This is really touching. It captures your emotions perfectly. It's so true, so similar to my own story. Thank you...

Simply beautiful. Reading this took my breath away. Whenever I go, 'Why in the world did I choose Color Guard!? Everyone tells me I should have done percussion!' I'll read your story. :)

Your piece is definitely breath taking. While I was reading this, I could definitely relate like every other guard member who will read this. Your love for guard shines through this ode.

Beautiful.

I could have written this! So true... everything, down to the different sections, the feeling of how we're separated from the band, and all of that. (w00t for indoor! Winterguard = love. )

:)

hey Emily you forgot something, we were at school BEFORE the crack of dawn once, left pretty much AT the crack of dawn and even the morning people weren't so cheerful...well...OK maybe some of them were but even the morning person of THIS family wasn't such a morning person that day but you're right about two things a it was unfair that the first years were treated better and even got onto Jenn and I and second colorgaurd is pretty much our life then again for some of us we don't really have a life anyways so it really doesn't matter that gaurd strips us of any social life does it and i have a little confession to make i broke the rules once and nodded in and out of sleep once i was that tired if G ever finds out about that i am SO dead it's not even funny.

Simply put, this is beautiful. Now for some of my thoughts as i read this, none of which are harsh:

"dangerous when you accidentally drop the flag and make someone trip and fall." Uh...yea. *Looks away and clears throught(sp) with nervous chuckles*

"Dangerous in the still dirty third movement work, the unsureity of the counts, the weak angles, the instructors yelling at you as you do the work sloppy even though you just cleaned it a half hour ago." I just got de ja vu. *smiles*

"When I think of the flag, I think of the endless hours that I’ve put into the sport (yes, colorguard IS a sport), and the countless hours I will put into it in the years to come." THANK YOU! A thousand times THANK YOU!

"I think of the friends I’ve made and will make through guard and marching band, and of the enemies I’ve made and will make through the same.

I think of the amazing times I’ve had.

I think of the worst times I’ve had.

I think of scorching hot summer days, sweating for hours on a hot parking lot learning drill and work and putting them together on a gulp of water an hour, if we’re lucky.

I think of freezing cold rainy nights, when your fingertips are frozen because your gloves don’t cover them, and your silk keeps on getting tangled and weighs a ton with all the water in it, continually loosing your grip on slippery poles and having to pick up your dropped flag and get back into the spin of things." See two up.

"cafeterias with Swiss-cheese ceilings" LOL!

"I think of having to run like the wind to make sure all of your equipment’s set perfectly, being the last one set for the final run through, or worse, a competition, and still finding that when you go to pick it up it’s not there, and you have to airflag (or airrifle) it and be submitted to the instructors and your teammate’s yells." The only word for that would be 'embarrasing'

"I think of practices running way over the nine ‘o’ clock end time, because the band wants to do that ‘one last run’ and we the guard’s ready to murder them, because all they have to do is walk calmly back to their starting set and assume the ready position, and we have to run helter skelter across the field, switching equipment and stripping silks, continually yelled at over a crackling loudspeaker to move your butt and glared at by the band when you nearly slide into your position, panting heavily and then you have to have your head up and perform, connecting to the crowd and increasing their energy, making them want to watch you (and not because you were the first one that made a mistake), making them stand up and cheer through the sheer emotion of the show." Never fun.

"Of the crack of dawn (alright, nine ‘o’ clock, sometimes ten) report times, when everyone is still asleep and cranky, except for those few individuals who actually like being up early and are annoyingly cheerful, those that just make you want to shove something in their mouths to shut them up." We had a BEFORE crack of dawn once, REMEMBER?

"Of the drumline terrorizing everyone on their scooters, doing various stunts and tricks before and after practice.

Of the pit taking their instruments up to the field, looking like a parade, especially the ones riding the carts pulled by the ATV.

Of the flutes continually being yelled at to do it right, of the high pitched notes that are mostly out of tune, of the missed step offs and out of time marching.

Of the clarinets, with their abnormally tall male leader and mournful notes." We all have our troubles.

"Of the clarinets, with their abnormally tall male leader and mournful notes." What of our abnormally tall people?

"Of the colorguard, the thing you have pledged years of your life and practically all of your free time to, the thing that has made you in the fittest shape of your life, the thing that sometimes makes you come home glowing because you got the new work perfectly and had a perfect run through, the thing that sometimes makes you come home crying because you kept on hitting yourself and couldn’t get any of the new work, how catty the girls can be, how unfair it is that the two new girls get treated better than yourself and the three other guard sophomores…But yet, the feeling of comrade, the sweaty exhilaration when you finish the show and strike a pose, throwing your flag up and letting it fall behind you, knowing you gave it your all and that’s all you needed to do.

Knowing what needs to be worked on will be worked on.

What needs to be fixed will be fixed.

That however that practice made you feel, withier it made you walk on air or made you want to die, that there will always be someone to share in your joy or comfort you.

Guard is more than just spinning bright colors and wooden rifles and metal sabres.

Guard is more than just uniforms that vary in attractiveness.

Guard is more than just something to do.

Guard is more than words can explain.

Guard is…indescribable.

Guard is like me.

Guard IS me.

It is what I do.

It is what goes through my head when I’m trying to go to sleep on a battered and bruised body.

It is what helped me bloom, making me confident in all that I do.

It is what helped me smile, proving that I am more than just a nerdy girl.

It is what changed my entire outlook on life.

It is what made me who I am.

And to think, I never would have been writing this if four of the indoor guard hadn’t come to my middle school, performing on the stage and accidentally knocking a microphone cover off, impressing a seventh grader in the spring of 2006, making her join up into the cult, making her join the activity that would change her life.

The activity that has given her too many bruises to count.

The activity that made her go to the emergency room on the thirtieth anniversary of Elvis’s death, first casualty of band camp, to get six stitches in her eyebrow.

The activity that has made her stronger.

Swifter.

Passionate.

Intense.

The activity that involves the spinning and tossing, never twirling and throwing, of flags and rifles and sabres, of dancing and performing, the activity that is indescribable.

Simply put.

It’s colorguard." It's amazing! You somehow managed to put into words that which I have vainly tried to describe on occassion. The closest I've come up with is that Gaurd IS. Um...sorry for copying and pasting just about the entire thing. I had a lot of opinions. You almost made me cry with the beauty of it. And since I almost never cry, that's saying a lot. I'm glad I read this.