SO EXCITED OMFGFPHIQRBFGIOQR376EFGUOEH

HEY
YOU
PERSON
DO YOU SEE THIS FACE
THIS FACE RIGHT HERE

THAT FACE
WHICH HAPPENS TO BELONG TO ME
IS GONNA BE UP HERE IN LIKE TWO MONTHS

SO EXCITED
SO VERY EXCITED

IMAGINE IT

Okay. Let me explain.

As I'm sure is relatively well known, I am a pretty dedicated musician. I've been playing piano since I was about six and I also play a succession of other instruments, although piano is my main bitch. Recently, I've been getting over my crippling, vomit-inducing fear of singing in front of any other organism with the ability to hear sounds. So far, it's been going pretty well, and apparently I have a pretty decent voice. So, around a month ago, I heard about this cool little thing called Music Garage. It actually sounded kinda lame at first, because I only heard the radio ad for it. However, my dad was all like OMFG YOU GOTTA GO AND DO THAT SHIT, so I went and did that shit.

After we got home, my dad went and emailed the main dude at Music Garage. I didn't really do anything, because I wasn't that into it. I mean, I had no idea what it was anyway, so naturally, I was not able to give a damn. My dad soon told me that I'd be having an audition for Music Garage the following thursday. At first, I was kinda not very excited. My logic was that it would've been like an audition to be in a classical piano recital; those are the only kinds of auditions I'd ever been to. I thought I was gonna have to sit down at the piano and play them something all by myself while there were nasty judges, you know, judging me.

It was not like that at all.

The Music Garage was basically just a studio. The only real lights were colorful spot lights facing a little stage. The walls, floors, and ceilings were all black, there were posters all over the walls, and all that nice stuff. There was nothing professional about it. It was AWESOME. 

For the audition, all the other kids were in the back of the room eating pizza and casually talking. The only people who were "judging" were the directors of the thing. One of them was this big dude who was just standing there jamming, and the other was this skinny tall dude with really long hair who was also standing there just kinda headbanging. I had to play keyboards and sing, with a band. I guess I did pretty well, because I got chosen to be in the core band.

Essentially, shit tons of people auditioned, just to be in normal Music Garage. It was also pretty much an audition to be in the core band for Mountain Town Music. The core band is this thing that Mountain Town Music was paying Music Garage to organize. Basically, they wanted a band that could perform all around the Park City/Salt Lake City area. They wanted really good rock band, all teens, of four or five people; and they're paying a thousand dollars per kid in the band. I GOT CHOSEN TO BE THE LEAD VOCALIST AND KEYBOARD PERSON. I NOW HAVE A NET WORTH OF AT LEAST ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS. 

This, my friends, is also technically a scholarship. To be in regular Music Garage, if you make it in, you still have to pay a shit ton of money. But, because I'm in the core band, I'm being paid for. And I get to be in a badass band. I may be the only girl in the band, but I'm super good friends with all the other dudes in it, so I can't wait.

We've already been scheduled to play at like twelve different concerts and venues over the summer, one of them being Deer Valley Ski Resort. So, if you ever feel the need to go to one of their free concerts over the summer, I'm gonna be there, and I encourage you to throw food at us while we're playing. That's always been a dream of mine.

April polls

Happy May!

Ah, once again we have seen another month pass. I, personally, think April is one of my least favorite months. It's like, the weather is still not at all consistent here in Park City; sometimes it's seventy degrees out with 2% humidity, and then when you wake up the next morning there's icicles hanging from your nostrils and a foot of snow is waiting outside for you to angrily stare at from your window. At least we had this month's poll to keep our spirits up (or at least above the point at which somebody commits mass homicide).

In regards to the majority, I'm rather pleased. However, I just want to make sure people took the following into consideration when they decided the most desirable choice was to where a hideous sweater forever: you have to wear it when you shower, when you have sex, when you go to the club, when you get married, when you go swimming, when you get married, when you go in for a job interview, when you're taking nudes for your significant other, at your high school and college graduation, and at your funeral. You can never take it off. EVER.

