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In D's post  we feel at home in this county. Foster relate so much of his personal emotions to the geography of where he is and how he feels that writers use this technique. The landscape can tell us much about what the land has gone through, but when used in writing it can almost certainly lead us
on to something more.


The reason I chose simplistic images was to make the viewer infer as to what the pictures mean. I chose a picture of a house to start off, because we all hail from one kind of home or another. Like D said in his post, seasons represent age. As we see them come and go, we grow older.


Eventually, we will have to leave home and search fro something new. The physical building that we lived in for so long will one day be sold; we will have to find a new home away from our parents. Thus the next image.


We search for a home to put our door on, yet it may feel like there will never be one. But we keep searching- casting ourselves out into the blankness to seek a place to call our own.


 Finally, the last image represents how vast the world is. There is bound to be a home for us out there somewhere. 

No, not just a building, but the feeling of being home. 



Will I ever feel that again once I am gone? 

Where will I hang this open door?


We will find out.

AF

81396

Have you ever had that feeling of not being able to turn your phone off at night? Its not because of your lust for the latest update on social media. It's not that you are waiting on an important email or text from a college. The only real justification you have is the four alarms you have set for yourself in the morning. You can't be late again.

So just turn it off. Set the alarms elsewhere. Take the plug out! Its so simple but you just can't do it. The act is so simple, yet you can't bring yourself to do it. This bothers you. It irks you. It bites you to your core. You thought you prided yourself on being indifferent to others' opinions.

But apparently, you're not the rock of Gibraltar. You have just as many flaws as everyone else even though your painted in creme white. You have indeed kept your nose clean; not a single smudge on your record. You have always stayed true to your parents and respected their trust. You've listened in health class. You have done everything right up to this point.

Yet they slam you for it. They exclude you from their friend circle. The populars don't really like you; during whatever sports season it is they root for their prized horse. You are just the stable boy that mucks the stalls and feeds the steed hay. Thats only what they perceive though. In reality you (and the fifteen to thirty stable boys) are just as important as the golden horse itself. People see only what they want.

You have friends though. Dear friends that will be with you forever. You were lucky enough to stumble upon them last year. It was some of the best times you had in school, getting to know them and spending time with them. They are all good people and have made a great impact on you. Without them, things would be the same. They are the people that make you happy. They are the people that make you feel like you can be you, no questions asked. They are the people that accept you for who you are. You cherish the time you have with them, and look forward to the next hang out.

So tonight, you decided to count your blessings instead of black marks. Things are going to be like great guitar solos of history; epic. The bad times will only be as bad as you let them to be. Sure, you still want to keep up appearances. You will still be friendly and say hello, despite the accusations of being the world greatest kiss ass (You are still thinking of the proper retort to that one...). Either way, you will be ok, and the sun will rise once more over the western mountains.

Tonight is the phone sleeps just like you do.

More Questions

Have you ever wondered

What if?


What if I stayed a few more minuets?
What if I opened that present?
What if I waited just one more second?
What if I said no?
What if I knew what I wanted?

Or Why

Why is it like this now?
Why can't we be friends?
Why do you avoid me?
Why do you pretend not to see me?
Why can't I turn my phone off at night?

Or How

How would it have ever worked out?
How didn't I see it coming?
How far away can I go?
How much money do I have?
How much is enough?
How will I stay in touch with whats around me?

Or When

When will I go?
When will this feeling go?
When will I move on?
When will I see the light of day for what it is?
When will I find out what the next step is?
When will I be able to leave?
When will I be what I want?

Or What

What do I want?
What is it that is holding me back?
What do I need to do to move on?
What does this all mean?
What is the meaning of life?
What is the meaning of love?
What is the point of either of those two things?

Revafegw- Medical Term

Another disease to add to my colorful medical history. Revelafinis (The feeling of anticipation, anxiousness, excitement and nervousness that occurs when the end of a comfortable routine is near) is plaguing me. I feel it in my bones and in my entire being! Senior year is about to end, and I'm so far from being ready to graduate.

I understand that many people feel that they have this disease at the end of their senior year, but more likely than not they have felt it before. Remember the first day of school, the place where you met some of you most dear friends? It must have been scary to us because it was new and not the place that we had lived for so long.

The only thing we are guaranteed in life is change. From the day we are born until the day we die, no two days will be exactly the same. We are fortunate enough to live a life that has variety. At time we feel that change is scary, but do we really want to go to high school for the rest of our lives? I have enjoyed my time here at Mt. Blue, but I don't think I could go another year here (as a student anyway). So many things are starting to bug me; high school feel like a safe meadow, but I want to climb the far mountains.

