Think about what you love to do: make music, watch film, run, knit, code, wrestle, act...
How does the thinking you do for what you love transcend your passion and emerge in how you read and write? Explain the thinking you do for what you love. Then, show me that in poetic form as you write about how you read and write.
Rhythm Reading
ReplyDeletehidden behind
pounding, brass, warm black blues
free-form jazz melodies,
motivation lies
hidden behind
ranting, chants, skin clad tan
cave art stories,
movement lies
supporting purpose
beats to notes
supporting purpose
ideology to quotes
music moves
story moves
in rhythm
Composing Lives
ReplyDeleteBlank barline,
Expression rise,
forming bounds between our lives
Crescendos lead a passionate ascent
to suspense, and fall to rest at decrescendos
Gentle rhythms, moving notes,
Melodies granting living hosts.
Written pages, flowing lines
define an interpretation of a
Life. Reading is as grammar is:
Necessary to the human being.
Just One More
ReplyDeleteAll you have to do is just one more,
One more stroke, one more turn, one more time.
In pain your muscles roar,
But you must keep going.
Awake before the birds,
One more lift, one more practice, one more time.
In exhaustion your mind is void of words,
But you must keep going.
Drowning in homework from school,
One more paper, one more test, one more time.
Twenty four hours in the day, no more since time is cruel,
But you must keep going.
Feeling as if you’re on repeat,
Still one more set, still one more practice, still not enough time.
Your body and mind want to accept defeat,
Yet you still keep going.
Behind the start waiting for your turn,
One more dive, one more race, one last time.
You’re among the stars with results you earned.
Good thing you still kept going.
I love swimming; slowly but surely the sport has taken over my life during the past five years. I practice everyday, sometimes two or three times a day, to reach the goals that I have set. The practices are long and grueling, two hours of nonstop swimming and kicking and sprinting is more exhausting than one might think. My days have become repetitive: go to practice, go to school, go to practice, do homework, go to bed, repeat. Going through this schedule is just as fatiguing mentally as it is physically. There have been days where I don’t want to go to practice, or don’t feel like going to a swim meet, or don’t feel like doing all of the homework that has piled up because I spend so much time swimming. Yet, I keep going, because I know that I am working towards something and improving everyday and THAT is what I love. I love setting a goal and pushing myself past the state of exhaustion to achieve it. I like to think that I apply this with every aspect of my life, including reading and writing. When I am reading a book I always tell myself just one more page, one more page and then I will be done for the day. I rarely just read one more page; I have invested myself in the book and I have vowed to stay with the story till the end. I reach some ends quicker than others, some ends aren’t quite what I expect, sometimes there is a part somewhere in the middle that I really have to work through to get to the end, but I always reach the end. Afterall, it is the end of the story that I learn from, seeing the situation pan out in its entirety, so it is the end that I look forward to. Reaching the end is a bittersweet moment; sweet since I have learned from what I read, yet bitter since that story is over. I feel this with swimming. Being a senior on the swim team is surreal. I have gone faster than I have gone before, which is sweet, my goals are higher than I have ever set them and I am pushing my mind and body to their limits in order to achieve those goals. When I swim my last race this season it will be amazing to see the results of all my effort, yet it will be bitter since that part of my life is over. I will have finished the book that is high school swimming. I have laughed at the funny parts, cried at the sad parts, felt stuck at some of the rough parts, but most of all I enjoyed and celebrated all of the rewarding parts. It has been a long book that I have loved and slaved over, yet it is time to put it down, no matter how hard, and pick up a new book, start a new story. But, No Matter WHAT, the lessons this book has taught me will stay with me for the rest of my life. And I am glad to think that when I am in the middle of a new book, feeling stuck and defeated, I can remember swimming, smile at the memories, and find the motivation to keep going.
Outside of the classroom I enjoy running and swimming. Ever since I began swimming at the age of five, I have learned the values of hard work, focus and dedication to personal improvement. My early experiences with athletics built a foundation for my overall self confidence, and pushed me to find success in all aspects of my life. I know that the work ethic I have built through athletics carries over into the classroom and my writing as well. My work is often tightly structured and organized, just like my daily schedule. Running and swimming are just as mentally grueling as working through a perfect paper or reading a challenging novel. I continually strive for perfection in my writing just as I do everyday at practice. I often settle down and read for relaxation or push through a challenging aerobic workout to relieve the stresses of daily life and school. My coaches lend advice by correcting technique and giving race strategy just as a teacher assigns an essay and makes edits along the way. Reaping the rewards of such hard work will typically come in the form of a personal best time or a pleasing grade. Reading and writing parallel my athletic activities and both have impacted my life thus far and will continue to influence my future as I take on new adventures.
ReplyDeleteHeels strike black pavement,
Instantaneously the body absorbs shock,
Lurch forward to take another stride,
Physical overcomes the mental block.
Arms slice through the water,
Another 50, 100, 150 complete,
Hold breath and quick kicks off wall,
Wishing to stop, but can’t be beat.
