Crash Test

After waiting almost two weeks for my camera, I realized it wasn't the prospect of having a camera that excited me--it was having something to wait for in the first place. When it arrived--finally--I opened it, toyed around with it, and now it sits with the rest of my crap, already just another material object to be taken granted. I need a hobby--one that doesn't require the use of my debit card--and fast, else I start up a collection agency for my poor spending habits.

Next I fancy myself getting a guitar. What the f-ing hell? I know it's wrong, I know I should be saving for textbooks--but I can't stop. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion, gaping helplessly from the window as it barrels down the slope for the thrashing waters of the river...

Going back to Lakeland for a few days... Nizhshiz is all I'm going to say about that.

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....> <.....

o

Bumper to Bumper

Give me my waffle or I will kill you.

What Heero should have said.

I can't make up my mind what kind of person I should be looking for, or if I want to look at all. Dark, silent, standoffish? Funny, sensitive, geeky? Kind, intelligent, charming? What flavor of icecream does this cone want? How many rocks do I have to turn over, how many frogs do I have sort through?

What a shlahp of things I've created for myself. I'm not going to graduate any time soon.

Strange dreams lately. Nothing really concrete I can describe.

I heard a rumor that they're actually going to trade Lecavalier. That's pretty major, if it's true.

Yesterday, since I woke up at 3AM and couldn't go back to sleep, I tried watching the old Yu Yu Hakusho movie, but found the english voice acting so ridiculous--aside from Hiei and Kurama, of course--that I couldn't sit through it.

Woop. I don't feel like doing anything.

Pedestrian Crossing

I've decided my favorite author is George Orwell, an act far overdue considering I call reading a hobby.

With all this space and time, I'm writing more than I have all year... I used to love it, it was part of who I was. I'd write things that only I could understand, only I could grasp the importance of or appreciate the humor in--I didn't give a flying dog turd if anyone else liked it. I wrote for me.

LOL those Verizon commercials.

I found a good book to dive into. I'm excited. Vampires and violins--oh no! >:)

Yellow Line

Damn, it's getting hard to think of more phrases that relate to the road...

After watching the entire Fruits Basket series, I felt so girly I went out and bought four skirts and two pairs of shoes. Needless to say, my wallet hates me right now.

Driving Conan to school today, I decided I'd be proud to be his mother, if I were. As it is, I'm glad I'm his sister, even more so to be his friend. Funny how distance and time can change a relationship sometimes.

Watched the new X-Men movie. I think I fell a little bit in love with Hugh Jackman, but only after Steph and I watched The Prestige and then saw him on Ellen. Three movies in two days... unprecedented. I never sit in front of a TV unless my ps2 is hooked up to it.

Hot damn, this tea is good. It's like drinking a smile.

Tire Rotation

You, who looked and never saw...
escape without looking back--your presence
is not needed here.

You, who saw but never looked...
crushing is your weight so that I cannot
bear to witness your existence.

You, who searched and found...
answered my unspoken plea--
run for both our sakes.

So today I realized which bird I can most identify with, given the traits I seem to find the authority to project onto it.

The seagull.

However annoying, pushy, crowding, shameless, and completely deplorable most people find them, I've decided they're gritty creatures with a fantastic set of abilities.

Deciding I needed air, I spent a few hours just walking around, planning on visiting the swans again for some visual inspiration for juries tomorrow (since I am performing a piece about one of the freakin' things) and found myself on a bench beneath a cedar tree watching seagulls paddle luxuriously next to the ducks and Hitler's birds (Joannie-speak for swans) themselves. I thought, whew, they're far from home, but then I realized--who am I to say where they should be? Maybe I'm the one out of place. Maybe all the birds residing on the beaches stealing food from tourists are the ones in the wrong. Or maybe we're all right. I began to admire the gull's adaptive capabilities, and even found their steady glide across the surface as graceful as one of those deplorable creatures sitting a few feet away getting gawked at by the touring seniors. I thought--you don't have to be a swan to be a swan!