So, thanks Mt. Blue for everything, but I'll be ready to peace out when the time comes.

Wilton: What am I going to Do?

Apparently, the existential crisis that is senior year is a widespread phenomenon. I found Jenny K's post really seemed to strike home to this idea; What the actual f@#$ am I going to do with the rest of my life? It is somewhat reassuring that I'm not the only senior experiencing this feeling and (believe it or not) it's really nice to know that the region one lives in doesn't make a difference.

When I think of The city I think of industry. Opportunities. Skyscrapers. Businessmen/women in suits. Apartments that are way too expensive. Hustle and bustle. Money. Something to do.
This idea of the city may wrong; I've never set foot in the town or known anything more about it than what is on various form of media. I'm from a small town in western Maine; we have more trees than people. However, comparing it to where I am from makes it seems like an economic wanderland.

You see, my hometown of Wilton was once great. It had multiple manufacturing plants (all within walking distance from each other) that employed the town. The town had some worth- granted it was the boom of the industrial revolution and business was booming. Immigrants (mostly Italian) were pouring into the town to cut the stone in quarry one town over and to work in the plants. My dad's family came to Wilton during this time, roughly the early 1900s. They came from Northern Italy and worked just like all the other Italians in town; hard and without rest. The years that followed proved just as prosperous, in spite of the quarry reducing in size.

Wilton was still a nice town when my Dad was born. The plants were still around and business was still strong. Main street had its own Men's and Woman's clothing store, barber shop (my grandfather's) and grocery store. Things were good and wholesome. People had pride in their lives. A house never went into disrepair and it was considered a sin to let your lawn grow too long. Those were the golden years of Wilton. All was good in this little immigrant town. Too good. Nothing gold can last. 

Every time you wear Bass shoes, think of Wilton and the hundreds of other towns like us. 

My Dad talks of G.H. Bass moving the shoe (manufacturing plant) overseas like it was the rapture. It was the first time he saw his grandfather cry. The man knew what was coming, and he had all the reason to be upset. One by one, the businesses started to leave the area. They dried up like a puddle in August, slowly at first. Then poof! Gone. Time hasn't helped the town any either.

Now to present day. The once pristine houses have fallen into disrepair and are now a shadow of themselves. The town has little industry (don't get me wrong, there are some businesses in the area, but how many pizza shops does it take to employ a whole town?) and is classified as a slum. The town has turned into a dive and is unattractive to business. The area that was once prime tenements has evolved into houses that are constantly dark and need to be torn down.

Not all of town has changed so greatly, but it is undeniable to say that Wilton is the same as it once was. There are still nice parts of town, especially on the lake. However, the difference between the have and the have-nots is much greater than it has ever been. I am proud to be from Wilton and to have the history that I do, but there is huge question that looms over me everyday; how can I stay in this town that I love so much?

Fosters' Mill is still half torn down. No $$$ to finish the job. 

Jenny K, this is where you and I have some similar feelings. I really want to stay in this town, but I don't know how it will be possible. Right now, there are three big employers in the area. They are the Paper Mill (hasn't made money in over ten years), Hospital (narrowly avoided bankruptcy... patients can't pay bills), and the school (if both the mill and hospital go... well shit). There is no industry here anymore. There is no way to make money in the town that I love.

I must leave the place that I want to stay in.

This realization has shook me to my core. The only way I can one day buy in Wilton is to get a job outside of the area. This isn't easy to swallow, but its reality. When choosing my major, I took this into consideration, and was fortunate enough be accepted to my first choice. My major? Marine Transportation and Operations, basically learning how to one day be a captain of a ship. When that day comes, I'll be shipping out for about three or four months to be at sea. When I return Wilton will be waiting for me.

I hope things are better where you are J.

Seniors, Listen Up!

Ah, the real world. You are something that very few of us Seniors really know anything about. Please, ask us to calculate the mass of the sun, but God forbid that you expect us to clean up our messes and look you in the eye when we talk to you. Sure, we are still juveniles and some of us are still sixteen (for four straight years in a row). We haven't been know to be the most tight of classes, and I don't have an answer. WhatI do have, is a broad insight into many different groups of people that seems to spread themselves out across the school. I digress. Back to the issue at hand. 

