Signs You've Been In Band Too Long

Nope, didn't write it. I found it instead at a hand out at Band Camp. Sadly, I am guilty of far too many of these.

1. When you hear music and start marking time.

2. When you walk behind someone and you're in step with them.

3. When you try to guess the tempo of your favorite song.

4. When all your friends are in band.

5. When you don't mind changing clothes on the bus. (*shudders*)

6. When you point out key changes and dynamics while listening to the radio.

7. When every guy/girl you're interested in is in the band.

8. When you LIKE wearing your uniform. (Right...)

9. When people ask you about your social life and you say, "Oh, you mean my flute/trumpet/drum?"

10. When you consider your music lyre a fashion accessory.

11. When you've had a 'trombone-ectomy.' (WTF?!)

12. When you practice your instrument more than you walk your dog. (Or cat...)

13. When winning a 'Flank-Off' is more important than getting and 'A' in Algebra II.

14. When people worry when they DON'T see you with your instrument. (In my case 'do')

15. When 'armed' guard' means a girl with a pole instead of a guy with a gun.

16. When band camp is FUN. (*dies*)

17. When you respond to 'band geek.'

18. When you realize that there aren't hills, sidewalks, and ruts on a 'REAL' football field.

19. When you remember sharps and flats more easily than your name.

20. When you 'dress-down' the lunch line, and urge others to do the same. (*blank stare*)

21. When you think that Frisbee IS played with drumheads. (It's what Ghetto bands do)

22. When '8-to-5' feels normal.

23. When your instrument has a name. (ALL BOW DOWN BEFORE DARTH-FLUTE!!)

24. When you remember your instrument's birthday, and forget your mom's.

25. When making a rank is your biggest accomplishment of the day.

26. When back marching no longer reminds you of ballet. (O_o)

27. When you give your instrument a birthday party.

28. When you use electrical tape because you forgot black socks. (Hey, that was my idea!)

29. When your uniform fits. (Is that possible?)

30. When you see your band section more often than you see your family.

31. When you think your band section IS your family. (Complete with the hatred and feuds)

32. When everyone wants to 'kill' the other football team, you want to 'kill' the other band.

33. When you have dreams about selling candy bars.

34. When you think evening practices should last a half hour longer. (*dies* Take II)

35. When you accidentally call your band director 'Dad.' (*dies* Take III)

36. When you CAN sight-read.

37. When you can put on your uniform in less than 4 minutes. (Try fewer than two, punk)

38. When reeds taste good. (I prefer to smoke them...)

39. When fast food is a part of your daily diet.

40. When you think your 'Tam-beret' looks cool. (Sure...)

41. When marking time is your favorite form of exercise.

42. When you have a neck strap/harness tan line.

43. When you subconsciously start practicing a new song with a pencil.

44. When numbers past 8 aren't important.

45. When you're more opinionated about the Keith/Roosevelt band rivalry than who is going to win the Super Bowl. (Steelers PWN)

46. When you roll-step through the cafeteria so you don't spill your lunch.

47. When you rather practice than read this list. (Or type it...)

48. When letters past G aren't important.

49. When you don't mind getting up at midnight to take a 6 hour bus ride so that you can compete for the whole morning and throw up on park riders, just to take a 6 hour bus ride home that gets you there at 4 am the next morning.

50. When you get the jokes on this list. (...)

A Pulse Remains

Yes, I know. Both this place and the Tic-Tac Inquirer haven't gotten updated since and end of ever.

For the record, I blame finals and TV.

Fear not my dears, as my schedule looks lighter from here on out. Hopefully, I be able to keep this updated, as well as get through all of the work that need to be done on the TTI.

The Band Director Conspiracy: Take II (Plus Sharpies)

As I have said before, caffeine brings out the worst in people.

I consumed a rather large amount as I walked home from band practice earlier.

This made me thing back over the incidents concerning band that had occurred in the past week.

I am a very laid back person, so when he, the band director, placed me in third flute, more out of spite than ability, I let it slide. After all, I still had to survive another year after this with him. (My junior high goes up to ninth grade.)

I was even at peace enough to turn the other cheek as be cut me out of all the good parts of the one of the selections for the concert, even though I was one of the few who could play them correctly.

He was pushing his luck as he later openly insulted my in front of the entire band, and he knew it.

But then he went even further.

As many know, my younger sister is innocent blood in this feud. But he sees her as fair game.

It was still early first period when one of my friends in the clarinet section came up to me.

"You're sister looked pretty upset during sectionals this morning," she had said.

I tilted my head in confusion. After all, she was one of the better people in the section, and an earlier line up had put in at the very front of second clarinet, something that made me overjoyed with pride.

"He placed her in the last chair," my friend said solemnly.

I could feel my face burning and my anger welling.

I knew of the hostility that my sister had faced when she first entered the band, but this one just uncalled for. He had no right.

I sat quietly for the rest of that day, and all through after school band practice, venting my aggression through glares of daggers.

As I walked home, my anger turned itself into vivid fantasy.

He would be at school early the next day, and no one would be around for an hour or so. My athame would do the job well enough, and there was a spare tube case in the bunker. No one would notice the body for at least a week or two, long enough for me to formulate an alibi...

My train of though was interrupted by a scream of "Sharpies!!!" by my younger sister.