Smiling, I then realized all the negative traits humanity has assigned to the gull are negative only because they tread unfavorably on human toes, pooping on our cars and clogging the beaches with thousands of noisy, squalling birds that elicit entertainment from dive bombing picnickers. Really, if you step out of this human perspective, these guys are amazing for being able to coexist with hundreds upon hundreds of fellows in their flock--and can I blame them for taking advantage of opportunities? I'd say a dumb non-beach-native who throws the first crumb deserves the ripples and bird poo. The noise they make--so harsh, but true, raw, honest--is much less unsettling than taking life in silence. It is what it is. (Said swan sneezed, and I was taken aback by how similar the sound was to a car hiccuping a golf ball out the muffler).

How curious, too, they seem to be. They're constantly tilting their head, never accepting one view of anything. Did you know that they're born able to feed themselves, and leave the nest after a month? Some kinds of swans don't leave until a whole year has gone by...

At first I was appalled--what the hell, I don't want to be seagull! I'm not like that, I don't dig through trash! Surely I'd at least be a sparrow or something cool like a raven! How anti-climactic! But alas, the voices in my head adjourned the conference, the verdict being I should suck it up and accept my 'negative' traits and admire my adaptive devices, even if it means not everyone can see the beauty in my occasional grating squawk and pushy perseverance (like people complain about me being overbearing--feels like it, someitmes). Not everyone can something socially acceptable like an eagle or something. Besides, at least my species isn't going extinct. ;p

With the dorm clean and all, it's weird how much spare time I seem to have sprouted from nothingness. Without all that distraction and clutter, life is not nearly as busy as I thought...

Two days in a row I dropped in on the practice rooms, even just for thirty minutes. Out of a whim, really, an experiment to see if my mind can overcome my bodily urge to leave it until the last minute. I'm doing that lately, seeing how hard I can push myself to get things done.

Tonight, I sat and ate dinner with a table full of people I've never met before, all different majors and types of people. And you know what? I flourished. Well, I thought so, anyhow. Kept a good flow of intelligent words coming out of my mouth at appropriate times.

Geez, I'm slipping back into old habits--but I don't care. I think I'll enjoy this summer spent on fanfiction and re-beating Baten Kaitos.

Oh, and practicing. >.>

Rear view Mirror

In retrospect, I didn't think it'd go by this fast. That first year of college was like a streak of tail lights in the rear view mirror. I'm not looking forward to the uncertainty of the four long months ahead. I guess all I can do is trudge ahead with my cello, write some, read some, work some... but it'll be a lonely summer.

Wow. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, how I arrived to this point from eight months ago, moving into this room, green and wet behind the ears. Still have further to go, but a little seasoned, if just with parsley.

So back to having an epic online life to distract me from my non-existent real one...

Downhill Coasting

Just. End. Me.

Bluntly speaking, I'm sick of being a screw-up. Not one piece went well today... what am I doing wrong? I think I'm counting--try to keep a good beat, try to keep the bow moving... and then after that sucktastic performance (it all fell to hell in the middle... I jumped a beat, fml) I trip and fall off the goddamn mini-platform and bust a piece of my cello off. It's a little chunk, but it saddens me all the same. The one thing in my life that I know doesn't mind my endless, selfish ranting when I get into the practice room, doesn't mind my swearing up and down a three octave scale, doesn't care if I grimace at a note... and I hurt it. I let him down somehow. It's like I punched myself in the stomach. Irrational and sentimental as hell, but it's how I feel. He's my partner, you know? The one thing that won't dump me, that's always going to be there, whether I suck or not.

I think it all started rolling downhill that week of the Opera Gala performance.

Ah, but I can still laugh. Laugh because the reason I fell was those stupid shoes that I wanted so bad in tenth grade. Ugh, but let's not about the dizziness from not eating much lately. Didn't even see the edge coming. Thank god for that Victor guy Brenner's going on about. I'm going to have to make a trip over to his establishment and get Nick put back together. I just want to sit down in a practice room and never leave.

Free-floating. That's what it feels like right now. Just skimming along the surface of my skin, not really there but not off on a beach in never-never-land, either.

Holy crap there's a lot of trash in this room...