The social structure of the school is not rigidly divided, but the division is apparent. Why do we separate ourselves from one another? Simple; people tend to flock to others with similar interests. For example, some people like to play baseball on the weekends, while others enjoy the company of others for 48 straight hours and show up to school with spots on their liver come Monday. This puts our class a odds with one another. We are so diverse in nature and interest we tend to separate ourselves and compartmentalize our "friend groups". 

Another issue that is rather prevalent is our lack of identity. Honestly, look at out class as a whole. You can't! Its so divided and sectarian that no one can be sure of who we really are. This stems from our years as underclassmen and our role models form those years. As is typical of a high school, an underclassmen is often exposed to various forms entertainment, some of which are far from the wholesome scruples we like to think we have. 

But, is this any different than what every high school faces? No, I don't think so. I feel as though it is a natural process of growing up; you grow apart with some people and close to others. We were never really close; even in middle school we seemed to stray from one another. Now that we are in our final year of schooling together, we realize that the time spent ignoring the uncool lame f** was time wasted. Well, I hope you realize that, because if you don't you've really missed the point of your time at this school.

Aside from academics and extra curricular activities, high school is supposed to make you grow as a person. Maturity so vital, and this is what we lack. Unfortunately, so many of us tend to think of the class as revolving a nucleus; one singular point. I am guilty of this, and I'll admit it. I have had my fair share of not-the-best moments in high school, but I can step away and acknowledge it. This is important to be able do. Its humbling. It allows for you to grow as a person. It makes you think about others.

The solution to the problem of our Senior class' lack of empathy? To put it bluntly, grow up. Think of others and try something new. Reach out to the people you wouldn't usually see. I'm not telling you to take a stranger out on a date, but a simple hi-how are you? can go a loooooooong way. So please, think of the positive change that came come of this, and for the love of God, try to make a difference. 

Years in Rearview

Walking into school this morning, the boy had a sense of wonder and astonishment in his eyes. Was this to be my home for the next four years? Indeed, he was correct in this notion, but he did not realize what vast change he would experience. Little did he know that the constant in his life would be the swirling of the storm; no two days were ever alike. 

That first year was the hardest. The long time friends felt somewhat distant and he had some trouble adjusting. He enjoyed the freedom and liked that no one was on his back, but the freedom came at an expense. The worst part of his day was the time spent in between; the feeling of being stuck in a place with no escape. You see, the boy only knew how to work hard. He spent most of his time studying for the next test or doing that nights homework. It was difficult at first, but the pulse of the school was robust and secular; every freshmen was more fodder for the fire. 

The second year came much easier. The food chain had grown and he had escaped the worst of construction. The old school was decapitated and something new was beginning to form. The ghosts of years past manifested in other far away places now; the new building seemed to breath new air into the lungs of those who weren't smoking butts in the porta crapper. He seemed to relax more this year, albeit keeping the rigid focus on sports and academics. His relationships with friends began to grow, yet he didn't really have a crowd to call his own. He didn't really feel comfortable hanging out with the jocks in his class; they were pretenders (at the time) and didn't respect the game the way he did (and still does). They wanted the glory without the work and this has remained true up to this day (another post).   Anyway, he was apart of something that he will never forget and he loved every second of it. Schooling was something that was hard for him this year. He had never been more responsible for his own learning habits. He was gaining his independence. The influence of others was starting to loose its zeal.

The third year was the year of great change. He remained in all the activities he was in from years past, and then joined more. The music that he exposed himself to allowed him to grow more than he could ever imagine. The music gave him another way to express himself while being apart of something bigger than just one person. These days are much longer he often thought. Indeed, he was correct. The time spent in practice followed by rehearsal was undoubtably draining, but worth the expended energy. Similar to the music and sports, he continued to study without stop. The school work only seemed to get harder and more confusing. He often swore at his chemistry book and through it across the room, all the while taking notes with his left hand and playing the harmonica with his toes. The third year also gave him more friend than he could ever imagine. Many late night pizza-fueled hangouts were had. He learned more about Smash Bros and Mario Cart in those days. Oh! He almost forgot; he now had his license. He had more freedom than he ever had before. The days of home equating to a prison were over. He could leave/go/escape wherever he wanted (within reason) and he did.

The fourth year presented more challenges than the boy had ever faced in his life. By this time, the boy was more like a man; he had experienced a myriad of convoluted issues that pried at his inner self. The decisions he made during this year were so important to his future; he can only guess at the next phase of his life. He had never been more scared and ready to feel what he should feel. Again, he maintained the activities he had done for the past three years and somehow managed to add more to the plate. School seemed less difficult than before. His Damn, these math classes actually mean something attitude seemed to inspire him to apply himself more in that department instead of complaining about it in his english papers. He pushed himself, and hopefully he worked hard enough to excel in the real world. 

