This is why I love college

The Network

Every so often, when someone finds out that I'm gay, they'll pull out a fact along the lines of, "Oh, my best friend/uncle/random classmate is gay/lesbian, too!" and then they get really excited and either look at me for confirmation that I, too, know this person, or they immediately start plotting how to introduce the two of us.
Every so often, when I'm feeling a bit snarky, I'll jab back with a comment like, "Oh, yes! I've seen him at the meetings!" Fortunately, I've never had anyone actually believe me.

But I'm only half-kidding. There's a network. I don't know how it happens, but I'll go to add someone on facebook that I meet somewhere, who happens to be gay, and they'll have several friends in common with me that I'll know from some completely separate social circle... but the only people from that circle will be gay. And then later, that person will start to show up in other people's mutual friends... I don't know how it happens. But it seems that they all know each other... and I say "they" because I have not observed this phenomenon in myself. And perhaps that's because I've been in Oklahoma for such a short amount of time compared to the people who have lived hear for however-many years... and perhaps it's because I'm not capable of judging myself accurately. At any rate, it bewilders me.

My minty chocolate lover

I was watching "True Blood" with my friend Megan the other day, and Sookie was talking with her grandmother about the Starbucks that was going to be built nearby. Her grandmother was of the opinion that it was unnecessary, but Sookie mentioned having read somewhere that ever since people started buying their "fancy coffee" the incidences of calcium deficiencies have decreased because of all the milk in the beverages.



I am a sucker for a peppermint mocha. I want to work at Starbucks so I can learn to make them for myself. This semester, I got into a three-times-a-week habit of going to Starbucks after my Aural Skills class to get a cup of warm, peppermint-chocolate comfort. Could my meal points be better spent? Perhaps. But after class that early in the morning, I don't care. Why a peppermint mocha? Perhaps it's because it tastes exactly like Christmas. Christmas is my favorite season, and this year it lasts until mid January, because that's when I have to go back to school.



When I go back, I'll have so many meal points... and they're all for my daily rendezvous with my peppermint-mocha lover.

Stupid Subconscious

Thank God it was only a dream.
Dead people don't come back to comfort you at the expense of another's life, just to vanish into thin air as you cry on their shoulder.

I have strange dreams... most of the time I enjoy them.
Not tonight.

Requiem

What follows is my final essay for my english composition class. Let me know what you think...

The hall lights dim as the conductor steps onto the podium, and the audience grows quiet. The orchestra, choir, and soloists watch him, waiting for his signal to begin. I sit in the back row of the auditorium, and the tiniest seed of envy begins to grow in me… I should be up there, standing fourteen people from the left in the second row of that choir.

Te decet hymnus Deus, in Sion… Near the end of his life, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart took a commission from Count Franz von Walsegg. Walsegg wanted a requiem mass to be written in commemoration of his recently deceased wife, which he then intended to pass off as his own work before his friends. Mozart died before he completed the piece, and his wife secretly passed the work off to Franz Süssmayr, one of his students, to complete. Disputes about the authorship of the Requiem arose shortly after its premiere, and legends began to accumulate: the angel of death had commissioned the requiem for the composer’s own death; jealous rivals poisoned him to prevent the completion of the work; and so forth. The legends were so pervasive, that Alexander Pushkin wrote a play about Mozart’s life in which he incorporated these legends. The play was so popular that Rimsky-Korsokov converted it into an opera, which was in turn so successful that Peter Shaffer wrote an additional play, which was then turned into the very popular 1984 film Amadeus. There is still debate to this day about how much of the Requiem was written in Mozart’s own hand, and how much was composed by Süssmayr; whether or not Mozart left instructions for the completion of the requiem; etc.

Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna, in die illa tremenda… My name is Robert Scott Sparks, and I am no stranger to death. My first encounter with him occurred when I was only four years old, when my mother died of breast cancer. Being young, I didn’t quite understand the concept of death, so I never really grieved for my mother; by the time I was old enough to understand and feel grief, her death was something I had grown up with: sad, but not the end of the world. Since then, I have lost two uncles, two grandfathers, and several friends. I have not become numb to loss, but I have accepted it as a normal part of life, and do my best to smile through the pain, for others and for myself… I have always felt the need to help the ones I care about, and providing that strength when they feel vulnerable brings me a joy that outshines the pain.

Absolve, Domine, animas omnium fidelium defunctorum… I am nineteen years old, and for as long as I can remember, I have been a musician. As a small child I would sing in my sleep, and I had a toy keyboard that I played with until it broke. I began taking piano lessons when I was in 2^nd grade, I played in band all through middle and high school, and sang tenor in choir all through high school. There was no question in my mind that when I went to college, I would major in music. When I started college, the one class I looked forward to more than any other was choir. You have to understand that in high school, the choir room was my home away from home: Mrs. Snow, my choir director, was like a second mother to me. Since I’d gone so far away from home to go to college, I was looking for that same familial atmosphere that I’d come to associate with choir.

Hostias et preces tibi, domine, laudis offerimus… In that first class, Dr. Lucas announced that we’d be singing the Mozart Requiem this semester. Upon this revelation, the choir perked up. I was particularly excited, because I’d never sung a large-scale choral work before, and I’d wanted to for some time. As the semester continued, though, I found myself doubting whether or not I’d chosen the right profession: there were so many students in the School of Music who were so talented, and although I was grateful to count them as friends, I began to wonder how I could begin to think I could compete with them… after all, there is the stereotype of the “starving artist,” and since I had o desire to teach, that eliminated the majority of job positions for me in the industry. I shoved my doubts aside, but they remained in the back of my mind, making me doubt myself.
Domine, Jesu Christe, Rex gloriae libera animas de poenis inferni… After much preparation and anticipation, the week of the concert arrived. Monday night we had our first rehearsal with the combined choirs, under the baton of Dr. Richard Zielinski. From seven to ten we rehearsed that night. For three hours, we agonized over the tiniest details of this monumental work of music, this last attempt by that man on his deathbed to capture the sound of heaven in a mortal realm. As Zielinski urged us to consider the text of the piece, and to relate it to our own lives, I couldn’t help but think of those I had lost, particularly my mother. As we moved to the Sequentia, The fierce determination and agonizing pain that Mozart must have felt as he scratched out the vocal lines from his bed, assisted by his wife and student, came through to us. The sobbing texture of the Lacrymosa, the last piece of music that Mozart completed before his death, nearly pushed me over, and I struggled to keep my voice steady. By the time we got to the Agnus Dei, I was exhausted. As Zielinski talked us through his emotional understanding of the movement, I sat there, my head drooping to my knees. Our accompanist was playing the piano reduction underneath Zielinski’s commentary, and then they both paused on a chord that, according to Zielinski, was a question those in mourning: a question of how you would learn from the death of those who have passed. The question resonated with my self-doubt: is this what I should do with my life? Was I really intended to be a musician, or was it a passing fancy gone too far? Would I wake up one morning and realize that I hate my job, like so many people do? Was I even good enough to get a job?

