new favorite quote.

He who binds to himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise. "
-William Blake

This is completely something I struggle with. Letting go of the good things while they are still beautiful and joyous rather than trying to hold onto things that I am not meant to have- at least not at the time. Every single Thanksgiving I would cry because everyone had to go home. Instead of appreciating what had occurred (an onslaught of good food, wrestling, and football) I cried because it was over. This is definitely something that I have worked on since March. I guess overall it was a big year- there were many aspects of life that I dealt with that I never thought I would have to. The big lesson that continually slapped me in the face is the world is NOT black and white. Granted there are some things that are- aka murder is always wrong. But there are interactions and connections that we share with people that are so... indistinguishable. So incredibly grey. And that is not to say that they are wrong- It is only to say that it is our own judgements on a situation that make it good or bad. I choose good- no regrets. But now I am talking in circles...

Henry is off to DC! These past few weeks have been amazingly good for him and given him the ability to do what he wants to do and maybe reflect on the past few years. Poor boy has not had a break in years. I mean that sincerely. Years.

I will miss him a lot while he is gone, but he is off to do great things! Represent!

Much love folks,

Mariah

Grateful for Rochester Philharmonic Youth Orchestra 2006-2007. We were SO FREAKING GOOD.

My Perfect Sunday

Hello all- Big news:

I AM NO LONGER A TEENAGER! Here's a summary of my birthday weekend. Honestly it was one of my best, and significantly better than my 7th birthday when my mom threw her back out and I spent most of the day throwing up cookies and cream ice cream. My big project that day was building a robot out of all the boxes my presents had come in because the sick me couldn't really do much else with a bicycle helmet. OK, tangent ended.

The drive home sucked. Hardcore. I got cut off, detoured, a little lost, and severely exhausted. I realized how mentally discombobulated I was when I was talking to my car, my only companion on the 7 1/2 hour trip, and told him, "The french horn sound is like a rich dark fudge, everyone else is just a stupid little hershey bar." But soon enough I made it home to say goodbye to Stephanie and Ross, both of whom were heading back to college the next day. Then I passed out.

The next day I woke up and went to a salon for a little primping time. Then I headed home because a whole bunch of my family was coming over! It was awesome- there was a taco bar courtesy of my mother's hard work, Texas Caviar (look it up), Beer Bread, and various beverages. I was so grateful for everyone who came out- my family and friends mean the world to me. The get-together wasn't high budget or really revolving around my birthday but it was perfect and exactly what I needed. As night fell and people began going to bed Nneka, Kelly, and I remained sitting around the fire pit on the patio. There is something about sitting around a fire that always leads to deep philosophical conversations. Sure enough, the conversation that ensued was...simply amazing. I am so impressed with both of their insights, their dedication to living life to the fullest, and not being blind to what life is about no matter how painful it might be. Or how joyous! We discussed everything from the overmedication of EVERYONE these days, to how the technological advances of recent years have impacted our generation. The so-called "ground zero mosque" situation was touched upon, and most importantly the crazy "Living the metaphor" idea which will be expanded upon at a later date.

My actual birthday was ballin'. Church was AWESOME- there was a full jazz combo playing with the gospel choir and there was no way you could NOT feel God. And the best part was, after an amazing homily by Father Jim (Our goal is not to TEACH about Jesus, our goal is to BE Jesus) Jonathan came up and sang! As a creepy side note his partner looks a lot like Dave Matthews. Then my parents and I went to Simply Crepes, talked about crazy life things and racking up a huge bill. But hey, it's mah birfday! Plus they were paying...

We visited my grandparents, went shopping (where I fell in love with Anthropologie but subsequently couldn't afford any of it), and then came home for some strawberry shortcake.

This post was a little rushed but hey...it was perfect.

Mung it up.

Mariah

A Day in the Life- Weekday

Every morning I somehow get my sorry ass out of bed. Some days at 5:25 so I can go practice for an hour before work. When I get up then it is still dark out, the streets are fairly empty. The newspaper man is the only person I come across on High Street. Hughes is completely deserted.