We shall see. 

Bib

Mmmh, nothing says blog post like being asked to tie in Biblical references to modern works. Prepare yourselves. Strap in.

The bible (among other various religious texts) are often drawn from for inspiration. This could be to mankind's infatuation with the unknown, or perhaps the deeply rooted fear/wonder that stems from these texts. Lets face it, there are few things as feared as the end of the world and being cast into hell for eternity. Conversely, a life in heaven is much nicer to think about. I realize that not all people are religious, and thats fine. However, most people are familiar with (at least) the story the books posses.

So why are they so prevalent?

They strike a (E major) chord in us. For example, The Road makes many a point to the bible. For example, there are many instances of biblical references thought the work; weather it be the days in the tomb (the bunker) or the fact that the father sent his son into the world alone (final scene). The fact that McCarthy did this is the best part of the book. The biblical references help create the solidity the sense of unabashed fear. What is more mortifying? The end of the world or life after the end of the world?

The poem The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock by T.S. Elliot also has undertones of biblical proportions. The most prevailing notion of religion come though in the second to last stanza of the work.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

Can you find God in this stanza? Is he hiding behind the waves or is he with the mermaids? Being a war poem, we know that the speaker more than likely wishes to be close with his spirituality, however, couldn't be farther away from the teaching of peace and neutrality. Nonetheless, one can find the highs and lows of spirituality throughout this poem.

An equally cryptic and real kick ass post (my pal A's post) explores the feeling of what it is like to have something for so long. Much like the root of this posts, I often think of how life changes. No one knows this better than the ancient Hebrews, and the first born sons that were killed during the first passover. Life changed for all the people effected after that; everything the knew (or though they knew) was reversed. Life was drastically changed out of need. A, I feel as if you're experiencing some change. Hopefully, nothing as drastic as having your first born son killed in the name of God or converting your religion, but either way change is a somewhat scary thing. You will get through it pal, you always do.

Midday Naps Make for Midnight Blog Posts

To Whom it May Concern,

I am writing this to you, late at night (because I took an afternoon nap and can't fall asleep) from my bed.

A few days ago in class, the topic of my blog posts came up. I was flattered; practically all of the comments were positive and my classmates genuinely seemed to like what I post. After some joking around, the question of why my posts "run so long and so deep" came up. A fair question without a doubt. Most students would write (pun) this blogging assignment off and only do the minimum amount of work possible. I understand this notion, but I don't agree with it. 

When I learned that we were to have a blog and update it weekly, I groaned. More hoops to jump through, no? Indeed I though Mr. R was some devil sitting atop a mountain with pitchfork and thesaurus in hand, yearning for the opportunity to rain down the fires of red-pen (or the digital equivalent) upon the meekest of students. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The blogging assignment soon became one of my favorite things to do. Honestly.  I took advantage of the opportunity to write and express my feelings in ways only the written word could depict. I'll admit the tone of my posts range from sardonic to content, insightful to damming, and perhaps even black to white. Oftentimes I don't think of what I write until I am seated at my desk, with headphones over ear. When the tunes start ah'flowing, the writin' starts ah'goin'. 

Now, to address why I write so much.

After a sickness I was confined to my house with no physical activity for six months. For a fourteen year old boy, this was like being sent to the hole in prison. The hours spent alone seemed to outnumber those with company. My days were routine and ran way too long. Sometimes I did my homework twice; an empty house and long hours of inactivity does strange things to an active mind. There came a point when I wrote three different versions of the same paper only because I was bored out of my mind and needed something to do. 

And that was the first month. 

Upon the suggestion of a teacher, I began to write to express what I felt. Prior to that point, I had been a somewhat mediocre writer that really stuck to the tried and true tropes of the genre, but after that conversation I realized that I could get more than a grade form a piece of paper; personal fulfillment was a few thousand words away. So I wrote. I wrote about how I felt. I wrote stories about aliens. I wrote papers on music and Elvis and how middle school girls would impersonate them in their bedrooms. I wrote because it was therapeutic. It was the best thing that I could have done with my time. Its given me another outlet that I can't graduate from. 

In short, I write to make myself a better person and to let my ideas flow freely. I use this blog as an opportunity to get thoughts onto paper, and express how I may feel at the time. I know that my audience is somewhat limited, and it doesn't bother me at all. It is gratifying to see the number of views rise, but I would write even if Mr. R didn't check to my posts or even if no one saw what I wrote. 

