LONG overdue update (and literally long (sorry))
Well folks it's been a while, but I think that's because the month of August was such a rollercoaster ride I didn't really want to write about it at the time, to see the ugliness on paper so to speak. This whole summer I had issues with myself, loneliness, self-esteem, self-judgment and whatnot, but August was the worst. I had a lot of pressure bearing down on me: working, moving, getting ready for band, and then about mid-August my Aunt Pat got ill and passed away. The funeral came the week I had to get ready to move out and my older brother decided to escape the emotions through drinking and delusion, so I had to become the "big" sibling once again. This dredged up a lot of hard emotions for me from the past. I always had to be the strong one, the one who could be flexible, the one who could handle herself if something with my brother or a family member came up. In some ways I think I grew up too fast, and now when people, especially my parents, try to help me, I have a lot of difficultly surrending the control over to them. I know I need people to lean on, and I've worked really hard on trying to ask for help, lifting my problems up to God and to others, sometimes overcompensating, but I still have to have that rigid control in many respects.
When Band Week hit, I was fried. I didn't have time for any emotional or physical recovery before I was thrown into drumline, and it was really tough the first few days. By that Monday of the second week, I thought I was going to break down. Nothing was going right; I was frustrated with my body's apparent weaknesses, mental, physical, etc., I was frustrated that I felt I could never give enough, never work hard enough, never please those I wanted to show just how much I love this band, this school. Then that Monday things kind of just fell in my lap. I earned the first and second pregames, I was told by both Fil and Chuck that I was doing a good job and really deserved it, and Matthew Strok in the most random way in transit to the Big House for Night of the Wolverine waylaid one of my biggest fears: not knowing if my dedication and desire were coming across as much as I was feeling them. He told me he had overheard the staff talking about the cymbal section in the conference room. "They were talking about how the cymbal line is going to be such a solid section, and about how much good leadership and dedication in the line there is, especially with Fil, Rich, and you." Matthew had no idea, but that's exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. I want so badly to be able to help this program, to set a higher standard, to show others how much you can be a part of one another, the teamwork, the disappointment, and most importantly, the getting back up TOGETHER when you or the team falls...It seems I'm on the road to doing just that.
Finally, after 11 days of hard work, the night before the first game, I came back to the hall had some ice cream, on top of everything else I had eaten that night, and starting talking to people. Then Gabi mentioned she had seen Cavi around and well at that moment I couldn't have wanted to run away much faster...so I did just that, grabbing my cymbals and polish and heading to the boys' bathroom. I don't know why, but at that moment all the food, nervousness, and soon after polish fumes, hit me hard in my stomach at the mention of his name. I think it's because of all he stands for as ex-drum major and an influence in my life; I guess I just didn't want to have to put on a game face and pretend everything was ok at that point.
As for the first game...well...it was nothing short of phenomenal. Being a tunnel virgin, nothing really could have prepared me for that first time rushing out of that tunnel and pouring over the sidelines with 234 of my fellow bandos, some my best friends, no matter how many times we had practiced it or people had talked about it. The drumline killed the horns on the diag count, our sweep lines were solid, the flanks explosive, and I've never jacked my chin up higher, or felt prouder when I exited that field. I was in a state of euphoria, grinning so hard my face hurt when I saw Gabi and she asked "Carrie, are you going to cry?" and I replied, almost shaking with the power of it, "I don't know...it was just so amazing, and I don't even know how to react to all the emotions I have in my heart right now." We went on to perform an amazing half-time show, and the football team moved on to beat their opponents, Miami (Ohio), but that wasn't the end to the great day. There was still 611 to which to look forward.
I showed up at 611 drunk off a pitcher and a half of raspberry daquiri and things just got more interesting from there. After having some beer, and feeling sick mind you, I decided to play the safe card and drank water to avoid booting. The only alcohol I had after that was a shot or so out of Cavi's Cap'n's, which means I then moved on to sober sitter to the increasingly drunk crowd, not an all in all bad thing when you like taking care of people and helping out. Normally I like to dance and have fun, but it was too hot and humid in the house so I stayed outside and kind of watched people talk and stumble. It was funny because even if I was engaging in conversation I still felt really removed...looking back I think it might have been because I had my emotional guard up, WAY UP. I wasn't tired, but as the hours went by and suddenly it was after 5am, I was surprised that I was still awake. A handful of us were still around Chewy, Redstone, Cavi, and myself and we were all just chilling on the porch as this fog rolled in. Then Cavi went to the back alley only didn't come back after about 15 or 20 minutes. So the rest of us tried calling him to find out to where he had disappeared. When he finally called Redstone back and answered our "where are you?" he replied "bombs over Baghdad." Typical. Knowing of only one other party still alive, we walked over to Mary Ct. where we heard "Bombs Over Baghdad" playing. After a few minutes I was religated Cavi's sober sitter and Chewy and Redstone bid us goodnight, at which point I didn't know whether to let my guard down or build it higher. I think I decided to just exist at that point. We walked back to my place and ended up talking/chilling to even later, somewhere around 8:30am. It's always nice to talk to Cavi because it's just so easy to be myself and talk about all the things I hide from other people. It was nice to be able to drop pretense and let things be just like old times in the truest sense of the words, but in the end it's back to Minnesota for him and back to defensiveness for me.
