Gee thanks, coffee.

Most people are inspired to begin a sculpture or start a new life. And this usually happens through the media, a model celebrity, or a traumatic experience. Say hello to the 16 year old girl who was just inspired to... blog. In this case, through a movie. "Julie and Julia". I figured, "hey, that girl became a writer when she started blogging about her passion, maybe I'll give it a shot!" Who knows how this will turn out... Anyone?
Being a teenager and finding something independent of other humans that can consistently (I just found out how to properly spell "consistently") make me feel warm and fuzzy inside is... well... it seems pretty obvious, right? Next to impossible. What do I know? After only 16 years of existence, how could I have possibly explored my options and reasoned out the best one? Beats me. Maybe I could have devoted every second of my life since I hit high school (and developed a real brain, not those fake ones you get when you're born) to searching for a passion. But that's ridiculous. I probably wouldn't know what radians are if I did that, and heaven forbid I don't know what radians are. In all seriousness though, that doesn't seem like a very good idea.
Oh no. I just pulled up my playlist.com account and started listening to "No Rain" by Blind Melon. It completely severed my line of thinking.
Ok. Focus Romanov. Focus.
So. Searching for a passion. Right. My first mature emotional expression through something non-human was music. I fell in love with playing the flute. When I felt like a pile of crap thrown into some mediocre fashion items and mailed in a small box to a high school with a handful of beautiful, artistic people, I came home and floated through the mysterious notes of a Scottish air on my flute. I made 1st chair in the high school's wind ensemble my freshman year. I figured I was probably the shit in the category of flute skills. And that's all that mattered at the time. That's all that should ever really matter. Which is actually what my soccer coach told the team a few days ago. But I'll talk about him later. I have a feeling this is going to be a massive blog. Anyway, music was the source of my pride and happiness for about 2 years.
I had been reminiscing on my long lost days of the outdoors group I was in for quite a while when I was little. The group leader, Mike, kind of made up for my dad's absence, which doesn't keep me from loving my dad as much as I possibly can, but introduced me into something consistent. The wild. Hmm. That's sounds a little contradictory. Oh well. Mike was always amazed by me. Apparently I gained some mad outdoors skillz faster than you can say "figure eight on a bite". Anyway, it had been bothering me for a while that I hadn't stuck with it and realized its importance when I was a lil one. Well, I guess that didn't really bother me. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I was like 10 and got the chance to take horseback riding lessons. He-LLO. But the point is, I missed Mike and being good at doing something most people never get the opportunity to do.
Sooo come sophomore year-
ooh real quick side story: I was the flute section leader in marching band my junior year (this year) so I made our section shirts. I misspelled "sophomores" on the back of the shirt. I typed "sophmores". Every time I look at those shirts I cry a little. 20 some shirts with the humanities student's mistake. >:(
Actually, I'm gonna stop here and publish this section so one of my friends can go ahead and start reading this novel.