heres a lil collage of my pics on the comp from eveyrhting from 9th grade, just the pics on the comp meaning pics other ppl took cuz i dont ahev a digital camera lol.... i got more that rnt on the comp.. damn i miss it... so far soph year isnt that great except for mb.... but i hate all my classes and everything i wish i could live 9th grade all over again......
wow its small!!!!! :( :( :(
but if its too small to see im me or leave a comment so i can send it to u
and heres this thing that marisa wrote thats really cool and i added liek 3 lines lol.... its about marching band......
From behind you there is the beating of the drums, the fortissimo of the last raging note, the vociferousness of the audience when they explode with applause…then sudden silence. Your own strong yet humble tap begins, and you push to make your whole body feel the rhythm, to make your heart beat with the tap. You force your chins up uncomfortably and face a blinding light. You cannot hear anything anymore, its like the whole world is on mute, except for the pounding pulsation of your heart…left, left, left. You get to your spot and get ready. The tension builds, its so hard to keep still, your whole body shakes with this excitement, this is it…this is what it’s about, and I’m leaving everything I got out here tonight. Detail, attend, hut…and the stadium echoes with your call…hut! Feet are together; stomachs are in, chests out, shoulders back, and elbows frozen. And then the drum major has counted off and your feet are flying as if they’re moving by themselves, your fingers go through the rhythms and the flags are spinning all threw the air because you know everything by heart, and you glance up and there, there right in front of you, are thousands of faces, staring in awe because this is Scotch Plains Fanwood Raider Marching Band. If anyone has ever tried to doubt you, or you doubt yourself, or even if you have never known how to feel while performing, this, this is it. And as you give all you got, the audience understands everything. They feel the heat of marching in a hundred degree weather. They feel the relief of water balloon fights and getting ice thrown down your back. They appreciate the growth, as a family, that everyone on the field has had. They feel the pain of marching for an hour straight in a Giants Stadium horn pop set. They shiver with all the hours you’ve spent practicing in the freezing cold, fingers falling off, still marching, and still getting work done. It’s all there in your music, every last emotion and every ounce of strength left in you, as you hit the last note, and throw that last toss. The noise is deafening as you cut off, the crowd goes wild, literally, they’re on their feet, they’re jumping, screaming…and there it goes again. Your feet in time with the beating of your heart, left, left, left. Chins are up, shakoes with three fingers, instruments are at a carry, and flags in arms. You’re still performing; you’re still being watched, but your out of breath and tired physically and mentally. This is what it’s all about, and no matter what happens, no matter what scores are given out, what plastic is exchanged, you can always hold on to this. Push through SPF; keep your eyes with pride. Eyes full of pride, because who’s the best marching band in the world? SPF Raiders. Dismissed.