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.

Picture is worth a thousand words...

Guess What?

The coolest thing happened to me last night- I was walking around Hughes trying to find a practice room around 9pm when I stumbled upon this man, sitting with the lights off and playing piano.

Let me tell you, walking in on someone else practicing is one of the most awkward experiences that can occur. It's like you're committing a complete invasion of privacy, as if you're walking in on someone whacking off instead of someone playing an instrument. The encounters are always the same- you wildly throwing open the door, the immediate cut-off of music, the awkward eye contact as you apologize and back quickly out of the room. Tell me that doesn't sound like a mom who has just walked in on her teenage son during his "special time".

Regardless, this encounter was VERY different. He invited me in, saying that he was finishing up and I could have the room. I tried to tell him I could mozy down to 312 but he said, "I insist." so I stayed. It ended with an hour long discussion about music, perspectives on life, and a whole lot of piano playing. His name is Dan and he was majoring in engineering until he discovered that engineering doesn't really add to the human experience. He was therefore switching his major to jazz piano. I listened to him play Thelonius Monk, Disney tunes, Bach inventions, the Beatles, and I even just listened to him sitting there and grooving. We discussed the fission between the classical and jazz realms and how both sides could benefit from attempting to learn what the other did. But I think the topic we discussed most frequently was the fact that music is human. And while it is necessary for all true musicians to sit and practice, if you have no knowledge of the human condition you have no real place in music. You can learn from your own experience or from others, but you must be able to feel joy and heartache in order to become a complete performer. Because in the end you must perform not necessarily for the approval of your audience, but you have to have some kind of message you want to convey. General people enjoy what they can identify with. Humaness, emotion, all of it. You must be in touch with what people are entertained by as well. You are in the business of selling yourself to people. Dan is also a juggler and street performer so he knows what people want to see.

It ended in a metaphysical discussion about how we are tiny and basically insignificant, there are mysteries we will never know the answer to, and in the end we will die. Some might find this depressing but I think it's kind of liberating. The worst mistake you can make won't actually make the slightest bit of difference in the big scheme of things. That's not to say that everything is futile, but stop worrying about everything people! Be happy, be kind, love deeply, and live life to the fullest because in the end you are only cheating yourself out of a possibly fantastic lifetime.

Alright. I am stepping off the soapbox. The point is- talk to people. They're kind of awesome. And you never know what you might find.

MKH

I have been sleeping with the same Simba stuffed animal since I was 5. I still do- especially when I feel lonely which has been a lot recently. No pity party because that's what I am grateful for, my Simba! Maybe I should show some more shame...

So Much To Say

In many many ways I am about thirty years old. I do not drink irresponsibly- although officially I drink not at all due to age. Also, when faced with the decision between anything and sleep, I always choose sleep. Always. I enjoy a good game of euchre as well. Yes indeed. I am thirty.

BUT-

there is one way I think I am still 19. And young, full of promise, blah blah blah, and that is my dreams. There is the fact that my life could take all of these possible roads and that the entire world is my oyster! Which is an awesome feeling. So here we go, some fantasies that pass through my mind from day-to-day.

#1- Being a world famous and world class conductor. I don't want to be directly in the limelight....well I mean I would kind of be, but the ability to shape and interpret music and share it with the world would be freaking awesome.

#2- Culinary school. I love food in a pretty big way. And as I grow older I find my palate is becoming more developed- I enjoy all of these new flavors and more importantly as I cook more I realize how amazing food is! So the plan is to eventually go to culinary school as I take gigs on and off broadway to help pay for it. Win.

#3- Rock star. Or just popular musician. Part of it is that I've caught the fame bug. Being famous, when balanced and managed well, can be a fantastic. A dear friend recently gave me some Dave Matthews Band CDs and I've become addicted. Can you imagine being Dave Matthews Band famous? Imagine looking out and seeing thousands of people gathered just to hear what you've written and the message you want to convey. That's one of the most rewarding experiences I can think of.

What is comes down to is: I've got so much to say. And I've got so much to give, I want to cook for people and sing to them and collaborate with them. I want to connect with them, be there in some weird way to help the rejoice in the good times and give them hope in the bad. Chin up love, it will all be OK. Over this hill there's a beautiful sunrise. This is what I mean by I feel like I'm going to explode- I just want to touch all the people I can and not in some weird self-validating way but because that human connection is what we're all here for. No matter what you think it is not the job or having money (although I'm realizing how much not having any can weigh on a person) that will make us happy or fulfilled. It is the connections that we share with other people that we will really be remembered for and what really affects the world around us. I think this is why teaching is so appealing to me- to have that kind of impact on kids would be such an honor and such a huge responsibility. This is why being a rock star would be so appealing; not only do I get to play for an audience but I would form a bond with my bandmates. One thing hold true for all of these situations from what I've gathered and that is in order to really give all of yourself you must get over yourself. Self-conscious on the podium? Forget about it kid. Trying to jam or write anything without being able to accept criticism or while feeling hesitant? It will be an instant flop. Just tune in, turn off, drop out, drop in, switch off, switch on, and explode.

Mah little bit of gratitude goes out to band trips. After a peaceful weekend in Farmersville Henry and I were headed back in the car when I started to talk about band trips and suddenly I remembered how freaking FANTASTIC they were. Virginia Beach and Fiestaval will live on in my heart forever as will the creepy little crabs, the sting ray pod, and the walks down to Dairy Queen. And then Disney World! "Bus 3, No AC!" and the utter joy of Disney. Oh, good times. The best of times.

OK loyal readers, get out there and spread some love. It is a Sunday afterall.

-Marizzle

First time without training wheels

In general I'd like to think I am a fairly strong person. In general I'd like to think that I am ok with being alone and being me and being alive. But there are times where sometimes it all just hits me. Kelly and Stephanie moved out on Sunday and the house was suddenly void of some special light they have. I can't describe how much each of them means to me and how they make me a better person just by being around. They lit up all the dark corners of that apartment. They both keep me in check, but listen to what I have to say, and respect me. And love me. We have gotten to the point where it is beyond friendship, instead we share some kind of nameless bond. All I know is I miss them a whole hell of a lot.

Then there is my actual family. I know I made the right choice in what school to come to but sometimes when I see kids who can go home for weekends or dinner it really hurts a lot. Just to know that that home base is there and you can go back any time you want, sometimes that's all I need. I don't call as much as I should but I think maybe in my twisted mind it's because it makes it easier. All or nothing. Hold on or let go. And so in many ways I let go because that's the way it has to be. Otherwise I'd be miserable much more often. I was too weird and too self-absorbed in high school to really form any kind of a relationship with my sister- this is one of my deepest regrets. Now I see her growing up and I want more than anything to be a part of her life. I want to be there for her in ways that I haven't before. Because we are sisters. And that's what we do.

I have met people I love here. But many of them are very busy, including Henry. I don't blame any of them- literally everyone's schedules here are frantic. That's the way it's supposed to be in college. I'm just so used to people being there when I need them and I think I have taken this very much for granted in the past. That support system, whether it be a bunch of friends lying curled up together on a bed and saying nothing, or a basketball game with Dad, or lying in my mom's bed and telling her about my day, that is the thing that is hardest to function without.

So I guess now I am taking the step into adulthood that requires being a little less needy. As the title says it's my first time without training wheels. I'm a little wobbly, but with time I'll get the hang of it. Not to say I'm abandoning everyone, but maybe it's just time to actually learn to hold my own, know my own name, and have the courage to go my own way.

Grateful for: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zw-TUO7A-HQ