Friday, June 27, 2008 2:37:11 AM
Haughton High School band big red Blane Energy win
The Haughton High School Big Red Band was not done yet.
For the next month and a half, we worked ourselves until our bodies would not allow any more work.
We drowned eachother in sweat, played our instruments until we burned holes in our jaws each and every day. Our practice was not limited to after-school rehearsals. We took everything we learned on those days and practiced them until it was embedded in our memories.
It hurt, but it hurt good.
And we never quite expected Parkway's contest results...
We were taught to not expect anything, because Expectation would be the death of us. But we're human. And EVERY human has some expectation. Even you.
All our talents; all our practice; all our dreams were everything but put to waste...
We energized for the win. We prepared for the loss.
We were only Provoked:
Provoked to immerse ourselves in more sweat.
Provoked to practice over and over until our jaws were no longer utilizable.
And that was bad news for the other bands!
To be continued with Parkway contest.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008 10:14:07 PM
MArching Band Lesson
A Good Lesson is taught for a week and is learned for a lifetime. It can be remembered today. It can be remembered tomorrow. But a Good Lesson doesn't need to be memorized. It will stay with you no matter how far you run away from it.
The Good Lessons taught during marching band season have not drifted away from any of us. Mr. Williams always prepared a motivational speech for the Haughton High School Big Red Band. If something went wrong during a practice, he would throw one of the best speeches in the world. If something didn't go wrong, he'd make something wrong just so he could teach a Good Lesson.
The thing about Good Lessons, though, is that the teacher cannot MAKE you learn them. You have to hear the lesson, practice the lesson, and find motivation from it. It can then be used throughout life. A Good Lesson is only good when you learn and apply it.
Application is the tough part. Yet, nothing is tougher than that of Human Willpower. To tell the truth, there are a lot of things that I never thought I could do, yet I really wanted to. And even though my body wasn't physically capable, I pushed through to the very end. Human Willpower is a miraculous thing, and is the key to Application.
And that is what got the Big Red Band through tough times: Willpower. No matter how many boos or laughs or cheers the crowd gave us...
We wanted to march.
We wanted to win.
We wanted to be a Marching Band.[/SIZE]
Wednesday, November 28, 2007 4:25:59 AM
Marching Band Religion Christian Baptism God Love
Marching band season is a wonderful time of year. It's amazing how long it seemed during rehearsals and how short it seems now. But about this time (September), something else was happening to me. I could feel it growing deep inside my body, and O! it felt so grandulous! Yes, it was love and a very deep love that had begun a year before this time. It is the love of Almighty God, and how He has healed the scars my lifetime!
I started going to church every chance I could. I'd be as every other christian was. It wasn't until I accepted His Love and Compassion into my life that I changed. The change was for the better for I've never felt as good as I do now and always will feel. It was September when I became that person. It was September when I became a second-mile christian.
It was September when I was baptised... My baptism wasn't what I expected it to be, though. Everyone said it FEELS so powerful, amazing. It did feel good, but not as I expected so. It was different. It was disappointing. Perhaps it was because I didn't fully trust God. His great courage had not resided in me yet.
Then it came to me in early November. The thing I wanted most had come to rescue me. Sure it took a totally different church to put that presence in me. But I was rescued.
November, I accepted God fully, and it was my soul's baptism. Now all you have to do is accept God into your life, and your perception of everything will widen.
I am free! Are you?
Tuesday, November 27, 2007 3:48:42 AM
flight, Marching, Band, wounds
...
Healing the Wounds One of a Hundred Yards can do takes motivation. Our motivation was lost after the last game's, the first of many, performance. We videotaped every show we did, and watched it every Monday when we got back in school. We, who paid attention to every detail memorized earlier during rehearsals, noted the noticeable.
It was my (and everyone else's) realization that turned this dismount back to an arousing gain of confidence to get to the top. We were bound to be champions the very first day we took notice the features in our acquaintances and made them life-long friends. I realized that the little things were killing us, which our band director explained to us, the Big Red Band, a short 5 minutes later. The little things being: equally-distanced footsteps, marching in tempo, facing sideline. It was this and that killing us. Even though no one could see these unobviouses, they killed us, and we took the fall.
Now was a better time than ever to get back on my feet. We would learn more drill this week, and I wasn't going to use the normal dried gum and oil stains technique. No! This time I was really going to learn. This time I was motivated. I was motivated for that upcoming game. And I was motivated for that championship!