Hand grabs pen to put to paper,
Ideas flow but sentences escape the mind,
Existing stories have inspired,
Now to share so others can find.
My faith is the most important thing in my life. I go to church every week, I’m involved in Bible study and youth group and many other things at my church. I have had the opportunity to go on mission trips. All of these things rejuvenate me. I feel charged, I feel filled with life and the drive to learn more about the God I serve. I want to grow closer to my friend. This inspires me to daily read His word and sometimes write out my prayers. I believe that God is creative, and in my constant striving to become more like Him, I strive to be creative. This inspires me to read and learn more about the world I believe He created, and to appreciate the creative gifts of other people. I’m inspired to write, to see what I myself can create.
ReplyDeletesongs verses psalms
He is encouraging me
He is challenging me
revelations laws commandments
He tells me I must stand on a hill
I cannot hide
I must be brave
read write create
there is a voice to be heard
ideas to be shared
He has given them to me
He has given them to us
sermons prayers
they inspire
they keep me going
love joy peace
I experience
and I want to share
(PART ONE)
ReplyDeleteI would be lying if I said that I’d been a musical prodigy since birth, or that my family was immersed in the trade and I was groomed for it all my life; however, I also can’t deny that, by choice, it’s become a huge part of my existence, and that my passion for music and its making is unbridled. Admittedly, it is not something easy to pursue. To be a musician is consistently finding a delicate balance between an unmitable confidence in oneself (not only in your playing and your passionate performance but also in your preparation and preparedness) and an underlying stoicism that you may be rejected at any time and that the worth of your countless hours of work is decided by the consumer of the art alone. Especially with college auditions coming up (and very, very quickly!) it is imperative for me to remember this. I need to balance the fact that what seems like my whole future is dependent upon one performance with the knowledge that if I can’t find a way to relax and allow my work to be emotional and passionate, it never, truly, will be good enough.
Now, as a senior, I’ve become rotating principal of the Cleveland Orchestra Youth Orchestra. Corbin Stair, the newest member of the Orchestra’s oboe section, is a twenty-something without his master’s degree who outraged the oboe community with not only his admittance into the group but also his nonchalance; in one of our coaching sessions, he said something incredulous that resonated with me. In addition to the fact that one’s professional success in music is not guaranteed, one often faces persecution from society at large because of the decision to pursue something that isn’t traditionally deemed to be useful or without a definitive purpose. Yet one of its greatest purposes, and the thing about which many forget, is that it reminds the individual of their humanity, awakening the soul to sensations that long ago fell dormant or were never yet aroused at all. The man had an extraordinarily unconventional approach to his career, applying to several schools for business and several for music; having been accepted into one of the most prestigious and cost-free institutions in the world, the Curtis Institute, the rest fell into place (with hard work, of course). He told me that my mind and my perspective are my greatest weapons, that I needed to make the auditions smaller in my mind, and that unless I could find a way to relax and be my whole and complete self, that the audition would never be any good because I wouldn’t be showing my genuine emotion or passion. Thus, even if I can’t find a good way to relax and make my auditions less important to me, I decided that I needed to write myself a list of as many moments in my own musical history that made me feel sublime, so that I could focus on why I chose to pursue it in the first place and remind myself of how superb I can be when I just let my inhibitions go.
(PART TWO)
ReplyDeleteLittle girl, five years old,
Crying at her keyboard.
Practicing,
Frustrating,
Trying to learn notes.
Teacher Adrienne,
Full of confidence.
Skipping ahead,
Eating seaweed with bread,
Retirement and silver bells ringing.
Recorder band,
Belts of yellow and red.
Others upset,
Progress unmatched,
Teacher with toupee impressed.
Petting zoo,
Dad didn’t know what to do.
Picked up the thing,
The sound made them scream,
Pleasure for once did not lead me astray.
Gross hilly house,
Two dogs and a mouse.
Keyboard is my muse,
The pieces a ruse,
Didn’t yet awaken my passions.
Kulas Hall,
So big, yet so small.
Needed a drink of water,
Heart in time with the conductor,
The Planets provoking the fire.
C and D ringing,
The choir was singing.
Bell chorus of oldies,
Making me feel lucky,
Having my youth and my love of life left.
Cleveland Youth Wind Symphony,
Drained the life of out me.
Expecting the worst,
I felt poorly and thirsty,
But love and experiences humbled my supposition.
The last note I hit was not with dread,
Despite a lack of tears unshed.
But with a family,
Always next to me,
The keyboard I pushed in with dignity.
Beneath the moonlight,
All eyes filled with twilight.
Our dresses ripped,
Of false appearances we stripped,
Singing Austrian prayers that ran to the heavens.
Gender barrier,
Finally shattered.
Mother at the table crying,
The scent of his love lingering,
Celli plucking pizzicato at my heartstrings.
College looming,
Time keeps slipping.
Past selves watching,
Spending road trips brooding,
The lamb builds a fortress to remember who she was
And protect from who she does not want to be.