Quantus tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discusurus… I slept heavily that night, hoping that morning light would bring fresh perspective. The next morning, however, I felt like death. I spent the next four days shivering under my sweat-drenched covers. I was unable to eat, because as I gulped water, trying to stay hydrated, tiny, vicious, glass-shard kittens dug claws into my esophagus, protesting against the disturbance.I didn’t attend a single rehearsal from Tuesday to Friday of that week. On Friday, I went to the doctor, and after a few tests they led me to an operating room. I sat there, terrified, as the needle-wielding doctor told me to open my mouth so they could drain my throat. It didn’t hurt terribly, but the entire time I was terrified that the doctor was going to slip somehow, and that I’d never be able to sing again. I’d given up on singing in the Requiem after I missed the rehearsal on Tuesday, but the thought of giving up on choir entirely was too much for me to bear.

Dies irae! Dies illa solvet saeclum in favilla: teste David cum Sybilla… On performance day, I sat in the back of the auditorium. The conductor stood on his podium, and as he raised his arms, the energy radiating from the ensemble electrified the silence that hung on the ictus of his baton, a drop of water waiting to be dislodged by the lightest flick.

Tuba, mirum spargens sonum per sepulchral regionum, coget omnes ante thronum… With his downbeat, the strings began to pulse restlessly: a slow heartbeat of grief that drives a wailing bassoon/clarinet melody that foreshadows the violent anger of the brass fanfare, demanding to know why the deceased has been torn from those who loved her. The choir begs for rest not just for the dead, but also for the living who grieve. As the music drapes itself over the hall, velvety textures caressing those in attendance, comforting their losses past and present, my envy died. Tears streamed down my face, and I began to understand that this is absolutely what I had to do with my life. I could see the audience around me, moved by music that, although written over two centuries ago, still spoke volumes today. I knew then, that I had chosen the correct profession. Even if I didn’t have the biggest house, the flashiest car, or the nicest clothes later in life, I knew that I wanted to make people feel things outside of their day-to-day lives.

Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini… I left that performance feeling as if I had just taken a very refreshing shower. I realize that such a sentiment is an unusual feeling coming from a performance of a requiem mass, but being reaffirmed in your decision is a good feeling. It’s not every day you get slapped in the face by a voice saying, “Look. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing with your life,” so perhaps getting poked in the throat with needles had an extra-medicinal benefit. Next semester, we’re singing Mendelssohn’s Elijah. I hope that I can change someone in that audience the way that I was changed that day.

Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine, cum sanctis tuis in aeternum, quia pius es. Amen.

Atlanta

Well, I came home for Thanksgiving. And I was supposed to have a connection flight in Atlanta. However, my flight from Oklahoma City to Atlanta was delayed an hour, and then in Atlanta I went to the wrong gate, because I thought I was supposed to get on the 10:45 to Raleigh. I was actually supposed to get on the 10:45 to Greensboro.

Guess who missed his flight?

Anyway, I spent the night in Atlanta, and got home the next morning at 9.

I fly back tomorrow (Thank God the only logical flight choice to Oklahoma is Oklahoma City) for rehearsal.

It's been a good trip home: I got to see a bunch of people, and I got to eat oreo stuff, carrot cake, and pumpkin cheesecake. Maybe Dad will make pancakes tomorrow... it's possible. I didn't actually ask him to, but maybe he'll think of it.

Oh well. If not, I'll just be sure to request it for Christmas.

Madeline Kahn and Grover Duet

I LOVED this video when I was a little kid.

I was given three accompaniments today, and promised a fourth.
I still haven't wrapped my mind around the fact that my purpose here is to study music almost exclusively.
What a wonderful way to live...

Forgive me...

...while I vent.

All I want is for a guy I'm interested in to be interested in me. Is that really so much to ask? It shouldn't be this difficult to find a time to talk to a guy without him being surrounded by so many people. I mean, I suppose it makes sense. He's charismatic and is a good leader. This strongly contributes to why I like him, but it also means that EVERY time I see him he's talking to somebody else, or busy doing something.

I would actually be totally fine with him not liking me. But this whole "I like you but I don't know whether or not you like me" thing is driving me up the wall. And it's my fault. I'm the one that hasn't worked up the courage to tell him that I like him. It's because I get really self-conscious around guys that I like, and also because I don't necessarily want an audience if I'm going to tell someone that I like them/ask them on a date. It's nerve-wracking enough to ask the person themselves, so who needs that added pressure?

I know I'm worrying too much about this. It's really not a big deal at all. I'm just at a point in my life where I'd like to have a significant romantic relationship with someone, especially now that I'm off somewhere that I don't have to worry quite so much about what people would think about me dating a guy. And certainly I shouldn't care at all if it bothers people. Most cases I don't, but back home I would have probably worried more that someone would say something to somebody else, and that person would tell someone, and eventually it would get back to members of my family who may not know yet. I mean, I'm not opposed to them knowing. I'd certainly rather not have to hide any part of who I am, but I'm not emotionally prepared to deal with some people finding out. I'd rather it be on my own terms.

So now here I am, nineteen hours away from home at college. I haven't been home in nearly four months, and I think I'm pretty safe as far as local gossip goes. (Although, who can tell with facebook now. Whatever.) And yet, I'm single. In the worst sense of the word.

I think I would be a good boyfriend, if I could just GET there.

I was going to talk to him tonight, but he wasn't where I thought he would be.

Monday. I have hopes for Monday.

In an unrelated topic, I don't know what I want to do with my life. I alternate between being terrified by this, and being totally fine with it.

Just let me sing. I want everything else to go away, so I can sing.

I really can't wait to go home for Thanksgiving.

Austria

I have the opportunity to go to Austria for two weeks this summer. While there, I would participate in the Classical Musical Festival in Eisenstadt. This entails several performances, including a performance of Haydn's Mass in a Time of War as high mass one Sunday in the Bergkirche, which is the church where the mass was premiered all those years ago.

I really want to go.
To facilitate this goal, I will be getting a job next semester.

I've been talking to my friend A a lot, and she's been giving me a lot of really good advice about being a music major and a pianist. I'm really glad I know her.

I really hope that I'm not being too ambitious with this class next semester.

Suspense

I hate waiting when you don't know what's going to happen. I would be SO much happier right now if I could just get an answer. It's not even the fact that I don't know yet, it's the fact that I thought I was going to get an answer like three times, just to find that I'd gotten some random spam mail.

I need to update this more frequently.

My adorable nephew dressed up as a "pider" (spider) for Halloween.
There are pictures at my sister's blog, which should be linked somewhere to the right of this... look for something that says "Whit Bits."

A week

Monday was very successful. I went to my classes, got my essay peer-reviewed, learned ten sets of the new show for Pride, and then rehearsed for three hours for the Mozart Requiem concert. Then I came back to the dorm, spread excitement for the concert, and watched my first Alfred Hitchcock film (The Man Who Knew Too Much).
Tuesday through late Friday, I was sick in bed with a fever, chills, and some sort of weird throat congestion that yesterday was declared to be tonsilitis. Oh, and I have a Peritonsillar Abscess.