Now, I find it rather thought-provoking that the next most popular choice was "to be fisted." I should've put down "anally, without lube." Like, seriously? You would rather be violently butt punched, therefor impairing your walking and shitting abilities for weeks, than eat a nasty old fish? Huh. Interesting.

To the five people who chose "chew glass," do you know how fucking bad that would hurt? Like, you gotta chew that shit. You'd most likely require some degree of surgery to replace your teeth and remove the shards of glass from your flesh and tongue. 

One person chose to constantly pee their pants; this is the one I would've chosen. I mean, you could just wear a diaper all the time and only have the sexy times with individuals with a pee fetish. 

One psychopath chose to eat a live baby. Hmmm.

Love is an old dead fish

So according to the, like, one comment on my "March Polls" post, people want me to write about a certain embarrassing moment in my life. Well, here goes.

In 6th grade, I accidentally dropped a dead guppy into the sweatshirt hood of none other than my crush.

As you most likely already know, I'm a very strange person. I've never exactly been prime girlfriend material. I'm really awkward and figuratively stub my toe a lot when it comes to romance; it's just the way I am. And, to top that off, in 6th grade I looked like a shaved baboon with chicken pox. Even with this aesthetic disability, I had a crush on this guy who was more or less on my level of disturbing, mid-pubescent hideosity. Essentially, I had a crush on somebody who was just as ugly and weird as I was, so I actually had a chance with this person.

So we were doing this project towards the end of the year where we were making our own ecosystems out of liter soda bottles, dirt, water, worms, snails, and fish. After a few weeks, when the project was over, most of the fish in the artificial ecosystems had died. It was disgusting, and our science teacher made us clean everything up, including the quickly decaying fish corpses.

When we were cleaning everything, my group elected me as the fish-cadaver-cleaner-upper, probably because I was so awkward and slightly resembled the dead fish. We had 2 fish corpses to throw away, so I put some gloves on and threw away one carcass with no problem. Then came the 2nd one.

This is where shit had hit the fan. I was walking towards the garbage pail, fish corpse in hand, when le crush bumped into me, smiling in all his awkward glory. I think I might've blacked out for a moment because of the sudden legit human contact with somebody who didn't think I was the result of a botched abortion. He turned around to throw away some old dirt, and I kinda leaned over his shoulder to awkward-flirt.

I dropped the fish into his sweatshirt hood.

It was an accident. I was so intoxicated by my pure derpy love for him that I lost my grip on my fish, and it landed right in the hood of his sweatshirt. I didn't say anything, purely out of the fear that he would never talk to me again if he knew that I had put a partially decomposed guppy into his clothing. I almost cried, and I walked away very quickly. Very quickly. 

In 2nd period, he noticed. It was math class, and somebody commented that he reeked of death and diarrhea. Everyone searched all over him to find the source of the stench; everyone except me. I was too scared. What if they could've traced the fish back to me?!

So they finally found the carcass in his sweatshirt hood. A girl who had originally been searching him was gagging and puking for quite a while after that. The crush was flipping the actual fuck out, accusing everyone except me of placing the fish in his daily attire. He never found out that I was the one who ruined his sweatshirt with a deceased fish. In fact, later that year, he became my very first boyfriend. I mean, we broke up after realizing that we did not know how to relationship, but that was a secret I still to this day will never tell him. Except for now.

Old 6th grade crush, I was the one who put that smelly carcass in your sweatshirt hood. Woops.

I like girls! (day of silence)

Hold onto your strap-ons people, it's time for a serious post.

April 11th is the official 2014 Day of Silence. I participated in this last year, and I'll be doing it again this year, and the year after that, and every year until equality is achieved in the LGBT community.

Now, I am not a lesbian. I am what is commonly referred to as pansexual. I don't really feel like explaining in a big ass paragraph what the definition of pansexual is- I let the internet do that for me.

