Santa is real!

Today I was talking with my mom and Marcus.

Mom: Do you believe in Santa Claus?
Marcus: Yes.
Me: Sure.
Mom: Do you believe in LOVE?!
Me: I believe in pheromones.
Mom: I believe in pheromones too.
Marcus: I believe in invisible ninjas.

Singin' and Songin'

I'm back, guys!

I've been so busy these past couple of weeks. I'm being called back for the school musical, and there was the terrible tragedy in Connecticut over the weekend... anyways, I haven't had much time to post. I'm actually sitting in callbacks right now and I'm actually going to jump up any moment if they call my name.

Gahh everybody is so good! I'm here until 8 o'clock! Culmination is tomorrow! I'm going to make a Shinto kamidana! Yeah I'm excited!

OK OK I have to go up! Bye

#forleyla

This morning, tragedy struck. And there's no gentle way to say this, but an alum of my school was riding to her high school on a bike and was hit by a car. She passed away after being rushed to the Stanford Hospital. I wrote something for her (from my Google+ page):

~~~

Oh Leyla,

I didn't know you. I never talked to you. One time you came over to Kalina and Avia's house when I was sleeping over there. 

I remember wondering, nearly asleep and peering through half-closed eyelids at the movie Groundhog Day, if you were related to Justin Bieber. 

You were blonde and pretty, with eyes like saucer plates. You intimidated me when I saw you.

It's not until one person is gone that you notice how many lives were affected by her in some tiny way. One bubble popped on a sheet of bubble wrap, and all the others caving in to fill the empty space....

Leyla. You are loved.

#forleyla  

~~~

I just feel that this is an important moment in all of our lives... I don't really feel like communicating but I'm supporting her friends, family... We're wearing blue tomorrow because it was her favorite color... I need sleep right now.

Rest in peace, Leyla. Be at peace living in wherever all the cool people go after their lives are fulfilled.

This is all I have to say about politics

Today, my little brother had a mock election in his kindergarten class. This is what he told me:

Marcus: Today we had a election at our class. We all voted for Brocko Bamma, except Benjamin. He voted for Mitt Ramune. I feel bad for him.
Me: What are their names again?
Marcus: Brocko Bamma and Mitt Ramune.
Me: Like the Japanese drink?
Marcus: Yes.
Me: I love you.

Also, today our grade went on a field trip to the Granada Islamic School. Us and the students there asked each other questions. We were left feeling very awkward, because we generally asked them questions about the world, politics, and the media, and they asked us a lot more casual questions. At one point, they asked us what our stance was on Syria at the moment, and I couldn't figure out what to say, so listen to this gem:

"Um... it's very... Syrious."

Yes, I really said that. It just goes to show how well-versed I am in current events.

Need something to draw?

Red Ribbon Week

To get to the other side

Marcus: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Me: To get to the other side?
Marcus: No.
Me: Why, then?
Marcus: To take his shirt off.
Me: Chickens don't wear shirts.
Marcus: What?

A normal conversation in my house

Mom is showing Marcus a picture of The Last Supper.

Mom (pointing at Jesus): If you were to take a guess, who do you think that is?
Marcus: I don't know.
Mom: Just guess.
Marcus: ...Jimmy Fallon's girlfriend?
Mom: ಠ_ಠ (Disappointed face)

*Update: It turns out that a) Marcus thought that Jesus in the picture was Tina Fey, and b) he thought that Jimmy Fallon was dating Tina Fey.

Tina Fey.

Look a hippie!

Last Thursday and Friday I went camping with my class. We went to a windy beach in Half Moon Bay, and those three words, windy, beach, and Half Moon May, should never be in a sentence together. Basically, by the end of the day I couldn't feel my hands and my ankles were raw from the wind whipping the sand onto them. It was very very cold. Jamie found a crab. I played guitar almost the whole time, and I actually had to put band-aids on the ends of my fingers so I could keep playing guitar without too much pain. It was paradise.

My sister Audrey's camping trip, however, went a little less smoothly. As soon as they got there, a busload full of fifth and sixth graders, some people in the woods were wrapping up a nude male model photo shoot in the woods where they were going to camp. One of her friends was like, "Look a hippie!"

So, the iPhone 5 came out. My rating: ehh.

Awkward ending time!

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd yeah.

*Yes, I have named littlebirdsword reader Birders.

So I was browsing through some of my old documents from a while ago on the server, and I found this poem that I guess I wrote:

The Alchemist

Sidney Hirschman

How hard it is

To not let go

It feels so far away.

