*2000-09-24 - 22:46:37*

OK, I haven't been good with this diary lately, but here's an update on my life.

Since I last wrote, I dropped my Prob. Stat class, and joined Creative Writing (YAY!). This class is totally awesome. Our teacher, Mr. Murphy, is the father of a FrüHead I've met. He's a cool guy. Also, my real radio broadcasting teacher should start teaching us pretty soon. He's also a FrüHead.

Back to Creative Writing, we recently went on a class trip to Waterloo, NJ to attend the Geraldine R. Dodge Poetry Festival. We went on the 21st. It was *fantastic*. I'll go into detail on what I did there.

First off, I went to the Saying the Poem workshop. We concentrated on saying our poems and how they sounded coming from someone else, with different inflections, etc. I read my Inner Animal poem (that I wrote in Mr. Murphy's class, it's the only one I'm really comfortable with) and I got a favorable reaction.

After that, I walked to this spot where people, who had brought their guitars, were jamming. They played a couple of songs I knew, so I sang along with the rest of the group. Then, when both guitarists started playing/harmonizing Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, this guy with a doumbek came over and started drumming with them. That sounded really cool. After that song, I walked away to eat lunch and explore.

I came across this group that was playing in front of one of the tents. Their name is Yarina, and they were amazing. I have never heard anyone wail on the pan pipes before, but the guy did it. He was also playing the bass drum (slung on his shoulder) at the same time. I went right over to the merch table and picked up their latest CD. It's very good, I suggest you get it.

Then, after lunch I went over to this big tent where random people were getting up infront of a microphone and reading their poetry aloud. So, I sat and listened, with no intention of going up there, However, after listening for a long while to poems about either love, sex, or depression, this one guy with a red wool cap came up, and read a poem called Moth. It went something like this:

Moth!

Stupid Moth!

Flying against the glass, trying to get at the light.

Why don't you just fly up to the sun, and burn up in the atmosphere, and die!

Stupid moth!

Well, that got me laughing so much, that I decided that if he went up their again, I was gonna go up and read my poem. He did eventually go up again (after this one guy started freestyling up a storm, about a very...umm...lude topic) and he said a poem called Chiquita Banana. It went something like this:

Why do I like Chiquita Bananas?

I have been eating them for 3 days straight.

Is it because they are the closest thing to the TV monitor in the kitchen?

Is it because I am subliminally telling myself that I need more potassium in my diet?

Is it because I just like bananas?

Mmmmm...bananas...

So, I went up. I read my Inner Animal poem again. I liked hearing the applause afterward.

Later, as I was walking to my last workshop that day, this girl, a complete stranger, came up to me and said that I did a really good job reading my poem. This just made me feel wonderful.

Finnally, I went to my last workshop, Making the Poem. It wasn't that great. The guy gave us the topic of "Going home..." to write about. I had so many things buzzing through my head at this point, that I came up with some pretty weird poems. The workshop ended, and I treked back to the spot where my classmates congregated, and went home.

So that was my poetry festival experience. I also bought a journal, a small bottle, and some pretty stones to put in the bottle.

Lastly, I celebrated my 17th birthday on the 22nd. It was very fun, all my friends and I went swimming and most of them slept over. The thing that wasn't that great was that I went to the DMV to get my permit (yes, my permit) and they wouldn't accept my birth certificate. So, I wasn't able to get that. I have to wait till I get an "approved" birth certificate, go back and then apply. Oy.

So, that's all. You are now caught up on my life.

Opinion of the moment:

None right now. To tired to have any opinions on anything. Hmm...well, um...coffee is good, except when it's made by McDonalds. How about that? Good? Ok.

Steph

PS: In case you are curious as to what my Inner Animal poem is about, here it is for your veiwing pleasure. Enjoy. Remember it's mine, please ask if you want to use it for something. As with all my poems, I will be keeping the day job.

Also, this poem is better read aloud.

Note: The first two lines are from the Stephen King book "It", and they went so well, I had to include them in the poem.