Music Is Key: Live Edition

Okay, here's the thing: I care just as deeply about live music as I do about regular music.

About three weeks ago, I went to Laguna Beach, California for Thanksgiving weekend, and, whilst in Laguna, I went to see a singer named BØRNS in concert.

At the time I was given the opportunity, I wasn't a huge fan of BØRNS, but once his album came out a few days later, I was hooked. It all seemed so unreal.

When we got to the venue it still hadn't completely set in.

Before we were let into the venue, the four of us who drove down together, Cash, Kalani, Annalise, and I, were standing in line for an hour and a half. Unfortunately, we were so excited about the concert that we didn't think about sitting down at all that whole time. 

Even once we were let into the venue, it hadn't truly hit me.

After another thirty minutes of standing around and humming to the music playing as hundreds of people filtered through the doors, the lights went low, and the opening band came out.

Even though I couldn't understand what they was singing about (due to the mumbling noises that seemed to come out of their mouths), I was very entertained. One guitarist did this weird thing with his hair where he would whip it up and down as he would play the guitar. We ended up calling him "The Guy on the Right" by the end of their set.

As you can see, The Guy on the Right is flipping his hair to the beat of the music.

After their quick, half hour set was finished, we were standing around for another thirty minutes before BØRNS and his band came out from back stage.

It went by so fast, I wasn't even sure it had actually happened, but I knew one thing for sure: that was incredible. Even though I probably touched and got closer to more bodies than I ever planned to throughout my lifetime, it was worth it.

The music was phenomenal and the vibes were very good. Everyone in the venue was singing at the top of their lungs along with BØRNS. Even when he came out for his encore and sang Bennie and the Jets by Elton John, which obviously isn't one of his songs, the entire crowd sang along as he serenaded a girl from the crowd. He was an outstanding live singer and performer, which is always a plus.

This picture, taken by Cash, shows how close we were to the stage by the end of the concert.

Even the moments that didn't have to do with the music were memorable. Like when a group of guys, who were most likely either drunk or high, began to crowd surf and one of them kicked Annalise in the head. Or when Cash tried to take a picture of a really hot guy, but the flash on her phone went off when she was about a foot away from his face. Also when a girl in line ahead of us called her friend and asked if she "had the glitter," which we all thought was some code word for drugs, but turned out to be literal glitter that they putt all over their face to sparkle in the light. 

It was a great night, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Anyway, carry on.
xx Em

The Time I Was Truly a Salty Stressball (Part Two)

Okay, here's the thing: read Part One first.

"Swimmers, please stand. Lane six, step down."

When I heard those words, the man behind the lane helped me down from the blocks and a million thoughts were running through my head. I thought that we might have been disqualified because of our tardiness to getting up onto the blocks. I was just

wondering why this had to happened to me on my very first meet of the High School season.

My thoughts were only partially answered when the kind man behind the block told me that my coach said that my relay wasn't swimming in this event.

I was extremely confused at this point, but I saw Kelly's hair out of the corner of my eye, and looked at her with a questioning expression on my face.

"This is the 200 Free Relay not the 400 Free Relay."

My brain's first instinct after hearing these words was to cry. So, I did.

I burst into tears right behind that block.

This is probably what I looked like as I cried.
Courtesy of Love Beach Blog

I was shaking as if I was in Antarctica, I had the most pounding headache I've ever experienced, and, in front of multiple strangers, I cried.

My friends came to comfort me, but I probably looked like a maniac because, honestly, I had no idea why I was crying, but, no matter what I did, I couldn't stop.

This for some reason was funny for me, so I was laughing hysterically, while also crying about something else.

I guess it was the pure terror of being disqualified at my first meet, the extreme stress that the thought of that brought, and the relief that followed after hearing that I didn't actually have to do that was what made me cry.

This experience cycled me through the stages of a breakup, in a way. Maybe not quite in order, but I went through them all in one way or another.

First, I was confused what was going on, and I had too many questions that needed to be answered, but weren't quite being answered in the way I needed them to be.

Second, I kept telling myself that "this couldn't be happening." Instead, I was just having nightmare that was giving me a heart attack from the stress. 

Third, when it actually didn't happen, I collapsed into despair, and cried. Whether it was from relief or something else, I would be the only one to know, but I couldn't answer that if I tried.

