I thought back to my freshman year today, something I dont do as much as I should, because I typically fail to remember how much 3 years can change you. This is what I remembered:

I was that girl. I was that naiive innocent girl who never cussed and who didn't laugh at perverted jokes because she was so sheltered. I was the one that the older kids watched what they said around. I was the little sister, kyle's little sister, and no one wanted to corrupt a little sister. I was the one who almost never cussed and people were shocked when I did. I was the one who didnt get her first kiss until the end of sophomore year. I was the one who never was in a long term relationship.


Look at me now.

As of 15 minutes from now, I will have been in a relationship for 6 months exactly. "That's what she said" jokes are my personal hobby. I love making innendos. I drop cusswords, sometimes mid-class. I'm the corruptor, the one who turns my little sophomore twin into someone with a perverted sense of humor.

Who am I?

That's just it. I don't feel any different than I did my freshman year. I still have the same friends. I still like the same things. Sometimes you're just forced to grow up I guess.


P.S. I just wrote this blog post while wearing footie pajamas and cuddling with my favorite stuffed penguin; some things never change.

You're never too old for pizza.

We're celebrating my grandmother's birthday today with pop, pizza, and potato chips. There are 5 old ladies here. I keep hearing things like the following:

Well, you see right now we're having to plan our trip to Dayton around everyone's doctor's appointments.

There are currently 4 generations of my family here, ranging from the youngest child, Audrey, of about 8 months, to my grandmother, edging on 87, which she will turn tomorrow. My aunt asked my 3 year old cousin Aiden if he could count that high and he affirmed that no, he couldnt. Five minutes later he informed us that flies poop too. We asked him who told him and he responded "Daddy did!"
The highlight of my night though, was my mom's cousin Charlie. You see, Charlie is quite the prankster. His name is used to threaten Aiden when he is misbehaving; "Aiden, if you don't stop I'll send you home with Charlie!" However, Aiden is actually quite fond of Charlie, he still responds with "NO! I DON'T WANT THAT!" Complimenting Charlie's personality, is that of my great aunt Norie. I still remember being 5 years old and being chased around my house with the eerie fortune of being tickled until I laughed so hard I cried. Now, it is imperative to know that Norie is now 76 years old. Today, while walking into the dining room, Charlie snuck up behind her and whispered in her ear "boo!" She screamed as loud as she could, and then the whole room erupted in laughter. Apparently, that wasn't the first time this has happened; They've had an ongoing battle longer than I've been alive. But of course, this wasnt the end of it. Little 3 year old Aiden made the mistake of ambling down this same stretch of carpet, right into Charlie who screamed "RAWH!" Aiden's eyes got large and his hands outstretched as he squealed a high-pitched-kid-scream, jumping like a mini basketball player in the air. Once again, we had a good laugh.
No one mentioned the missing elder. The only old man that would have been there. It seemed as though my grandpa should have been here, asleep on the chair, or talking about planes and cars. This birthday was different for Grandma, having suffered the loss of her husband as well as her best friend, only months apart. Grandpa died just this past December, but it feels like yesterday that he accompanied my grandma to our house for a myriad of celebrations. We miss him dearly, but life moves on. Everyone is an optimist, who find the best in life while they live it.
But I digress. Our conversations wandered from prank stories to jury duty; to having to watch ponographic videos at jury duty (Thanks Mary Lou); to colonoscopies; to waking up during a colonoscopi; to having fat old lady bodies, old lady pains, and old lady memories. Mary Lou brought her sister Janette whom has gone blind. She has the most soothing low honey filled voice I've ever heard, and she complimented the group of old ladies well as they sat around the table celebrating while eating Laroza's pizza. I mean, with names like Maxine, Lenore, Mary Lou, Janette, and Juanita how could you not have a good time?

Differenciating the past and present.

Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you.

Those words were mechanical, repetitive my freshman year of high school. I can still remember the way the choir sounded. The crescendos. The forte pianos. Where my focus was. How the notes moved from my mouth to blend. One sound. One voice. One choir. This was the song we sang in Lebanon Singers my freshman year. There were people like Caleb Shiller, Derek Carrozza, Sami Szenay, Megan Neihaus, Danielle Seals, Jesse Ball, Marlee Poitinger. I looked up to them. They led the choir. We got out this music to sing again this year, and I felt I should have come full circle. Though the voices aren't the same, the emotion should be. The feeling should be.

Wrong.

Things change. To my personal opinion, the choir isn't as good. Those strong voices that I could never even compare myself are missing. That sense of family has been erased. No one really cares. Those role models, where are they? Then I realized something. I'm supposed to be that person people look up to. Those juniors and seniors I thought were so fantastic, so amazing, that's me now. Then came this thought:

I'm no longer naive; I can comprehend this song.

