jueves, enero 29, 2004


Right now I'm so very tired. I had five classes today, which totaled eight credits. It would be nine credits if I had rehearsal tonight, but we don't usually have orchestra rehearsal on Thursday nights. Not yet, anyway.

On Wednesday I have seven credits. Same with Mondays, but not Fridays. During the whole week, I'm in class for sixteen hours.

On paper.

In actuality, I'm in class 20.5 hours, not counting the three hours daily I'm supposed to practice, the recommended minimum practice time for my primary instrument, the hour daily I'm supposed to practice my keyboard skills, and the hour daily I'm supposed to work on my aural skills.

Also, I work ten to twelve hours per week.

At one point I wanted to add University Band and possibly Choral Arts, which would have brought the total of paper hours to eighteen, and actual hours to 26.5.

I'm not complaining. Not at all. And I swear that's not sarcasm. Just let me point out to all those naysayers (chiefly my mother) that I'm willing to dedicate at least 58 hours per week of my life to this path I've chosen, which is far less time than I would have spent on anything last semester, or even high school.

But if I took on even one more thing, I swear I would crash faster than a hijacked plane.

posted at 19:36 ||

martes, enero 27, 2004

I swear

They need to start making kegs of apple juice.

Apple juice, nectar of the gods.

posted at 17:30 ||

domingo, enero 25, 2004

Why I didn't practice today

It's snowing, and there's an eight hour marathon of stand up comics on Comedy Central.

If that isn't reason enough to stay inside, then I don't know what the hell is.

posted at 17:15 ||


I'm sitting here not doing anything. That's because I don't have anything to do.

Just yet, that is.

I'm eventually going to go practice, disappointed with the lack of progress I've made yet again, but I need to practice anyway.

What it is that keeps me from practicing well is a mental block. The mental block being that there is an actual physical block in one of my slides, because the slide in question hasn't been out of the horn for nigh on two years now. So naturally I think that it's near closing off, preventing me from playing my best.


Or it could be the lack of concentration when I am practicing. Instead of concentrating on what I'm playing, I just half-mindedly doodling around, and when something does go awry I blame it on the blocked up pipe and dwell on that for a while.

I think the obvious solution is to find someplace to get my horn dipped.

For now I have about a months' worth of paperwork to file.


posted at 12:29 ||

miércoles, enero 21, 2004

Back into swing

So many goddamn classes.

Not that I mind them, but I'm running around quite a bit.

Most them are fine, but my Spanish Conversation class is twice as big as it needs to be. The professor was a bit irked by that.


I'm gonna have to get up early and go practice, I've figured out. That way I can get my practicing done pretty easily rather than try to get it all done in one session.

I have to read in my history book tonight, and work some on my rhythm books.

Right now there's a floor meeting.

posted at 21:43 ||

lunes, enero 19, 2004

It's good to be back

Last night was the first night back. Here is the best quote from the evening:

"If they didn't make duct tape so sticky, getting this out of your hair would be much easier." -- Stephen to Michelle, extracting a wad of duct tape from her long, straight, well-conditioned hair.

I'm not going to tell you who put the duct tape in her hair, because that would incriminate me.

posted at 09:59 ||

miércoles, enero 14, 2004

Semester ahoy!

I have less than a week until my return to school, and it couldn't come any sooner. I'm losing my fucking mind here. Ennui, parents asking the same questions four times a day, and I am utterly relieved that I have but one day left to work, and that's Friday night.

At school there will be a lot of the same thing, just interpose the parents thing with classes. But above all, there will be HBO. I am eternally grateful for whomever is responsible for HBO. TBS is the poor man's HBO, and believe me when I tell you it is a poor, poor substitute.

Also, there will be a new roommate. His name is Doug. He called yesterday when I was at work, and I called him last night after I got off work. Because the fridge and television were Andrew's, and because Andrew is now gone, Doug is bringing replacements. I didn't mention that Doug is from NOVA, which means that whatever Doug brings will undoubtedly be tricked out with the mad cash.

To be honest, I was extremely worried about getting a new roommate. I was afraid that I'd get stuck with some thug. But now I say full steam ahead! But not because of the promise of a loaded roommate, no....

Okay, yes.

It's really a weird thing, though, the dorm life. You get put in a tiny room to live with someone you've never met before and are expected to get along well enough not to kill each other until you become good friends or get a new roommate.

Ah, well. New experiences and all that. I don't think I'll post any updates between now and when I get back to school, but I may post some fiction I've been working on lately. Until then, let the good times roll. Please, God, let the good times roll.

posted at 22:38 ||

lunes, enero 12, 2004

A List, or I've Been Home For Nearly A Month and This is What I've Accomplished:

  • One load of laundry.
  • Practiced a bunch.
  • Worked my ass off at Pal's.
  • Despised nearly every minute I was at Pal's.
  • Cleaned nothing.

