Gnash Teeth!

listening to: stereolab – i feel the air (of another planet)

Why hello there, I am SOO. FRUSTRATED. HOW DO I DESCRIBE THE IRRITATION I AM EXPERIENCING AT THIS MOMENT? I CAAAN’T. AAAAH. I WANT TO PUNCH SOMEBODY, BADLY.

I really don’t know what to do about anything. Hmm.

Oh! Except…maybe delete all the Bonnie Pink from this computer. Because it sucks. And might make me feel better. Seriously. What happened, Bonnie Pink? You used to be so quirky and crazy and organic-sounding. And now you’re all…produced and bland. And stuff.

Anyway, stuff. I am picking Kyra up from the airport at 4:30, and then I guess we are headed back to Champaign. Whether I will stay there for the night or come back depends on how ready I am, and if we can fit all the crap we need to in my car. I’m sorry, but huge freaking travel cases interfere with car-transportation as we know it. Especially when two cellos are involved, and a not-too-huge station wagon. Damn things.

Insert Expression Of Horror Here As Entry Is Almost Lost Forever

listening to: stereolab – infinity girl

Dear David Foster Wallace,

I like you. Let’s be friends.

Love, your most recent stalker fan.

I can’t be his stalker. Had I been four years earlier in discovering him, it would have been MORE than possible, because he LIVED HERE IN BLOOMINGTON until then. He grew up near Champaign, apparently. I am reading about his childhood and encounters with wind and tornados there. I feel like I am kind of stalking him a generation or two later than I ought to be. Hmmm.

Damn this house. So hot. Apparently our air-conditioner actually does work, but we’re not using it? I don’t know. It’s hot in here.

This house is a fairly crappy house for entertaining people, when my parents aren’t away (about 99% of the time, and now that I don’t casually live here anymore, what good does that do). Or so I am realizing now. Basically, there are no shuttable doors anywhere. The livingroom is connected to the dining-room which is connected to the kitchen and hallway with bedrooms, particularly a bedroom where my parents sleep, which actually has a door but is for some reason never closed. It’s not like in newer houses, where people hang out in their finished basements with their parents sleeping two stories above them. No, not here. Here, if you want to hang out, we will either be upstairs in the unfinished practice-room playing Katamari Damacy, or in the livingroom where my parents will come in and TALK TO YOU, or if they do not talk to you, they will walk by between the hallway and the kitchen constantly, and then you will wonder if anything in a house this old and mediocre is relatively soundproof in the first place, which will inevitably start you wondering to yourself “can I say the word ‘fuck’?” And thus I generally do not and never did have people over. I’m sorry. If you want to hang out, let’s either roam the streets or go to your place. Unless you come to Urbana during the year. And then we have will have an entire apartment in which to be loud and offensive, should we choose.

This actually bothers me a bit. I am a fan of closed doors. But nobody closes doors in my household, even from rooms that HAVE doors to be closed. This means that even if I’m upstairs in my room, with MY door closed, I can still hear every step or almost every word spoken downstairs from me. I think I have been living by myself for too long. I notice it more, now.

I ate Paella for dinner. That’s right, take that stereotypical Memorial Day cook-out stuff. It was good. Maybe a little bit too seafood-of-the-tentacled-variety filled for my taste. But whatever.

I suddenly have random blurbs to insert. That is a good feeling. Woo.

Blogging In Increments

listening to: the microphones – the pull

Dear People of the World: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! You CONFUSE me and I would appreciate it if you would just SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. AGBLAAAAH.

Also, LEARN TO FREAKIN’ SPELL.

Yesterday, I saw an ISU faculty member I hadn’t run into for a while. And the first thing he said to me was “Talia! You’re more blonde than I remember you!” Sigh. That just makes me resent my blonde-ness more than usual. Did I ever mention how my sister used to tell me I was adopted used my blonde hair as support? I never believed her, but still. The sibling love is too much. Stupid weird genes.

I don’t know. I’m blogging in weird unrelated increments. Work with me, here.

Warning: Entry Contains Weird Nostalgia

listening to: stereolab – moodles

So there’s this thing where our air-conditioner is busted. And there’s also this thing where I haven’t been sleeping in the last few nights. One of these things may in fact be contributing to the other.