Now, the fact that I live in Utah, essentially the single most bigott-filled state in the US, makes this particular day all the more relevant. A lot of people in my school think that this day is insignificant and stupid, and that it will not do anything. These assholes seem to be missing the point entirely. The point of The Day of Silence is to raise awareness for the LGBT community, mostly teens, who feel that the only way to escape bullying, discrimination, and prejudice is to be silent and hide their true self. People often don't understand the fact that it's immensely difficult to come out as gay, lesbian, or bisexual when you're just a teenager. It becomes even more difficult in a place like Utah, where same-sex love is frowned upon. 

I want to live in a world where people can go anywhere in the world and feel safe and happy marrying whoever the fuck they feel like marrying. Hell, maybe one day I'll find a sexy lady and I'll want to put a ring on it. By the time I'm ready to put a ring on it, it'd better be fucking legal all across the world for me to put a god damn ring on it. 

How my music taste developed

Do pardon if this post is shitty. I'm having a major belt of hyperactivity and I'm typing faster than I ever have in my life it's actually really scary and I think I might need some medication to control whatever the hell is happening in my brain right now.

So my music taste is really weird. I consider myself a metalhead with great pride, because metal (in several different forms, nu-metal being one of my favorites) is my primary music choice. However, if we get into my other music tastes, you may begin to wonder who the hell brought me up. Well, let me answer that for you; I was raised by being passed around between my parents, my grandparents, and my uncle. By the time I was around ten, I had been raised on a solid foundation of classical music, Fergie, P!nk, Green Day, Pink Floyd, and other bands that start with a color.

In other words, I liked Boroque and Punk.

Then, 5th grade happened.

At this point, I was just uncovering that part of me that was like "I am rebellious but not too rebellious so I'm going to be a little bit rebellious but not enough to bother anybody but still pretty rebellious." I didn't really know how to deal with this, so I didn't. However, this was the time that I got my first ipod touch, which meant I could get apps. Along with Doodle Jump and Minination and maybe some apps that could be classified as porn, I installed the Vevo app.

In case you've been living under an extremely heavy and technologically impaired rock for the past seven years, Vevo is a music video viewing website. I had the app for about two months before somehow stumbling across Seether's music video for Fake It. I honestly cannot recall how I managed to find this video, but it was the single best thing that had ever happened to me, with growing boobs at a close 2nd.

Anyway, I had never listened to nor even really heard of nu metal or grunge before. That's why I believe I was so fascinated with this video/song. I had suddenly gone from listening to Big Girls Don't Cry to 35 year old men simultaneously playing loud instruments and smoking Marlboros.

one of these things is not like the others

So I have this weird mentality that has effected me since I can remember; if I find a band that I like, I'm afraid to listen to more than one or two of their songs because I'm afraid I'm gonna find a really shitty song and be disappointed and stop listening to said band. This caused me to listen specifically and only to Fake It and Remedy because I was somehow convinced that all of Seether's other songs would be shit. This went on for a good two years or so.

In 7th grade, along with blossoming into a fully fledged delinquent, I decided it was time to start listening to some more hardcore music. This evolved into getting into the well known genre of Punk, with bands such as Rise Against and Blink 182, besides Green Day which I had already been listening to since I'd come out of the womb. I felt so badass, like I should've been in a motorcycle gang. You know, one full of hormonal twelve year old girls who don't know what their own genitals look like.

Anywho, I was into punk for a good year or so after that, exceptions being like three Seether songs. Then, the end of eighth grade.

At this time, I had started listening to lots of grunge and 60's stuff. I had gotten over my fear of listening to new songs and Seether became my favorite band of all time, and at that status it still remains. But I had not yet discovered real metal. Until, that is, I discovered Children of Bodom.

Children of Bodom is a progressive death metal band from Finland, and they're a little bit horrifying. As I recall, I discovered them by shitting around on the interwebs for a while and I decided to look up "death metal songs" for some reason. Children of Bodom came up. I listened to a few of their songs. I was horrified. I think I may have shit myself. And I loved it.