It’s a tiered system, with the foundation being music, the first story being film, and the second story being literature. I first learned how to express and understand articulated emotion through music. I took that understanding into film, studying how shots were designed in order to render a specific response from the audience. This transferred into my reading of literature, and the process of creating things in order to harvest the desired emotion from an audience exposed itself in my writing.
ReplyDeleteIn this life
I’d like to for once
tolerate the exasperation of others
long enough to see them find calm,
find hope within the fullest of moons
the horoscopes and pixiedust
the jewelry their grandparents died
for them to have, I’d like to
sit still long enough without reaching
for distraction or pacifier or ambien, maybe
hold the thumping in my chest
out to the train passenger next to me
seeing as they are so cold
or nodding off, dreaming so
the pulsating will stir them awake
and I’d like to, if only once
hold eye contact when I feel
so compelled to turn away.
The following poem incorporates two things that I love: Dance and Band. These things have taught me time management along with a strong work ethic. I started dance when I was three years old. I continued it all through elementary school and middle school. When I started marching band, both had practices on Thursday nights. I picked marching band over dance to try something new. Band and dance taught me to work hard and to learn that what you put into something correlates to what you experience in the long run. For reading and writing, it gives you a purpose. There is always something to write about and it gives you much more respect for others’ passions as well.
ReplyDeleteSTOP.
Do it again.
Point your toes!
Jump higher.
Your arm looks like a chicken wing!
KEEP SMILING!!
Exasperation.
Confusion
Wait!
Everyone stopped.
I did it wrong.
But I Kept Smiling.
One more time…
Infamous words
Never true
But still we practice
We fix our mistakes
and we keep smiling.
Had to make a choice
Traded my taps for my keys
The stage for a field
Missed it everyday
But thought it was for the best
So I kept smiling.
My Heart loved both places
Found a way to make it work
Isn’t always pretty
Compels you to work hard
But at the end I have the stage
So I will Keep Smiling!
Knowledge is power. Power dissipated in a resistor is given by P = I squared times R, where I is the current in Amperes and R is resistance in Ohms.
ReplyDeleteTherefore, according to the transitive property, Knowledge = (I^2)R.
Wow, look! Two of my great passions - physics and math - manifest in WRITING! Isn’t that just phenomenal?
Joking aside, the way I read is affected by my love for physics and mathematics. I tend to pay more attention to what I’m reading if something related is brought up…which is why one of the only things I can remember from the Underground Man’s ramblings was his whining that he didn’t want two plus two to equal four.
From time to time, I manage to make up [really bad] physics jokes. In fact, I lied when I said “joking aside” - I just thought of a joke. It’s probably worse than the other two I’ve made up, but here it is:
Q: How does the Solar System stay clean?
A: The planets sweep out the same area every night!
If you don’t get it, I direct you to Kepler’s second law of planetary motion.
An Ode to Wikipedia
Wikipedia is my friend
with entries on every topic
From light cones and causality
to Young and physical optics
A single mouse’s click can yield
another gripping article
Quarks transform in beta decay
by way of virtual particles
Another search can lead me to
force chains, like in sand
Soon though it becomes quite clear
the clicking’s out of hand
Hausdorff dimensions? Poincaré-
can’t understand his maps
Lorentz transformations too
can’t hope to grasp all that!
“Just what I need” then “I don’t understand”
in just a couple clicks
Wikipedia, I gotta say:
Cool it with your hyperlinks
Superconductor jokes are IRRESISTIBLE
Delete(•_•)
( •_•)>⌐■-■
(⌐■_■)
I have always surrounded myself with music. I took piano lessons when I was younger and would practice from my method book every day. I would try my very best to stretch my tiny fingers so I could move from black key to white key. I was always so amazed by the fact that I could create music by striking the piano, but I would often get frustrated if I just couldn’t get the notes right, or didn’t know how to read the music. From reading the clefs, to knowing just where to put my fingers, to remembering notes and rhythms, I would often feel overwhelmed. I never gave up, though, and would continue to practice until I was perfect enough to get a sticker next to the excerpt I was preparing. I have also always loved to read. I loved discovering friendship with Frog and Toad, traveling through time in the Magic Tree House, and counting colorful fish with Dr. Seuss. My times tables always came second to my bookshelf and the library was like a home. If I was ever told a book would be too long or too hard for me to read, I would read the book anyway in spite of the doubters. I was top of my class in reading level, and I held that title with such pride. I would read my picture books to my Barbies and they would listen intently to adventure after adventure, even if I sometimes stuttered over sentences.
ReplyDeleteSince my elementary school days, I have learned other instruments, learned how to read deeper, and gained a greater appreciation for books, writers, musicians, and music. I have realized that practice in music and language arts makes perfect, and not enough practice makes for wrong notes, disappointed directors, misunderstood meanings, and less-than-ideal grades. I have also been able to draw parallels between reading words on pages and notes on sheet music. Just as literary sentences are separated by punctuation, musical sentences are separated by bar lines and phrase markings. Just as punctuation changes pacing, articulation and dynamic markings allow music to ebb and flow. Each book, each piece of music, can be interpreted in different and unique ways by the readers and musicians who come across them, yet still be recognized as the same work. As a young musician, it used to be hard to subdivide patterns and remember just the right ways to place my fingers on the keys. As a young reader, it used to be hard to read quickly, summarize texts, or see past the pictures on the page. I have since come a far way.