So I went downstairs for breakfast at 9, and then went back upstairs and either slept or listened to Stuart Davis and felt misanthropic. And realized that I am completely in love with a shiny naked guy. I mean, he’s not always shiny and naked. I just like to refer to him that way because…come on. How many shiny naked guys do you know? I just…really like Stuart Davis. I miss being able to see him perform or share or whatever it is you would say he does when he gets up on stage and plays and talks. The experience for me came to be sort of a religious one. I don’t think that listening to a recording provides quite the same experience. This whole Stuart Davis thing got me to thinking more about Iowa City in an overly-nostalgic way. And kind of vaguely counter-productively wondering if there’s something else I’ve missed out on something, by not staying there.

But then I started listening to Stereolab instead, and fell asleep, and woke up feeling sticky but not as entirely emo and overnostalgic.

Yesterday I made $275 for 1.5 hours of playing in a Frank Lloyd Wright temple in Chicago.

That is all I have to say for now.

What, Don’t You Speak Crazy Bitch??

Hey guys, guess what?? I’macrazybitch!! You have been warned.

In other things that might be actual news to other people, apparently they’re raising the speed-limit to 80mph in designated areas of Texas? That sounds crazy. I mean, I guess it actually makes sense that if you’re out in the more sparsley populated areas, that hey, go whatever the hell speed you want! I just know that raising the speed-limit to 70 on I-80 in Iowa was a BAD IDEA. WHAT WERE YOU PEOPLE THINKING?!

In a random fit of cleaning my room, I found some old 20th century theory composition assignments from last year. Remember that Indeterminacy composition I spent an entire night destroying brain-cells over? Probably not. I had to make charts and then roll dice to determine what duration and pitch values I was to use. And it took FOREVER. Well, I think I failed to mention that I got a full 100% on that assignment, apparently. And also that I incorporated Shiina Ringo into the vocal part, stealing lyrics. The sad part is that I translated all the lyrics and put them in my composition write-up for the purpose of taking up space, faking being smart, and sucking up. And I got a 100%.

Aah, memories. I hated that class.

Nothing else even vaguely interesting happening. Though I did get another jury duty summons (my third one in like a year). It seems I can’t keep deferring forever, and am actually going to serve in June. Woo freaking hoo.

Also going to see X3 tomorrow!!!!! Can you tell how excited I am, based on the use of, look there, FIVE exclamation points?!

Idiot Dreams

listening to: interpol – obstacle 1

Worst night of sleep ever.

I went to bed before 1. Which is okay. That’s a completely reasonable time to go to bed. Is it not? And I promptly fell asleep. But then HAR HAR I woke up before 3. And could not get back to bed. This might have had something to do with my being an idiot and unsuspectingly eating something very chocolately earlier in the night. Because…yes. That is generally what I find happens when I do that. I’ll go to bed, and then wake up completely unable to sleep at some point later in the night. And do I ever learn? DO I EVER LEARN?

So anyway. I spent an hour just laying. Or flipping through a couple random books. And finally getting back to sleep. Only to have the most DISCONCERTING STRESS DREAM EVER. I don’t even know what might have triggered it. Basically, I dreamt that the quartet and I were giving a second recital, in the Music Building basement somewhere. We were playing Brahms. Or, at least what my subconscious told me was Brahms (but I suspect it was really Schumann cello concerto in disguise). We were getting set up, and actually recieving coaching from some random quartet. The cellist liked my cello, which \had a weird back to it, with ridges, that were supposed to help with sound production.

We had maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before our recital, which started at 2:15. And I was wearing something completely ridiculous and non-recital-esque. And the quartet eyed me but said they didn’t care, but I said I had to go change. So I “ran home,” which in the dreamverse took about twenty minutes in itself, changed into something else completely ridiculous, ran back, found it was almost 3pm but that the quartet was just hanging out, saying they didn’t mind that I was late (though I suspected differently). And THEN I realized I didn’t have my music! FUCK! But they had started walking out one by one! And I was all “aaah! music!” searching my case. And then I had that weird moment of epiphany before waking up, wherein I realized it was a dream and kind of went “FUCK! It’s a DREAM!” and then woke up.