But in the long run I will know

If I should go or stay.

On the horizon

I can see

Almost everything waiting for me

It remains unknown

If I should go or stay,

How hard it is to not let go

When it seems so far away.

And I was like, "Oh, that's a cool poem I wrote." But then I saw the date: 2009. I wrote this poem in THIRD GRADE. I was kind of shocked. I think I'll turn it into a song. Here's another one from third grade.

Canvas Garden

First you notice the butterfly

Its black body and splotches of color

Then you come closer

And you notice the red-rimmed wings

The patchwork leaves

The ladybug basking in the sun

And now the blazing sun itself

With its yellow rays

Giving warmth to the earth

The noisy bee with wings to match the sky

Brilliant cloudless blue

And just think that something so small

Can become so beautiful

By capturing it

Without capturing it.

by Sidney H.  ‘09

That was a poem that I wrote, I think, about my friend Lydia's art piece. She painted a little garden with cute bugs and a shiny sun on it. I remember it being pretty adorable.

And now, I revisited a poem that I wrote in third grade (which was apparently an extremely deep year for me) that actually won a writing contest (well, in second place) and landed in a book called Dancing With the Pen. It was published when I was in 5th grade, and was the subject of much embarrassment when people linked 11-year-old me to 8-year-old me, for some reason. Here it is:

I Live in Song

Sidney Hirschman

11/5/08

I live in song

Where I dance

Where I sing

It flows into me

And out of me

And is ever-present

I cannot

Will not

Be any other way

The world may go on

But I will always live in song

Where the birds chirp melodies like singers

So familiar

Where the rhythmic winds stir through the trees

Rustling like a pair of maracas

Where the rivers rush and crash

Like dancers stomping their feet

The world may go on

But I will always live in song

Yeah.

I might post more of Little Sidney's poetry later. I thought it was pretty cool. I may turn some of them into songs and record them for my big eighth grade Recital Project. See you later, Birders*.

AUUUGHHHH

Today I ran two miles.

Let me say that again.

Today I ran TWO GOSH DARN MILES. I couldn't even run three laps until last week.

And I feel awesome! Like somebody opened the secret control panel on my back and filled my Sidney-Meter with awesomeness!

I mean, the running was terrible. But it's worth it, if every day I feel like a Venezuelan Poodle Moth spreading its joy and terror across all of Venezuela.

I'm sure that tomorrow, though, I'm going to wake up and be like, "Whoops, I'm so stiff I can't move! Someone please put me on a gurney and wheel me to school!"

Marcus's Adventures in Minecraft

Today I'm babysitting my brother so he's in my room, on his computer, playing Minecraft. He likes to talk to himself or the characters in the game, and it's pretty funny. Here are some of the things he's saying, in real time.

"LLAMA! You deserve to be a llama!"
"Diiiiiiiiiiiiamond axe. Diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiamond axe."
The entire Call Me Maybe song
"Are you happy? Maybe I should stop trying to make you happy."
"Sign. I need the sign. S i gen. Sign."
"Nom nom. I'm starving."
"Played by cowboys? That doesn't make any sense."
"LANLANLANLANLANLAN"
"I can't even read your nametag."
"Lawl."

Words of Wisdom with Little Sister Audrey: Episode 4

Mom: Guess what Audrey!
Audrey: NO. It's way too hard to guess those things.
Mom: ...
Audrey: Okay, did a clown eat your socks?
Mom: No.

I felted a bride and groom.

So my cousin is getting married this month! I am so excited. I made this for her and her fiance.

I've been really bored in summer, so I've been felting left and right. I'm putting up a poll to see what I should felt next. I'm thinking little tv characters.

I made a tiny sushi platter

Today my mom was making the cake toppers for my cousin's wedding (yay!). So I used some of her sculpy to make a little sushi thing. It has salmon and rice sushis, and some ginger and way too much wasabi.

It is about 1/2 an inch by 3/4 of an inch. That is a penny in the picture.

I made a dust bunny

Note: I did not make to Totoro, just the dust bunny on top. My friend's mom made the Totoro.

Today I went to my friend Quinn's house. I learned how to dry-felt. You stab a little piece of fuzzy felt with a barbed needle until it shrinks and knots up into a ball or whichever shape you want. It's very therapeutic and I recommend it to anyone in need of anger management. Basically what happens is that the little needle with the barbs knots up the fibers in the felt until it is more compact and less squishy. I went over to Quinn's house to play Minecraft originally but then I got so interested in dry-felting that I spent the rest of the time doing that. It's magical. Until you stab your finger, then it's painful.