As a freshman singing this song the emotion is fake. How can you sing of being unable to resist loving someone when you've never actually been in love. Not true love. Not romantic love. In your innocence you know to be happy, to be lively, to smile, to exude positive energy. However, it's more than that. This song is everything. It's placing trust in another human being who is capable of hurting you. Who is capable of hurting you deep, everlasting, long term. This song is everything you try to condense with 3 words: I love you. It's aknowledging that fate brought you close to another soul. Falling in love is the most frightening, blinding thing, but this song is bold. Love makes you take a chance of being broken to find something bigger. Love makes you understand.

One of my best friends said it best (Granted, this is out of context, but it still says a lot): "Do I think it's a big deal? Absolutely. But I also think showing someone you really care about how you feel is a beautiful thing. So is the idea of loving him a little more. I think you're brave."

This reminds me of what music is supposed to convey. Music is supposed to be pure emotion. It isn't rehearsed, discussed, critiqued. Pure music is an outpouring of the soul. I think I've began to forget this. I've forgotten the power music has to affect. I've forgotten the wisdom of Mr. Beal; Hes the true epitome of music for joy. Music wasn't his job. Music was the one thing he could do for others. It was his positive good. Which is what music should be. After all the tears from Singers and Musical, I really just want to perform music for me. Not for my teacher. Not for a judge. For me. I want piano back.


Music is like pouring salt in a wound. It hurts like crap, but at the same time it discenfects.

How many hours of sleep do you think I need to function to get through tomorrow? I have some music to create.

Juxtoposition

There aren't enough words to replace
our fingers interwoven softly.
the juxtoposition of our hands.

There aren't enough words to replace
the calmness of my head on your shoulder.
Everything fits like a puzzle.

There arent enough words to replace
our smiles, our laughter. our music.
Your sparkling eyes.
Your dimples.
My smile. My skin.

Words cannot erase that distance
exists day to day to day.
The hand that reaches feels nothing.
The heart that beats still longing.

Physical silence speaks more than
voiced attraction

Time together scarce
is all that more important -
For words can no longer convey
what you mean to me.

Some days are days to burn bridges, others are days to take the water under the bridge and extinguish the fire.

:)

I just spent about 3 hours cleaning out old binders to have the bare minimum of old papers I couldnt bare to get rid of. Thank goodness, I was going crazy with all these papers everywhere. What I did find was the paper I was supposed to write the last week of my Advanced Composition class. We were instructed to write a paper as if it were a letter to someone who has significance to us/ has impacted us/ or just someone we care about. I wrote about Kyle, and made it completely sappy. Haha. Here it is :)



Big Brother
They say that friends are the family that you choose, but for some it's family members that are the friends that you choose. As a child, I always tried to emulate the mannerisms and words of my older brother. Almost three years old when I was born, my brother took it upon himself to be my "protector." When I was a baby, he would pretend to be my babysitter and notify my mom as soon as I did something remotely dangerous. But more than this protecting, he was my friend. I had a doll that went everywhere with me, like most young children. However, I liked my doll so much because she talked to me in a high, sing-song falsetto, the voice of my brother. This comedic act lasted many years. Since I was so excited for Christmas when I was small, every year I would sleep on the floor of my brother's room. We'd wake up before it was even daylight and together we'd sneak downstairs with flashlights to "inspect" our presents.
This stong family bond continued to grow as I got older. When my "boyfriend" broke up with me in the 8th grade, my brother immediately ran into my room to ask "whose butt am I Kicking?!" When most teenagers wanted nothing to do with their siblings, I clung to mine tightly. We drove to school together in his '97, green Ford Ranger, which has been (rightfully) passed down to me. We were in marching band together for two years and I couldnt have made it through without him. My brother even let me into his tight knit circle of friends, who always told me how I was "such a cutie." It was always "monkey see, monkey do"; I followed in my brother's footsteps.
As time went by, my brother graduated 9th in his class and recieved a scholarship to OSU. I had decided, upon repeated questioning, that I didn't want to follow in my brother's footsteps again. Now, when posed with the same question, I have changed my mind. I want to go to the Ohio State University. Our moments to grow up together are scarce and short and I miss his company. Though sparse, they still do exist. Recently, when my grandfather passed away, my brother and I found ourselves home alone, as our parents were dealing with family matters. It was 12 o'clock on a school night, yet we found ourselves watching the television show "Glee" (our favorite) abd having root beer floats. Thats the thing; my brother and I enjoy spending time with eachother. From waching movies like 500 Days of Summer, to playing video games like Sonic Tennis, to just talking, we really love eachother. When teachers ask "Is Kyle Montgomery your older brolther?" I'm glad to respond that, yes, we're siblings. Im proud of my brother. I truely do look up to him in all that I do.


P.S. Brother, I hid this paper between "The World's Greatest Railroad Journeys" and your Pokemon guide book if you wanted it.