Finally, as for yesterday I don't really want to talk about the game. We lost to Notre Dame in their damn lucky South Bend, but it's just the beginning. We have a long way still to go and the trip was enjoyable nonetheless. I will always love and bleed Blue.
When Band Week hit, I was fried. I didn't have time for any emotional or physical recovery before I was thrown into drumline, and it was really tough the first few days. By that Monday of the second week, I thought I was going to break down. Nothing was going right; I was frustrated with my body's apparent weaknesses, mental, physical, etc., I was frustrated that I felt I could never give enough, never work hard enough, never please those I wanted to show just how much I love this band, this school. Then that Monday things kind of just fell in my lap. I earned the first and second pregames, I was told by both Fil and Chuck that I was doing a good job and really deserved it, and Matthew Strok in the most random way in transit to the Big House for Night of the Wolverine waylaid one of my biggest fears: not knowing if my dedication and desire were coming across as much as I was feeling them. He told me he had overheard the staff talking about the cymbal section in the conference room. "They were talking about how the cymbal line is going to be such a solid section, and about how much good leadership and dedication in the line there is, especially with Fil, Rich, and you." Matthew had no idea, but that's exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. I want so badly to be able to help this program, to set a higher standard, to show others how much you can be a part of one another, the teamwork, the disappointment, and most importantly, the getting back up TOGETHER when you or the team falls...It seems I'm on the road to doing just that.
Finally, after 11 days of hard work, the night before the first game, I came back to the hall had some ice cream, on top of everything else I had eaten that night, and starting talking to people. Then Gabi mentioned she had seen Cavi around and well at that moment I couldn't have wanted to run away much faster...so I did just that, grabbing my cymbals and polish and heading to the boys' bathroom. I don't know why, but at that moment all the food, nervousness, and soon after polish fumes, hit me hard in my stomach at the mention of his name. I think it's because of all he stands for as ex-drum major and an influence in my life; I guess I just didn't want to have to put on a game face and pretend everything was ok at that point.
As for the first game...well...it was nothing short of phenomenal. Being a tunnel virgin, nothing really could have prepared me for that first time rushing out of that tunnel and pouring over the sidelines with 234 of my fellow bandos, some my best friends, no matter how many times we had practiced it or people had talked about it. The drumline killed the horns on the diag count, our sweep lines were solid, the flanks explosive, and I've never jacked my chin up higher, or felt prouder when I exited that field. I was in a state of euphoria, grinning so hard my face hurt when I saw Gabi and she asked "Carrie, are you going to cry?" and I replied, almost shaking with the power of it, "I don't know...it was just so amazing, and I don't even know how to react to all the emotions I have in my heart right now." We went on to perform an amazing half-time show, and the football team moved on to beat their opponents, Miami (Ohio), but that wasn't the end to the great day. There was still 611 to which to look forward.
I showed up at 611 drunk off a pitcher and a half of raspberry daquiri and things just got more interesting from there. After having some beer, and feeling sick mind you, I decided to play the safe card and drank water to avoid booting. The only alcohol I had after that was a shot or so out of Cavi's Cap'n's, which means I then moved on to sober sitter to the increasingly drunk crowd, not an all in all bad thing when you like taking care of people and helping out. Normally I like to dance and have fun, but it was too hot and humid in the house so I stayed outside and kind of watched people talk and stumble. It was funny because even if I was engaging in conversation I still felt really removed...looking back I think it might have been because I had my emotional guard up, WAY UP. I wasn't tired, but as the hours went by and suddenly it was after 5am, I was surprised that I was still awake. A handful of us were still around Chewy, Redstone, Cavi, and myself and we were all just chilling on the porch as this fog rolled in. Then Cavi went to the back alley only didn't come back after about 15 or 20 minutes. So the rest of us tried calling him to find out to where he had disappeared. When he finally called Redstone back and answered our "where are you?" he replied "bombs over Baghdad." Typical. Knowing of only one other party still alive, we walked over to Mary Ct. where we heard "Bombs Over Baghdad" playing. After a few minutes I was religated Cavi's sober sitter and Chewy and Redstone bid us goodnight, at which point I didn't know whether to let my guard down or build it higher. I think I decided to just exist at that point. We walked back to my place and ended up talking/chilling to even later, somewhere around 8:30am. It's always nice to talk to Cavi because it's just so easy to be myself and talk about all the things I hide from other people. It was nice to be able to drop pretense and let things be just like old times in the truest sense of the words, but in the end it's back to Minnesota for him and back to defensiveness for me.
Finally, as for yesterday I don't really want to talk about the game. We lost to Notre Dame in their damn lucky South Bend, but it's just the beginning. We have a long way still to go and the trip was enjoyable nonetheless. I will always love and bleed Blue.