Fourth, I was pretty dang salty (and not from the tears I had just previously shed). I was pissed. I didn't know why, but I was so frustrated with, not only Kelly, but myself for putting myself through that confusion, stress, and sadness.

Finally, I met acceptance with the fact that it was a mistake, and it was going to be okay. 

I even thought of it as a learning experience, and even though I left an entire three-fourths of my relay behind in the chaos, I was able to get the the blocks in time before they left.

I don't think I will every feel like I did that night ever again. Well, at least I hope not.

Anyway, carry on.

xx Em

The Time I Truly Was a Salty Stressball (Part One)

Okay, here's the thing: pay attention.

This past Friday, November 6, 2015, was my first High School Swim meet.

I have been swimming for quite a long time, so I was used for a certain type of meet set up, but High School Swimming is completely different, so I was pretty confused the whole night.

At the beginning of the meet, I found out that I was in the 400 Free Relay at the very end of the meet. I knew that the 200 IM Relay was at the beginning, so I thought that the whole night only consisted of the regular individual events and those two relays.

When I thought my relay was coming up, I asked my coach, Kelly, how much longer she thought I had until I had to swim in the relay. She checked and told me that I had around fifteen minutes or so, and that my relay would be in lane six.

What I didn't know is that Kelly thought I was talking about the 200 Free Relay which was a couple of events before the relay I was actually in.

I felt like this guy while I ran to my block.
Courtesy of Looney Tunes

All I knew about my relay is that it was right after the 100 Breaststrokes, so that was all I was looking out for.

For the next couple of minutes, I was talking to a couple of friends when all of the sudden, I hear someone yelling, "WHERE IS THE 'B' RELAY?!"

I didn't even think about what was going on, but when I made eye contact with Kelly and could clearly tell she was pointing directly at me, I dropped everything I ever thought in my entire life and ran.

I ripped the sweatshirt off of my body and grabbed my cap and goggles as I ran for my life to the block behind lane six. I threw my cap on, not even caring where the rest of my relay was (I didn't actually know who was on my relay). The rest of the teams were already up on the blocks, so my first instinct was to get right up on the blocks with them, even if the rest of my relay wasn't even there yet.

The man timing for my lane realized that I was the only one there, and asked, "Where's the rest of your relay?"

At that moment, I didn't even care. I knew I was supposed to be swimming the first leg of the relay in the first place, so I thought, I might as well show up and swim the first part of the relay than have our entire relay miss the race completely.

My heart had never beaten so hard, and I was so stressed out that my bottom lip actually started trembling as I was up on the blocks right before I was about to leave.

"Swimmers, please stand. Lane six, step down."

To be continued...

xx Em

Ants in My Drink (Flop Friday #3)

Okay, here’s the thing: ants do not add extra flavor.

This flop comes from a few weeks ago when I visited Washington DC for a wedding.

At the reception after the wedding there was an open bar for beverages. A group of us, consisting of Caroline, Carolina, and Leo. Yes, I do realize that Caroline and Carolina are very similar names, but they have pretty different personalities. I also realize that this is Leo, the same person who was mentioned in the last Flop Friday post. 

It was Carolina’s idea to order Shirley Temples. She was the one who sparked the idea for the rest of us. This obviously made Carolina get her drink first. She was kind enough to sit and wait for us as we ordered our drinks, so she was standing off to the side, peacefully sipping her drink. 

This looks similar to what my drink looked like -- minus the ants, of course.

Courtesy of Chowhound

All of the sudden we heard Carolina gasp.

“Guys…,” we heard as the man handed us each our drinks. We all asked what was happening, but all she did was pull out her phone and turn the flashlight on. 

Again we heard her murmur something and then she showed us what she was talking about. 

Floating around in her drink were multiple mini ants. We were all shocked and checked our own drinks, and, sure enough, we all had them in our drinks as well. 

Carolina wanted to try again, so she handed back the drink. Unfortunately, her second Shirley Temple also had ants in it.

We felt bad enough for the guy who gave us our drinks already and didn't want to embarrass him once again, so we just left the guy with his other drinks and walked away. 

The second we left the room, I stealthily placed my drink on top of a table and walked away as we went back to the area we were sitting. Carolina was too shocked by the fact that she probably just ingested a few ants into her system because of her drink, so she was just holding the drink in her hand, not quite knowing what to do with it.