I guess I just like having a blog. 

Regards,

AF

To Blank

A short story about what next year may be like.

To see.

To feel.

To smile.

To walk.

To ponder.

To smile.

To reach out.

To hug.

To squeeze.

To hold.

To cry.

To say goodbye.

To feel.

To compartmentalize.

To walk.

To sit.

To feel the rain

to warm a memory.

To be proud.

To leave.

To be homesick.

To want

to return.

To hope.

To wish.

To enjoy freedom.

To learn new things.

To explore.

To be homesick.

To realize things are going to be different. 

To be okay with it. 

To grow up.

To worry.

To feel.

To drive hours

to see familiar faces. 

To rock out all the way home.

To see.

To feel.

To smile.

To walk.

To ponder.

To smile.

To reach out.

To hug.

To be home. 

Who knows, my experience may be a lot different than yours. Either way, I plan on drinking a ton of chocolate milk and jumping off the bow of a ship. Here's to next year

Drug-Induced-Self-Exploration-Though-the-Grand-Canyon (DISETTGC for short)

Ah college, what a wonderful time to be at ease. Senior year is full of easy decisions! Haha, no. Not true at all. A's post really gets to the point of what so many seniors are feeling.

The pressures of life really begin to push down on us seniors as we come down the home stretch of school. I have a pathetic amount of post on this topic... Either way, it's important to feel what you are feeling" at this moment A-dawg. You're only a senior in high school once (well, if you can pass the first time 'round). 

This is the point when we learn so much about who we are as a person. I get that senior year is is not some drug-induced-self-exploration-though-the-Grand-Canyon , but rather a common of age story similar to Boyhood (ABSOLUTELY GREAT MOVIE). 

Anyway, we will learn who we are and what we can do though experience; living life and taking risks far greater than we have ever encountered. I'm so excited to move on to the next step in my life, albeit a little apprehensive to leave the life I've known for so long. 

So A-dawg, we will learn about who we are in the next few years to come; hopefully we can meet up and chill despite our busy and sometimes ungodly schedules. 

Rational

When it comes to the topic of movies, specifically short films, every shot counts. Some really stand out in one's mind (the torture scene in Rambo, Tom Hanks' farewell in Saving Private Ryan to name a few). Nothing was left to chance in these shots (pun!);  everything happened for a reason. We tried to have a similar approach for our Hamlet project.

My favorite shot in the entire short was the zoom out to the candle, that also showed the bodkin. I liked that the candle followed the exact rule of thirds and added some great character to the whole shot. The lighting was also fantastic: nothing symbolizes passion quite like fire!

Another shot that I think we all liked was when Hamlet (B) threw off the covers whilst saying "Ay, theres the rub!" Inner eight-grader aside, I think that this moment really depicted unbearable emotion that was held inside of Hamlet. Put yourself in his shoes. You are so exhausted from the days trials, and you finally come to your haven. The bed is calling your name, and you respond with falling onto its padded surface. The warmth of sleep raps around you and make you feel whole, yet the unbearable thoughts of the days injustice seem to burn though the drapes of sleep.

So Hamlet, seared with passion, gets out of bed, and walks over to the fire (symbolizing his passion). As he stokes the flame, his passion only grows deeper, and the thoughts become even more unbearable. He needs fresh air to calm down, so he walks down the steps, and outside into the cold. He brings with him a flame; not only to see but to symbolize the tiny bit of heat that he still carries with him. At the conclusion of the soliloquy he walks back in, a fire still burns within him, yet his thoughts are complete. He has plotted enough for one night. Now it is time for rest.

Future: Why?

Imagine riding on a train and entering a tunnel that lasted for four years. Now imagine that three great years have zoomed by you and you can see the light on the conductors face. She is smiling, exposing her pearly white teeth and crooked smile. The contrast is incredible; the inch of coal dust on her face casts the illusion similar to a certain cat in tree from long ago. She looks happy for you and casts a look your way that seems to say congratulations, you made it. Now on to the rest of your life. As you push your way up through the train cars fraught with excitement and with little discretion for others you realize that for some reason the train is slowing down. No, its stopped. You sit down and wait. You wait for an hour, A day. A week. A month. Another month. And then one day, you take a look to your past.

You've thrived the past three years in so many ways; athletically, musically, academically, and perhaps even personally. You've built yourself up to be a great person with amazing friends and an amazing family. You savored the relationships you've created and feel so at home in your skin. Everything was somewhat simple. Everything was routine. 

