Harsh Realities of Lackluster Spectacles

"Congratulations to the Batavia High School Marching Band on their acceptance to participate in the Red's Opening Day Parade!"

For many, particularly the freshman and sophomores who were denied the opportunity to participate in this uniquely Cincinnatian event, there is justifiable cause for excitement. Everyone watches the Opening Day parade, it's essentially a local holiday. It's quite possibly the most notable parade that these students will march in their entire career. Parents will take off work and pictures will grace the feeds of every social media platform. There is an element of pride in being one of the few bands selected to be in the event, and even more so in the fact that this is not the first, but rather, the fourth time that Batavia High School will make the trip to Findlay Market to participate.

That being said, he only group of students that have successfully participated in all four parades is the current senior class. Being given the opportunity to march 8th grade year in the height of the awkward transition from "big kid" to  what would become "young adult", the idea of doing an official marching band function with the official marching band was nothing to shrug at. It was a momentous occasion. It was the first test for those who were desperate to join the ranks after years of gawking at the flashy green uniforms and loud sound. The parade was a whirlwind of thrills, from being thrown into the block formation in front of thousands, to knowing that the event was televised. For us rookies it was a moment to remember with gratification.

The excitement continued into the next year, when the now new freshmen once again marched the streets of downtown Cincinnati. The music was upbeat, and the morale was high. Plus, we got out of school for the day, what's better than that? Nevermind the legs and shoulders that were severely sore afterwards, as muscles that hadn't been used in months were once again awakened. Overall, though, the overwhelming enthusiasm and anticipation offered a significant distraction from an otherwise miserable physical sentiment.

Sophomore year signaled the turning point in feelings for this parade that was said to be a monumental achievement for our kind of band. Now, as third time parade marchers, the excitement dwindled. It was very much "been there, done that". No one was overly excited to go out and march after months of not marching, and no one was quite ready for the perfectionist based stress that comes with being part of a band to increase. Nevertheless, we went out and performed enthusiastically, happy to see the sights on the first day back from spring break rather than suffer in the confines of the high school. We tried our best to ignore the sweltering heat and the desperate need for ice packs and ace bandages as we all but dragged ourselves to the equally stuffy buses waiting to bring us home.

Transitioning ahead two years, here we sit, two weeks away from the fourth and final time participating in the Red's Opening Day chaos. Now, for many, the excitement exists only in the form of a small sliver of pride at doing this rather surreal affair the most times out of any class. The anticipation that distracted us from the grievances that come with the parade has long faded, and now there lies only the difficulties. The practice that is required to get back into form will be trying, the weather will either be uncomfortably cold or uncomfortably hot, the food will be overpriced, the lineups will be unorganized. In actuality, the parade seems like more of a challenge than it's worth.

On top of this comes actually doing the parade in itself. Almost two miles of marching on uneven ground while holding up an instrument in perfect form is not something easily accomplished by those who have not set food on a marching field since November. Already, we feel the tension and complaints from our shoulders, necks, backs, legs, and hips. There is nothing exciting about being in significant pain for the week following due to the sudden strain of unused muscles, or the money being spent on the chiropractic appointments just to prep for the event. The thought of being drenched in sweat and dying of thirst is everything but pleasant, and the possibility of stepping in the unsanitary remnants from floats or carriages that are ahead in the lineup can make anyone cringe.

In retrospect, each time out on the parade route has been, at least in some degree, miserable. The excitement is there, yes, but when one looks past it, the same grievances remain and it's easy to see just how grueling the whole affair actually is. It is an event defined as "once and done", fitting into the category of occasions that only really need to happen one time an one time only. For the first timers, hopefully they will embrace blissful ignorance, energized by the dramatics of it all, and will be able to look past the physical and mental state of extensive displeasure that will come afterwards, when they rub charlie horses from their calves and ice their throbbing shoulders. For us veterans, we can only prepare the best we can in hopes that the consequences of suddenly jumping in for the longest parade of the season will not last a full week and hinder us from the school work that demands a functioning brain.

Hobbies For Hire

With the hours upon hours of dedication to what has resulted in a perfection-based decade of academia, free time is not a term that floats around often. Almost a taboo, free time occurs on the rare occasions when there is a break in the work flow, when the body says no to doing any more worksheets, essays, or labs, or on the rare weekend afternoon when there isn't another appointment that demands attention. But when the time comes that a physician formally recommends this previously blasphemous idea into the complex workings of a never ending schedule, the negative connotation of free time must be relieved and instead, embraced.

In 2017, it's common for many to embrace the idea of relaxation and self rejuvenation. The stigma connecting free time with laziness and poor work ethic has faded, at least enough for those who choose to live more freely to do so without widespread criticism. It isn't uncommon in the slightest for people to have fun activities that they do to relax or specific time set aside purely for wellness. In fact, it's almost encouraged. Regardless, for me, an uptight, by-the-book perfectionist, free time is merely an idea. With free time comes at least one thing weighing on the mind, be it another assignment or some sort of family function that I will, in some shape or form, have to mentally prepare for. Free time is not as much about relaxing, having fun, and embracing life's simple pleasures, than it is about recharging after a long week and preparing for the next one.

