This Entry: Is Lame

listening to: fog – we’re winners

Tomorrow: is going to suck

I have: An assignment due at 8am. A lesson at 10am. A coaching at 11am. A Haydn rehearsal with accompanist at 1pm.

And the worst is certainly: opera. Not from 3-5 as usual, but rather 3-6. I worry my fingers are going to be protesting greatly by the end of the day.

But I guess: that the evening will be better. With plans of Chinese food and The Office. And screw Halloween. Even though I like morbid stuff. I’m too old to trick-or-treat anyway. I’d rather just sit on my rear and eat candy. But there will be no practicing. Oh no.

I have to mention that I just officially booked a flight to Boston. And AAAAAAAH I’ve never ever booked anything before, let alone a FLIGHT!! By MYSELF!! To BOSTON!! What am I, 16? I’m actually 22, and it’s about time I do something on my own…with my parents’ money. Damn me.

So yes. Travel and lesson plans are falling into place. How terribly extremely horribly exciting. I think I have to go DIE now. Because I have MATH HOMEWORK I need to do.

Also, dammit! I haven’t run in like 5 days! And it’s frustrating! Because I was getting somewhere! But then all the sudden the weather sucks and I have a crapload of studying to do and I feel physically crappy. And people want to go to Dairy Queen and get blizzards while I should be PRACTICING. And it’s clear at this point that I really am not fond of school. And there are JURIES in THREE DAYS.

I’m done now. I really need to finish this crap and go to bed.

Morbid Things, In The Style Of A Tired Ramble

listening to: cocteau twins – carolyn’s fingers

Welp. It’s that time of the year. The Halloween/Autumn/Everythingisdying time of the year. The time of the year where I feel weird and wrong.

Why weird and wrong, you ask?

Maybe because I LIKE MORBID THINGS. Not like…disgustingly gross and pestulant and awful things. Maybe just things that are old and associated with death and that which is now dust. So like…history. Yeah. Local history. And books. And ghost stories (the historical crap behind some of those ghost stories…yeesh). And weird junk originating in Europe like the plague or Catholicism. So you know, Halloween is a cool time. It’s like the one time of the year where all the perfect excuses to like morbid things come together.

That’s acceptable, right? It doesn’t make me an outcast of humanity, right? There are other people in the world who feel similarly, there MUST be. Why else would I have received a t-shirt of this nature as a Christmas gift last year?

So anyway. Morbid things.

A couple weekends ago when I was unable to play the cello and I desperately in need of something to occupy my brain that wouldn’t cause me to want to cut my hand off (foreshadowing!!!), I ended up going home for the weekend and taking my digital camera with me, and eventually winding up at Evergreen Cemetery in Bloomington. I realize after having traveled a bit through the Eastern areas of the states and parts of Europe that B-N is hardly old, but there is a lot of what I consider to be some seriously old crap in that cemetery.

The cemetery actually puts on an discovery walk every fall, for kids (and geeky young adults), in which local speakers dress up and act the parts of some of the more renown figures buried in the cemetery. I’m pretty certain that through various school fieldtrips, I’ve been on this discovery walk at least three times. But then there was also the time when they assigned us group projects having to do with aspects of our home county, during freshman year of high school. Guess whose group got cemeteries?!?


That was actually a good group project. We totally got an A, and also had to walk around Evergreen Cemetery in the fall making grave-rubbings and totally freaking out one of the members of our group who didn’t like the idea of stepping on dead people. Heh. That was fun.

Moreover, it’s a peaceful place. And picturesque. I’ve been wanting to take pictures at this cemetery for years now, specifically during the fall. Too bad the fall was more like extremely late and stupid summer at that point.

Evergreen Cemetery 4
Evergreen Cemetery 9
Evergreen Cemetery 25
Evergreen Cemetery 32
Evergreen Cemetery 33
Evergreen Cemetery 38
Evergreen Cemetery 39

Oh cemeteries. You’re awesome. I mean, sometimes.

Then there’s also this fairly cool and creepy website, to which I have linked once before: Asylum Eclectica

(WARNING: DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT click on the Malady of the Month link, for it is wrong and bad and if you do you’d better have a stomach made of iron or something. You have been warned in ALL CAPS)

Oh local history.

And…this one really isn’t morbid as much as mega-freakin-AWESOME. And orange.

And lastly, my own morbid contribution of the season…what happens when left-hand injuries strike.

365.054 Just Follow The Dotted Line

It’s my new Facebook profile photo. I hope people don’t think I’m any crazier than they did before I posted that. Oh well

God I’m tired. There should be some internal shock system invented for humans who are tired that keep them from creating content. Or like some sort of classical conditioning trick that involves electricity. “Day one…rang bell…cat fucked off.” I don’t know. TIRED.

