All-district auditions are tomorrow.

So most of the band is stressing out over All-District auditions at Mayfield tomorrow. To understand our concern, you have to have an overview of what happens there and what happens if you get in; that sort of thing:

All-District is a district (duh) wide competition for middle and high school band students, which are held at separate locations. Each band director from every participating school is given audition music for each instrument, to be distributed to the students when the directors deem them ready. The students have a period of time to practice and learn the music, along with the appropriate musical scales. The school then travels to the location hosting the competition and plays the selection in a blind audition before a panel of judges. Each individual student performs and returns to the common room set up by the hosting location. At the end of the competition, the judges give each director a stack of folders, which contain a few pieces of music. These folders are awarded to those students who made the cut. These students go on (in January) to play in a full band of the district's best, a great honor and a great opportunity to learn.  I  MUST GET IN.



Practice. Practice. Practice.

Captcha monster. Do it.

The creators of a few other blogs and myself have decided to unleash a previously-untamed awesomeness into this rotting world: Captcha monster. This blog is most promising, because we don't have to make content up on our own. As you no doubt know since you're on blogger at the moment, posting comments can be a hassle. The internet overlords must have written proof that you are not a robot: the captcha. These annoyances do have their purposes though. After our compilation of random words is nearer to completion, we will start to write things using the words so graciously given to us by the Captcha Lord. Also expect pictures of the Storage Room Monster/Captcha Monster to permeate that blog. Just a warning.

ba-BAM! Reverse Karma!

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Mallory... Melody. Melody woke up one morning to find her alarm clock ringing and buzzing, before transforming into a large jewel-encrusted dragon-mancer. Visibly shaken, Melody left her house and walked down her driveway. She stood, and was suddenly consumed with the urge to tackle the fierce yellow beast that she found sitting in the road. She ran toward it, guns a'blazing, when the yellow beast opened it's toothy maw and swallowed her whole. Melody calmly strode down it's esophagus and into its belly, where she met a number of other people sitting in flesh colored seats. One such denizen on the beast was speaking to some comrade of his "Eww, that slimy Josh Tabor, I hate him." Now, it just so happens that Melody was section leader over Tabor in band, and she was openly hostile to the cretin that dared disrespect her favorite Rookie. She turned and proceeded to stop the little fool into his PLACE! After being sacrificially regurgitated by the evil yellow beast, Melody hopped her way over some water and shuffled into a building that looked strangely like a prison, except with rancid fumes bursting forth and children, oddly enough, willingly going inside. She entered, and found herself in the band room with a bunch of other awesome people. Still angry at the Josh-Tabor-mean-kid experience, she threw down her bindle as a sign of her discontent. Her refreshment was impaled by a clarinet screwdriver, and exploded molten cola over her various personal effects.


And this is the story of why Mallory Eubanks shouldn't try to be nice.

Bloggery and such is harder than expected.

Back before this blog was assigned to us, I already had a blog on Blogger. It was easy and effortless; writing about anything and everything I wanted with wanton abandon because no one was going to read it. Now I feel like everything I write needs to be perfect. I sorely miss my illustrations, but I just haven't had the time. After the School Play is over, I'll have much more time to draw and quality-write this blog. Consider these past few posts as an attempt to lower your expectations. That is all. Please return to your regularly scheduled chaos and mayhem.

Captcha

As I was going through today, getting my 4 comments for the week, these final three captcha started sending me a message.


"Sator"
"Betcha"
"Plideri"

I'm not sure what a Sator is, or why it was betting a Plideri.


I'm pretty sure this won't count as a real post.

Your expectations mean almost nothing.

Why do we take so many tests? I don't understand these "colleges" that only give futures to people who meet their expectations or requirements. Who are they to decide if someone is going to end up on the streets, half-dead and homeless? Who are they to dictate the terms within which someone has to live their entire life? One could argue that they are playing God. Should anyone have that kind of power, basically the power of fate? I don't think so. Least of all a bunch of stiff suits that, in the end, only really care about the bottom line. Colleges are businesses too; are they the right place for the posterity of America to be herded into, based on how well they play Eenie-Meenie-Minie-Mo on a scrap of paper? Oh sorry, my bad, I meant "Answer Booklet."