Stuff I was going to do this week:

• Go to class
  
• Turn in my essay
• Attend the CommonGround Rally
• Usher the duo piano recital
• Participate in the Mozart concert (tomorrow... but I'm not able to sing)
• Get to know M better

~~~
Dear L,
We know you're intelligent. Please don't flaunt the fact that you're taking such a ridiculous number of hours to accomodate your triple major, it doesn't do anything to win you friends. Also, you are allowed to disagree with people. It's even encouraged. Please learn to do so without belittling their opinions.
Oh, and Mozart's music has been around for over 250 years. He is arguably THE best-known composer, and his music is standard repertoire for just about every instrument and ensemble imaginable. You don't get to decide that his music is "disgusting" and "unworthwhile," just because you don't like it. Just shut up.

Mozart Week

We're singing the Mozart Requiem in choir. The concert is this weekend. I'm so excited.

I went to the OU/Texas game with Pride this past weekend. I loved it so much. Like, the outcome of the game was heartwrenching, but in the same way that tragedies are still good plays, the OU/Texas game was a good game. I wanted to cry when Sam Bradford (read: my future husband... he just doesn't know it yet) got hurt again.

More later, but I have an essay to write at the moment.

Unhealthy sleep habits

So, I was really tired today, so I decided to take a nap. I woke up four and a half hours later... and now I'm not sleepy, even though it's almost three in the morning.

The school of music is infested with a family of dieseases that I'm going to call Theme and Variations on the Flu. The dean sent us an email the other day commending our commitment to our art... and then telling us to stop coming to class if we were sick because we got one of the faculty sick with H1N1. Oops.

My friends are trying to hook me up with a very attractive guy named M. I really hope that it leads somewhere good.

I'm not a big fan of my basic core classes right now. As much as I understand the value of being a well-rounded person, I came to college to become the best musician I can be, and my non-music classes are distracting me from this goal. I'd much rather read random books on various subjects than be forced to take introductory-level classes in various fields.

I've decided the basic concept for my first tattoo. I just need to find someone who can draw it better than I can.

College is a great place in many respects, but I kind of miss having time to read. I mean, I could make the time to read if I really wanted to, don't get me wrong. It's just that the temptation to hang out with my friends has a stronger draw than sitting in my room and reading. Oh well... I'll read when I go home.

Really, the world does not exist to serve you. It is not my job to help you with your laundry, drive you places, or supply you with the things you want. My stuff is mine, and you can't just demand that I give it to you. Life just doesn't work like that. Oh, and your driving sucks. You're probably going to wreck the car you care about so much, and its probably going to be because you were driving recklessly (if "driving recklessly" even begins to cover it, which I doubt).

S wrote me a letter! I miss her.

I'm going to start taking organ lessons.

Not Knowing

I may not know what I want or what I'm doing, but I know one thing: I want a way to figure it out.

I kind of dislike my hallway. I can't wait to have my own apartment.

Her request is kind of ridiculous, the more I think about it. What am I supposed to say to her? I haven't talked with her in years and years.

The play today was absolutely fantastic. It provided a very good escape from reality for a few hours.
Just what I needed.

But then I had to deal with Lillian again. Go away. I'm serious.

When you spend a long time doing something, it becomes difficult to change, even if you want to. Unfortunate, but true. I guess I'm not as comfortable in my skin as I thought I was.

I hate having to turn people down.

I get to take my wrist brace off a week from tomorrow!

Laundry Impressions

I was doing laundry and blowing off the reading that I was attempting to finish, so I decided to look out the window. I saw people going by, and as much as I wanted to go talk to them, I couldn't. So I wrote these instead.

Red hair bobs in curls as you walk, somehow matching your laughter perfectly although
I can't hear it through the glass. You told me that the
Kiss bothered you, and yet you are joyful in a way that radiates off your skin
And illuminates the air around you on such an overcast day.
~~~~~~
Just as you walk by with him, I wonder what would have happened if
Our paths had crossed early enough for us to become friends instead of
Establishing our smile-and-keep-going awareness of the other.
~~~~~~
Maybe the fact that you choose to go by your middle name is significant.
A negative association with the person whose first name you share? Perhaps.
Rambling thoughts, somehow fascinating. Your hair curls too.
Something makes me curious.
~~~~~~

And then three really attractive guys came in, one of whom had an accent that I can't place. Perhaps spanish?
Oh well. My clothes are clean now.

Bliss

I have "gotten over" being in love with him.
I still love him. I always will. And I'll always be in love with him a little bit. I know that.
But I'm okay with this girl he likes.
And I'm genuinely happy that she makes him happy.
More importantly, I want them to be happy together.
And even though I am still a little in love with him... Even though I am aware that we might not ever work out in any permanent fashion...

I don't grieve that fact. I am perfectly content.
And that brings me to a very relaxing state of bliss.

I will sleep well tonight.

I perform for my studio class tomorrow... AH!

Other People's Expectations

So, when I went to college, I had to decide what I wanted my primary instrument to be. The possibilities were piano, flute, and voice. I nixed voice fairly quickly, reasoning that there would be plenty of voice majors who had been taking lessons for far longer than I had and that I would have lots of catching up to do.

So then there were two: flute and piano. My piano teacher said I should be a piano major. My flute teacher and her husband, my band teacher, said I should be a flute major. Naturally, this put me in a bit of a dilemma. I cheated, and decided to be a piano major taking secondary lessons in flute.

That didn't work out. I was doing too much, and something was going to slip if I didn't let something go... so, I decided (for a number of reasons) that I would drop flute lessons.

Now I'm afraid that I've disappointed my flute and band teachers.

Like, I know that it's ridiculous to think so, because I'm still playing the flute (well, piccolo) in marching band, and I'm still a performance major, albeit with a different instrument.
I also know that I should worry less about what other people think (even if they have played significant parts in my life), considering that I made my decision rationally, and considered and reconsidered for a long time.

I'm a pianist.
I'm going to learn to play the organ.

I dislike partying. Like, there was a foam party (...yes. I know. I think it's a very strangeconcept.) that I could have gone to today, but the idea just kind of freaks me out. I really don't know why, either... it's kind of unfortunate, since that guy I like, J, was there (according to M, who was also there).

There's another J that I like, too.
He's spectacular.

Also a C.

Actually, let's do this: JJCKCJKBKJ.

What do yo do if you like someone with the same name as you? Is that weird?

On the Transmigration of Souls

On the Transmigration of Souls

Today is September 11. Listen to this today.

Have you ever had a very strong sense of wanting something, but you're not completely sure what it is?
If not, it's kind of frustrating.

I kind of miss home a little bit right now.
And yet, this place is also home, and becomes more so every day.

Why does everyone think that my best friend and I are romantically/sexually involved? What part of me liking men do people not understand?
Do I give off straight vibes or something?

Part of the reason that I'm still awake right now has to do with the fact that I really don't want to expend the effort to put sheets on my mattress.

The Sooners lost yesterday, which is sad. But J has magically reappeared... I wonder what happened?

Regrets

Have you ever made a decision that you really hope you don't regret later?
I did today. I hope it turns out well.
I heard a very interesting piano piece today... I want to perform it.

Something has to change

On Mondays and Fridays, with my current schedule, I will not get an opportunity to eat after breakfast (at like 7:40) until after Pride rehearsal (at 6:00). I have an hour break at 9:30 (at which point I would not be hungry), and a half hour break at 12:30, but would I be able to get from class to the union, order food, eat it, and get to rehearsal in a half hour? I don't think so.
Something has got to change.
I'll figure something out.

I met an extremely attractive sophomore today... dang. I need to hang out with my roommate more often.

The senior boy I thought was flirting with me has a girlfriend. But his band's show was still really good, and I enjoyed myself.

I wonder if I'm imagining Z liking me... I hope not. He's cute, too.

I love college so much. SO much.