A great part of my time has always been dedicated to music, and a great part of my heart has always belonged to literature. While there is plenty of room for growth in terms of my musical and literary abilities, I love being able to apply the way I analyze text to the way I analyze songs, and being able to read the way I play my music. It takes me time, dedication, and practice to be able to do both well, but I would not have it any other way. There is no substitute worthy enough to replace either in my life.
The Arts In My Life
I love music.
I love flutes and oboes,
Guitars, pianos,
Any kind of instrument.
When I play,
The vibrations from my reed
Reverberate outwards like seeds
Planting melodies in your ear.
I also love writing.
I love poems and words,
Whether they be lyrical or absurd,
Inspiration comes from anywhere.
When I write,
My pen is my instrument, ink my weapon,
Ready to become a vehicle for expression.
I have a lot to say and want to be heard.
Words on paper are like notes on a staff,
Coming to a climax, a crescendo,
Some need more time to develop, some diminuendo.
Both require analysis and interpretation.
Reading, writing, and playing
Are all things I love to do.
Words, like melodies are beautiful when they come through.
Stories and songs always beg you to listen closely.
I would be incomplete without music or books,
For my arts imitate my life,
A creative compilation of so many things, including happiness and strife.
Both words and notes make me feel complete.
Not a master of either,
However I do not despair,
Both of these passions I hope will take me somewhere.
But only God knows where I’ll be in the future.
Throughout my life I have always been addicted to music. Whether it be practicing the piano, saxophone, or just listening to some cool jazz or upbeat rock I have always been surrounded with music. However, I have also developed passions for running, and watching film throughout my life as well. It has been an experience growing up from watching old disney cartoons to watching films by Christopher Nolan, Tarantino, and Spielberg. Film is a way for me to just get sucked into a separate reality and just enjoy that world for hours. Plus, nothing ever beats that feeling of crossing the finish line in a race and knowing that you just ran your fastest race ever. All these passions have knit themselves throughout my life and will continue to do so for the rest of my life.
ReplyDeleteOh, the good times
From my first beethoven
To the movie Beauty and the Beast
To my first 1/2 mile run
Oh, the good times
Playing the Entertainer
To watching the Dark Knight
To running my first race
My heart soars
Oh, the good times
Swinging along to the smooth jazz
Watching Sam carry Frodo to the top of Mount Doom
Running my first 5k
The memories continue to form
Oh, the good times
Studying Beethoven still, a whole decade later
To watching Forrest Gump send his son off to school
To getting my first medal
Emotional growth continues
Oh, the memories
Stay with me
Oh, the good times
For the past four years, I have been involved with the high school’s marching band. Although to our audiences, teachers, peers, and community see us as the boisterous, yet respectful group teens, the activity in itself is much more. My freshman year, I did not get what the other band members were saying about how “you’ll have that one performance that changes you” or “one day, it will just click for you rookies”. I didn’t understand what everyone was raving about..it’s just marching band...right? WRONG! My sophomore year is what really got me into marching band. Even though I was in color guard, I fell in love for spinning, performing, and becoming part of something much bigger than I was. Being with the rest of the band members for months, working hard at perfecting our marching, playing, visuals, spinning, and performing resulted in impacting our lives, our staff’s lives, and our audience. I have tried countless times to try and explain what it feels like, or what band really is, or how impactful it is, but I have always ended up failing because no one else can feel and understand unless they are involved with it. Now being a senior, knowing that I will never practice in the blazing sun in July on the practice field. I will never again march as a Marching Blue Devil into the stadium for Meet the Band Night. I will never hear Mr. W say “One more time” after already running the show 5 times. Like Mr. W said during the last Thursday night rehearsal, “You will never find this again”, and I know I won’t. I will never find that sense of family and security and belonging that I found when I was in band.
ReplyDeleteThe Performance
We march on to the field
Sounds of the snare tapping us off and the screaming fans
I run to set my flags and rifle, stealing glances at the audience
“This is it”, I think to myself
“Make it the best”.
I hear the band start to warm up and tears prick in my eyes
The drum major starts
5,6,5,6,7,8…
The music starts and I’m a different person
I am the performer
The long lost lover
The evil turning to good
The girl who just wants an escape
Lift up
Breathe
Here it comes…
The big hit
1,2,3,4
I toss...
Perfect.
Catch.
I run and spin and perform
Music ends
We are one step closer to the end of our last performance
Dip, toss,
Out!
Catch.
Crazy band parents and band members scream and applaud.
I spin and make my movement sharp and precise
Another piece of the show...over..
