FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!

Ah high school, you are characterized by many things; tests, bad food, cocroaches, insane teachers, but I think that the worst part of high school is the fights. Today during my lunch period, I was walking towards my seat, and I look around to find two girls, (one was possibly a teacher), beating the crap out of each other. Within seconds the entire caferteria is swarmed in a circle around the two fighters. People are standing on their chairs and straining their necks to try and get a good veiw of the spectacle. As I watched the crowd mezmorized by the sight of violence, I felt sick to my stomach. What kind of people had we become? The kind that break into fights and try to kill another human being, over what? A snarky comment? A boy? What is it that could push someone over the edge like that? And, what does that say about our society and how children are being raised nowadays that they can't even express themselves through words or other means of communication? It's not only that people have to desire in them to want to hurt another person so badly that bothers me, it's how everyone else reacts. All day long from that point on, all most people were saying was "Hey, did you see the fight in the cafeteria? Wasn't it awsome?" I don't understand how someone can get enjoyment out of seeing two people, filled with so much fury, ruin their reputations in front of everyone like that. It makes me so upset to see people having to resort to such violent methods of communtication like that. The fight was over in about two minutes, it was broken up by a gym teacher and the burly, new assistant principal. The caferteria was all abuzz with the news. Students were still standing on their chairs, trying to catch a last glimpse of the girls as they were ushered out of the cafeteria. I walked over to the lunch line and bought a bottle of water. I wasn't much in the mood to eat. I watched some of my friends from a distance as they reinacted to fight for the enjoyment of the few who hadn't had the pleasure of seeing it in person. It just seems wrong to me, that people get so much much enjoyment out of other people's pain.

Music

So, I guest posted this on Aly's wall, but I thought, seeing as how sad and lonely my blog is, that I should post it here.

Music

          

            Yesterday I got the best thing ever in the mail: a ukulele. I was frustrated at first because I couldn’t seem to hit the right notes and form a coherent song, but after an hour or so, I learned a dozen chords or so and could stumble through “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” And, yes. I realized how cliché that is. But there was something about the music, the kind of pureness of the sound that made me stop worrying and just listen. The next time I looked at the clock, it was one o’clock in the morning.

            Not that I’m saying it’s good to stay up late and play ukulele, but there is something about music, that even if you aren’t naturally musical, transfixes us and makes us forget our troubles. Maybe it’s just me ( I AM the only person I know of who walks down the hall at school singing show tunes in her head, and pretending she’s the heroine of her own personal musical,) but there is still something about music that brings us all together.

            My dad owns an acoustic guitar, and has become pretty good at playing it in the past few years. He likes to sit in his office on the second floor of our house and play his guitar and sing along. There is a comforting tone in his voice that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When I was just a little girl, my dad would come into my room every night and sing to me. And now, it breaks my heart when I realize that I can’t remember the name of the song he would sing, or the words to go along with it. I just have a faint recollection of a tune that tugs on my heartstrings whenever I hear it being played. And I know that one day, I won’t hear him serenading the household anymore, and I can’t begin to imagine how empty and lonely it will be without him and his music around to comfort me.

            Maybe that is one of the reasons that I want to learn how to play ukulele. Or maybe it is just so that I can find a way to deal with the stress or anger or depression that builds up inside of me. Because, when I start to think of the music, it makes my heart feel less heavy and things seem calm and peaceful for just a little while.

For those of you who play Ukulele, here are the chords, courtesy of http://www.alligatorboogaloo.com/uke/tabs/020811.html

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by E.V. Harburg and Harold Arlen

Verse 1:

[C]Somewhere [Em]over the rainbow

[F]Way up [C]high

[F]There's a [C]land that I heard of [G7]

Once in a lulla[C]by

Verse 2:

[C]Somewhere [Em]over the rainbow

[F]Skies are [C]blue

[F]And the [C]dreams that you dare to [G7]

Dream really do come [C]true

Chorus:

Some [C]day I'll wish upon a star
And [G7]wake up where the clouds are far be[F]hind me
Where [C]troubles melt like lemondrops
A[G7]way above the chimney tops
That's [Am]where you'll [F]find me

Verse 3:

[C]Somewhere [Em]over the rainbow

[F]Bluebirds [C]fly

[F]Birds fly [C]over the rainbow

[G7]Why then, oh why can't [C]I?

Ending:

                     [C]If happy little bluebirds fly
                     Be[G7]yond the rainbow
                     Why, oh [F]why [G7]can't [C]I?

Seven is a marvelous number. It is so much fun to write, espcially if you are like me (and all of Europe) and put the little cross through the middle. Seven is the most common lucky number. Seven also happens to be the number of times I have tried to write this blog. I've tried introductions about me, rants about Harry Potter, a short story that was all description and no plot, several bold thesis statments covering topics from what I want in life to how such and such event effected my life, and all that crap that would most likely appear as a prompt on a seventh grade writing test, a list of numbers with what each one ment to me, etc, etc. Until I come to this topic that I find I can, unfortunately, write about with the most ease: my problems. Alas, the downfall of the human race, self-absorbtion. (No, not like a sponge). So, here is the end of my incredibaly short blog, and I promise there will be a better one up soon.