Actually

If I hadn't broken my wrist, I may not have met K, because I wouldn't have had to go to the fine arts library to find left hand music.
Hooray for blessings in disguise.

Oklahoma

The other day, I was sitting outside my new favorite spot on campus, and I saw a man riding a bike down the street without the use of handlebars. It was about 11 at night, and there were no cars to be seen, and it was a curious sight to see him sitting on top of his bike, appearing lazy from the waist up, yet working steadily from the waist down to maintain his laid-back posture. I was fascinated by this contradiction of postures in a single person... until I saw that the reason he was doing so was so that he could smoke a cigarette while riding a bicycle. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose? I mean, bikes are supposed to be good for you and for the earth... so polluting the air with cigarette smoke and strangling your lungs while doing so seems to be a bit odd.
It made me think he was less cool.
Finding out that people smoke makes me feel sad. Especially when that person is someone you care deeply for (not talking about the cyclist anymore... you know who you are. You'd better have been serious when you said you were stopping.)

Yesterday, I was in the practice building working on the Scriabin Prelude and Nocturne for left hand, and when I was done I went back to the front of Catlett Music Center to meet J, my ride back to the dorms (I had to run through the rain and the thunder to get there... and then I thought I was locked out. I got in, though). As I was standing in the Gothic Hall, watching the lightning through the stained glass, an organist was playing Durufle's Prelude and Fugue on the name ALAIN, and it served as a spectacular soundtrack to the storm outside (it wasn't a very flashy storm, the lightning seemed dimmer than any I'd seen before, and only very low rumbles could be heard from the thunder). The thunder lent itself to the piece very well... Spectacular.

so much

I have at least one reader who I have never met before.
This makes me happy.

I've officially moved into my dorm, and my roommate has, too. Classes start Monday and I couldn't be more excited.

I am an official member of the 2009 Pride of Oklahoma Marching Band, and I love it so much. Like, it's absolutely insane what people can accomplish when they actually care about what they're doing. We've learned half of the pre-game show, and I'm really excited about the whole thing. I've been meeting so many cool new people, and I'm really glad I did it.
By the way... SUCH an improvement over high school marching band. Like, Pride is to high school band as the mona lisa is to a stick figure drawn on badly crumpled notebook paper that's been trampled in the mud for a few weeks.

I have to keep my wrist brace on for like 5 more weeks, so typing is slightly difficult right now. I was up to like 80-90 words a minute before, and now I'm ridiculously lower than that.

When I walk into the music building, I often hear someone practicing on the organ in the gothic hall, and it gives me such a welcoming feeling. Maybe I should learn to play, like people keep telling me.

I had an extremely unhealthy sandwich the other day... Imagine a meatball marinara sub, but with fries on top of it. The marinara soaks into the fries and makes it so unbelievably delicious.

Today, my parents compared the souped up pedometer in the Nike plus shoes (which, by the way, are the official shoes of the Pride of Oklahoma. They're wonderfully comfortable. Like everything we have is Nike. It's unbelievably awesome) to the technological equivalent of Big Brother. I like technology, and the rate at which it is advancing, despite my parents concerns.

I met a guy named K, and he's rather attractive. He may or may not be interested, I'm not sure. He might just be friendly. I bought his band's album off of iTunes, but I have yet to listen to it. I'm getting there, though. It's in the J's, and I just got to the I's on my list.

Why does my best friend never listen to my advice? It's good advice.

Okay...

So I'm here in Oklahoma. I've been through oe day of Pride pre-camp, and I must say that I like it so far.
But afterwards, I went up to my dorm room to collapse (I have never appreciated air conditioning so much in my life). I couldn't figure out anything to do... very few people are here this early (although I did run into N randomly. Unexpected, but cool) and I'm sitting in my room bored out of my mind.

There are currently four people living on my wing. Me; the guy in the room next door, J; the guy down the hall who I haven't met yet; and the guy across from him, D.
I'll write more later. I'm going to go find something to do.

creative solutions to breaking your right wrist two days before you go off to college to major in piano performance

As I mentioned yesterday, I fell and hurt my hand. Upon x-ray examination today, we found out that I have a non-displaced distal-radial fracture in my right side, more commonly known as a broken wrist. I have a wrist brace which I need to wear for the next for to six weeks.
However, this is not the end of the world. I can still hold my flute, although playing is a more difficult than it was before. I don't know if I'll be able to move it to and from attention for marching band, but I probably will be able to.
Piano will be more difficult. However, Paul Wittgenstein was a concert pianist who had his right hand blown off during World War I. He then commissioned several piano pieces for left hand, including the Ravel concerto below.
Here are several ideas I had for possible left-handed repertoire for my first semester.

Bach Chaconne, transcribed by Brahms for left hand




Ravel Concerto for Left Hand (maybe? It's extremely difficult, and I don't know if I would get the chance to perform it.)



Scriabin Prelude and Nocturne for Left Hand


I'm going to make this work. This is possible. I'm sure my teachers will have ideas too.
I leave tomorrow!

You don't really realize how much you use your primary hand for until you have limited mobility in said hand.
Today, after my going-away dinner with family, I saw the neighbor kids on their ripstiks, so I got mine out (first to show my sister what they were) and decided to go ride with them.
Like five minutes after that, I fell going down a hill. I have scrapes, which I can deal with, but I also have a possibly-sprained, possibly-jammed wrist.
I no longer have the ability to rotate my hands as much as I could before.
I'm going to college to be a piano major on Sunday. Classes start a week and a day after that.

Why do I make poor decisions?

Locks

My dad got me a computer lock for my laptop for when I go off to college.
I messed it up, and now we don't know what the combination is.
It's a 4-digit combination lock. There are 1000 possibilities.

Today, I heard the entire life story of C from Chi Omega at UNC-Charlotte. She was K's cashier at Victoria's Secret (I don't see WHY I couldn't go to FYE with F instead of stay with K as she picked out a bra and panties... I had absolutely no input on the subject whatever) and she decided to tell her friend at the register the story of how the boy she's in love with messaged her on facebook. Not her boyfriend, but the boy she's in love with. Anyway, they were both voted to have the best hair of their respective genders on campus, and so they're going to have fabulous-hair babies. He's blonde, and he's in a fraternity that I forget the name of, and she was REALLY excited about this message, and the fact that he asked for her number, and that he texted her.

It was quite entertaining.

My blog is officially one year old.

*sigh*

Although familiarity brings a great level of comfort, it also brings great awkwardness at times.
Although I will grow to miss such familiarity, at the moment I weary of some of its less-appealing aspects... like the awkwardness that a social event can take on when two of the people present are having relationship issues that are less-than-secret.

I need sleep.

On Hell

Hell is McDonalds. With its overcrowdedness, long lines, less-than appealing food, and waiting THIRTY MINUTES for an iced mocha (while the masses of humanity pressed in on me with their greasy quarter-pounders with cheese and lukewarm apple turnovers) that ended up tasting like shit once I actually got it.
Oh, and they were out of napkins. We had to use industrial-size, poor-quality toilet paper.
Let me tell you exactly how well that cleans up a dropped cup of iced coffee, courtesy of my father.

I saw my little brother today for what is probably the last time before I go off to college.
I can't help but think that I've been to hard on him. I mean, God knows that he behaves SO inappropriately such a great deal of the time, so it's not like I'm not justified... but still.

