injuries.

sometimes you think that parts of your life can slip past you, and that you can simply breeze by.

like a seagull. 

or, maybe like when you know you need to clip your toenails. but you just don't want to reach down there to get the job done.

i think that is kind of how i feel about thinking about college. growing up. i know that i need to spend time to really think about what i want to do. and i always thought i knew. but when it comes down to the nitty gritty details, i don't want to think.

along the same lines, teenagers think that they can cruise their way through high school, not have to worry  and stress about schoolwork, and still expect to get by without any injury.

I definitely slipped into thinking like this.  and what do you know.  i'm injured.

Monday came and went last week, and I started my pre-season track workouts with my coach.  After my first workout, I was extremely sore and tight, but hey, that always goes away, right?  Psh, I'll be fine.

The NEXT Monday. (yesterday). at practice again, and still tight as can be.  coach isn't there to discuss my capabilities, and so i do the workout.

next thing you know, i have a pulled quadricep.

(also known as THIGH. yum.)

yes, that extremely large muscle in your leg that enables you to walk.  bend down. sit. what have you.

my mindset was engulfed in the notion that yes, i could weasel my way though the next 6 months sneakily, without something terribly disappointing happening.

well. i learned my lesson.

i wish i was a boy.

i hate being a girl.

besides the obvious of the monthly occurrences and even the thought of bearing children (nasty), being a girl is absolutely horrendous.

#1. we have hair.  that has to be given daily attention in order to control.

#2. make up? so not worth it. no one really notices anyway, unless you slather it on until you can't tell what color your skin is any longer, bronze, or peach.

#3. "Hey gir--" oh wait. we hate each other. i'm not supposed to talk to you. seriously? get over it already!

#4. i don't care who your boyfriend is.  i'll be friends with him if i want to, AND you don't own him. and just the fact that he is captain of the football team student body president baseball star starting varsity basketball point guard DOESN'T make you any better in the eyes of other people.  moral of the story, don't be shallow.

that is all.

24 hours isn't enough.

excuse my ignorance.  the past few weeks have been.. well. on the busy side. for a lack of anything better to say, (and my excuse for not posting anything) here is the agenda for the next two weeks of my life.

tomorrow:   government memorization.

saturday:     play harp at the hospital for a program my friend and i are starting. (details later.)

sunday:       give 5 minute talk on humility in church.  thanks, father.

[thanksgiving break.  thank the heavens.]

monday:     essay on the Scarlet Letter due for English. haven't started.

tuesday:      play harp for a social event for an organized group of older ladies in my church.

wednesday:            government project due. haven't begun to think about it yet.
wednesday again:  play harp at my youth group's weekly activity at an old folk's home. lovely.

friday:        speech for government. memorized. awesome.

saturday:               ACT. first time taking. scared for my life.
saturday again:      play harp at the Christmas Home Show.

not to include all the time needed to spend practicing for all my little harp performances that i don't have time for, the track practices that i'm supposed to be starting to go to, the other time consuming homework that would lengthen this post from here to Timbuktu, etc.

24 hours is not enough time to eat, sleep, think, do homework, spend an hour with a tutor every day, run with my coach, and go to 8 hours of school.  NOT. HAPPENING.

harp is my life.

[[check out my video at the bottom of this post]]


I wish that young people of this generation would appreciate classical music. (I'm making a generalization here.  I know some do.  Most teenager's my age I know, however, don't.)

There is hardly ANY talent put into the rap, heavy metal, pop, hip hop, and what-have-you music of the day and age.  Really, though.  The only interesting part is the beat. (tssssssssssk. tssssssssssk.)

People say it's outdated, lame, boring, stupid, any number of other words to describe the "plain-ness" of classical music.  But honestly, you can't help appreciate beauty, can you?

The lives of composers were dedicated to their music, and years to even complete one masterpiece.  Each melody so meticulously pieced together, in order to define beauty without words.

These sort of thoughts and feelings run through me every day of my life because of the fact that I am a concert harpist.

Ever since a young age, I had wanted to play the harp.  I always admired it and knew that it was beauty, in and of itself.  So, when I was nine, I began to play.
I always felt like I started a bit older, my teacher's other students had been taking from her since they were four, or maybe five years old.

But I knew it was what I was supposed to do.  I quickly reached their level of performance, and after a few years, even surpassed them.

Now, it has only been 7 years that I have taken harp, but am currently working on the Handel Harp Concerto to audition and play with the Utah Symphony next fall.

Here's a video of a competition that I did at BYU.  (The second song is cooler, they're both beautiful though.)

if you like this, and know anyone who would be interested in having a harp at any sort of venue, I play for all sorts of things (I have to do a little bit of marketing myself, right?)

I have played for:

-wedding receptions/weddings

-parties

-accompanied choirs/orchestras

-you name it :)

seriously, though.  If you know anyone that would be interested, or you yourself would be, please send me an email at [emily.brown@gmail.com] or comment below, I would love to hear from you :)

missionary.

there's an eerie feeling,

when it comes to receiving your first letter from a missionary.

any letter from one, in fact.

my definition of a missionary:

a 19 year old boy who grows into a man, while he dedicates his life to and serves the Lord.

we will call this boy/man character HE.

he gave up his family, his social life, his studies in school, for two years.

and can never come home for holidays.  the only connection he has now is his freedom to write letters, and email his family.  and of course, a phone call on mother's day and Christmas.

and what is more amazing,

is how you can answer HIS prayers, through a letter.  out of pure inspiration.  i don't think i had said two full sentences to the kid in my life.  I hardly know him.

i think i will leave it at that.

don't go with your instinct, sometimes.

listen to the majority.

yeah, yeah, the majority isn't always right.

but when it comes to high school students, those of the male gender in particular.
listen to your best friends, those you have known for years, and whose opinions you value and trust.

listen to the fact he's a player, listen to the fact you've got better options, listen to the fact you know better, listen to the fact it doesn't matter what he does, listen to the fact the crowd says otherwise.

even when your instinct falls into infatuation. yes. not love. it doesn't exist until you get out of high school. (that's why I never post about boys. don't expect it from me, if it ever does happen, that's a pretty big deal.)

p.s. I also am one of those people that doesn't believe in love at first sight.  But I promise further explanation with come at a future time. (one post at a time.)

on a happier note,

now's the season for pumpkin carving, mulling spices on the stove-top, hot apple cider and chilly nights!

it's human nature.

human nature has never been stated so boldly and straightforward.

"What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy.
Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week?
Or sells eternity to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown,
Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?"

-The Rape of Lucrece, William Shakespeare.

simply put is our favorite cliché statement, we always want what we can't have.