I have to think about packing, and I have so many friends to have meals with, and I really want to get back to school.

posted at 20:56 ||

miércoles, enero 07, 2004

What have you

I've finally found the perfect lounging spot in my room. Beside our beds, on a clear spot in the floor we have two giant pillows propped up against the wall. The telephone cord reaches over here, so I have access to the internet, and I'm directly in front of the television. Unless I need to pee, I have no reason to get up from this spot.

posted at 21:02 ||

martes, enero 06, 2004


Today I asked to be woken up not especially early, but early enough to where I can get things done before I'm inevitably called in to work.

So far I've made a few calls, but in my head it just feels like two calls because they were for two separate things. The first was to call the School of Music for advisement, because I received my acceptance letter during the interim between terms when the office would be closed, and I had to wait until 5 January, which was yesterday. But of course yesterday I slept until ten and, having to be to work in less than an hour, and having to work until five when any reasonable office would be closed, did not have time to call.

Today, however, I ascertained that while my acceptance was enough to warrant my acceptance into the school of music, that doesn't mean shit to computers. So in order for me to register for the classes I'll need next term, I have to wait until the appropriate paperwork is filed, then entered into the computers, then the changes effected to my record before I can even register for the class that will put me at full-time. My only other alternative (the one that the staff seemed most keen on, mind you) is to make a shotgun trip up there sometime later this week or next to get an override and do this all in person. However, as I am a six hour journey away from seeing anyone in Richmond personally, and as conflicting schedules don't seem to permit a trip of that sort, I don't see that happening. Dr. Patykula and Amy are going to try to see if they can get me switched over to a music major in the computers so I can register online, which would be excellent.

The other call I made was to where I work in Richmond, finding that I didn't fill out any of the time I worked on my timesheet during finals week, which is why I got a forty dollar paycheck in the mail. But I made a bunch of money in the past fifteen days, and I got a lot of money for Christmas, so I'm not to skiffed about it. Katie, my boss in Richmond, told me that she allotted me fifteen hours each week, which, if I can swing it, would result in roughly the same amount of pay I get here. Hopefully my school work won't be too much to prevent a decent income.

I was going to try to call that woman whose car I hit oh-so-many days ago, but luckily I told Dad what I was doing, and he told me that that I didn't have to call the woman, that our insurance would cover it, and that the premiums would go up and mom and dad would pay for it the rest of their lives. Fair cop.

I am not, however, signing that over-four-hundred-dollars'-worth-of-damage fiche*, as the police record clearly indicates that the damage was under four hundred dollars not once, but twice.

I practised yesterday, and it was quite a good session, but today wasn't the same. I wore my retainer last night, and that errant tooth of mine was moved to its proper place, but I don't really play that well with it there. The mouthpiece pinches my upper lip there where the tooth is. I've decided that I need to either wear my retainer more frequently and learn to practise with my mouth set the way it is today, or wear it less frequently and coordinate my no-practise days to coincide with the days I wear my retainer. I think I'll test a bit of each and see which I like better. I do know one thing, though, and that's when I haven't worn my retainer for two or three days, I can play phenomenally high with decent consistency and endurance.

About that thing growing on my face, my mother called my doctor uncle, who then called in a prescription for me for some antibiotics and steroids to the local pharmacist. I don't mind the antibiotics except for the hassle of remembering to take a pill every six hours. It's the steroids I mind, because they raise my body temperature, and I feel all warm. However, I only have two more days' worth of those to take, and hopefully I'll have taken all the other pills by the time I go back to school.

My poor mother thinks that my health is failing because I have an ingrown toenail that's all funky, and this thing that was growing on my face, and I was feeling poorly when I first got home. But I only get sick when I do come home.

Here's to my health.

*I read the word "fiche" in that Holy Blood, Holy Grail book I bought, and I took it as a classier way of saying "form". Oh, those Brits. What will they think of next?

posted at 13:28 ||

jueves, enero 01, 2004

Insect or Demon

I've had something growing on my face for a few days now, and I've concluded that it's either a botfly or Gorgomath, Demon of Pustules, Direct Spawn of Satan sent to inhabit my face from the innermost circle of Hell.

posted at 23:15 ||

Oh Yeah?

Excerpted from MSN Encarta - Martha Talks Back: Reader Questions Answered:

Here's the bad news: It is annoying. Next time the urge hits you, consider reading up on the anteater and the ape, the two animals that walk on their knuckles. Maybe it will inspire you to treat your own hands a little more kindly--or at least give you a different idea for something to do with your poor knuckles.

You want to know what else is annoying? Upstart young columnists dictating what other people should do, you pushy bitch.

posted at 10:10 ||

Um...Happy New Year?

The Year 2004 is one hour old, and my form of celebration is to sit online in my basement, not getting drunk, watching Edward Scissorhands.

I guess I could make a few resolutions:

  • Practice more. Most definitely.
  • Read at least four really good books.
  • See at least four really good films.

Not really pushing for much, am I?

I promise this sullen mood will pass soon.


posted at 01:05 ||

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