And grumbled.

And fell back asleep. And had another dream about taking a music history final in Foellinger Auditorium, and my TA being like “I’ll see to it no matter how badly you do, your grade still reflects an A,” and this upset me. And THEN I went to see Enon. And completely stalked Toko Yasuda and spent an hour bothering her about what kind of set-up she uses for her bass, and where I could maybe get a similar pedal.

And then I woke up. And really did not sleep well last night.

But I’m up. And so I might as well do stuff. Stuff.

Blogging Triumph

listening to: r.e.m. – it’s the end of the world as we know it (acoustic)

Why do I sporadically have problems blogging, every so often? I am trying to figure it out. It is difficult. I think it’s because, especially recently, I haven’t been up to much.

Except for the part where I just realized that that’s COMPLETELY UNTRUE. Lots of interesting crap has been happening in between all the not-so. Yesterday, for example. Things happened. Things like: I went out for breakfast with Beth, Anne and Dewayne, to Le Peep, where I had one of the BEST omeletes in history. Mmm, omeletes… And then I took care of Music Building-related things, like key and library materiel return. I also went for a random campus walk. And then I drove home. And I practiced like CRAZY. And I ate things. And I went to Denny’s where I sat with Michelle and Kellie, and who else happened to be there but Renata, Trina, Miriam, Ashvin, Mike and Tony! Renata and I played a glancing/frowling game, or something. And then I played a very weird game of phone-tag. Very weird. And then I went to bed. And for whatever reason, I actually slept well in the bed in my room for the first time since I can’t remember when. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m so in love with my bed at school, or because I just have problems readjusting to beds or what, but last week was made slightly more hellish in that I simply could not get a good night of sleep. That ends HERE.

Yeah. In other things, Innsbrook sent me actual music and a group assignment. I am playing the first movement of a piano quintet by Arthur Foote (heh, Foote…). And…durr!! I didn’t realize that I apparently needed to send in a photo and biography for myself. So I got piece of mail from Innsbrook yesterday (the 22nd), stating that I needed to have my bio/photo in by the 19th, if it as to be included in the programs. This piece of mail was not even sent OUT until the 19th. Dammit. Hasn’t anyone heard of email?? Or phone-calls?! Phone-calls completely scare me into getting things done, mostly because I hate them.

So anyway. I’m making up a bio, and sending it out tomorrow, I guess. “Talia will be entering her fourth year of college in the fall, and miraculously has not killed anyone yet. She likes cookies, running, reading, and hiding from people.”

Aaawesome. I triumph over non-blogging.

Kingdom Hearts II: Disney For Lazy People

So there’s this thing where getting to the Pirates of the Caribbean part of Kingdom Hearts II really made me want to see the movie again, mostly because I couldn’t remember what the crap happened. But then it turns out you go through the ENTIRE ENDING during gameplay. Do you realize this means I never have to watch any single Disney movie in entirety, again?? I can just play Kingdom Hearts II and go through every “good ending” that way. There will just be a moderate alteration in that really, a twirpy little kid named SORA will have been the real hero in every single Disney-verse. Ever.

THE END.

Firehouse!

listening to: r.e.m. – oddfellows local 151

Yeeah, stuff.

Computer things: I have decided on a computer. I mean, a new computer to eventually replace this large monster of a Mac. I mean, for after the next Macworld Expo, to ensure I get all the new magical awesome crap that comes out during Macworld. Which is…yes. After Jan 13th, 2007. Err, um. Anyway. Can you say 2GHz MacBook in BLACK?! Yes, I think you can. It’s true, they are a bit more expensive than the iBook was, even for the supposed low-end laptop range. But…you know something? Eh. It seems that the newest MacBook is no slouch in comparison to the MacBook Pro. Which is kind of what I am looking for and what was leading me to want a Powerbook/MacBook Pro before last week. And so I await next January. And the OLDSCHOOL KEYBOARD, OMG. Ahem.

Also, my contact list on Adium is striped purple and black. I really don’t know how this makes me feel.