Other days I wake up at 6:25 and make it to work just on time. Same clothes every day, no make-up, no attempt to present myself well. All of us meet with our hoods up at the picnic table outside of the Neil Building. All of us wishing we were still asleep. We grunt a few morning greetings then are cooped up into our little cells- single rooms with sparse sunlight and white walls.

"And they're all made out of ticky-tacky and they all look just the same."

Once in this room I will paint everything the same bland color. Then I will move onto the next room. I don't see anyone else save for our lunch break where a few conversations are held before we our stuffed back into our own solitary confinement. I do this for ten and a half hours a day. 7 am until 5:3o pm. Every day.

When I get out, I go home and cook dinner. If Henry is around we'll eat together and chill for a little bit. He is normally about the 3rd real conversation of the day I've had. After that I run, practice- both of which are fairly solitary functions- and then go to bed. This is what my life is day after day.

Someone...Anyone....please save me.

Epic Day

#1- Money sucks because like it or not it does kind of rule the way you live.

#2- This summer I've been paranoid and pretty conservative in an attempt to save the subject of #1 for tuition.

#3- I just sold my horn- the previous 2 points are now void. I plan to treat myself to sushi, sticky rice, and mango from Nida's.

I was a very difficult teenager. I was not "bad" at all, but I was very, impossibly, and consistently difficult. For some reason in 7th grade I got it into my tiny pubescent brain that shutting everyone and everything out was the best thing for me to do with my time. I was angry about everything, about the babysitters and being a latchkey kid, about the time I wasted in school when everything was still so easy for me to do well in. I was angry about being fat. I thought I had it all figured out and that everyone around me was insignificant and not worth my time. My goal in life was to make everyone as miserable as I was. Yes. It's true. I was a COMPLETE asshole.

However, I remember one specific experience that broke through the shell. For as long as I can remember I had been raised Catholic-like. I don't really know what to call it, but we always attended a Catholic church. As a child the messages are kind of the same throughout all Sunday Schools- Jesus loves you. You must respect and obey the Ten Commandments. And, as is the Catholic way, weigh kids down with a severe amount of guilt and an intense understanding that no matter what you do you are never worthy of God's love. I swear, guilt is to Catholicism what butter is to Julia Child. BUT my parents were never satisfied with the teachings of the Catholic Church so we were constantly church-hopping. The longest we ever stayed at a church was Saint Elizabeth Ann Seaton in Hamlin, New York. This is the church where I received my first Holy Communion, was confirmed, and was baptized. All at the same time. I still remember that the priest held my head underwater in the baptismal fountain for way too long... Anyways, that ended up not working out and my parents heard of this church in the city called Spiritus Christi. This church was excommunicated from the Catholic Church for ordaining women, accepting homosexuals, and generally loving EVERYONE without acception as Christ Himself taught. I went in skeptical and very awkward- these were the years I thought everyone was constantly looking at and judging me. But no one did judge me. Everyone smiled like they already knew me. I still sat there with arms crossed over my chest and looking miserable- until the choir sang. The gospel choir...I wish I had a video to show you, but here are all of these suburban looking people, most of them white, just SINGING. If you want to experience a wall of human sound, this choir is it. I felt it with them, I felt them filling the room with God's presence. I clapped and I smiled. And for once I didn't care what I looked like, I just needed to move. I needed to be a part of what was happening.

After Communion, a short man with dread locks came to the front of the choir and sang "Stand" by Donnie McClurkin. It wasn't 2 lines in before I was covered with goosebumps. By the end I was crying. I have never seen someone to this day surrender themselves up like that. He didn't care if he missed notes because he wasn't singing for any of us. He was singing for God. I tear up just thinking about it.

I don't know what the point of this post is. I miss my church a lot, I miss sharing my Sunday mornings with Jonathan, the man who sings for no one but God. I miss...well I don't know. I feel like after this point what I get becomes too personal so I'm going to switch to my journal. Rachmaninoff's Ave Maria...youtube it when you get the chance...

-Mariah

I am grateful for those goosebump God moments.