As I saw him climb into that gray minivan, I couldn't help but watch through the blinds, seeing the woman who I have hated for so long... and yet I can't anymore. I look out, and I see her with him, and she clearly loves him. She wants what's best for him, she's just so misguided about it that she's bungling up so much. I can't help but feel sorry for her. As she stood there in her windbreaker and jeans, flipping her hair behind her... she's pathetic. She wants so badly to be significant. I just... can't say exactly what I feel about her, but it's not hate. I can't hate her when I see her.

I want a Steve.

AH it stopped. Make it go! It can't stop like that! NOOOOOOOO.

*ahem* I've kind of gotten into this webcomic that my friend J introduced me to.
Check it out.
http://www.khaoskomix.com/home.html

Hmm.

I keep coming back to her poetry. I really want to take it and set it to music, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to do it justice, considering my complete lack of experience.

I really hope it works out that I get to see her before I leave.

Banana Boats

Sometimes I say bad words. I'm sorry you have to find this out in such a way, but shit (gasp) happens.
I went on a banana boat ride today with my little brother, and I fell off twice. Despite this, it was actually pretty fun. But the second time I fell off, I was clinging to the handle while leaning sideways, trying to grip the thing with my knees, evidently cursing as I tried to pull myself back up.
I wasn't even really aware of it until after I fell off, as I was climbing back on, when my little brother asked me why I was saying bad words.
Of course, he told his mother... and Dad. Who just told me that I need to clean up my language, and that it's nothing to be proud of.

College will be here in nine days. College will be here in nine days. College will be here in nine days.

We ate at Abuelo's tonight! Turns out the one in Oklahoma isn't the only one that's out there.
I had the most amazing stuffed chicken medallions ever. And, of course, Tres Leches Cake.

I've actually made an effort to be in the sun this week. This is not my usual behavior. However, after seeing lots of people with blotchy skin, and hearing about N's melanoma patient... I'm a little bit paranoid. I've been very careful with sunscreen. I do have this nice little tan, though.
I don't really understand why everybody seems to think that being pale is a bad thing. I mean, I can understand not wanting to look like you've spent your entire life inside without ever having seen the sun, but I don't understand society's fascination with bronze skin. I mean, it's interesting, bu it's not necessarily more attractive than the skin complexion of, say, someone who lives in the arctic circle.

I'm reading a book called The Worldly Philosophers. OU sent it to me, and it's about the lives and ideas of the major philosophers from Adam Smith on. But here's the weird part... It's actually really interesting. I mean, I would have never thought that a book about economics would be so fascinating. I must say, though, that it isn't the typical beach read.

Dumb

I've been very impressed with my noise-canceling headphones. They don't completely cancel the sound, but I didn't really expect them to. They muffled the extra noises very well. Well, imagine my surprise when I found the battery compartment today. I opened it, finding it to be completely empty.

That's right, I hadn't even turned on the noise canceling headphones. The only reason the sound was muffled was because the foam around them muffled it.

Yes, I am dumb. This may be as bad as the time I went around a full day with my underwear on backwards without ever noticing it. I'm going to go to sleep now, because I'm getting up at 8:30 tomorrow to go running with my sister.

For the Bible Tells Me So

I finally got around to watching "For the Bible Tells Me So." It's a very good movie.
But as I was watching it, I was thinking...
There are so many people I encounter who think that my homosexuality is a choice. Naturally, I think such an idea is ridiculous. Why would I choose to be something that invites scorn, rejection, and possible bodily harm?
There are just as many people who think I should simply ignore my "urges" and lead a "conventional" lifestyle with a woman. To those people, I suggest the following:

Spend the rest of your life writing with your left hand.
If you're left-handed, use your right hand.

Many people would react negatively to my proposition. I don't understand why.
I mean, what's so terrible about behaving in a way contrary to what makes you comfortable, simply because someone else wants you to? It's not as if you should expect to follow the course of action that comes naturally to you. Certainly it might be difficult at first, but you can adjust. So what if your penmanship never quite gains that thoughtless ease that it used to have when you wrote with the hand you were most suited to? You should ignore your "urges" to conform with what others demand from you at the cost of personal comfort.

Perhaps this can illustrate a little bit of what I feel when people suggest that I can simply "change" or "deal with a little bit of discomfort." I don't doubt that I could, should I so desire, live a "normal" life with a wife and children, ignoring the fact that I am sexually and romantically attracted to men. My objections do not lie in any doubt that I am capable of performing these acts, because I can. But why should I be expected to? Even if, as some people believe, it is immoral (oddly enough, a term applied to lefties in the not-so-distant past), frankly it's none of your damn business whether or not I'm attracted to men. If homosexuals are in fact cast into the deepest pits of hell (which I firmly disbelieve), then it's MY eternal soul at stake, not yours. So kindly leave me alone about it.

I'm sick and tired of having to gloss over that little aspect of my life simply because it makes people I care about uncomfortable. I mean, I'm not going to shove it in your face if it does make you uncomfortable, because I care about whatever relationship we may have. However, don't expect me to pretend it's not there just so you can live in your perfect little world, especially when you already know. Grow up.

I kind of feel like I should be doing more to promote equality and stuff, but I really don't know what to do. Being 18 has quite a few limits attached to it... not least of which the fact that most people dismiss you as "yet another teenager."

At any rate, here's the movie should you choose to watch it. I highly recommend it. However, bear in mind that it's an hour and forty minutes long, so make sure you have the time before you go clicking on it.
For the Bible Tells Me So

In related news, evidently I sing out loud sometimes without realizing it.

a cat... playing a "piano concerto."

Kinetic Sculptures

Maker Profile - Kinetic Wave Sculptures on MAKE: television from make magazine on Vimeo.

laptop

I have my new college laptop and it's pretty.
But it doesn't have a word processor, which is kind of weird.
I guess I need to download a freeware version of microsoft office... I'll do it later.

I'm home from Laurel Ridge. And although I know I can't go back as a camper, I know I can go back as M-staff. The only thing is, as a performance major, there would be a very difficult barrier to get through. I can't not practice. C says there would be a way to work around that if I work things out with M, and I certainly hope it works out that way, but I'm still concerned. I hope it works out. If worst comes to worst, I can council for junior campers or something.

I ordered a book of lovely hymn arrangements today. I hope it gets here before I go off to Oklahoma.

Idiocy

Why do I never learn?

Why can I not accept what cannot be? Why must I strive for what I cannot have, quite possibly at the expense of what I can?

I love LR, and it's kind of sad that I'll never go back in the same way. I'll always go back, but now it will be different.

I have officially experienced the phenomenon of "too many cooks in the kitchen."

I love what the fortune cookie had to say. God loves me.

College isn't a terrifying place, contrary to popular opinion.
Maybe I'll even talk to that guy.

Maybe I'll meet an even better guy.

Maybe I'll go to sleep before I make even less sense than I am right now.

GSE

So... a part of me is really jealous that 3 is seeing an extremely attractive ginger boy. I mean, I'm technically over him. (Sort of? Like, I still find him to be VERY attractive and funny and sweet and so on... but I recognize that it would be pointless and impossible for us to have a relationship because he's going to college here in NC and I'm going to college in Oklahoma... ) But still, the timing is painfully ironic.
Another part of me is actually really happy for him, though. I mean, the ginger boy is very attractive, from the picture I saw.