On the other hand, Leo and Caroline actually wanted this Shirley Temple pretty badly. Once we got back to our seating area, Leo attempted to drink the beverage very carefully, trying to avoid the ants. Caroline was immediately off to work with her miniature straw, picking out every single ant from her drink. 

This was an incredible sight to watch from my perspective. I had Leo to my left, looking into his Shirley Temple as if it was telling him the answer to the universe. To my right was Caroline, who had the most disgusted look on her face as she picked out the ants from her drink. Carolina was in front of me, with a blank expression on her face as she tried to process everything that had just happened. 

Eventually, Caroline got all of the ants out of her drink and finished off the beverage. Leo spent a half an hour with the process he was trying before he eventually gave up. Carolina had discarded of her drink long before Leo had, but we could all tell she was still shaken up about the ant fiasco.

Later on throughout the night, we went back to check what might have caused the ants to be in the drink. One of the first things we check gave us our answer. It was the sweet, red flavoring, called grenadine, that they put in Shirley Temple drinks. The juice in the bottle had an abundance of small ants floating around in the liquid, clearly confirming that the insects in our drink were due to that beverage.

After the mystery of the ant-filled drinks was solved, we carried on with our night, and celebrated the marriage of the happy couple's wedding we were attending.

I'm not sure what happened to Carolina or Caroline after they drank even just a little bit of their drinks, but, according to Leo, he had thrown up during the middle of the night after he had the drink. Whether or not the same thing happened to the other two girls, or if the reason Leo got sick even had to do with the ants in the drink, is unknown.

The next time I see someone make me a Shirley Temple, I am going to make sure that the grenadine they add to my drink doesn't have a family of ants floating inside of it. I don't want to relive that experience again.

Anyway, carry on.

xx Em

Music Is Key

Okay, here’s the thing: I care deeply about music. 

Some people may agree with me here, and some people may not. It kind of just depends what kind of person you are. 

I trust that my love for music started at a very young age. This is because my father used to sing me to sleep. From when I was a newborn all the way up until I told him to stop. This was around kindergarten or first grade I believe. This may or may not have broken his heart. 

Either way, it made me appreciate really good music. Not the pop stuff that gets overplayed after four days, but the good stuff. At least in my opinion. 

Did my dad play this “good” music to me when I was little? Honestly, I don’t know. If you really want to get a taste of what he liked to sing to me, just listen to this. According to him, it was the first song he learned how to play on the guitar, and the first song he ever sang to me as a baby.

First of all, I believe there is a perfect playlist of songs to go to a certain mood. I also believe that music can cause memories to resurface. Whether these memories are happy or sad, a certain song can cause you to remember the feelings that you had in the past. 

For example, whenever I hear the song “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire, I have a memory from when I was around five years old, and my dad took me to see the movie Night at the Museum. That song played at the end of the movie, and, on our way home, it started playing on the radio. It was a weird coincidence, but my dad and I totally jammed out to it all the way through the song.

I also believe that music can make you cry. 

Not only have I witnessed this on live television shows, such as American Idol, but it has also happened to me. Quite recently actually. 

My favorite band released their album, and I was very “emo" about it. I listened to the whole album in one sitting, and my friends and I freaked out about it for an hour after it was released. We didn't care if we didn’t get sleep that night, we just needed this new music.

This particular album got me feelin’ some type of way, and I was very overwhelmed, and the tears came. At first they were excited/happy tears, but as I truly listened to the lyrics they got extremely deep and I lost it.

Picture this: a teenage girl at 11:30 PM sitting in her room with out any of the lights on, curled up in a ball on her bed with headphones in, and tears streaming down her face as she shook with excitement and sadness.

That was me! I know a bit pathetic but you get my point.

Next, I believe that the way you interpret music all depends on time and place. 

For example, if you just got broken up with, and you're feeling pretty down about it, you could hear a song that you know pretty well already, but you might relate to the lyrics more and it could make you burst into tears. You might also hear a happy song, and it could change your mood around completely. Although, if you heard these songs in a different setting, you would have a different reaction to them. 

Lastly, I believe that music is an escape. 