So…my Dad has been talking about random things that make me fairly uncomfortable, in the last week. Things such as…retirement. And loans. And mortgages. And things that make home-body, lived-in-one-house-for-20-years kids like me bite their nails and maybe tense up a little bit. Seriously, though. He was saying that he could retire by January of next year, and WHY THE HELL SHOULDN’T HE and such things. I mean, he is 62 after all, I suppose. And this is somewhat alarming to me because my Dad is the type of person who really really loves what he does (aside from the teaching of art music to a few occasional bozo-ish college types), and has frequently said that it is something he could never see himself stop doing. And then all of this banking and mortgaging weird talk started happening in addition, and I started to worry. Things like meetings with people, and Realtors CALLING OUR HOUSE to inquire about possible days of house-inspection. And of course, my Ignorance is Bliss philosophy could only work for so long, say until I had to pass on a message that Monday at 10 would work for a Real Estate meeting at the house.

So I passed on the message. And then just told my brain to shut up and asked him. “So…what is this meeting for?” “We’re going to mortgage the house,” HUH? “So we can buy a violin!” Oh.

Another thing about my Dad is he gets really randomly excited about the ideas of certain things before the full deal has been made. Ideas like…I guess…retiring. And…I agree that retiring is great. And that my parents should happily retire and then go live somewhere in Italy. But…when they’re ready. And when my sister and I don’t need things like more schooling (hoooboy, I have a minimum of…4 years left starting next fall) and violins. So…I think I don’t have to worry about this for a few more years. And that…I really don’t have any say in what my parents do, anyway. But being the youngest in the family, I still like to think I do. Woo.

In other things, I think I’m SCREWED. I came back to my apartment to find that I had received some envelope from Innsbrook, with a complete list of people in the camp and their chamber groups, and for whatever reason, I DON’T HAVE ONE. I was not listed. Though they did send me the music to this weird…tango…thing? Needless to say, I am confused and alarmed and somewhat panicking, and there’s really nothing I can do about it until Monday. Except blog. And maybe call Kyra. Bottom line: YEEEE.

Aaah, but blogging made it better.

I’m going to go…do…something. Practice. Call people. Stuff.

But look! I blogged! An actual substantial entry of reason. Or something.

Commence Summer Ass-Kicking

Fast people should all be killed I had my butt kicked this morning, on an 18 minute run. It simultaneously felt awesome and hellish. I hope to become faster, in addition to running more distance.

I keep having the weirdest dreams about a UIowa/UIllinois campus. It’s disconcerting.

Back to Urbana for the weekend. For a lesson and some hanging-out with those who will soon have flown the coop. And sorting. Oh yes, sorting.

Hopefully more entertaining and meaningful things will be blogged there, later. I am very bad at maintaining my internet-savviness when I have to share a computer with omnipresent household members. Dwah.

Cranky, Bored, Attention-Needy

listening to: modest mouse – shit luck

My one goal for this summer is to make sure it does not turn into LAST summer. There were some glorious and awesome moments of last summer, but a lot of the summer was also tarnished with boredom, stangnance, and often my own idiocy. I think there is little promise of that happening, this year. I am traveling. I am working with people. I am making music. I am running (like hell. I swear. I am running like hell). And various other promising things.

But at this particular moment in time, I am CRANKY and BORED and ATTENTION-NEEDY. NYAAAAH. I have no right to be any of those things. Except maybe bored. But especially not the last one.

Honestly, though, I don’t understand other people. At all. I am contemplating other-people things too much at this moment. It is better for me to figure out how I can make myself feel best, and then deal with other-people things.

Bah. Don’t listen to me. I’m weird.

Anyway. I am putting my blog readers on Idiocy Watch. If you catch me acting like an idiot in ANY form, it is your job to let me know this (as it is difficult for me to identify that I am acting like an idiot, when actual idiocy is taking place), and take take action of necessary. Uuh…make use of the word “action” as you will.

Dah.

"Jeff Just Loves…Asian Shit"

listening to: pablo casals – schumann cello concerto

For some reason, iTunes has read this recording as “I Belong” By Rev. Neil McDavid. Uuuh, yeah.

I don’t believe I’m going to be playing this piece. I also don’t believe I now have a recording of Pablo Casals playing this. Yeah. I don’t know. There are composers that I never like until I actually have to play their works. Schumann is one of those composers, I think. I have gained a more of an appreciation for Schumann after putting all the stupid Lieders we spent too much time talking about in 314 behind me. Also, because Schumann was batshit crazy. And also because…this is a cool piece? Yes.