I missed Fanta Ginger Ale so much.

Watching that man dance tonight was mesmerizing. E wasn't kidding when she said watching him move is like an anatomy lesson. The entire presentation was wonderful, and I miss GSE now more than ever. But that man... is indescribable. That final piece tonight was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

I really want to play Syrinx again.

...And I'm semi-grounded. Isn't it awesome how things can go from amazing to really really crappy in the course of five seconds?

And yet, today was an excellent day.

Performance

I've always heard that the performance you give is the performance you deserve, which roughly means that if you practice, you won't suck.
Well, today I sucked.
I don't get it. I've been practicing every day, for at least three hours a day, and then I got to church this morning, and I bombed. Like, if you mess up you're supposed to just keep going, but sometimes you mess up so bad that you can't, and then you stop, and everyone looks at you, and you want to evaporate.
E is currently:

• serving as the minister of music at FBC, which requires her to learn a new set of music every week...
  
• a professor and staff accompanist at C College...
• teaching private lessons to kids at every level from "this is a quarter note" to "you need to work on using your arms more with the octaves in this passage of your college audition selection," and...
  
• preparing a concert program for her doctoral degree, which includes a Chopin scherzo. She also...
• can improvise...
• and sightread amazingly.
  

I am currently:

• having difficulty preparing five hymns a week...
• ignoring the Chopin nocturne I had hoped to learn this summer because I'm trying to learn the aforementioned hymns...
• abandoning all hope of being to improvise worth anything...
• and questioning my worth as a musician.

Like, I know I'm overreacting. I know that E is both my teacher and pursuing her doctoral degree, therefore she's a better pianist than me, and that we all have our strengths and weaknesses and that somehow I make up for my inability to improvise and my mediocre sightreading skills, and that as I gain more experience I will improve in these and other areas and that it's only logical for me to not be the best right now because otherwise what's the point in going to college, but that doesn't make me feel any better.
At any rate... this week's hymns are behind me. I don't have to play in a week because I have the Sunday off, so I get two weeks to prepare. Hooray.
At least there weren't very many people there today.


M wanted to take one of my Calvin and Hobbes books to LR with him today. I said yes, after making sure it wasn't one of the hardcover ones. But I was flipping through one that he left, and I found that it had been inscribed when it was given to me.
L has damn impeccable handwriting. I hate it.
I used to think that you could tell a little about a person from their handwriting, but then as I was looking at the immaculately formed letters, I thought, "If I didn't know better, I would think that I might actually want to know this person."

I don't think you can tell a lot about a person from their handwriting anymore.


There are certain dishes that I will never understand the appeal of, and one of these is Baked Beans. I used to be supremely picky, and while I have gotten better, there are still certain foods that disgust me. Baked Beans are on that list. They smell sickening, they certainly aren't visually appealing... Kind of like scrambled eggs.


I found out that my roommate is a tap-dancing musical-theatre major from Seattle. I find this to be very cool.


I'm currently reading Skinny Dip by Carl Hiaasen. It's fantastic. E introduced me to his books, and I finished one yesterday to start this one today... I'm already like halfway done with it.

College goal

There's something I want to do in college. Actually, there are many things I want to do in college, but there's one big one that I will be very disappointed in myself if I do not actually do:
I want to start a piano trio. I keep a list of repertoire that I'd like to perform at some p0int, and a lot of the chamber works I have are piano trios. It just makes sense, then, to actually be in a fairly steady piano trio.
Some of the works I'd like to do:

• Ravel trio in A minor
• Andrew Drannon's 1QM, 4Q491-496 - The War of the Sons of Light Against the Sons of Darkness
• Dvorak's trio in F minor
• Schumann's third trio

Also, Robert Patterson has a piece called Bell Towers for Piano, Bassoon, and Clarinet. I think it would sound very good with a violin and a cello, so we could do that one, too.
It would be awesome.

Fish

The fact that you've named your fish after P and myself is beyond creepy, it's obsessive and delusional. I'm kind of concerned that you'll somehow find me at college and stalk me or something.

Indian trails

My friend, K, is going to the naval academy. I'm so incredibly proud of him, but during the course of the party he mentioned that one of the other guests walks the same "Indian path" as me. He said this in a very conspiratorial tone, and although he understood that the guy wasn't really my type, the terminology he chose amuses me to end. Indian path? Really?
Naturally, this conjures images of me wandering through the woods, looking for someone walking along the same path. Of course, there's another path several miles to the right with tons and tons of people walking on it, to the point that all the plants have been trampled asunder... and then there are the people wandering between the two paths, sometimes tripping over rocks and tree roots and stuff...

I wish people wore name tags that told you whether or not they found you attractive.

Anyway, at the party I remembered my crush on K's brother A and their friend T. And I had to remind myself once again that crushing for straight guys isn't all that productive. I need an "off" button.

I generally try to steer clear of this whole subject. I'm really very comfortable with my sexuality... what I'm not comfortable with is other people's discomfort. And since several of my family members would most likely be uncomfortable with my sexuality, I try not to bring it up. The problem stems from the fact that I'm too non-confrontational and I worry too much about what other people (not people in general, just the people I know) think of me.
Although, I don't want to have to hide my long-term boyfriend when I have one... Hmm. Would bringing him to the extended family's Christmas lunch be awkward? Most likely. But it won't be the first time a long-term significant other has come to lunch... Hmm. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
I hope he'll be up to it. I'm sure he'll be up to it. He'll charm them with his clever wit and gentlemanly behavior, and all the girl cousins will be jealous that he's gay. I can picture it now... Please excuse me while I ignore reality for the sake of developing my hallmark card scenario.
At any rate, I'm going to college and I might be able to actually have a romantic relationship without worrying about the family reputation... isn't that crazy?

Storm

While out on the beach today, a flash of lightning streaked overhead and the thunder roared spectacularly. As everyone rushed out of the water, the thunder continued, and it began to rain. it didn't rain for very long, but it started again later at dinner. The waiter had just taken our plates away when the most spectacular storm swept in, with buckets of rain, and massive amounts of wind, and breathtaking lightning, followed by deafening thunder. We had to orer dessert to pass the time 'til the rain stopped- speaking of which, whoever had the idea to make a mango and raspberry cheesecake is a genius. Anyway, I realized that there's nothing quite like watching a huge thunderstorm when you're safely inside. Eating a nice meal at the same time certainly adds to the general atmosphere.

Lame

My parents are at a wedding this weekend, without me. But you know who is there? My adorable niece, C, whom I never get to see since she lives in Maryland. Also, my sister's new boyfriend, whom I have not met. Although I was originally excited about getting to stay at home by myself overnight for the first time ever (I'm 18 and I've never been left at home alone for a period of time that spanned a full 24 hours. This is sad) suddenly I really want to be there. I miss C!
You would think that because I was home alone for the ENTIRE weekend I would be able to do whatever I want to... not really, though. I just got my wisdom teeth cut out this week, and although the swelling is almost entirely gone, I still can't open my mouth as wide as I normally can. Also, a large portion of my friends are out of town this weekend, meaning that I can't even have friends over to hang out.
So what did I do today? I played video games (J's fault. He loaned me Final Fantasy XII, and I'm hooked. Stop laughing. I know I'm a dork), read, and practiced piano for my job (I'm the pianist for a local church this summer). I still can't shape my mouth right to play the flute with any sort of decent tone, so that's still out the window.
Anyway, I'm up at 3:10 in the morning, and my parents would disapprove... and even though they're not here, there's nothing to do. So I'm off to bed.