I made a persimmon

I'm baaaack

So much has happened in the last two months! Gablaaahh!

I went to DC. I played Minecraft. I neglected my blog. I graduated the sixth grade. I performed in the Summer Music West production of Gilbert and Sullivan Scenes at the conservatory. I played more Minecraft.

I also went to a recording studio for a school thing. I recorded a little; here's a song I did. (It's in Soundcloud)

SidneyBlackbird

 I went to Disneyland last week.

The reason we went on a family vacation to Disney is because Audrey's fencing nationals were in Anaheim. Also, Marcus's birthday was right there so we were going to kill three birds with one stone. (Get it? Because I'm Bird? And I hate Disneyland? Oh well.)

We only went to the actual park for one day. I think I held up pretty well, except for refusing to go on It's A Small World. I don't like animatronics. And that ride is just... it's terrifying. THAT SONG FOR 11 MINUTES.

And we went on the new Cars Land thing. I thought it was just racing but it takes you through a whole robot thing as well and Mater is talking to you and it was only a little bit horrific for me.

We did Soarin Over California. It was amazing.

Aaaaaand my fingers are tired because they're not used to typing so much. I guess I'll have to work my way back up to longer posts.

From my Passion Project: Surge

The undertow. That’s exactly what it did. It towed me under.

It towed me under, right before it tossed me against a reef wall and the ocean floor, dashing my legs against the rocks below. Mussels and jagged edges cut me; seaweed lashed at my face. I had heard of people drowning in the ocean, but I had always thought I was too quick, too smart for that. Of course, I had never taken plane crashes into account.

As I tumbled through the waves, bubbles escaping from my mouth and my long hair clouding around me, my foot caught on something. Looking back on it, I was probably only stuck between two rocks, but my air-deprived brain automatically assumed that some sort of sea monster had gotten ahold of me. I screamed, releasing the last of my air, and thrashed around. Something hit my face - hard. I could feel my nose cracking, my skin being pulled away. Pain ripped through me.

And that’s when I lost my consciousness, thank God for that.

I don’t know how much time passed by after that; maybe a day, maybe a month. All I know is that when I woke up, I was flat on my back staring at a wooden ceiling. I thought that maybe I was in heaven after my little bout with the imaginary monster, because all the pain had gone. Then I realized that something was very, very wrong.

I couldn’t move. My arms and legs seemed to be strapped down, but I couldn’t look up to see them because the back of my head was stuck fast too. 

I laid in this fashion for a couple minutes, before I thought a voice. It still puzzles me, how to describe it. I seems like I didn’t hear a voice through my ears, nor hear a voice in my head as mad people do. Whoever was speaking to me was manipulating my thoughts, bending the threads of the fabric of my mind so as to spell out words. It felt like the words were of my own creation, but in some way, they belonged to someone else.

Oh, the bean is awake!

I felt weak, from my injuries and hunger and from the strange sensation that came with the thought-speaking. I managed a groan.

Hmm. Seems tired. Maybe she is the one I have been looking for… Bean, would you like to be released?

I was a bit terrified of what I might see, but my curiosity, the very same curiosity that led me to explore the depths of the ocean, overtook me. I croaked out a “Yeaah.”

My bonds broke loose. I was surprised to see that when I gathered the strength to lift up my head, there were no ropes, strings, or any type of fabric that could have held me down. Miraculously, my shirt and a bit of my cargo pants remained intact,  so at least I wasn’t completely naked. I seemed to be in some sort of shack overlooking the ocean, but I noticed that through all the windows I could see water. I got up, my strength returning, and leaned over the windowsill. 

I gasped. The little house was about three meters above the sea, held up only by flimsy metal poles. I shrank back inside and curled up on the floor.

Then I noticed something I hadn’t before: there was a little trapdoor in the floor of the shack. Before, it had been closed so I didn’t notice it, but now it hung open into blackness. Not wishing to explore any further, I laid back down on the ground.

I screamed before I could even register what I was seeing. Above me, attached to the ceiling by its eight legs, was the largest spider I had ever seen. It was easily half the size of me. Terrifying me even further, it dropped down from the wooden planks - on top of me. I calmed down a little when I realized what it actually was: an octopus. But nevertheless, it was jet black, huge, eight-legged and had just landed on me. I started  screaming again.