I smile and becoming the flirtatious and sassy performer
The performer in love with the prince…
With the one thing I can’t have
With the activity that has changed me
I spin and tell our story we are performing
This is it
The end
We made it this far
The music is frantic and sad
I get ready for the last hit
I run out and spin
Tears falling down my face
I know this is it and I’m overjoyed
This was it
The performance that I will remember
Cherished forever.
i don't do much
ReplyDeletethe world was ripping apart at its seams
it opened up into the sky
and bled sunrises all over my hands
my hands that create poetry,
stories beyond my years.
so much anger,
the frustration,
the weight of complete darkness,
opened up a world
where creating in rhymes gave me reasons
there no time for childhood
and no time for living
all i ever practiced was dying
all i ever knew was not of myself
i did not create passion from passion
and my writing was not made from compassion
but instead from the countless hours
of learning how to love what did not love me
there was* no time
DeleteI started acting when I was eleven. I threw myself into a world of kids who had made theatre their lives long before I had even considered it. They took dance lessons four times a week, they had already been in twenty productions, they sang like angels and had a repertoire that grew at an exponential rate. I felt behind, but I kept at it. Then, I was in a school play, and everything took off. I did camps and workshops and classes at Baldwin-Wallace for years, until I aged out of them. By that time I had discovered community theatre, and I had worked my way up from the girl who only had one line, to the girl who was the lead. I then moved on to the Beck Center for the Arts, a place that remains one of my favorites. I started off at at summer camp, one that I consider the thing that made me “good”. I became part of a community. After camp was over, I started taking classes. Every Saturday, all day. Acting and singing in an ensemble. I learned how to work with others in a way that we trusted each other enough to know what we were doing, and trusted that everything would turn out just as rehearsed. At the same time, I got cast in my first Brunswick High School play, Cinders. I didn’t get cast in anything for the rest of the year. After Cinders, I did crew and a play at the Beck Center. After school I went to crew for two hours, then directly to Beck, eating dinner in the car, some nights until 9 o’clock. Theatre overtook my life. At Beck I took voice, dance, and drama. At school last year I got cast three out of four times. I remember saying “my life is miserable without theatre in it”. It’s true. I can’t live without theatre, and I can’t imagine who I would be without it. It’s the same thing with reading and writing, I can’t live without it and I’m a different person because of the things I’ve written and read.
ReplyDeleteThe thing is, when I’m onstage, I don’t think. I become so involved in what I’m doing, I go to a place outside of myself. It’s impossible to describe. That feeling of being onstage, with the lights on my face, my best friends beside me, and becoming anyone I want to be. I approach reading and writing the same way. The characters are my friends, the story is being played out in front of me. I become a part of any story I read or write, just as I act. When I read books I imagine myself as the characters, acting them out in a play or movie format.
I read and write for the same reason I act, to escape myself. I do these things to become someone else, to live a life different from what I’ve been given. I do these things to learn more about the world around me, whether it’s by reading about it or acting it out. Theatre and literature are closely intertwined, and so is my relationship with the two.
Auditions:
They call my name with no forgiveness,
I turn in my papers, shiny headshot and long lists,
Then step up onto stage,
They’re judging, they’re judging, they’re judging,
Directions shouted, directions followed,
Thank you.
Callbacks:
They liked it.
They saw something they were looking for,
A “star quality”, a shred of talent,
Last chance, last chance, last chance
A better performance,
You’ll hear from us soon.
Cast List:
Moment of truth,
Insides swelled like a balloon,
To deflate, or burst with joy
My name, my name, my name
It’s there, I made it
Readthrough tomorrow.
Rehearsals:
Every day, hours long
Hard work mixed with sweat and tears
Encouraging words, warning words
Do better, do better, do better
A character forms slowly and surely
Get some rest.
Show Nights:
Nerves and traditions,
These are the moments to remember,
Laughter, applause, an energetic audience,
They love it, they love it, they love it,
Leaving everything out on stage,
Bravo.
Writing:
Words flowing,
Expressing myself on paper,
Starting with an idea, fighting through,
More words, more words, more words,
Revision until everything is perfect
Submit.
Reading:
Pages turning,
Being transported into new worlds
Living lives outside of everything known,
More books, more books, more books,
A feeling of connection
The end.
My two favorite things are knitting and baking. I enjoy the little details that individually seem insignificant but pull together to make something great. When I knit, it's the same repeated thing over and over. It can feel like I'm not making progress, until I pause to see how much I've created in that time frame. When I bake, I enjoy seeing the seemingly unrelated ingredients make something (hopefully) delicious. When I'm writing, I can often get discouraged and believe I haven't made progress. But, when I pause to take stock of how far I've come, like when I knit, I realize the progress I've made. When I'm analyzing a piece of literature, I try to find the way small details come together to make the big picture, like when I'm baking. This is similar to knitting, baking, writing, and reading coming together to make the best big picture ever - me.
ReplyDeleteIt’s the littlest things
that make the difference
in how the story goes
The texture and color,
or size of the needle,
which dictate how it grows.
