School Work

So, recently I haven't been to class because of an accident back at home. During the first week of school two of my friends got into a car accident. They ran a stop sign on a country road and got t-boned. It was something that could have easily been avoided if Dustin would have just stopped, but they blew right past it and now I have two friends less. DJ died the morning after. I've known DJ since I was very young because my dad grew up with his dad and uncles. DJ lived down the street from my dad's house and used to ride over on his dirt bike and take me for rides. Dustin made it longer than DJ which made it harder. Dustin started in critical condition and no one thought he was going to make it.  A week later he was taken off life support and we lost all hope, then days later he had brain activity and everyone was happy. One Friday, someone said that he had passed away; it wasn't until the next day that I found out that someone didn't have their facts straight when feeding this information to me friend, they just liked to talk shit and be in the know. The following Wednesday, Dut had not only regained brain activity, he was also breathing on his own and taken home while still in a coma. That Saturday morning, September 11, he passed away at home. Dustin Gamble was my first real boyfriend, we dated about a year in sixth grade, then we didn't talk for awhile. We became friends again in high school and would go to hookah bars together and party together. We were supposed to go to Cloud Nine one more time before I left but he was at Cedar Point. We said we'd go when I came back home for a break but the first time I went back home was for DJ's funeral and Dustin was dying in the ICU. I know a lot of people don't even read these blogs so if you do don't bring this stuff up. I think it's funny how public I can make this but few people will know because we're all too lazy to read blogs.

Jazz Bar Memoir

         As the skirt of my navy Ralph Lauren dress brushed against my calves, the sound of blaring jazz tunes filled my ears. The backs of my shoes dug into the skin above my heels while my feet moved effortlessly across the dance floor. With each step I could feel the power of the tenor and alto saxophones vibrate the ground beneath me. An upright bass was being played in the far corner complimenting the mesmerizing notes emanating from the piano. The movement of our arms was quick, and of our feet: even quicker. I could feel the cuffs of his dress shirt coming undone from under his sports jacket as he twirled me outward then back in. The ends of my curls whipped in front of my face as I spun throughout our limited floor space. The intoxicating music compelled our movements.

The eventful night began with the meeting of five others and myself congregating at the Lafollette Smoking Section. The walk seemed much more extensive than in reality with three-inch heels, but well worth it. Thor, April, Brandon, Ron, Wes and I made it to the MT Cup with ease and were immediately able to feel the profound energy in the atmosphere coming from the up the stairs. We made our way up to the second floor and instantly noticed that we had entered a world all its own. The six of us had planned this trip a week in advance yet I still found myself ill-prepared for the intensity of the ambience. We received many peculiar stares as we made our journey to The Village in our formal wear.

The night started with an amaretto frappacino to cool down from the warm atmosphere which quickly escalated to an intense heat when the dancing began. Sweat began to cascade down the nape of my neck as Thor taught me swing moves that worked every inch of me. It began with the simplicity of shuffling our feet to the beat of the drums followed by the swinging of our hips to the fluglehorn. The difficulty of our moves quickly escalated in intricacy as the moments passed. I learned the East-Coast two-step which was basic sliding movements then moved on to the more complex West Coast Swing based on a six-count beat. Northern swinging was much more postured but we refined it as well as our dips. We perfected barrel rolls and the moves became elementary as our feet seemed to simply glide on the dance floor. The audience of coffee drinkers and jazz fanatics watched as we prevailed with each flawless maneuver. Entertained by our performance, they applauded for us as well as the live band. Determined to stun our spectators, Thor and I finally attempted the stunt he had promised me earlier. I was nervous but excited and we triumphed with the lift where he passed me from one hip to his other. When my feet were back on the ground we ended it with a left-side tuck turn and landed with a left box-step. Our friends were almost as amazed as I was. The crowd cheered for our moves and Evan's trombone solo. The lady playing the chornet came back in to rock some more.

It was 12:30am and the band had finally finished, each blister and bit of exhaustion was justified by the astounding night. We stumbled clumsily down the stairs and back into the cool night barely fit for the unappealing walk back to the dorms. My eagerness slowly faded as I walked up the stairs. I fell back into my comfortable bed and took a well-deserved nap before my English class.