Adrift

I got my wisdom teeth cut out on Tuesday.
I'm puffy now. I look like a chipmunk and can't chew food well, not because it hurts but because I can't open my mouth very much to fit the food inside. I've eaten a lot of pudding, yogurt, applesauce, and soup.
Oh, and those Carnation Instant Breakfast things.
Today was supposed to be my peak swelling day, and I really hope that's true.
Evidently, when E went back into the operating room to help me out to the car, I was asking for pizza. I don't actually remember that.

I really want to learn another language, particularly Spanish. There's just something about the way it sounds that makes me think of love, strength, and independence.

I told M that I hadn't posted in awhile, and so I would tonight.
I hoped I would have something more profound to say. I want to say things that are meaningful, or entertaining, or interesting... but all I can think of is the fact that I've spent the past few days watching Scrubs, playing video games, and reading.

I idealize people too much. It's not healthy, and it leads to disappointment.
I really want to have lots of important things to put into the new planner that J got me for graduation, but there's nothing to put in there, yet.

I've been officially out of school for like three days and I already feel adrift.

TO COLLEGE: Get here already.

Why am I imagining Carla Espinoza's voice saying what I type?

Dear L,

You are the only person I know who could possibly begin to imagine that the phrase, "I never want to have anything to do with you again" means that I would want to see you. Well, let me make myself abundantly clear in a way that even you couldn't misunderstand: Your presence in my life has been one of the worst things that could have ever happened to me. I do not like you, even remotely. The only reason I am civil to you when we interact is because you are my brother's mother, and to do otherwise would upset him. However, the fact that you were once married to my father does not mean that you and I are family (and the fact that you have the nerve to put your relationship status as "It's complicated" on facebook merely suggests that you are out of your mind. You've been divorced for well on six years now, and Dad's remarried to a wonderful woman who has loved us and cared for us, which is more that I can say for you. You need to get a grip). You are not my "mommy." If, after the things you did while you were here, you think that I could possibly like you, let alone love you, then you are seriously mistaken. The fact that you actually thought I might want you at graduation only proves further that you are, in fact, delusional. To summarize, I do not want to see you at graduation. I do not want to see you ever. If you can't understand that, then you are either stupid or malicious.
I propose it is the latter.

Sincerely,
Robert

Employment

I have a job this summer. I'm going to be the pianist for a local church, since their current pianist is moving back to her home state (one of the Dakotas) after she finishes her degree... which I believe she must have done by now. At any rate, I start in two weeks.
I'm kind of nervous. This is the first time I've ever had any sort of steady job. It's only for two and a half months, until I leave, but still. It's kind of cool to see how organized the whole thing is, though... E gave me a sheet with all of the hymns that they'll be doing for two months, and the anthems that I'll need to learn, and some books to look through for preludes and postludes and stuff.
Part of my job description is to take the hymns, look at what's written on the page, and improvise. I'm not terribly good at improvisation on the piano, but there's no better way to learn than to be shoved into a situation where it's required of you. And now that I've got all of my scheduled major performances behind me, I can focus on practicing improv... yikes. So anyway, the first hymn I'm going to have to improvise on in front of people is 'His name is Wonderful.'
I also have to go play for choir practice twice a week.
E says I should use this time to focus on using my arms more... but I'm afraid that I'll be focusing on improvising so much that I'll forget to.

What a cruel twist of fate

What a cruel twist of fate that I should meet a spectacular individual at such a late stage in this chapter of my life and coexist with such a person for a comparatively small period of time, only to be whisked away again by geography. It's completely unfair, considering how fascinating you are, and how I enjoy your voice, both literally and literarily. You've got such phenomenal taste in music, too.
And then to come so close to spending the next chapter of my life with you nearby, only to have another opportunity come along, that while appealing, lacks you.
I only fear that the geographic distance will make us distant in relationship, as well. Hopefully, a four year absence will not be irreparable. I'll visit when I come home, I promise. Because you're worth it.

Clarify

I would like to clarify from the previous post that I do not know who you are. I just know the nearest town. You can look, too.
It's the two things on the right below the archive list. It's not as creeper/stalkerish as it looks.
I got the idea from my friend A, who has it on her blog, although it took me a bit to figure out how it works.

Kannapolis and Glee

So, I added this thing that tells me where the IP addresses that look at my blog are from.
Since yesterday, I've gotten one from Kannapolis... and they navigated from Moodle. Moodle is the website that my 3rd period psych class is hosted on... and I did post a link here on my user profile...
And there's a school in Kannapolis that is in my 3rd period psych class.
Now I'm intensely curious about who from there is reading.
So say hi!

There's this amazing new show called "Glee." It just premiered on Fox this week, and it's about a glee club. In the course of the show's pilot, one glee club performed "Don't Stop Believin'" and another performed "Rehab" (Amy Winehouse, not Rihanna). I got them on iTunes... on Wednesday. And I've already listened to both of them like 18 times. I find myself humming them in class.
It's kind of distracting, and I'm already prone to distraction since it's the end of the school year.
And the new episode isn't coming out 'til SEPTEMBER. I'm going to go insane from waiting.

Signing, Love, and Grammar

I hate signing yearbooks. Why? Because that person (people, group of people, horde) comes up to you and asks you to sign their yearbook. You know the one: the one that you really haven't talked to all year (whether that's because you secretly dislike them and have been avoiding them, or because you honestly just don't know them at all), and you can't think of anything significant to say to them now. So you sit there, dumbly thinking... while they scribble away in YOUR yearbook, taking up space that could be used for people you actually care about. And you also have to time it so you finish signing each others book at approximately the same time, otherwise one of you stands there awkwardly waiting for the other to finish, feeling kind of bad because the other person thought of better things to say. Meanwhile, the other person feels rushed in what they're trying to say... the whole deal is a mess.

Additionally, how are you supposed to summarize en entire year's worth of a relationship with a person that you actually DO care about in a blurb? It's dumb. If it's someone you really care about, then you're probably going to continue to see that person.

A was deaf for today. It was an assignment for her sign language class. She wasn't allowed to speak for most of the day, and had to use sign language exclusively. Which made me think: how does a person with sign language think? Intelligent thought depends on the structure of language, so how would a deaf person's thought process change because their language is one of physical movement, rather than one of verbalization?

Make up your mind. And when you do so, make it up in a way that I like.
And since I know you're reading this, here is an appropriate sentence that ends in a preposition:
What did you step on? What department is she in?
Some articles article on the rule:

• http://grammar.quickanddirtytips.com/ending-prepositions.aspx
• http://www.yourdictionary.com/grammar-rules/Ending-a-Sentence-with-a-Preposition.html
• http://encarta.msn.com/encnet/Features/Columns/?article=ErrorsThatArent
  

So there. I win.

Not to the person addressed above: Take a hint. I've provided you with many.

The ice cream machine at Sonic was broken tonight. Seriously, Sonic serves absolutely no purpose except as a source of ice cream.

