High School

A friend and I went to a pancake feed this weekend at one of the local high schools and I had a blast. Mark is a fun guy and I enjoyed hearing about what high school was like for him. It was sort of nice to get sentimental over high school. It will be eight years this summer since I have graduated. At times it feels like forever ago, but other times it seems like only yesterday.
High school is a weird thing. After growing up watching Bayside High school, West Beverly High school and Shermer High school in Shermer, Illinois (Brat pack fans know this one!). I had high hopes for high school. Out of those three, the closest to reality was Shermer High school - with its ups and downs. I wanted to share something I wrote, shortly before graduating college. The night I wrote this I remember my roommate and I discussing our very different high school experiences on our respective sides of Kansas. I realized that I never really expressed any gratitude to my high school teachers who, for most, gave their all to their passion of teaching. Mr. Smajda, Frau, Doc, Mrs. Radio and all the other great people of BVN thank you!



It’s been said that you can’t truly appreciate something until it is gone. This is true in many aspects. I never truly appreciated being able to eat anything I wanted whenever I wanted, being able to see a consecutive sunset then sunrise without sleeping, and the opportunities I had as a young adult in Leawood, Kansas. As I prepare to graduate from college this spring, I’ve stepped back to look at how I have gotten to this point in my life. As a freshman at Blue Valley North High School, I had the world at my feet and a compass in my hand. In four years, my mind expanded as did my horizons.
I learned that early mornings, militant upperclassmen and a mild case of frostbite were just small prices to pay for a successful marching band season. My eyes aren’t what they once were and I can’t take a picture if anyone is posing, but yearbook day is still just as exciting as Christmas. It took a while but I finally figured out polynomials and how to diagram a sentence. The confidence gained from acing a math test is more incredible than having the best dress at homecoming. You learn that history and life are all around you when you're going through hell week in military school style to bring literature to life and developing a deeper appreciation of the Beatles thanks to history class. You’ll have to forgive me, but I am hopeless when it comes to chemistry. I will never forget the joy of placing my order correctly at a restaurant for the first time in Germany. None of these things would have been possible without the help and guidance of the teachers who helped my fellow classmates and me.
Thank you to my teachers who never lost faith in me, even when my homework was half-finished and I could only do half a pull-up in gym. Thank you to my teachers who made lessons interesting. Play-doh figures of Caesar and Brutus brought Shakespeare to life. The Bolshevik infomercials will not be forgotten. Thank you to the teachers who kept us students at the edge of our seats during the state championship basketball seasons and first hour check-in…Fitz! While the world was ever-changing outside the walls of Blue Valley North, there was warm familiarity inside. Between the tragedy in Columbine, the threat of Y2K and conflicts over seas, we students kept our heads up and our eyes bright with the knowledge that we held the future in the palms of our hands.
In high school, these blessings seemed an annoyance, a burden, but when I came to college, I saw that not everyone knew these wonderful experiences. That is when I truly saw the value of everything that I had known. As I prepare to jump off the diving board, into the deep-end, I feel excited. Though there is some apprehension as to what the “real world” will hold for me, I just remember back to my freshman year as I walked up to the doors of Blue Valley North and a kind woman’s smile (Dr. Sanders!) eased all my fears. So even though those days are only recently gone, I do appreciate the wonderful memories they’ve left behind. As I take the next step of my life I know there is nothing that I can’t handle and my compass will forever be pointing North.

Sick of Winter

Okay, so I know that we are all sick of winter. Here are ten good things about winter:

10. Winter, an easy, inexpensive way to test which of your pairs of shoes don’t have good traction.

9. There are no mosquitoes

8. No breaking the piggy bank to buy gas for the lawn mower

7. Clothes hide extra weight from the holidays

6. Citrus fruit is in season...nothing like a tart grapefruit to wake you up

5. All the mold is frozen so allergies are a bit better

4. Not having the sun in your eyes during rush hour traffic...it's dark when you go in and dark when you go home.

3. It's all sports-all the time. football and basketball are on almost 24/7

2. It's okay to be pasty white, everyone is. It is easy to tell who has been fake baking in February in Kansas.

1. Need to chill your drink, but you're out of ice? Just set it outside for a few minutes.


We just have a few more weeks to get through; spring is just around the corner.

