I don't understand why I am still awake. Surely only seven hours of sleep last night and three hours of dancing would wear me out enough to fall asleep sooner than I could say "I'm tired," but, no. Of course not. This makes complete sense to me. In an alternate universe. Not much to report at the moment. I am so tired but cannot sleep. Really. I spent the last hour attempting to fall asleep. Clearly, that did not work. I tried "counting sheep", I tried listening to music, I tried no music, I tried reading for a short period of time before turning the light off again. Poor light, I've turned it on and off many times in the last hour. I have a math test tomorrow, first period. Let's pray that I can stay awake for it, considering the amount of sleep I'll get (currently, meaning if I fell asleep right now, I would get seven hours of sleep. It will most likely be less.). I wish I had something to write about, anything, really, will do. But this nearly-dead brain of mine refuses to cooperate and fall asleep or stay awake enough to actually do something. I will read this tomorrow and think that I am crazy, which is partially true. 

A Poem Composed When I Was Supposed to be Asleep: 

Sitting alone.

Typing quickly. 

Listening attentively. 

Thinking mindlessly. 

Sleep escapes this blank mind of mine, 

stealing away my dreams. 

Sweet dreams, take me away. 

Please

Let me sleep. 

The poem sucks. But I can't think of anything else and don't feel like editing. This is ridiculous. I want to scream but that would shatter the delicate silence of the nighttime and I would no longer have any possibility of falling asleep before midnight. So I will sit and wait, not so patiently, until slumber overwhelms me and I can melt into the simplicity of my dreams. Sleep well, my friends. Sleep well.

Break-ups and Best Friends

I often wonder what makes us young people "go out" with each other. First, it doesn't ever work out. Ever heard of middle school sweethearts getting married? Nope, didn't think so. The reason I bring up this strange and unrelated topic is because my friend's boyfriend just broke up with her. Big whoop- we all knew it would happen. We didn't want to hurt her feelings by telling her... Shhhh! Second, we don't really care. For example, my friend who is now single (psh... it wasn't even like they were dating) cried for about ten minutes, ripped up some paper, and now she is better. Hm... what does this mean? It means she doesn't really mind. I sure do hope she never reads this. She would kill me.

Anyhow... The picture! Let's explain the picture for a moment. Last year, I went to Italy as I study Italian at school (yep, pretty cool school). This was taken looking up in the Pantheon. Although I am not quite sure why  there is a hole in the roof of the building, and also often wonder what happens when it rains, it seemed to represent this situation well. It all seems dark but only because we are only looking at the dark spots. If only we would pay a slight bit more attention, we would realize that there is a gaping hole there just waiting for us to be happy again. Actually, there's more light than dark, but we don't notice because we are SO FOCUSED on the dark spots, concentrating all of our time and energy upon it. Wait, this doesn't really represent the current situation, it just represents the modern world. Hum. Lovely. Listen up all you business people! If anyone even reads this... I doubt it. But that's OK.

Dancing, today, is not happening because I'm going to an open house for a high school I may attend. Probably won't attend, actually, but I'm going anyway. I wish I could go to dance. However, my mother insists that I go. Ew. Ah, well. Not much I can do about that. Going to go try to get a bit of homework done... (AKA mess around on my email and things)

Farewell, good (non-existent) friends!

p.s. just realized that this is incredibly random... Let's say the title is instead "Random Thoughts of Today"

Years Gone By

I recently remembered that this site existed and, with some difficulty, managed to regain access to my blog. Although there isn't much to write about now, there was much to write about then, meaning that I must now write about it. If that makes any sense.

As the end of 2009 came close, I found myself constantly at the dance studio, my social life gone and my writing time sparse. What created this torture? The holiday norm, the show that you all go to see, the tradition- the feared by us dancers. Yes, the Nutcracker. Hours of torture, days of crying four-year-olds that only participated because my dance teacher longed to include them. If it was up to me, it would have been a one-class production by, yes, us. As the oldest and, not to be bragging, the best, I believe that we have the right to be the stars of the show- and not let the adorable and annoying four-year-olds take it from us. Completely unfair. Now I sound as though I am writing a persuasive paragraph... something that I am not particularly fond of. On with the show.

As I return to the bloody subject of pointe shoes and pain, I must remind you that this was optional. Yes, this torment was an option. It was something that was strongly encouraged, but not required. Each one of us chose to participate in the Nutcracker that somehow managed not only to crack nuts but also my social life and time in general. Ah, the good old days of Nutcracker, that will soon be mine again (come September. Yes, we do work for a very long time. So appreciate it, please).

Finally, three days before Christmas, the shows were over. As I picked up my make-up case and tied up my pointe shoes for the last time in 2009, I sighed a great sigh of relief, although it was a little bit remorseful. Remorseful because I had worked for so hard and so long and now all that hard work was just gone. It was a strange feeling. I'm sure any performer knows. It's rather hard to explain.

The new year passed quickly and quietly, and now I do not feel different except for when I dance. There, it seems, I am different. I cannot put my finger on what is different about me. I just seem better. It's a good feeling. It makes me feel as though those months of hard work and stress and pain and hurting feet actually did something for me. Soon my dance company will begin a production of Cinderella. And perhaps this time, though I will moan and groan, it will be somewhat understated as I know now that I will become better. That's what I'm working for, right? Who knows. I'll just go along with the tide and see what happens. Or rather, head in a direction that looks good. Happy 2010 to all, and to all a good-night.