Argh! Stop yelling, bean! You are hurting my audio ventricles!

My throat closed up, and my voice shut off. I gingerly sat up, flinching at the slimy texture of the octopus sliding off of my stomach onto the wooden floor. 

Now, bean, who are you?

I wondered if this was some kind of dream or hallucination. Maybe my real body was drifting into Davy Jones’ locker. Fish were probably going to have a feast, but I guessed that as long as I was here in the sea-shack, I might as well talk to the octopus.

“Ahh, ehh…” I stumbled on my words. “Amelia?”

Yes, then. Amelia. My name seemed to placate her. It might as well have been a him, but in my mind the words were a woman’s voice.

I had my own questions as well. They all poured out at once:

“No! Wait! Where am I? How did I get in here? Did I drown? Why don’t I hurt? Who are you? How couldn’t I move earlier? What is this place? Shouldn’t you be underwater somewhere?”

Shhhhh, Amelia. Quiet, and I will tell you my story.

I lay back down, suddenly exhausted.

I was born as we all were, from a grain of sand in the beach of life. But from the beginning I knew that I was different. The water was too wet for me, the seaweed too slimy. I got restless. I swam up to the surface often. I slept with driftwood and among garbage. 

Before long, when I was fully grown, I decided I would become human. I collected necklaces, human bones, wigs, anything that could make me feel more a part of the surface. I learned English. I inhabited this old lighthouse. But nothing ever satisfied me. I thought that maybe if I could be mostly human, I could pass. But this body has not lent me enough flexibility to be what I have always wanted to become. 

And eventually a crazy idea came to me. Maybe, just maybe, an actual human could teach me the ways of their kind. And that is when I found you, close to death and mangled beyond recognition. If it wasn’t for your soft hands and long hair, I wouldn’t have known you were a human. I did the best that I could with sharpened bones and gristle of seals to patch you up, but I’m not sure you’ll be happy…

At this point she produced a mirror out of a back corner and held it up to me. I was reluctant to look at myself, considering she had used the term “patch you up.”

When I finally faced the mirror, I was shocked. I was expecting to see some gruesome, Frankenstein-esque monster staring back at me, but instead I found myself looking actually pretty normal. There were a few stitches around my eyes and mouth, and my nose was a tiny bit crooked, but mostly my facial structure was the same. Also, nothing hurt at all, so that was a plus.

“Oh, my…” I murmured.

Do you like it? I’m only an octopus; please don’t blame me if you don’t. she said.

“No, no! It’s perfect!” I cried. I figured that if an octopus could talk to me through my mind and was my only companion in the middle of the sea, I probably shouldn’t hurt her feelings. “You’re a great surgeon.”

A surgeon, eh? I like that. You may call me Surge.

“Surge.” The word tasted nice and slippery on my tongue.

And so began a long, amiable journey of companionship. There was nowhere else to turn, no one else to talk to, so Surge and I became close. I learned to eat fish without a fire. We feasted on squid and seaweed. We spoke of the sea, of men and women and beasts. Time went past. I taught her about religion, and she taught me about thought-speaking. For days we would communicate without a sound, just sending each other brain-signals. You could often find us lying out on the porch of the shack in the nude, for my clothes had disintegrated and Surge never wore any. Usually I would be flat on my back, and Surge would curl up and rest happily in the space between my neck and collarbone. We passed many happy months in that fashion. My skin turned dark and my hair grew light. I counted the days with pebbles, and we celebrated my 31st birthday. And then things went horribly wrong.

One night I awoke to complete blackness. I got up to look for Surge, but found she wasn’t anywhere near me. Maybe she had fallen out the window? I leaned out to check. My eyes adjusted to the dark. No Surge; only the same stilts and water I was used to. I began to grow wary… Maybe she was in the basement? On the roof? I lay down and hoped for the best.

In the darkness, I had forgotten how I had met her, and what came next was the most terrifying case of déjà vu I had ever experienced.

Surge, mind-yelling at the top of her lungs, dropped down from the ceiling and attacked me with a vengeance. I screamed.

“SURGE! Don’t scare me like th-”

Surge, the only friend I had in the world, held me down with seven arms and forced something glowing down my throat with the last. I immediately lost consciousness.

What seemed like an eternity later, I awoke. Something was… different. It felt like my eyes were glued to different sides of my head. All my hair was gone. I couldn’t feel my nose. My eyes focused and I saw…

Me.