Monday, November 26, 2007 4:25:12 AM
One Hundred Yards adrenaline Fever marching band f
One Hundred Yards of wet, slick grass; One Hundred Yards of temptation at the first glance away from the white lines; One Hundred Yards of pride and glory; One Hundred Yards forever kept One Hundred Yards. It's easy to say something out of One Hundred Yards and think to the fullest that you may accomplish your "accusation" on One Hundred Yards, but truth be it that as soon as the smallest particle of the shortest hair of the bottom crevice of the longest shoe upon the most outstretched leg touches any part of One Hundred Yards, you get a disease. And once that disease gets you once, you want it more and more, yet you never get enough. That disease is Adrenaline Fever and it can be as deadly as it can be rejuvenating.
It happened to be deadly that first football game. There are three movements to every show, and this year, our first movement was half of our show. We only had a quarter of it memorized in the three weeks that had gone by with drill charts. One Hundred Yards was our biggest fear from the time we looked at it to the end of the show. That was because we had no clue what it held for us. Would we live up to the Big Red Marching band reputation as we did the years before? Or would we go down in a crushing defeat...?
...Truth is we were defeated the moment we saw the eyes of our worst enemy staring us down. What a treat it was to have eyes look at you expecting something you thought you couldn't give. Eyes that were satisfied by the preceding half of the football game were now hungered and stared at you as if you were the food they desired. And we were.
We fell and we forgot our fundamentals. Some of us forgot the music. Everyone was struck with Adrenaline Fever, moreso those who said they wouldn't be. And in the end, we felt ourselves go down.
But I knew it was the same beginning One Hundred Yards gave everybody. And I embraced it. And somehow... I hungered for more Adrenaline Fever!
Sunday, November 25, 2007 7:52:17 PM
There was something about the marching band that I had, before this point, never realized. That was that in order to learn the places to be at the times to be there, you needed a guide of some sort. I thought we would use a map or something in the shape of a football field with little dots on it. I didn't know that it was all summarized on a 4 inch by 6 inch sheet of paper with words on it; words and numbers that somehow just told you where to be and when to be there. Yes, at first it was a very confusing matter.
Then came memorization. Memorization was in itself is the trickiest task a marcher experiences. Sure, you can use little markers, such as an oil stain or gum stuck on the ground, to get where your going on the parking lot. You just have to remember how many steps it took to get there, how big or little the steps were, how fast the tempo was (or, of course, how slow), your posture as you marched, your roll steps, facing the sideline at all times, and the music. You could never forget the music.
But the most important thing any marcher had to remember was this: You can't always rely on the oil stains and the gum on the ground to get where you were going because sooner or later you will be marching on a regular football field, and you will be so nervous that you may indeed forget everything you had learned. But what you did on that parking lot didn't matter. You either memorized everything on the lot and did 100% perfect on the field or you used those oil stains, and you used those dried pieces of gum in order to find your place on that parking lot...
In which you forgot everything on the field. And that's exactly what I did at that first football game...
to be continued...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007 5:54:30 PM
Marching, Band, hardships
That first week was brutal. The Sun had never proven itself more intense. By the end of every after-school rehearsal, water was the only thing to think about. It was all you ever wanted during these times. Water to equally balance the intake of itself and the heat. But of course, the heat was still always there rotting away personality and motivation. By the end of practice, you were always a different person than what you were two hours earlier. Only a good night's sleep would restore you back to your previous position.
We finally got our drill charts the next week. It was finally time to learn our show. But this drill was much harder than the previous years at Haughton High had ever been. There were 110 moves in all. 110 moves! There were only 60 charts for the band last year, but I wasn't there last year. This was my year. Nothing the band accomplished the year before applied to me. This year was my year to shine. It was our year to shine. Our only goal was to become champions.
... And we did...
to be continued...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007 6:35:56 AM
Marching, fundamentals, Band, friends
...
It had come; the thing I had feared most of the summer was finally coming to reality. BAND CAMP
It cut my summer vacation two weeks short. I gave up two weeks of the best days of my life so I could be initiated into the high school life, which wasn't what I thought it would be. When teachers told me that high school was much better than middle school, I just thought more homework and wanted to stab the teacher with a spork. But these days in high school are proving themselves to be exactly that and much, much more. High School Days were beginning the best days of my life (and still are now).
Band camp was the same everyday. Learning the fundamentals of marching in a marching band. We learned roll steps and flanks and playing while marching. After awhile, I had the fundamentals down and passed my examinations. I made friends with the people I didn't already know. I made better friends with the ones that I did know. Yet, I drudged myself into the parking lot (which was the exact length and width of a regular high-school football field) everytime we had to do something more, and I partied a little too much when band camp was over. In truth, all band camp taught me was how to march. I would not learn to be in a marching band until soon after.
...and marching was no longer the key aspect of a marching band in my mind.
My Opera
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