Focus is imperative,
lest you miss something big
hidden in the lines of the prose
One missed stitch,
one ingredient slipped,
and all can see how that shows
There are few things I love more, than listening to good stand up comedy. When I say good stand up, I’m not talking about some C-list comedian who uses recycled humor that so many others have thrown away. I mean the greats. Richard Pryor, George Carlin, Robin Williams and Louis C.K. To me, they are not comedians, they are philosophers. They are not simply telling jokes, they are communicating their own beliefs and perspective through a median that is completely unique. Seeing others express themselves this way helped me understand that there are many ways communication.
ReplyDeleteWords, ideas, clips and phrases
meaning always dictates language
Ideas, thoughts and calls to action
Always seem to extract reaction
To me it's more than comedy
But modern day philosophy
Ever since I was a kid, art has been my biggest passion. Whether I am drawing, painting, or going to art exhibits, I find art to be enjoyable. I love art so much because of the symbolism and emotion that goes into a piece of art. The littlest details, such as the color scheme in a piece, can have many different meanings. Art is also amazing because it reflects the time era it was produced in.
ReplyDeleteArt is just not a hobby to me, but it is a passion that I take very seriously. Since fourth grade, I have placed in several art contests and have been in various art shows. Just last year, I received a blue ribbon with $100 for a painting I did for the Cleveland Clinic eXpression contest. Along with my prize, my art was displayed in a health center for others to view. This accomplishment was very exciting for me and one that I am proud of! Though I am not majoring in art in college, I know for a fact that I will still create art and study art throughout my lifetime.
The poem I wrote below is to explain to the reader that it is easy to interpret the meaning behind a piece of art due to the fact that a piece of art can having many different meanings.
Reading a canvas is easy to do,
Da Vinci, van Gogh
It’s up to interpretation,
So choose a meaning which speaks the most to you.
Reading a canvas is easy to do,
Realism, Impressionism
It’s up to your imagination,
So make it valuable however you want to.
Reading a canvas is easy to do,
Oil, acrylic
It’s up to your creativity,
To paint a masterpiece so others can view.
I don’t think when it comes to making art, it just happens. It's a mindless act that I love. I usually don't ask question until after what I created is done. I normally don't talk about art with others because I do not understand it myself, or I simply don't have the answer for them, but since I have nothing else to talk about, this will be it. I usually don't enjoy having an audience. Anyway I believe that the way I mindlessly create art is the same as how I write. When I pick up the pencil I fall to somewhere else. I believe my art has possibly given me a different understanding of writing and creativity.
ReplyDeleteWhat is that?
Is it a bird, an eagle?
What is that?
Is it the ocean, the sky?
What does this mean?
Is it sad, or happy?
What does this mean?
Is it mad, or crazy?
Who is this for?
Is it a project, or activity?
Who is this for?
Is it for the world, or yourself?
Don't answer the questions
Let them linger, let them ponder
Don’t think of an answer
Just draw, just write
What I love is track and what I don’t love is running. While I compete in a meet or just am sent out for practice, my mentality switches to basically survival mode. I count down how much of the race/run I have left by laps, halves, quarters, and eighths and congratulate myself for each passing point that signifies a smaller fraction left to go.
ReplyDeleteSimply Put:
I read for joy and because the benefits are great
just the outset gotta keep strong
I learn, grow, feel more passionately, just as in running
not a bad beginning start coasting
Ah yes, how reading enriches the soul.
Perrin is attentive now, note half point & must run negative
writing though, leaves a different taste in my mouth
maybe she won’t notice if I make all punctuation bold
I write per instruction, the prompt is my only friend
halfway there
creative writing often makes me feel relieved, it’s too bad I couldn’t add the course
6/10 done, 4/10 left
ironically to what you are reading, I really enjoy poetry
and by poetry I mean haiku because i am 110% done with this
Thoreau was a god amongst men
2/10 left
I would gladly live in the wilderness if I could write like him
1/10
To enrich the body with the written word emulates enrichment of the flesh
bye
As a child my life revolved around dance. I began dancing at the age of two and quit when I was fourteen. I was at the studio five days a week for anywhere from 1-4 hours a day. I was taking a variety of different classes like ballet, jazz, modern, tap, lyrical, hip hop, and I was on the competition team. To this day I still cherish my days of dancing and sometimes regret quitting it. Often times I will still find myself immersed into the world of dance, dancing around my kitchen and at the store. Dancing has taught me many things in life such as how to manage time and work with others as well as accepting that if something doesn’t work the first time that it is not an automatic failure. These ideals transfer over into my schooling life. The fact that dance has taught me not to give up has helped me through many books and essays. I am less likely to give up on writing an essay just because it does not seem to be flowing correctly and I realize that if I work on it enough then it will turn out fine in the end. Because dance has taught me how to manage my time I have learned how to stay on top of writing projects and reading books for school. Dance has made a huge impact on my life and my memories of it are going to remain forever.