I, Amelia, was leaning over me. It was a feeling that scared me half to death, looking at myself. What had happened? If that was me, then who was I?

And then, suddenly, it occurred to me what might have happened. Surge’s monologue when I first met her. The reason she had rescued me in the first place. I turned my eyes down, looked at my body.

I was Surge.

Slimy black skin covered me. I had tentacles. We had spent so much time together so she could gain my trust just enough to use me. It was all a lie. She had betrayed me, in the strangest, most magical and ugly way possible. I thought-spoke to her/Amelia/me.

No! Surge! Why? Why would you do this?

She talked back, out loud, in my own voice. “Who’s Surge? I’m Amelia now. Goodbye, octopus. Good luck finding another human bean!” With that, she/me/it dove out the window.

No, wait! Surge! Amelia! I can’t swim! I mean, you can’t swim! Amelia! Even though she had betrayed me, I didn’t want my best friend to drown.

But it was too late. I heard a splash. Crawling over to the window, I looked out in horror as the body of Amelia Earhart struggled and was drowned in the undertow.

Mario, a Toad, a Goomba, and a little Space Invader

I. Am. So. Bored.

Today I have rehearsal for 8 hours and I only worked onstage for about 2. It's torture. All of us have to come up with ways to keep ourselves busy, so I found myself doing pixel art.

On Minecraft.

Bleh.

Wordle #2

IT'S SO INTENSE

Double egg yolk all the way across the sky!

Today I was making deviled eggs, so I got some hard-boiled eggs and chopped them in two. About midway through, I sliced through one that had TWO YOLKS. I was like, "NOOOOOO! THIS EGG HAS TWO YOLKS!"

Of course, this didn't prevent me from making a deviled egg out of it and eating it. It was delicious. The sad thing is that this is probably one of the biggest highlights of my spring break.

Today I found out what Excel is for

My Favorite Song

It's the song of all songs, telling you, a struggling singer-songwriter, how to write a chart-topping hit.

 

My Adventurous Weekend (sarcasm)

My weekend is boring and rehearsaly. I had rehearsal for 6 hours yesterday and I'm in the middle of a 5-hour block right now. So far I haven't actually done anything. Well, at least I have you guys. And by you guys I mean the little white text box I'm typing into right now. Forever alone.

Anyways, happy April Fool's Day!

Blog overload!

Everyone is making a blog all of a sudden! I am a trendsetter.

Here are some of my friends' blogs:

Cupcakes = Life My friend Sofia posts about cupcakes and life in New York.
Me and My Thoughts Elektra Greene likes to be crazy, random and colorful.
Anika's Odyssey Cuteness and writing over at Anika's blog.
Iris' Martial Arts and Crafts Iris Morrell. Enough said.

Love you guys!

It's been a while

It's been a while since I last posted something that wasn't a piece of writing or a sparkly gif. So I figured I should give you guys a personal update.

Number A: I got to see the inside of the boys' bathroom! I changed in there for costume fittings. It's pretty much the same as the girls' bathroom, except it smells worse and the stall is bigger and the stall door doesn't lock.

2) You may notice that the side bar looks kind of different. That's because I added a follower thing, and put my Google+ thing in there too. Please follow me. Please. Also, I'm going to change the background. Maybe. I'm working on a piece of art to scan in and upload to the page background.

III) Q: What happened to the boy who dropped his ice cream?
A: He got hit by a bus.

It's late! Good night!

OOOOOOHHHHHHH

A poem about bad luck

Every mirror that is broken,
Every shoe that’s upside down,
Every black cat on a walkway,
The homunculi will come down.

Homunculi, homunculi, the bringers of bad luck,
They’re something of a mix between a groundhog and a duck.
Homunculi, homunculi, they’re waiting everywhere
To make your car break down or tip you right out of your chair.

All the times that you’ve stepped on a line,
Every ladybug you’ve killed,
You won’t think it’s so funny when
Your underwear’s been chilled

By the homunculi, homunculi, those pesky little fools,
They’ll change your desktop backgrounds and rearrange your tools.
Homunculi, homunculi, they’re lurking in the dark
To walk across your windshield when you’re trying to parallel park.

So on Friday the 13th
When all the homunculi roam,
You’d better play it safe,
Lock your doors and stay at home.

Homunculi, homunculi, those little tiny guys,
Who trip you up and disappear right in front of your eyes,
Homunculi, homunculi, those small and cunning men,
Will always bring you much bad luck--
At least if you believe in them.