After that fateful discovery, I began listening to more metal bands, such as Slipknot and Decapitated. I also got into black metal around the beginning of this school year.

Essentially, my music taste has just spiralled downward into this pit of horror and blood and screaming and inaudible lyrics and guys wearing makeup. Currently, I'm very happy with the music that I listen to, which consists mainly of grunge, nu metal, and death metal. I'm always open to new stuff, but metal will forever be the music I listen to in the shower; the most crucial and to-the-point time of music listening-to. I mean, you can't go and skip a song while you're in the shower. You'd better prepare your playlist for absolutely no skips, unless you want to require a new music-playing device every time you shower. Actually, if you're rich enough to do that, you could probably afford to just pay the actual band to come and play in your shower. But if you're like the rest of us, you know that shower time is time to listen to only your favorite music.

This post went downhill very suddenly.

Remember to shower regularly, kids.

Sh*tty recordings

So people apparently want to hear me do the music-type things. Well, you got your wish.

WARNING: The quality of the recording thing I used to record this shtuff was equivalent to that of a potato.

Also, I can't label which recording is of what, because I can't remember. Some of them are of just me singing and some are of me singing while playing guitar and some of them are just me playing my guitar. In some of them I believe I'm singing the bridge of Driven Under by Seether and in others I'm playing some weird ass country song that I, to my own dismay, have stuck in my head. I hate country. I hate it with a burning passion.

Because of the shitty recording quality, you might want to turn down your volume. Again, listening to recordings in the likeness of a potato is bad for your ears.


Record music and voice >>



Record music with Vocaroo >>



Record and upload audio >>



Record music with Vocaroo >>



Audio recording >>



Online recording software >>

How'd I do?

What has band done to me?

GOD DAMN YOU, CONTEMPORARY CLASSICAL SYMPHONIES, YOU ARE RUINING ME. LOOK AT THE THINGS I AM LISTENING TO. I AM A FAILURE AS A METALHEAD.



LET ME EXPLAIN.
So I joined my school symphonic band around 3 months ago. I play the trumpet. I started playing trumpet in 5th grade, in my elementary school band. I continued playing trumpet in the school band until last year in which I took a break, but this year I took it up again, and let me tell you something; our symphonic band here is about 8000% more amazing than any other symphonic band I've been a part of. Like, for reals, we're like really tired, hungry, hormonal professionals.

Lately we've been working on this big ass piece called "Dusk," and it's like the noise angels make when they win the lottery. It looks easy, but you have to pay such close attention to how much force you put into each note and every single dynamic and when to stop and exactly how everyone else is doing it and there are parts when we have to hold whole notes for like THREE LONG ASS MEASURES and it's DIFFICULT but it's SO DAMN PRETTY OH MY GOD.

Yesterday in band practice we just did this song over and over for basically an hour and a half. I guess this forced it deep into my subconscious and fate then decided that I was destined to be a huge nerd and I become obsessed with that damn song.

I went home, and instead of doing my homework, I looked up Dusk on youtube and just kept playing it over and over again. I was dancing around the living room like a deranged chimpanzee, attempting to be graceful while conducting an invisible symphony band. My dad was there the whole time and he didn't say anything pertaining to "Stop that and go do your homework," as he usually does. Honestly I think he may have assumed that I was on hard drugs and that it was best to just leave me alone with my classical hoedown.

My mom gets home every day at 5 pm, and by this time yesterday I had been insulting the good name of dance for about two hours. My mom walked in the door and just kinda watched what was going on in her home, which consisted of her mature teenage daughter having what appeared to be a well-structured seizure and her husband sitting in the corner with his laptop and not doing anything about anything.

Then she promptly began conducting and dancing with me.

So instead of actually doing any sort of homework last night, my mom and I just spent the whole night on the interwebs looking up songs similar to Dusk so we could conduct more. Now I'm obsessed entirely with contemporary classical symphonies. They're fucking beautiful. I'm taking a break from being a metalhead in order to be Beethoven.

