Dreams Under a New Moon

Picture the scene: A bedroom. Tan walls, blue ceiling, with a cluster of glow-in-the dark stars in the corner. A window, blinds drawn. Crickets chirping outside. A lamp lit on a bedside table casts its glow onto a floor scattered with clothes, a few books, and a stack of boxes shoved in the corner, awaiting the day that their contents will be shipped to a new home, along with their owner. Their owner, a 19-year-old boy, is lying on the bed, covers drawn up, with his laptop perched against the soft green mountain his legs have made of the blanket.

That's right, we got wireless internet working in my house, and I can get on the internet in my room. Who's excited? I'm excited.

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I raised my voice to my little brother today. I had been watching the Planet Earth documentaries with him, but he'd been acting difficult every time I tried to get him to watch one. He always prefers to continue doing whatever he's doing at the time: playing a computer game, watching some TV show on Cartoon Network, whatever. That's fine. I'd like to watch it with him, but ultimately I just want to watch the thing, and if he doesn't want to join me, he doesn't have to.

BUT he always gets irritated when he finds out that I'm watching them without him. Even though I give him ample opportunity to join me.

Well, the scene plays out today per usual. I want to watch one, he's watching TV. He says when his show is over, we'll watch it. I go to practice for a half hour: I start up again on Debussy's Jardins Sous la Pluie, which I had been working on this past semester, but took a break from after the term ended.

Dad calls, he needs us to do something. I'm putting my shoes on, so is he, but he goes into the room I'd been watching the documentary in, and because his shoes aren't in there, I get suspicious. I mean, he's 11. I was irritating when I was 11, so I know how it works. I go back in after him to see what he was up to, and he'd turned off the BluRay player.

So I told him that he had been a brat, and that I was done trying to watch it with him. If he wants to watch them, he's going to have to do it on his own time.

He became upset. And then he said that I was getting him in trouble, trying to make it my fault.

I'm not the biggest fan of the pre-teen age zone.

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I went over to my friend J's house to watch Castle with him. On the way back, I saw two deer, and a little blue light in a cemetery. I'm not sure what a person would put at a grave that would have a little blue light, but whatever. It kind of creeped me out, honestly. For some reason it reminded me of this story Dad told me a few years back when we were driving back from somewhere. Evidently this guy kind of hung out at a stop sign, and when people would stop at the stop sign, he would shoot them in the head. It was particularly creepy at the time because we were AT the stop sign in question... he conveniently forgot to tell me that this had happened like 12 years before.

Thanks, Dad.

Dad reads my blog. He jokes about he has more subscribers than I do, because he runs a newspaper. Technically, I suppose he's right... rawr. I don't like it when he's right.

Love you, Dad.

Title of the post is the name of the music I'm listening to right now, by the way. It's the second movement from Frank Ticheli's second symphony.