I had my recital. I killed the Brahms (bad killed, not good killed). Everybody liked the flute duet best, it seems. I would write more, since it was a big deal and something that I've been working toward all year, but the entire day is a bit of a blur and I only remember bits and pieces. Like seeing D walk in after the first movement of the Poulenc in the balcony. And FORGETTING MY MUSIC holy crap nevermind about not writing anymore. So I get there, and C wants to run through the Mendelssohn once before people get there. I go to get the music out... and it's NOT THERE. Neither was the Poulenc. I forgot the piece that opened the recital, and the piece that opens the second half of the recital... I seriously have to be the most irresponsible person on the face of the planet. How could I forget something so important like that? At any rate, E and N brought me my music... after I freaked out backstage for about a half-hour.
I also remember Grandmommy's face when she came up to give me a hug... and almost falling over after the recital in general. If C hadn't brought me a water bottle I probably would have. (THANK YOU SO MUCH!)

The night before recital we had prom. I went to pick up the tuxedo, and it was very much not the color I had ordered. It was orange, and I had ordered red. Now, it was a very nice shade of orange... dark, almost burnt looking... but it would have clashed wonderfully with K's dress. They called me back later, saying they'd given me the wrong tuxedo entirely. Two Robert's had ordered the same tuxedo with different colored vest/ties. So it was easy to mix up.

I'm rambling again, so I'm going to bed... Hopefully by the time I write again I'll be a bit more coherent.

Lucky

D entered some sort of drawing to win the tenth book in the Pendragon series, and she WON. I'm so jealous! But she's going to let me borrow it, so it's okay.

While I'm sure that your current situation with your relationship sucks, I promise that other situations have sucked more. I would simply like to point out that writing long, angsty facebook statuses will do NOTHING to resolve whatever your issue may be. Further, it irritates me (and probably others) for the following two reasons:

1. It's a serious downer. I barely know you, and you're shoving your issues in my face. Quite frankly, I don't care how sad you are that the girl you like is mad at you. You aren't the first person to deal with relationship drama.
   
2. Either you cannot type at all, or you have no comprehension of the basic rules of the English language, such as capitalization, spelling (and that's ignoring the texttalk), and the idea that a sentence must end for the next one to begin. How did you get to high school if you cannot construct a basic sentence?
3. You did it not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES in a row. Once is forgivable, if you are TRULY that broken up over whatever happened, but really? Three time in the course of a day. I'm sure that the girl in question is thrilled that you're putting your problems up for the entire world to see.

My recital is this weekend!

I keep thinking of things I'll write here, and then I forget them.
It's kind of frustrating.

Grandma

My dad suggested that my grandma not come to my graduation. While that would completely suck, he has very good reasons: Grandmommy went to my cousin's graduation last year and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia (I think?) after it rained the whole time. Generally our graduation ceremony takes place in the heat of the afternoon... and I wouldn't want her to have to go through that.
I hope it's overcast, but not rainy.

Conservatism

Today, I learned that the proper term for the philosophy of being conservative is not "conservativism" but "conservatism." How did I learn this? My father purchased a book for my grandfather called Liberty and Tyranny by Mark Levin. However, I'm reading it first, because my Dad thinks it's important for my education.
Maybe he thinks I'll turn into a conservative?
For the record, it's really boring so far. I wouldn't mind reading a book that presented conservative ideals, as long as it did so in a way that didn't make me sleepy. I'd also like it not to vilify liberalism. Does anyone know of a book that presents both the conservative and liberal philosophies in a non-biased way? Preferably presenting them both on specific issues, and also as an overall thought process?

By the way, it's nice to know what you really think of us, J. Trust me when I say I'm not particularly fond of you, either. You're doing me no favors by staying.
"Living hell," indeed.

...Or you will be shot.

Today, I took the AP Calculus BC exam. I can't tell you anything about any of the multiple choice questions ever, and I can't talk about the exams until I get them back. (See title for consequences.)
However, I will say that my final essay was INSANELY hard. Stephen Hawking couldn't have done it. How do they expect us, lowly high school students, to be able to do it? Whatever. In the back of my mind I know I did well because Mrs. L prepped us AMAZINGLY, but there's always that nagging doubt until you get your test scores back.

Which, by the way, I won't get back until about the THIRD WEEK OF JULY. That's almost three months from now.

Anyway, after I had filled out all of the standard information (you know. What's your name? What is your ethnicity? What is the highest level of education your parents have received? etc. The same survey questions that have been asked on every standardized test since the beginning of time) and we were about to begin the actual test portion, and Mrs. K went through the standard materials review. On a whim, I look down at my pencils, to ensure that they were #2 pencils...

...and they were #2.5. Since when does that even exist? Of all the possible things that could happen to me on a standardized test day, I cannot think of ANYTHING that would suck more than having your test not scored because you used the wrong type of pencil.

But I got my pencil, and I took the test successfully (hopefully) and we'll see how it works out later.

I had an oral surgeon consult today. It turns out that getting your wisdom teeth taken out is expensive.

And then I went to my lesson today, right before the "tornado deathstorm" (we saw like five minutes of heavy rain) swept across the county. Quarter-sized hail in Mocksville, though.
Lucky them. I love storms.

Dad has never heard of Guitar Hero.
How is this possible?

Publishing

I think it's very interesting that whenever I want to put something on here, I push a button that says "Publish Post." It makes me feel like a journalist or a novelist or something... at any rate, I'm sitting here at my computer at 2:21 Sunday morning. I should sleep, but I'm not all that tired.

I bought a cinnamon dolce latte today at Starbucks, and when I got home, I put it on my car so I could get my stuff together and go inside, and it FELL. The top came off, and that lovely, creamy beige sweetness went spilling on the driveway, trickling toward the fresh-mowed grass. It made me sad.

I saw C today. He looked clean. Presentable. Considering the last time I saw him he thought he had overdosed on... something... I'd say this is an improvement. Evidently he's going to room with A in college... that will be interesting. You know, it's weird, when you see someone like that, who you used to have this huge crush on, and then you realize all at once, "Oh. I'm no longer attracted to you in the least bit."

Band day was today. Let's not talk about it.

Again, I'm doing the whole "plight of minor characters" thing. This time it's Phyllis from The Office. Michael is such a jerk. Let her play basketball!

While I'm disgusted by what V said, and I feel as if I have a social responsibility to speak out about it, the though of doing so makes me uneasy. Not exactly afraid, but... uneasy.

33 more days, and I will no longer be a high school student. 14 more days until I give what might actually be the longest recital in the world, to which my father has invited practically EVERYONE whose opinion I have ever cared about. 3 days until the AP Calculus BC exam, which might not actually be as bad as I've been anticipating. 2 days until G comes home. 69 days until alumni day. 13 days until prom- and I still need to get my tuxedo. Crap. I thought I was prepared.

Hygiene is important.

How do they make jellybeans taste the way they do? I got a 40-flavor sampler pack for easter and I've been working my way through it. It's remarkable, how close they taste.
I will not eat:

• Licorice
• Jalapeño
• Margarita (I tried it, and it tastes wierd)
• Bubble Gum
• Cotton Candy

Don't ask me what my favorite flavor is, because I have like twenty. By the way, is there really a need for Orange Sherbet, Orange Juice, and Tangerine? I mean, I like all of them, but they're kind of redundant.

Except the tangerine really does taste like a tangerine...

Okay. I'm clearly in need of sleep.

Videos

A Gaythering Storm from Jane Lynch