Whether this means that you are the person making the music, or if you are just a listener, it can be a small getaway from reality. Once you plug those headphones in to your ears and the music begins to drown out all of your worries outside of the music, you can feel like you are traveling away from your troubles and into a state of relaxation. Almost like a drug without health risks.

At least thats what music does for me. If you don’t feel the same way that’s just fine, but I thought I would share either way.

Anyway, carry on.

xx Em

Courtesy of Near Pictures (also how I look while listening to my tunes)

How NOT to Snorkel (Flop Friday #2)

Okay, here's the thing: standing up is lethal.

I learned this fact over Spring Break 2015, when I rented a house in Mexico with two of my close family friends, Leo and Lucy.

About midway through our week's travels, all of our families decided to go snorkeling right off of the beach where the house we were staying at was located. I had gone with my dad a couple days before Lucy and Leo's families had arrived, so I knew what we needed to get for gear.

Lucy and I had gotten our gear picked out, but Leo was still having some troubles trying to get flippers that would fit his feet. We were standing next to the side door that lead to outside as Leo was trying on one of the last available flippers that might fit him.

As we were standing by Leo as he tried on the flippers, Lucy's mom, Christina, was coming in from the beach and opened the door that Leo was standing by.

All of the sudden, Leo started yelling, but we didn't know why until we realized that he had been holding on to the door frame, and when Christina opened the door, his thumb was smashed between the frame and the door.

Many slightly panic filled minutes later, Leo, Lucy, Christina, Kristin (Leo's mom), and I were all standing around the kitchen island. Leo had his thumb in a cup of ice water, and everyone else was talking to Kristen to fill her in a bout what had just occurred. Then, all of the sudden, Leo fell forward on to a bag of chips that were on the counter.

What you should know about Leo, is that he jokes around. All of the time. Lucy and I, who had been around this joking sense of humor for a couple of days started laughing at what Leo was assumably joking around about. But, when he knocked over the cup of ice water, when he fell, we started to worry.

"Leo, you spilled the water, stop!" I remember Lucy saying seconds before we realized what was happening.

He wouldn't have taken the joke to the point where it made a huge mess, so we know that something was seriously wrong. As we all realized that he had passed out, and were about to help him, his entire body gave out, and he fell to the floor, taking the bag of chips with him to the ground.

We were all shocked, but Kristen's reaction was the worst. She began screaming bloody murder for help, and immediately started crying. My mom ran in and lifted Leo's head to make sure he was okay. Kristen was still having a breakdown because her son had just collapsed when I heard a voice coming from the ground say, "Mom. I'm fine."

It really was a scare, but the rest of the week went by great. Although we had to spend the rest of the day making sure nothing serious had happened to Leo after the fall, we still had a good time.

This photo, taken by my dad, perfectly captures the events that occurred in the hours after Leo passed out.

The moral of this (literal) flop story is, if you have been injured, please sit down. If, for some reason, your injury leads you to faint, the only place you can go from standing up is down. And there's a very large chance that you won't land on a nice fluffy pillow. The only pillow Leo got was an unopened back of tortilla chips, but they didn't do much to help.

Anyway, carry on.
xx Em

STRESS RANT LET'S GO

Okay, here's the thing: eighth grade doesn't do shit to prepare you for ninth grade.

For me, eighth grade was an absolute breeze. There wasn't the pressure of having to do well because of college, and there wasn't anything too difficult that needed to be done.

Yes, I did take that test in seventh grade that enrolled me in the eighth and ninth grade Honors Math program, so I ended up taking tenth grade Honors Math this year. Not only did I register for this class, but I also registered for Honors English, AP Geography, and Honors Biology on top of that.

Why did I put myself through this hell? Well you see, I didn't think it would be this bad.

Last year, I loved History, and even though I knew that Geography isn't the same thing, I thought that it couldn't be that bad. Also, the whole "college credits" thing appealed to me, so I wanted to give it a try. I also enjoy English, and thought that I might need a little bit of a challenge, so I decided to take this class. For Biology, it was honestly because I didn't want to take Earth Sciences, and the school district had recently changed that you had to take a test to enroll into it, so took the opportunity I was given, and enrolled in all the possible Honors courses at Treasure Mountain Junior High.