Mom came up to be and placed three Sharpie Minis in my palm. "These are yours sweetie," she said as she brushed a red strand from my face.

All of my evil thoughts were pushed from my mind. Peace fell over me again, and all was good.

P.S. ((I have already named them. Lala(turquoise), Dhoom(purple), and Blinky(pink highlighter).))

The Band Director Conspiracy

They say that an overdose of caffeine brings out the worst in people.

This is most certainly true.

During my last survey, I found that about 18 people have read this blog, with about five faithful, if silent, readers.

Most of the faithful readers know me outside of cyberspace, and it is these people who already know about the Band Director Conspiracy.

But for those who don't, I will give a brief summary, as the post I make after this will make little sense otherwise.

***

In grades first through six, my band director was Mr. M, as I shall call him.

He wasn't the best in band directors. Whenever I played a wrong note, he would throw a chair at me.

As this was elementary school, he was also my flute instructor.

Needless to say, I learned very little.

Then I moved into junior high.

In my new school, the band was over 100 strong, normal for my area. Unlike most other schools, upper classmen or the best players didn’t run the band. It was run by an elite group, know as the Favorites.

As I walked in to band camp that first day, just a poor, scared seventh grader, I took no notice of the band directory, Mr. Y, watching all of the new students intently.

He was making his selections for the Favorites.

Whether it was 'lamb-with-fangs' attitude, my innocent looks, my ability to calm the fears and concerns of my fellow seventh graders, or how I didn't freak out when grown men started to flirt with me, I will never know. But somehow, I was on the potential Favorite list.

Because of this, life was good. I was accepted into the band, aloud to eat under the big oak tree with the Favorites, and given a high standing in the flute section.

Things change all to quickly however.

It was late, almost ten. I had just gotten done performing in my first football game. I had period cramps, I had just come out of a minor sugar-induced spasm, and my mind was elsewhere, thinking instead to my Dad, who was having a particularly bad week.

So, when an upperclassmen bumped into me on my way out, causing my to drop my empty garment bag, I simply scooped it back up, and scampered out of the stadium to my ride.

I got home to peel my sticky uniform from my sore, hot, shivering flesh.

That’s when I noticed something.

This wasn't my garment bag.

Fear shot through me as I read whose garment it was.

I had just stolen the garment bag of one of the ringleaders of the Favorites.

I had my drive back to the stadium, hoping to make things right.

Alas, I was too late.

I eventually got my right garment bag back, and the girl whose garment bag I took harbored to grudge.

But the band director did.

And since, that night, he has taken it upon himself to make my life I living hell, as well as push both me and my younger sister, who joined that band the year after I did, into the cold circle of band outcasts.

And that is The Band Director Conspiracy.

Bedtime Story of a Geek

"Hey Becca; tell me a story."

And so it was said as I tuck my littlest sister into her bed.

I smiled, kissed her fore-head, and began:

***

Once upon a time, there was a mythical kitty fairy named Hershey.

One day, Hershey decided to go to the park.

And then she threw a party.

And then everything exploded.

Then it exploded, and everyone died.

But it kept on exploding. Then it stopped.

And it exploded again.

And then the ninja came. And he was all 'waaaaa' - 'hooooo' - 'taaaaallllllll' *insert odd hand motions here*

That’s when the gnome came.

And he and the ninja got into this huuuuuuggggge fight with these stolen light sabers. And they were all 'swissssss' - 'quuuuuuuu' - 'errrrrrrrrrn' *insert some more hand motions*

Then Obi- One- Kanobi decided to become a sumo wrestler.

And he was all fat and waddled when he walked.

Then there was a huge battle!!!!!

And then Kirby ate everyone.

Then he exploded.

***

"And then my sweet," I said, my voice now soft, "They went out for scones and sherry with the Grim Reaper."

But she heard none of this, as she was fast asleep.

For the Journey

Tonight, I was inducted into the National junior Honor Society. The follow was read at the end of the ceremony to 'inspire' us.

A Wish for Leaders

I sincerely wish you will have the experience of thinking up a new idea, planning it, organizing it, and following it to completion, and then have it be magnificently successful.

I also hope you'll go through the same process, and have something fall apart.

I wish you could know how it feels to "run" with all your heart... and lose... horribly.

I wish that you could achieve some great good for humankind, but have nobody know about it except for you.

I wish that you could find something so worthwhile that you deem it worthy of investing you like within it.

I hope you become frustrated and challenged enough to begin to push back the very barriers of your own limitations.

I hopw you make a stupid mistake and get caught red-handed, and are big enough to say those magic words, "I was wrong."

I hope you give so much of yourself that some days you wonder if it's worth the effort.

I wish for you a magnificent obsession that will give you reason for living and purpose and direction in life.

I wish for you the worst kink of criticism for everything you do, because that makes you fight to achieve beyond what you normally would.

Why didn't they just say, "I wish you would lay down, die, and have no one know?

Because one isn't enough

Hey all. Your annoying, lovable redhead is back, and with some great news! I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Gecko!!!

No, I'm kidding. I can't drive.

So instead, I created another Blog!!

The Tic-Tac Inquirer

Don't worry, I ain't abandoning ya'll. This blog is for all of those funny stories you see on the internet, and my commentary on them. No, I didn't actually write these stories.