New Story Idea

I know I mentioned I was working on three other stories, but have another new idea. Besides, one of those ideas, I haven't looked at in months. I was listening to Something To Believe In by Poison on my way home tonight and it made me think of a story idea that I've been mulling over for the past few months. Basically, I am making a story out of what I hear the song being about.....I'd like some feed back on it. Let me know if it sounds dumb or like something that's been overdone. Basically it is about two guys that are best friends growing up. They both love baseball, rock and roll and dream of being police officers or fire fighters. Basically, all-american boys of the late 50s and early 60s. Then the 1960s strike and one goes the way of hippies and drugs and the other is drafted to Vietnam. They come back together after the war, but both are such different people that they have a hard time reconecting. The one who went to war wants his friend to turn his life around, the hippie guy wants his friend to loosen up and get off his case. They fight and barely talk for the next decade. The 1980s finally roll around and the hippie guy's life is a total mess. He is a druggie with little to no money and no family. His friend has become a divorced semi-successful business man who tries to use religion to deal with his post tramatic stress. The hippie finds out his friend died and he takes a look at when his own life has led him and tries to remember back to their friendship from the beginning to now. Some parts he can't even remember due to the drugs. He knows he needs to turn his life around and decides to do so for his friend's sake and becomes a police officer.

So let me know what you think!!!

Photography part 2

I am still new at this blogging thing, you'll have to scroll down to the bottom to see the pictures I posted!

Photography

I was looking at some of my pictures Saturday night. I would never call myself a photographer, but I am sort of proud of a few of the pictures. I sort of surprised myself, but then I got to thinking, maybe it is just luck that a few of these turned out good. Or maybe it is just my opinion that they are good and other people think they suck. Still I enjoy taking pictures and I can't wait for it to warm up so I can go outside an take more pictures!! I'll put a few on here just to see what anyone thinks of them. Some of these I shot with a friend. One night we decided to drive around and take pictures. Others are ones I just took at random times.

My first blog

I am going to give blogging a try again. I have so many different things running through my head; I figured I might as well try writing them down! For those who don't know me, my name is Meghan and I enjoy the usual stuff: movies, hanging out with friends, writing, music, and throwing parties. Sometimes, I might post some of a story I am working on, just to see what people think. Right now I am working on three stories with varying degrees of success. My biggest challenge is walking the fine line between drama and melodrama.

I mentioned that I enjoy music. I guess I should say, it is a passion of mine and the main subject of this first blog.

Music really is an inspiration to a lot of what I write. Sometimes, I'll hear a song and it makes me feel things that I could never express in any other way. I also just love singing along with the radio (not well, I might add). My music tastes really are all over the place. Brian commented today that the CD in my car was "freaky". Maybe so, but I am the type of person who can listen to Ray Charles, followed by Ice Cube, followed by The Backstreet Boys followed by Aerosmith. I am sure I have a playlist somewhere in my computer that has Beethoven and Eminem in it. Sure, it is off the wall, but in my opinion, it is all the same; artists just saying/writing/playing what they feel to different rhythms and tempos. Take the theme of friendship. How many songs are there about friendship? A Google search says there are 9.3 million topics about songs about friends. James Taylor wrote about it, The Beatles, Natalie Merchant, Christina Aguilera, Queen, Tim McGraw, and many more.

Music all started from the same point. Religious and secular songs date back to prehistoric times. Chant music with its haunting melodies, the grandness of Bach and baroque music, the joy and freshness of classical, the emotions and science of Bhrams, Beethoven and Wagner, during the 1850s and 1860s, slaves could be heard singing songs that gave hope and direction with the Underground Railroad ("Wade In the Water") which lead to the development of blues and jazz, during happy progressive times, there was happy progressive music (ragtime), religious music brought about soul music, soul brought out the first sounds of rock and roll, The Beatles were reportedly inspired by Elvis. During war times, patriotic and political music was written (Holiday, Fortunate Son, The Star Spangled Banner, Tie a Yellow Ribbon). No matter where we go and what we do, there will always be music. Like Pete Seeger said "I always believed that the right song at the right moment could change history".
So is there any point to my rambling? Maybe not, but I will leave you with the following thought on music. "I have my own particular sorrows, loves, delights; and you have yours. But sorrow, gladness, yearning, hope, love, belong to all of us, in all times and in all places. Music is the only means whereby we feel these emotions in their universality." -H.A. Overstreet