But things are so different now. You've got to prepare, or at least thats what so many people are telling you (cramming down your windpipe). They are right though. One can't go to college on being a good person; there are a literal assload of hoops to jump through in order to even be considered by a school. See, a freshman __your name here___ wouldn't have any problem doing the tasks it takes to be accepted. You had so much energy back then; the world seemed so new and exciting. 

But its not like that anymore. You're a senior, and that means...

SENIOR = SEE THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL 

*Disclaimer* 

Is this true for every high schooler in their last year? No, I don't think so. But the following is what I feel at this point in my life right now. Perhaps you feel similarly or have had some moments that you can relate to? Everything below will be from my personal experience as a Senior at Mt. Blue, and what Senioritis means to me. 

Honestly I have mixed emotions when it comes to graduation, or this light at the end of the tunnel. One piece of me wants to ride a motorcycle though a fire hoop with some 80s hair metal hit playing in the background at the conclusion of graduation. The other pice of me is scared to move on knowing that whatever lies ahead I will have to deal with on my own, as a man of the world. My parents and family will always be there for me, but it won't be like coming home from school everyday to a smile and an armload of wood.

Graduation is going to be a really happy, yet really sad time. I'm going to miss the nuances of high school and the friends that I have made. I'm really going to miss the sports that I've been blessed to play and the music that I somehow found a way to play. I've had a stereotypical Senior year so far; the highs of success and the lows of heartbreak. Its worth it though. Every moment of stress and physical exhaustion has made me who I am today. 

But I haven't really answered the question, have I?

How might we define Senioritis?

Senioritis is many things to many people. Defining it would only profess what it means to you as an individual. I can imagine the word means something very different to someone who is ready to go to Harvard to find the cure for cancer and someone who is going to UMF undecided (who could also cure cancer). Some find it dreadful to move on while others can't wait to flip the bird to their teachers on the way down the halls the second they get their diploma. However, there is some common ground between the two. The notion of an impending change hangs over both of the students heads. Their life is going to be drastically different, and there is nothing they can do to stop it. 

This is what distracts us in class. This is why we:

take liberties when we probably shouldn't

• Do dumb things
• Don't pass in our homework on time
• Do really dumb things
• Take too much time on projects
• Get in doomed relationships
• Get our hearts broken
• Did I say do stupid shit yet?
• Listen to hours of albums with insightful titles
• Go for road trips with friends
• Stay up too late
• Exceed at all of our extracurricular activities
• Turn 18 and try smoking a cigar only to throw up and have the worst damn headache of our lives (true story)
• Do things we never thought we would ever do
• Listen to more music than humanly possible
• Let ourselves be vulnerable and open up to people we barely know
• And thousands of life experiences unique to every senior out there

Senioritis is living like life is going to change forever. For better or for worse, we trade finite schoolisms for infinite memories. Personally, much of this year has been about living, because I have no idea what is going to happen after this.

So everyday I will wake up, 

get dressed and eat my oatmeal

brown sugar and walnuts

and drive to school in a car

that should have warmed up for at least ten more minuets

I'll show up to class on time,

and be polite,

say hey, how are you? 

Fine, and you?

I'll pass in my work 

and crack one to many jokes

but the teacher won't mind

she actually laughed!

Then I will see you walking

and remember what it was like,

the time we spent together

and the memories we made,

how much I miss you

and what our friendship was

Another class

another bell

and its off to practice 

where bonds stronger than steel

are formed and memories 

that will last a life time are made,

I wish I had one more left in me

At least one more go around,

But I can't. Its gone and new things are on

the horizon. The clock is ticking

change is coming 

and you need to focus,

FINISH STRONG! 

And when the day finally comes,

you will be ready

or you hope you will be.

You will be. 

You will be. 

Adventure is a hundred days away.

If you actually read this whole thing, I am impressed and truly grateful. My Senior year has been movie-esque, yet I have no idea what genre it would fall under. So thanks you again, for making it this far, and I hope that we can correspond and share our experiences at some point. 

Oh, and here is a kick-ass song from my friends band, Havenfield.

It seems to describe exactly what I am feeling to perfect detail. Its so cool to see your friend do what he loves and make great music that couldn't be more applicable than right now. Thanks Z. Keep doing what you're doing and make some more great music. I can't wait to see you live someday. Just be sure to save me some tickets (pit preferably).

And if you want more of this kick-ass tuneage, check it out here. Download the album!