… Cont’d

I love music. Choir is an extremely high priority for me.  My school’s choir has some really amazing songs this winter, so I thought I’d share them:

There Will Be Rest”  –  Frank Ticheli
MSVMA Honor Choir performed this last year; that’s what the link in the name is to.  It’s gorgeous. The lyrics are one of the last poems written by Sara Teasdale. She committed suicide at the age of 48.

“There will be rest, and sure stars shining
           Over the roof-tops crowned with snow,
A reign of rest, serene forgetting,
           The music of stillness holy and low.

I will make this world of my devising,
           Out of a dream in my lonely mind,
I shall find the crystal of peace, – above me
           Stars I shall find.”

 

Another one we’re doing is “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening”  The lyrics are a Robert Frost poem:

“Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep. ”
We’re also singing Carol of the Bells (Peter J. Wilhousky), There Is No Rose (Gary Garcia), The Sleigh (Kountz), The First Breath of Winter (Phyllis Wolfe-White), and a few others.  But I couldn’t find any videos of them, though.

However, while I was youtubing, I came across this.  I say you should watch it.  It’s hardcore.  Lol.

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Warranty?

       I was clearing off my desk when I found a warranty for a pair of headphones I got for my birthday. I skimmed through it to see when it expired but I couldn’t find a date. Instead, I found this:

 

      “This warranty does not cover domestic damage or damage due to acts of God, accident, misue, abuse, negligence, commercial use, or modification of, or any part of the product, including the antenna.”

 

       So, apparently, if God decides to smite my headphones, they won’t fix it! I told my sister and my dad…

 

Dad: “What they mean by ‘acts of God’ are tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, a meteor falling on your house….”

Me: “So out of all my problems because of a meteor falling on my house, I decide to go get my headphones fixed.”
Dad: “You can just see this guy, standing in smoldering ruins saying ‘Heeyyyy, My headphones!'”

 

                  Darn Sony. It’s not my fault if it’s God’s will my headphones are destroyed…

A Nightmare.

      The girl stepped out of the shack, clad in a long, white nightdress. She stepped onto the cobbleston path leading only to another house. It was dead silent. A large, stone fountain that no longer worked cast a dreadful shadow in the dimly lit path. No stars were out. The only light came from a single, yellowish lamp to the left of the door of the single house ahead of her. The girl didn’t seem to be scared at all, only careful. She was pale – practically colorless – and with light hair that floated down to the middle of her back and pale eyes. When she was near the house, a young man stepped out of the door and put one foot on the porch step. He reached out his hand to help the girl up the stairs and to welcome her.

       From another angle, another woman watched the girl through binoculars. She saw the girl cautiously move down the stone walk. When the young man emerged from the house to greet her, she felt her neck grow hot. She knew this man. Unfortunately for her, all romantic possibilities with him had been torn from her future. She continued to observe the man; he was certainly pleasant to look at – tall, composed, clean shaven, brown hair, dark eyes, also pale. His clothes were simple and near colorless, too. If only the old fountain wasn’t blocking some of her view.

       Everything’s strange, she thought, crouching in the dark above the dreary scene: a path leading from a doorstep of one house directly to another house’s doorstep; there were no side paths branching off of it. What was the point of that? 

       The pale girl smiled gently and took the man’s hand as she floated up the steps, following his lead. He had let go and turned around, no longer welcoming. He went through the door first and reached for something beside the door frame on the inside. The house was peculiar. The first room that you walked into was lined in books on shelves from floor to ceiling. The books were old and dusty. Some were on the floor, bent and lying open. Directly ahead of her, perfectly aligned with the front entrance, was another doorway. This one had no door. She could see through it to another room, also lined entirely with books. Only this one was lit – by candles, maybe. The same yellowish light poured from the room. The doorway was as far to her left on the opposite wall as possible. She could see room after room, all identical, with books and either dark or dimly lit, the doorway in the exact same place on the wall, no doors…

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