ReplyDeleteAnd A 5 6 7 8
Day after day
Class after class
Dance after dance
Point your toes
Straighten your legs
Hold your balance
Turning and Jumping
Kicking and Leaping
Stretching and Spinning
Everyday dancing
Every night practicing
Every second perfecting
Standing on stage
Hearing the applause
Feeling the music
From Ballet to Jazz
From Lyrical to Hip Hop
From Tap to Contemporary
Memorize the technique
Learn the moves
Live the dance
Live through the exhaustion
Survive through the pain
Dance through the injury
This I Love
This I cherish
This I miss
The thrill of the show
The pounding of the music
The sound of the instructor calling
And a 5 6 7 8
This is probably going to come off sounding strange and somewhat sad, but I don’t really feel extremely passionate about anything at the moment. That makes it sound like my life is extremely boring, but I’d rather be honest than make up some fluffy story about how some random hobby I have is the driving force behind my purpose in life. I’ve always been a lover of music and took part in musical theater for the better part of five years, but when I started high school I put that on the back burner and never really picked it back up again. I do my fair share of reading and I love to write. Although, I find that I do the most writing when I’m feeling extremely emotional. At this very moment in my life I would say the thing I am most passionate about is getting out of Brunswick and never looking back. Not that I hate Brunswick, but I found that it’s just too small for me. And the world is too big and has far too much to offer for me to stay here. So here’s a poem about me being ready to move on with my life:
ReplyDeleteThey say the wise man learns to love
the ground beneath their feet.
Well, I guess I’m a fool
because I’m running away
and I plan to run for the rest of my life.
Running from love, to love, from my issues,
towards problems, away from flowers and
towards more lights, away from familiar
gas stations and towards unknown laughs and
whispers.
Running to catch my breath.
Running so fast that being a fool feels like
a winning lottery ticket.
Ever since I was little I have loved video games as well as history. When I was little I always watched my big brother play video games, and eventually my brother would let me play with him or in his place. While the earliest time my love of history was catalyzed was in the sixth grade, because I did my language arts report on Dwight, D. Eisenhower thanks to a engaging biography. Afterwards I began to play video game, and watch as well as read historical mediums on a regular day to day basis. Thanks to both I began to see the world in a different life. Outside of my parental upbringing as well as school these activities helped teach me that the world is not black and white, that everyone suffers in their own way, and that opinions can differ. Wars such as the First World War exemplified different personals struggles and the possibly unscrupulous nature of the world. Video games such as Super Mario or Pokemon helped me understand different ideas and cultures through a form of art. When man expresses or acts upon his emotions it is not always written in stone. Everything has a story and that story could be born and affect everyone in different ways.
ReplyDeletePerhaps his/her actions were a matter of chance as no human is infallible?
Isolation from society could result in unpredictable results when man returns.
Perhaps he truly is spiteful but he could never admit this fault?
The man underneath us all supposedly writes for himself after all.
Perhaps his/her actions were a product of an unstable upbringing?
Parental love may have ascertained a happier life..
Perhaps a childhood without true friends was really his choice?
It might not even matter.
Uncertainty, uncertainty
Where one man will rise.
Another man will compromise.
As history has proven.
Interpretation, interpretation
Where one sees a peculiar thesis.
Another might see an isolated grievous.
As the meaning of art is unbound.
Humanity breathes the same air
Walks with the same muscles
Uses the same bones
Yet, differs in thought.
Ever since I began taking cheerleading lessons at my local YMCA at 3 years old, I have found a passion in cheer that has remained with me my entire life. Putting on my cheerleading uniform has taught me so much more than one would assume. Cheerleading has taught me positivity, and how to keep smiling and cheering through a loss. But most importantly, cheering has given me confidence to step outside of my comfort zone and to show others who I truly am. As my senior year rushes by and I begin my final season of cheering, I am extremely thankful for this sport and how it has molded me into the optimist I am today.
ReplyDeleteCheering through pages
We stand on the sidelines, doing cheers and jumps, shaking our poms
We hold signs, flip in the air, and cheer to the score announced over the intercom
We have the time of our lives, never lose our smile
We can picture ourselves doing this for awhile
We think these great moments will last forever
We take pictures, tell jokes, practice together
I open a book, read the first chapter
I begin to read, wondering if I’ll be changed after
I read closely, as a character becomes a pal
I experience their pain like a root canal
I approach the final chapter, not realizing it is ending so soon
I continue to read all afternoon
We continue to smile and cheer, even through defeat
We have a positive attitude, one thing that can’t be beat
I read and look continuously look for the best
I have an optimistic attitude not similar to the rest
Cheering has showed me how to smile when I’m sad
It shows in how I read, loving any situation, whether it's good or bad
As senior year flies by, my cheer season will eventually come to a close
What book will I read next? Who really knows
Ever since I was little I loved to create art, whether it was drawing, painting, or even coloring books. It is my original passion, I can’t remember a time in my life when I haven’t found joy in drawing. Even today I draw constantly. In the margins of my school notes there are doodles from mindless scribbles to entire faces. When I draw, I feel relaxed and focused. It strips away all my other worries until there is nothing but the paper and me. Time blurs, and hours feel like minutes as I focus on every single detail of my piece. On the other hand, if it’s a school project and I’m approaching the end of a time limit I begin to feel very anxious. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to art, which leads to very long nights that leave me exhausted in the morning. Similar to my art, when I read and write the rest of the world fades away and leaves me with a sense of serenity. However, just like the downside of art, there is a downside to reading and writing. Whenever there’s a time limit, my perfectionist instincts kick in and a wave of stress hits me. I have to make sure I understand every word of a passage I’m reading. There cannot be one word out of place in my writing.