Camp, Here I Come

Tomorrow, I leave for camp. A summer camp. For a month. I attend Sanborn Western Camps and this will be my third year at High Trails, the girl's side of the camp.

It hasn't really yet dawned on me that I will be at camp for a month. I know that I am going, I know that I will be there tomorrow, I know that I will see my friends, but my mind seems to be unable to encompass the full idea of a month away from home at the moment. I beleive that I will fully realize just what I'm there for when I arrive at camp tomorrow morning and see my friends and watch my mom drive away in her Toyota Prius.

If you've ever been to camp, perhaps you will remember some of it. Maybe you remember your cabin or your tent. Maybe you remember your counselors, your favorite trees. Maybe you remember good things or bad things. Maybe you remember everything but it doesn't quite seem real. More like a lovely dream than a real thing. That's kind of how I feel. It's been so long since I last saw camp, now it seems more just like a worn memory that I console myself with. It will only really seem real again when I get out of that car tomorrow morning.

I call Sanborn just camp. Not Sanborn.... just, and only, camp. Everyone who knows me knows what I'm talking about, and to people who don't, I simply explain. Sanborn is the only sleep-away camp I've ever attended. Every single one of my cousins (all girls, may I note) except for the youngest, who is five, on my mom's side attends. My cousins from Los Angeles came in last night. My only other cousin on my mom's side lives in Colorado Springs, so she will drive. As will we. With my cousins.

I'm sorry if this seems like advertising, but Sanborn is an excellent camp. The camp has over 100 horses, tons of land, and you spend most of your time outside. Overnights occur often, and you have the freedom to choose what you want to do every single day. You sleep, eat, and live with up to ten girls and three counselors in one side of a cabin, all of which are named things like Ponderosa Pine and Silver Spruce. Your friends from camp come from all over the country, and sometimes even internationally. I'm having difficulties with not screaming out loud, I'm so excited!

I should go and finish packing. Farewell, you few people who read this blog. Farewell, and I shall be on again come August....

Farewell.

Musical INSTRUMENTS. yes, it's different than the last one

Between the ages of four and five, I began learning to play the piano from a beloved teacher name Becky (now a mother, thus no longer a teacher). My first lesson included banging on the old piano but singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star quite well. Or so I am told. Today, I continue to play the piano at the age of thirteen, more than nine years after my initial lesson. With a different teacher... Last summer, my dad started to teach me to play the guitar on his old acoustic guitar that was (and still is, as I found out today) missing the last string. :( Anyhow, as I walked home from my piano teacher's house today, I heard someone playing the guitar and singing a little song. I couldn't distinguish words. But that doesn't matter. As I continued down the street I started making up my own song in my head and then thinking about playing the guitar. Or learning how to play. I eventually found the guitar (in the basement- surprise!) and realized that I no longer remembered the minimal amount of chords I learned last year. Last year I remember proudly (but slowly...) playing Puff the Magic Dragon on the guitar with one missing string. How will I learn to play if it's missing a string? Must look into this...Perhaps I can purchase one guitar string. Hmm... This seems to be turning into an autobiography titled Harper's Musical Past. So, yes, I play the piano, dance, try to learn to play the guitar, and manage a fair GPA all at the same time. Yes, I could be crazy. But maybe we all are. I'll just leave it at that. Come back and read more!

Music

I LOVE Death Cab for Cutie. This is going to be a rather random post, just to let you know in advance. I'm going to see Death Cab on July 13 at Red Rocks ampitheatre and I am VERY excited. I also really like Coldplay and Muse. Coldplay seems a fairly popular band, but Muse, not so much. They are an English band, and I really like their music. One song, Hysteria, is one of my favorites at the moment. Along with Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie and Viva La Vida by Coldplay. I recently danced to the song Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake. That one is great too. I'm rambling. But all of these are great. Really.

I've never been to a concert. Well, like a rock concert. I've been to plenty classical music concerts. I'm rather nervous, but I'll be fine, I'm sure. I'm going with my friend and my mom to a Death Cab for Cutie concert... as mentioned above. If you've got any advice for me, please comment or write me. :)

There isn't really much else to talk about here. Music, as a media, is enormous, and I really could go on forever about it, but I'm figuring that will bore you to death, so I'll just leave it at this. Come back and read more!!!!

More on Dancing...

Every June, my dance teacher has a showcase in which all her students perform. Not that we perform anytime else... Anyhow, this years' showcase in June 13 (eek!). We don't have much time left, and I feel totally and completely unprepared. Oh, well. I hope that the next week will bring a bit more confidence my way.

This year I am doing seven dances per show or maybe six. There are two shows. That's a lot of dancing in one afternoon, in case you didn't know. That means that I will be dancing for about, oh, 45 minutes in total that afternoon, if all the dances were three minutes long. But I know for a fact that at least one of them is six minutes long. So make that almost an hour. Plus rushing around for costume changes and make-up and hair emergencies and helping other people change... All in all, it's very hectic. I don't suggest that you put yourself into something like that if you don't know what you're doing. Actually, please don't.

I said I was doing seven dances, but it's actually only six. Ballet, Jazz, Hip-hop, Modern, Pointe, and a trio that I choreographed with my friends. Now that I look back, this all seems a bit like bragging. Hope you don't mind. Please let me know if you do. I'm fairly certain that's possible on this thing... On with the show. Fun! Hopefully I will not collapse before I manage to get to the car to go home. Hopefully.

Here I go rambling again. Hope you had fun reading this.... post thing. Yeah. Come back and read more! Thanks.