Anyway. Last night m*dot and I saw Thank You For Smoking. It was hilarious. Seriously. I have this thing where I hate most comedy. Especially the crap that comes out nowadays. But not this. Oh, the one-liners.

Also, apparently Mimi o Sumaseba has been released in the US on DVD?! How did I not know this?!

In general, I feel like I have reached an inner equilibrium or…something. As in, I’m just not all that crazy any more. That’s a good feeling. I’m going to take advantage of this and hopefully get things done, today. Friday I will be back in Urbana for the weekend, for lesson-having purposes, as well as library materiel and key-returning purposes. Celebrate appropriately? Oh, yes. And my phone works. Yay!

Parrots!

listening to: enon – disposable parts

*stare*

Why me?

I am way too low maintanence for…stuff. Uh…

I think m*dot and I have a night planned ahead of us. Rock.

Results From A Night Of Poor Sleep

listening to: stereolab – eye of the volcano

I have been sleeping like crap in the last few nights. This is all because of the change from my bed at school (which is awesome) to the current bed in my room (which in theory should be awesome, but is not). All I know is I wake up numerous times at night, usually feeling uncomfortable or tight in the back. Yay! Discomfort!

But the last few nights of poor sleep have not been preventing me from having some fairly effed up dreams. Like…this morning, I was just laying there, going “man. I slept poorly.” And then I realized that somewhere in my night of poor sleep, I had been on an Iowa/Illinois campus, running around some building that was called the “Best Of The Not So Best,” which was a temporary housing area, which sucked. Later, cut to being on a farm somewhere in Japan where evil Miyazaki-monsters were roaming the area and causing problems, and the people on the farm attempting to harvest without being ingested or disolved or whatever. And then suddenly, I was in a small room with a piano, and various U of I music students and my OLD SENSEI (Thomas-sensei), who was telling us we needed to perform something on the piano that related to Japan. And so I got up and tried to play Asian Dream Song by Joe Hisaishi, but also sing something with it. I failed, and Thomas-sensei told me we needed to move on.

The Uhigh choir concert thing was kind of fun. Except I can’t seem to transpose simple things in bass the way I once believed I could. Also weird. And it makes me realize, more and more each year, how I’m glad I’m no longer in high school. M.E.D. was there, though!! And Nick. I wonder if he still has that amp. Anyway.

Also. Dammit. I am so awkward. There is a reason I am a member of the group “Holy Shit! I’m Awkward,” after all.

Today I get to see M.E.D. and Marion! Horaay! And maybe go running now that the weather doesn’t suck.

And also oggle the new MacBook. In black?! I am tempted. But I have a few more months to decide between the MacBook and the MacBook Pro. Hmm.

Join Me!

The truth comes out.

I am a misanthrope. Even though I maybe pretend like I’m not. And then, when I get the chance, I lure unsuspecting people into my dark, lonely, singular, misanthropic lair.

And it’s fun here. Join me. Wahahaha.

Lalala Tool

listening to: brian eno – third uncle

My phone is even more dead than I had originally thought. And so I’m getting a replacement, as of tomorrow. Warantees are good for something. However, service people are not. The guy that talked to me at the Cingular store was extremely unhelpful.

D-d’oh!

Oh. Nevermind.

Off, soon, to go play this choir concert thing. Seventh year in a row. There have been years of medleys much worse than this one. And there are other, real, college-or-older musicians playing pit (which is a serious up from LAST YEAR). But…honestly? I would rather just sit around playing crazy cello works. Cassado. What a cool piece. It’s no Britten, but I like it an awful lot. Perhaps for next year…

Speaking of which, I need to call Brandon. Oh. But I need a phone, first.

Sigh. Off to go play a thing.

P.S. Lalala, I’ma tool!

Bitches Ain’t Shit But Hoes And Tricks

listening to: ben folds – bitches ain’t shit

Aaaaaaaaaaaah why is this song so good?

I am fairly boring. EXCEPT!