ReplyDeletea blank paper lies before me,
hand and pencil join as one.
they create what my mind can see,
while others can’t until I’m done.
words create a brand new Earth,
everything else just melts away.
time begins to grow in worth,
as it soon becomes the price to pay.
serenity slowly grows to stress,
while a careful hand begins to shake.
worried that they’ll make a mess,
wondering how much time will take.
I treat my sport meticulously. In wrestling it is just you and your opponent, and you are responsible for every detail and action that happens on your end. You have to pay attention, know when to be offensive, or know when to back out. A match is a critical six minutes, and wrestling has taught me how to be attune and pick up on small things. You read your opponent in hopes to control a match, just like trying to control your writing and reading. Sure, there is opportunity to go back and edit or reread unlike in a wrestling match, but the practice to lead to perfection still exists as a link between the two. The effort to practice and adapt definitely appears in my writing and reading, making me believe that my body and mind have much more in common than I thought.
ReplyDeleteThe ink dries on the page before I know
My mind thinks faster than my hand can go
Will the audience swiftly swim on the flow
Or be lost and end up drowned below?
My handwriting sure was not keeping me afloat
But I had great ideas on the foundation of this boat
Anchored in sound logic, research, quotes
All washed in a whirlpool of notes
I put effort to expand my sea of writing more
To practice endlessly; like waves hitting shore
To practice even if my hand ends up sore
So more opportunities knock on my door
Choir is one of those things I didn’t consider as important but when I look back I realize it is one of the greatest constants I have come to depend on. I joined choir in fourth grade, telling my mother it was “just something on the side- I’m not majoring in it when I go to college”. Nowadays, compositions of Eric Whitacre and John Rutter are what I crave in sleepless nights and panicked mornings. Though I wouldn’t say choral music is my daily cup of coffee, it is the friend you go to when everything else is falling apart. The beautiful voices of the Eric Whitacre Singers and The Cambridge Singers transport me to a world where things like college essays don’t matter. This escape from reality goes even further when I am the one singing. When it comes to performing, I use my past experiences to connect to the piece, but on a daily basis, I try to stop everything else that is going on and focus on creating music with the people around me. Singing in a choir makes me feel like a part of something bigger than myself. Every individual has to put in so much effort, offer up themselves on a shiny platter we call the stage for all to see and ehra, to express what the composer meant in writing the piece. While many can read a piece of music, our performances brings the song to life and shows the audience why it matters.
ReplyDeleteKicked out of the house,
Rejected by college,
Failed physics test,
Depressed and want to end it-
Stop.
Leave your problems at the door.
Welcome to choir.
Here the phrase is “fake it ‘til you make it”
And while sometimes it holds true most the act
is not required.
Different pieces, different days, some the
smile is genuine on others
the pain is.
Nothing outside of this classroom matters.
This is it.
This is what I live for.
Friends, family, future- they’re important, sure
But music! Creating art
Is what makes us human and gives us that
Rush of being truly alive.
Besides,
As the loudest of only 3 voices on the tenor part, they
kinda need me to stick around.
If the rhythm is the words,
The pitches their meaning,
Dynamics sentences,
The expression of a piece is
A work of literature.
The individual is the string of words,
The section the chapter,
And ensemble the novel.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteA prevailing cliché in popular culture is that classical musicians perform with “emotion.” But what does that actually mean? Are they consumed by overwhelming grief when they play Beethoven, or skipping with exuberance when they play Mozart? Or do they conjure memories and imaginary scenes to fit each section of music? The answer is they speak. They rant, they cry, they praise, or they even demonstrate apathy. Music communicates meaning through careful craft of the emotional, psychological, and linguistic meaning of each interval, each phrase, and each section.
ReplyDeleteDETAIL
It’s not just about emotion, or passion.
It’s about sensitivity, to the minutest
of details, to the subtlest
effects, and the mental ability to manipulate –
to manipulate –
those details to form a coherent, Beautiful. and communicative, structure.
music is just a Language. english is just a Language.
the Violin is my voice. notes are my words. theory is my grammar.
Each interval, note, phrase, accent, order, shape, rhythm, volume change, direction change, tonal change
Each phrase, word, clause, emphasis, order, rhythm, inflection, capitalization, punctuation mark, tonal change
has a particular effect. thus,
each Interval, Note, Phrase, Accent, Order, Shape, Rhythm, Volume change, Direction change, Tonal change
each Phrase, Word, Clause, Emphasis, Order, Inflection, Rhythm, Capitalization, Punctuation mark, Tonal change
is there for a particular reason to create a particular effect.
Understand those effects. Notice those details. For details are infinite. none is too small