Of course, there are the upsides of each of these classes. In AP Geo, my teacher, Mr. Jeffrey makes at least one Donald Trump reference a week. I highly despise that joke of a man, so I approve of every joke Mr. Jeffrey makes about him. My Biology teacher, Mr. Christensen, is hilarious and, for some reason, my friends and I refer to him by his middle name ninety percent of the time. There isn't really a reason for that, it just kind of became a habit. My English teacher, Mr. Parker, who has already been mentioned in this blog, is very funny as well. His class was also where this blog originated. Even my Math teacher can be chill sometimes.

I can manage pretty well most of the time, but lately, I've had other experiences. The end of the quarter is coming up soon, so many of my classes have been finishing up projects that we've been working on and giving out unit tests before finals.

I know I shouldn't care as much as I do, but I sometimes, I feel like the pressure of doing well in ninth grade makes me kind of crazy.

Courtesy of Hannah's Tumblr

Last week, for example, was very stressful, and I didn't quite know how to deal with everything I had on my plate. It was the first week that High School Swimming was in session, so I had to get used to the whole new schedule of my after-school activities. I had missed the previous Friday, so I still had some catching up to do. I was two days behind on my AP Geo reading, and the last vocabulary quiz of the quarter was quickly approaching. I had to make up a Math investigation that I missed, do the homework that went with it, and, since my class is flipped, I had to watch the lesson for the next class. In English, I had to get a rough draft finished for the social issues research paper we were working on by Monday.

I was constantly in a state of catching up, and I had no time to rest. As I explained to my friends when the week was nearing an end, I was at about the same point of stress equivalent to Britney Spears in 2007. If for some reason you don't know what I'm talking about, let your eyes view the photo on the side.

I feel like I shouldn't feel as stressed out about school as I am, but, as Abbi explained in one of her recent blog posts, it is how we've kind of grown up to believe. She said in her post that, "their grade matters more than their education," which, sadly, is very true to many. Students worry too much about their grade to actually learn anything.

I wasn't quite ready for a week like last week so soon into the year, but I managed to get most of the things on my plate finished. I had to adapt to everything that was going on because I didn't know what to do with myself.

If you don't get anything from this blog post, remember this. Eighth grade is a smooth boat ride compared to the waves of a storm throughout ninth grade.

Anyway, carry on.
xx Em

How to Emotionally Scar Your Friend (Flop Friday #1)

Okay, here’s the thing: don’t do what I did.

Welcome to a new installment of the Salty Stressball blog. Flop Fridays, in which I write about a time in my life in which I, or someone I know, ended up as a flop. Urban Dictionary defines a flop as something that fails miserably, but you could also interpret "flop" in the literal sense, meaning something has fallen in one way or another.

This flop happened only a few weeks ago, when I was invited to go to Lagoon Amusement Park with my friend Emma (yes, we do have the same name). On the drive to Lagoon, my friend Abbi was texting me. For the past year or so, Abbi and I have made many trips to Lagoon together, so the fact that I was going with someone else made her a bit… salty (haha). Most of the time, our conversations over text (and in real life), are full of sarcasm, so I knew I didn’t need to be too worried about this. 

You see, whenever Abbi and I go to Lagoon, she won’t go on the Rocket ride with me. This is because, somehow, Abbi heard about a little girl who was squashed underneath the ride as it fell back to the ground. This is a very valid reason to be terrified of the ride, so I don't ever try to push her to go on it.

I ended up going on the Rocket with Emma, and for some crazy reason, my brain decided that it would be funny to mess around with Abbi about this. So, on our way home, I texted her.

Me: Um hi. Something really bad happened at Lagoon, today.

Abbi: Which was?

Me: Well, you know the ride that you never want to go on?

Abbi: Yes… Oh gosh… What happened?

This was the point at which I could’ve turned around and gotten myself out of this mess, but, unfortunately, I kept going. 

Me: I went on it, and when the ride came down, my foot got stuck.

Abbi: ???????

I knew at this point that she was already worried, but I assumed that she didn’t really believe me. I thought that she was just going to go along with me and laugh at the joke, but I was very wrong. And my next response didn’t help me in any way.

Me: So, I am currently hospitalized.

Abbi: ARE YOU SERIOUS????

I was happily giggling to myself at this point because I knew I had fooled her, but I didn't want to make the situation too awful. I knew she believed me so I tried to get her to realize I was joking by responding in only short words or phrases.