Language/culture zen: They Thought You’d Say This and Conversational Ebonics in Japanese. I can’t decide which of these I enjoy more. Because on the one hand, The villa has been burgled! But on the other hand, SHUT UP, BITCH.

Hee, I don’t know.

I seem to be having writing problems. I keep wanting to expand upon some of the weird performance-anxiety things from last week’s recital before I forget everything, but for some reason I open a window with intentions of blogging that and just go “…” But on the other hand, when I can’t blog properly, things usually go better in the hand-written way of things. But NO. NO. I am full of weird empty nothingness. Hopefully this will pass soon. And notice how this supposed lack of possibly interesting things to say does not stop me from blogging up to and including three entries per day. Shit.

Also, I don’t understand life. At all.

Cello, Stop It!

listening to: ben folds – bitches ain’t shit (this is all renata’s myspace profile’s fault. the fact that I can’t stop listening to this. because I can’t. I CANNOT.)

Holy crap. I was practicing (which in itself is kind amazing, since who knew I would willingly touch my cello so soon after my recital!). And…suddenly, I start to hear a weird clicking noise. And at first I think it’s just the zipper of my sweatshirt hitting the cello or something, but the clicking was STILL THERE after sweatshirt removal. Then I figured out that it was happening every time I put my fingers down on the fingerboard, or sometimes even when I put the bow down on the string. So I figured it must have been the fine-tuners! So many extraneous black wire things going on in there, of course the clicking is from there. So I mess with the fine-tuners, but nothing changes. And I’m starting to freak out just a little bit.

So I run downstairs. “Moooom! My cello is being weird!” (“Moooom! Happy mother’s day. Now fix my cello!!”) So she sighs and then comes upstairs to the practice-room with me. And helps me figure out that the mystery clicking noise is not coming from the fine-tuners. Is it inside the cello? At the bottom? Where?!?? Finally we determine that the clicking noise is coming from end-pin. WHAT THE HELL?? We take the end-pin out. And then clean it off. And buff it a little with a cloth and some vaseline. And then put it back in the cello. And no more clicking.

WHAT THE CRAP WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?! At least my cello is okay. I was seriously about to throw something heavy out of a second story window, for a minute or two, there. YEEE.

This has been a boring story courtesy of Talia. Thank you and goodnight.

But yeah. Practicing. It’s okay. I’m playing through the Cassado solo suite, which is lovely and kind of fun considering how much of it I can actually play. Which is a lot more than I can play of Kodaly. Which is impossible.

Ugh. Must. Fight. Misanthropy. It’ll pass. I just have occasional bouts of never wanting to venture into populated areas, is all. *shifty eyes*

My Spleen!

Have you ever had one of those moments where you’ve laughed for about five minutes straight, and it’s hurt so much that you just want to die? Last night I experienced something like that to a greater magnitude. I was talking to Rachel, and she was telling me basically a story. And you know. My mind wanders. And I thought of something entertaining I remembered from an episode of MST3k, that I wanted to share before I forgot. So I went “Wait! Wait. Hold on. There’s something hilarious I need to tell you before I forget.”

“So. There’s this part in an episode of MST3k. And a character says ‘Oh, sorry. I must have blacked out.’ And then Mike goes ‘Excuse me! You African-American-ed out!'”

And we DIED. Continuously. For FORTY MINUTES STRAIGHT.

It wasn’t even the joke itself. It was like…there was a lot of random raucous laughter that needed letting out. Or something. Yeah. But it continued for a really long time. And it was ridiculous. I seriously started thinking that the next morning my parents were going to knock on my door and find me dead with a completely hilarious look plastered onto my face, phone still in hand.

RAH! Speaking of phones, and death, my phone is DEAD. It’s not charging and has approximately two bars of battery left. So it’s off. Until I can take it to the Cingular store tomorrow. So…if you need to reach me…leave a comment? Or just an email. Or something. I don’t know.

Halva!!

Oh my GOD. My Dad bought Halva! It makes my throat itch. But it is so good. I am screwed.

Also, my fingers are idiotic. I haven’t played bass for quite some time, but I didn’t expect to be so idiotically out of tune and ridiculous for this senior choir concert thing. Serves me right.