Body modifications I want

MODIFICATION: stretched ears (lobes) 

I have my ears at a 6g right now, which is stretched, but not yet to the size shown above, which is about how large I want mine.

MODIFICATION: scarification

The process of professionally carving a design into the skin. Hurts super duper bad, is a pain in the ass, can get infected or fucked up. So awesome.

MODIFICATION: heavy tattooing

I plan on becoming a tattoo artist myself, and there really isn't a part of me that I wouldn't tattoo. (Exceptions being the most obvious parts of my face and my lady bits.)

MODIFICATION: stretched labret (lower lip)

This is basically taking a lip piercing a bit further. It's the same process as stretching your ears. However, it's common for people to get this modification professionally scalpelled (cut) instead of going through the process of stretching.

MODIFICATION: medusa (philtrum) piercing

Yeah, you know that lip dent thing that nobody knows the name of? It's called your philtrum, and I would like mine pierced.

MODIFICATION: bridge piercing

The bridge of your nose. Apparently it hurts like a bitch and gets infected easily. I still want it.

MODIFICATION: stretched septum

Septums (the middle of the inside of your nose) are usually pierced at about a 14g, which is very small. You can stretch it though! The picture above is, if I can guess accurately, around a 6g or an 8g. I would very much like mine to be around that size.

MODIFICATION: dermal piercings

These also apparently hurt like a motherfucker. They have to dig a hole in your flesh and then anchor a little nub thing into it. I want several.

MODIFICATION: eyebrow piercing

One of the most common facial piercings ever. Me gusta.

HAIR TIME! Yeah, these aren't modifications, but it's stuff I'd like to do with my hair so shut the fuck up.

LONG ASS HAIR

I'm currently growing my hair as long as I can get it. This might take a few years.

DEATH HAWK

Like a mohawk but more badass. The hair is longer and thicker and it's a more gothy style. Obviously quite the opposite of really long hair. I still think it's awesome and sexy as fuck so I might also do this at some point in my life.

mkay, goobye

A neat little family history lesson

I got a pretty fucking cool thing in the mail today.

My super awesome Poppop sent me this photo in the mail. That's right, you can send pictures by mail. Like, physical mail. Email can go screw itself.

This picture, as you may have already noticed, is of my great grandparents and great-great grandparents. It was taken at some really fancy party in the 1940s. They all came over from Russia, and they were all extremely elegant. They came through Ellis Island and lived in the fabulous developing New York City.

They were also extremely Jewish.

My Poppop sent this to me because we have an extremely similar sense of humor, that being we're both intelligent and enjoy dry anti-jokes and South Park and stuff that a lot of people would hear and be like, "Wait, dafuq?"

Actual photo of my Poppop and my Gramma who pretty much raised me. Love those old peeps.

My Poppop is damn sure that our shared intelligent sense of humor can be blamed on our Jewish roots. That's why he sent me this picture. I've never really known much about my great-great-somethin-somethin grandparents besides that fact that they were Jews, they owned a clothing business, and they were chain smokers and mild alcoholics. I didn't know what they looked like, and I didn't even know their names. According to my Poppop, my great grandpa Henry Hirshon (on the far left) and my great-great grandpa Julius Levine (on the far right) were both pretty damn funny along with their Jewishness. Not only were they fancy and elegant and really Jewish, but they apparently are the source of our dry, intelligent funniness. Honestly, I wish I had met them. They all died of either lung cancer or the aftereffects of scarlet fever before the year 1970, so that could never have happened. I don't know if they'd like me anyway. I think they'd like my sense of humor that apparently is so similar to what theirs was, but if I were to reveal my actual ADD spazziness, I don't know if they'd be totally into me.

INCONGRUITY DETECTED

But yeah, so that's a bit of a little explanation as to why I am the way that I am. Probably. It's pretty cool to know that I have a big ol' clusterfuck of New Yorker, Russian, Jew, and classy-as-fuck-ness in my blood.