Me: Yes.

Abbi: EMMA, OH MY GOD!

Me: I am in pain.

Abbi: DUDE!

The next part of this “joke” is what I was the most proud of. I responded with the exact picture below, without any context.

Courtesy of Tom Brezsny

Yes. I know. A picture of Ashton Kutcher and the “You Just Got Punk'd” title. 

This probably seems terribly cruel to most of the people reading this, but in my mind, I was a comedy genius. Abbi didn't agree.

Abbi: ...I am in literal tears. I hate you so much.

Me: YOU CRIED?!

Abbi: I CRIED FROM PANIC!

What followed this reply was a lengthy explanation in which Abbi told me that, when she saw I had texted her, she was going to pretend to be mad that I went to Lagoon without her. She had everything planned out, but when I said that I was hospitalized she was taken aback, and blamed it on herself. Abbi had no reason to blame my "injury" on her, but her brain did, either way. She then told me that she was going to say something about how it was karma for not going to Lagoon with her, but as she was frantically typing that, I sent the picture, and she lost it.

The following day, I saw Abbi at school. She wouldn't talk to me for a while, but when she finally did speak to me, the first thing she said was, "You emotionally scarred me."

Whenever this occurrence surfaces in conversation, Abbi never forgets to mention how much she hates me for it. She also talks about how she will get me back for it eventually, which in return, makes me a bit paranoid to be honest.

I hope I have reached out to you soon enough in your life that a prank hasn't ended as a flop for you. If so, try your hardest not to prank your friends in this sort of way. I recommend the classics that don't scar anyone; it's your safest bet.

Anyway, carry on.

xx Em

The Prologue to an Average Teenager's Blog

Okay, here's the thing: creating this blog was not my idea.

This blog was birthed into the internet world courtesy of Mr. Parker, my ninth grade Honors English teacher. I've known about this blog for a very long time, and, to be honest, I've had mixed feelings about it.

On one hand, I enjoy writing and telling stories. This blog will be an amazing way to get my thoughts across rather than attempting to tell it in a brief way to my friends over a text message. It will also give me a chance to share the events of my life in more depth than an Instagram photo.

However, on the other hand, a lot people won't care about the events that happen in my life. I understand this issue, and I'm sure every other blogger understands this as well.

What I want to say is that your opinion is fine. If leaving my blog makes your life better, then, by all means, leave my blog. I hope this blog to become something that makes people react. Whether that reaction is a nod of a head in agreement, a laugh, or even a small smile, I appreciate it.

Now, with that being said, I'm sure most of you are slightly confused by the name of this blog.

The "salty" part of "the salty stressball" does not literally mean that the "stressball" in the situation is flavored in a way similar to a potato chip. The "saltiness" is used as a slang term. According to Urban Dictionary, "salty" means to be agitated or upset.

The "stressball" is referring to me. The majority of my life has been spent in a state of stress. What this stress is about varies daily, but nevertheless, it builds up. All the stress I have had over the years has made me the person I am today. A ball of stress (stressball) that is cleverly disguised as a teenage girl.

So, when you put "salty" and "stressball" together, and relate it to me, you get a "salty stressball", hence the title of my blog. This doesn't exactly mean that I am always agitated or upset, or that I am in a constant state of stress (although sometimes it feels that way). It means that, occasionally, I am both agitated and stressed at the same time. Making me a salty stressball.

I plan to write about the events that occur throughout my painfully typical life. These events could range from mishaps during vacations travels to hilarious moments that happen when I am hanging out with my friends.

If I'm being completely honest, this exact blog has caused me quite a bit of stress already. Very fitting, I know. I guess stress just decides to find me even in the simplest of times. Well, that's not entirely true. I take most of the blame for the stress I endure. Procrastinating is an important part of my life. I have to take time out of my homework time to do the exact opposite thing that needs to be finished.

Sarcasm is also an evident part of my life. Brace yourself for that. All I want to say is you really shouldn't take what I say in a serious way. Just accept that I have a weird sense of humor and go with it.

With that being said, I should probably go do some of my other homework that needs to be done, but, knowing me, that will be put off for at least another half hour.

Anyway, carry on.
xx Em

Courtesy of Hannah