As one might expect, this frame of mind does not work out so well in terms of dealing with the copious amounts of stress that fill every minute of every day. Free time should not be about simply readying oneself for the next task, but should instead be about learning about oneself and taking the time for simple enjoyment, and while I do find myself enjoying the finer things in life (taking a trip to the theater, for example), many of these activities require the same amounts of energy to do the work during the week, just with a different outcome. Therefore, I have deemed it essential to find something to do that embraces an element of frivolity that does not involve extensive travelling or preparation, something simple that embodies the true definition of free relaxation time. And thus, I have made the decision to find a hobby.

A hobby is something that I have always strove to achieve, yet never actually successfully carried out. In the course of my near two decades of life, I have tried numerous different activities, regretfully finding that none of them quite stuck. From infatuations with collecting things and creating pieces of art to dedicating a few years to martial arts, equestrianism, and rock climbing, the list is extensive and wide ranging of all the hobbies I have tried (and failed) to embrace. Based on this experience in unsuccessful dabbling, I have managed to come to a few conclusions about finding some sort of past time that would prove beneficial to rejuvenation and my own personal enjoyment.

For starters, it would have to fit in with my busy schedule, something quick and easy that I could do at home or on the go. Next, any physical element would have to be limited, on account of an unfortunate shoulder issue and the equally unfortunate fact that anything athletic has often resulted in bouts of extensive humiliation. It would have to be sophisticated, nothing too extreme or bold, yet also unique in a way that would stimulate the always running mind of mine. Complicated enough yet?

Any hobby fitting these over-analyzed requirements would be acceptable, and I would ideally like to find one before devoting the next decade to a college degree or two. Needless to say, expectations for something of this sort are not exceptionally high. In trying to sort out what works for me and what doesn't, I've almost made my own hobby out of overthinking about hobbies themselves. It's possible that a reason for not being able to find something entertaining that lasts is the fact that I subject to this overthinking and grow bored by excessive simplicity. Or maybe there is a bizarre trend out there that I have yet to stumble across. Zen Gardening, perhaps? Painting ceramics? Anything to actually make use of the free time I am to be granted would be acceptable and very much appreciated.

On Late Night Severe Weather Adventures

There's always that bit of apprehension, going to bed mere hours before the world is supposed to shift from relatively calm to being caught up in the intensity of a storm. The possibility of a restless night and facing the next morning with that lack of sleep is enough to make any early commuter agitated, especially with a full day ahead. Seeing a radar splashed with greens, yellows, or even reds as the hour grows late is normally never something that brings a smile to one's face. 

This unhappiness is only increased when local meteorologists pace in front of their green screens, stressing the likelihood of a storm turning into something more severe, more messy. The chance of being woken up is heightened with the possibility  of the tell tale whine of a weather siren going off at ungodly hours of the night or early morning, causing clumsy shuffling out of beds and trudging down to TVs and radios, listening to whether or not there's the immediate danger of being blown away or not. This kind of event always tends to occur during these poorly timed hours of day, when everyone had long settled into the warm confines of their beds and had put the day's events behind them, and it is only made worse when it happens to those of us who live without the security of a basement or another means of proper shelter. 

Growing up in the Midwest, severe thunderstorms are a normalcy. While Ohio isn't the tornado alley along Kansas, Nebraska, and Oklahoma, every so often there is the line of storms that spreads extensive damage throughout the counties, making headlines for the weeks following. Why then, would anyone build a house without a basement or at least a logical shelter, will always remain a mystery. 

Looking back at the storms that plagued the tri-state area in the past week, this question came back to mind as I rolled out of bed at four am to brave the harsh rain, intense lightening, and piercing tornado sirens to drive to the closest neighbor who would welcome anyone into their house during such an event. Not having a basement is not the end of the world, but when the only room away from a window is next to the heating systems and all of the circuitry that would prove dangerous in the event of severe weather, things become problematic. 

Last Wednesday saw the familiar scenario of adapting to these illogical circumstances unfold for the hundredth time. With preparing normally for bed came turning up volumes, placing shoes by the bed and wearing pajamas that would prove durable in the event of getting pelted by rain in them. An almost ridiculous sense of anxiety prevailed throughout the house, perhaps due to the anticipation of panicked dramatics that often unfold in the few minutes between waking up and breaking speed limits to get to a shelter. It was almost comically pre-scripted, the warnings going off and the three of us stumbling through the house not fully awake, grabbing random things, including a very disgruntled, yowling cat, and racing around the corner to another house full of equally sleepy people, only to realize that not only was the tornado five minutes east, but that it had already touched down by the time we even left the house. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.

The luck we faced being missed by the first tornado to actually hit the immediate area in some time aside, there was still the overwhelming annoyance at having to deal with the event in the first place. Returning home at nearly 5 am, still in the pouring rain, how could anyone go back to sleep and be fully rested for the next day? No one wanted to go back out into the storm should the sirens go off again. Nevertheless, choosing to embrace the more likely option of being able to stay in for then night, we settled back into our beds, hoping that our little excursion would be the one an only. It was another run of the mill tornado warning adventure to add to the collection, another reminder of how illogical our own house was, and something to talk about if we ever got into school the next day. It is perhaps a first sign of spring or more evidence of the rapidly changing climate that has wrecked our winter.