Introducing........ Ecat

      Introducing...... the amazing Ecat, my friend and authority on all things music. Today she comes to us with commentary on a favorite artist of her's- Norman Rockwell.

     http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_Rockwell
                Norman Rockwell is amazing. He is iconic in the 20th century American image, having created some of the most famous paintings during his lifetime. Some of his most notable works covered "The Saturday Evening Post" for more than four decades. As a prolific creator of over 4000 works, his ideas became easily accessible in the daily lives of all who saw his paintings even today.
     Aside from all of the fluff and frills of a critic, I truly enjoy who, what, and how Rockwell portrayed in his ideas. The greatest aim for an artist is to convey how they feel to another person, through whatever means they deem necessary. I  believe he did this successfully in his paintings, whether it be a whimsical piece or a grave story of humanity. Sentimentality holds a thread throughout all of his works through the stories told. While this sort of "sweetness" was rejected by the critics of his time, I think that it has been this that carried his work through generations. This theme is shown through on of my favorite paintings of Rockwell's. The painting shown above, "After The Prom," embodies the perfectness of the situation in a simplistic way while  supplementing the picture with subtle points. Some of my other favorites of his are "The Homecoming" and  "Doctor and Doll." Yup. If anyone out there actually understood what I was trying to say, I congratulate you. Ecat, signing off.
 
       And that, folks, is the famous Ecat. I hope you enjoyed her fascinating commentary. Until next time,
Yours truly,
Maggs
     

The Mind of a Poet

     Sometimes, I think I'm a little crazy. Why, you ask? For example, today, I finished all of my homework in my study hall and still had half an hour left before the bell rang. Normally, I would've gotten out a book and started reading. But today I didn't have a book with me. All I had was an English notebook and my pencil case. So what did I do? I wrote poetry of course. What about? Well, see for yourself:

                                         Sleep

sleeping boy (online) available at
http://nancilea.blogspot.com/
October 12th, 2010

Rest for the tired

Dreams for the imaginative

Safety for the scared

Peace for the troubled

Success for the insomniac

Home for the lost

Acceptance for the outcast

Quiet for the parent

A brainstorm for those with problems.

Life's eternal goal-

endless sleep.

Copyright MPK 2010, all right reserved, unauthorized use is prohibited.

     So while the girl next to me reads yet another vampire book, while the guy behind me plays Super Mario Brothers on his D.S., while un uper-classman a few seats away works on her calculus homework, what do I do? I write about sleep.

Good night and sweet dreams!

Thanks for listening,

Maggs 

Stats, Stats, Stats

     Today I was viewing the statistics of my blog and I was quite interested to see that the majority of people this week who viewed my blog were actually not from the United States- they were from Pakistan. This honestly surprised me, seeing as I have never been to Pakistan and most likely never will go there. Not because I have anything against your country, my Pakistani friends, but simply because I have no reason to visit you. I don't know anyone who lives in the Middle East and my only overseas relatives live in Germany, which is a far cry from Pakistan any day.
     This bit of information also led me to wonder why a person from a country so different from my own would be interested in reading what I have to say. Take my last post for example- "Marching Magic". I don't think you have marching bands over in the Middle East, but maybe I'm wrong? Or maybe you just enjoy reading about high school band geeks from the U.S. Who knows? 
     But whatever the reason you people from Pakistan read this blog, I encourage you to keep reading. For me, the idea of having such an international audience is quite fascinating, even if most of you probably stumbled upon Life as a Starving Poet by accident and left the page within moments of arriving. So don't give up on me alright? Even we bloggers need some encouragement now and again:)
Thanks for listening,
Maggs.      

Marching Magic

Dut. Dut. Dadadut (two three four). Dut. Dut. Dadadut (two three four). Dut. Dut. Dadadut (two three four). The sharp sound of a snare drum echoes off the brick walls of the local high school as I march in formation. The weather is just warm enough to make marching a sweaty task, and I find myself longing for the cold of this morning, when I had to scrape the frost off the car's windshield and when my breath showed clearly in the air. Welcome to October in Southern Wisconsin- warm days, cold mornings, and night temperatures below freezing. This time of the year is known as autumn, fall, or otono, if you speak Spanish (please excuse the lack of a tilde, by the way). But it has another name too. Autumn is marching band season. And marching is exactly what I'm doing outside on this fine October day. As the sun climbs higher, as it nears the climax of its daily journey, what do we do? We march. Around the school. In the road. 

     I know what you're thinking- you're wondering why I was marching in a road when I should've been in school learning about the chemical structure of carbohydrates or taking a test on Spanish verbs. But to tell you the truth, I don't care about that right now. Right now I'm in the zone. I'm keeping my head high, roll stepping to the beat as if my life depends on it, using my eyes to look around me and make sure I'm in line, make sure I'm "covering down" and "dressing to the form" and all that. I'm remembering the music I so carefully memorized,  letting it flow through me and gather emotion. I'm watching my section leader's feet, making sure my left foot hits the ground at the same time hers does. There is so much to remember that it seems impossible. But for a moment, I've got it- for just a second, I glimpse a bit of what this is supposed to be. 

     And then it's all gone, with one shouted "halt!" from the director. We keep marching for a few steps, and then understand what's happening. Many of us stop, but some keep playing the next few notes, trying to hold on to that perfect feeling when the music, the beat, and your feet are all working together and the practices you've been having since June finally pay off. It sounds perfect to us, but not to the director- no, not to him at all.

     "First of all," he says, "your feet aren't in time. You've got to listen to the beat! And tubas, that can't be so slow. You're the tubas, for Pete's sake! You're the engine of this band- it has to be better!" To him, there are a million things wrong. But to a freshman like me, it's perfect- pure marching magic, and I wouldn't have it any other way. 
Thanks for listening,
Maggs   

Formal Apologies

When I visited my blog today, I was horrified to discover that I only posted once in the month of September. That is why I'm here now, offering you, my group of devoted readers (maybe not so devoted anymore, but I'm going to change that), my sincerest apologies. I now promise that I will write more than once in this wonderful month of October, and do my very best to entertain you all and add some more people to my audience.

And now, for the best part of every apology: the excuses. But please, before you remark upon my rather cynical belief that most people can't admit they're wrong without justifying said wrongdoing, listen to my personal excuses, and you'll see what I mean:

The Writer's Reasons For Ignoring Her Blog

• She has been braving the dreaded high school, and that frankly is enough for one girl to handle
• The homework epidemic grows worse each day, and it's hard to find time to write when there are four tests to study for, as well as a reading assignment and some algebra nonsense to complete
• Extreme lack of sleep
• Two words: marching band
• If she gets any time on the computer at all, the evils of Facebook distract her until she has to go to bed
• A busy schedule: after school, she has homework and more homework, and on the weekends there's band to be considered.
• Lastly, sometimes our intrepid writer is just too lazy to get her poetic heinie down the computer to write for a while

Those were my excuses, dear public of mine. Hopefully they have satisfied your craving for a post from moi (if there was any craving to begin with, that is), and now I'm off to see the Wizard. But never fear, I shall return before the month is over!

Thanks for accepting my apologies.

Love, Maggs