Although my right hand fingers are in no way bothered by the strings, because of all the idiotic strumming crap I’ve been doing in the Britten. Rock!

Augh. And soon I need to go back. Even though all I want to do is hook up my PS2 and play KHII. Damn me.

Perhaps My Brains Are Old And Scrambled

listening to: brian eno – golden hours

AAAAAAG. I HATE PEOPLE. I am going to live in a hole in the woods. Don’t provoke me. I’ll do it, I swear.

LOOK. EVEN THE INTERNET SAYS SO.

I do, however, like studiomates.
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Oh yes, I do. I don’t remember what was going on. I just know that Adrian and Laurel are weird and Forrest looks like she doesn’t know exactly how to react. “T’um…uh…aah…”

Is It Anaesthesia?

listening to: stuart davis – anaesthesia necrophilia

random amusing quotes: “Hahahahahaha I’m laughing like a girl!” — Ben

100_5723

I am going to miss Ben. Very much. It’s weird to think that he’ll be MARRIED in two weeks time. asdf;lj.

In case you’re going “where in the hell is Talia?” all I really need to say is KINGDOM HEARTS II, and from there I expect you to understand everything I am feeling, and everything that is distracting me. EVERYTHING. I’m also feeling slightly misanthropic, as occasionally happens. Oh, you know how it goes. But I’m no longer wigging out, now that I’m done! Which is great. My apartment is half-way clean now. My kitchen is truly SPOTLESS. Yesterday I mopped the floor. I deserve some sort of prize.

Today I managed to get a FUCKING PARKING TICKET. FUCK. I came back from a lunch-meeting at Miko’s with Anne, Beth and Dan to find that there was a service truck taking up my space and half of the back yard, probably doing something about our washing machine problem, I guessed. So I grumbled but decided that, whatever, I was just going to leave again, anyway. I just needed to grab something. So I park on the street, run into the house, grab some music and a few other things, run out five minutes later, and BAM!!! The Urbana Parking Vultures have gotten me. DAMN. If our washer isn’t fixed, I’m going to frowl a LOT.

I will respond to comments and finish memes later. And stuff.

I Mean…Hair! Maybe That Was Too Fast

listening to: the pixies – silver

Oh man! I’m done! So done! The done-ness is unbelievable.

Dude. And I totally audioblogged last night, but the post is apparently not appearing. Sucks to be me.

But yes. Recital yesterday. It went well. Of course there were problems, but you know. Performing is difficult. It’s such an extroverted thing to do, engage a room full of however many people for a great period of time. And I am capable of being that extrovert for a while, but after a certain period of time I grow tired, and basically want to stand up and say “Iii gotta go. Bye.”

Also, things. About performance anxiety. These things will be remarked upon in a post to follow.

Aside from that, I kept my promise to myself. To reward myself for living through the semester (and I guess, the year), I obtained KINGDOM HEARTS II! And…I don’t mean to get more excited than a few words in all caps but…

ASDFLKJ;lk!! DEATH! DEATH BY AWESOME GAME.

I was skeptical at first. This new, slouchy character who was supposed to have retained some bit of Sora, and who also had a very stupid name was irritating. But I came to like him. Bunches of things are fixed from the last game, such as camera angle. Also, there’s this new transformation option, called “valor” form???? OH EM GEE.

So…Sora grew. And so did Haley Joel Osmont, apparently. And KAIRI IS NOW HOTT. And a Japanese school-girl? I don’t know.

I really like it, though.

I should make a new masthead for my blog. And it should read “a neverending Kingdom Hearts II spoiler.” Or something.

Yeah. I’m going to go play Kingdom Hearts II clean my apartment.

Standing Room Only

listening to: sigur ros – flugufrelsarinn

Dear Facebook,

What the f is up with this deleting my “area of concentration”?? Also, you are a tool and I still don’t like you.

Love and kisses
Talia

Whoa. How awesome are my friends? Anne, Beth and Colleen are throwing me a post-recital RECEPTION!! Wow. You heard it here, first.

You know, at the same time that I hope a ton of people show up tomorrow, I really hope that a ton of people DON’T show up, because the Memorial Room is tiny. I really don’t want my recital to turn into a Standing Room Only affair. Although…that might be cool….