Oh, Things

listening to: crash test dummies – when i go out with artists

YES!! YAY!! I’m going to Boston next month! And I’ll get to have lessons with people! AND I’ll GET TO SEE HEIFETZ PEOPLE!!! Oh, November. Please please please be nicer to me than the month of October has been. Please?

Although my mom has this idea that we should DRIVE to Boston. And that we can hang out in New York afterward. My need to complete applications and finish prelim recordings does not agree with this plan. Nor does my need to practice and not be in a moving car for two days straight. If I fly, I think I’m on my own in terms of personnel, but why do I need parental units with me all the time anyway? I want to come HOME for Thanksgiving, not be depressed and unable to practice on the road like I am when we travel at Christmas. I think in the long run it’ll be cheaper, too, especially if I stay with someone. God. Parents.

My midterm was ass. But not as much ass as the last midterm, or exam, or whatever it was (we have three of them throughout the semester so I hardly see how they’re midterms). Regardless, I still hate math.

Other things happened. I don’t remember what. Something that involved a library and (a very moderate dose of) caffeine.

I do promise that I will never again try to blog while I’m in the throes of studying a lot. Yeesh.

A List Of Crap!

listening to: shiina ringo – doppleganger

It just never ends, does it.


My iPod is like…for serious, dead.

There is a leak under my kitchen sink.

My left jaw really really really hurts, unexplainably. This makes eating problematic, although I guess one could argue that’s a good thing? Not I.

Some really intelligent person decided to put cello technique juries next Friday during ORCHESTRA.

There are technique juries next Friday. Jesus God.


On the bright side, though, I am handling all this stupid stuff much more pleasantly than I was before, and I don’t want firmly state that it is tied to my diet, but I kind of wonder if it is. Three days ago I ceased the intake of wheat and sugar. I am already noticing more energy, and less puffy eyes. Arrrrrgh, wheat intolerance.

Speaking of energy, I think I ran my 4.8 mile run faster than I’ve ever run anything. Ever. Oh god. So fast. Although I can’t exactly be certain how much faster it was because I CAN’T FIND MY WATCH. RAAAAAHGH.

But on the bright side, I was productive today. Like, honestly productive. That’s different than….a lot of days, recently. So I’m proud of myself.

I just don’t know what to do with my iPod situation. Yearrrg. Do I buy a shiny new one or try to resuscitate mine? I like my old one. I think it’s my fault, too, that in the battery replacement, I actually damaged the new battery (awesome, I know). So maybe I should just buy another new battery and try to not be an idiot this time around (still less expensive than sending it in, even after the purchase of a second battery). So we’ll see. I’ll sleep on it and figure things out tomorrow.

Actually, I’ll do math homework on it. Sigh.

Colin: YEAH, Muck Fichigan. Except sadly, I still only really care about Iowa football. Nostalgic sob goes here. And how is your team doing amongst all this crazyness, your team of Gophers?

No Longer Do I Want To Live In Old Buildings

listening to: the dirty projectors – gilt gold scabs

If there’s anyone out there who’s been wanting to shoot me or hit me in the face or something for a while, now is the time to speak up. I would not necessarily be opposed.

Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with the month of October?!

Cut to Friday night: I’m making cookies. We have a cello section potluck the next night and I’m making cookies. My oven is a gas oven, a really old narrow thing with ONE rack, so in order to bake a whole batch of cookies, I have to open the oven and take a cookie sheet in and out like…a lot of times. Maybe six or seven.

(pause entry for note that the Dirty Projectors are WEIRD)

So it’s like…12:30am. Possibly slightly later. When all of the sudden I hear the smoke-alarm going off. And I kind of yell, but accept it because it so frequently happens that I set the smoke detector off when I cook meat or things that end up very smoky, since there is no effing ventilation system in my kitchen. And this fact raises a sudden question in my head because…hey. I’m baking fracking cookies. Not cooking meat. And nothing is burning. NOTHING IS BURNING. If anything things are not baking enough because the temperature gauge on that oven is off by like…a lot, and I’m realizing I need to get me one of those oven thermometers, so I don’t have to destroy baked goods in my oven or just make them less exciting by not cooking fast enough.

But back to how NOTHING IS BURNING and the smoke-alarm has no right to go off…I walk into my living room and find that it’s not the smoke detector. It’s the smoke detector/Carbon Monoxide detector going off. And that the CO light is definitely the light that’s flashing. The first thing I do is google “gas oven carbon monoxide” and immediately read that — YES — you can kill yourself and all your family members if your gas oven tends to leak CO. The next thing I do is turn the oven off, cry for the unbaked cookies, open some windows and go outside to call my mom, all the while wondering if I’m feeling dizzy because I’m so tired or because I’m being killed by poisonous gases.

After freaking out at my mother for a little bit (because I’m pretty paranoid about invisible death), I call the number for the 24-hour emergency maintenance. I explain to the maintenance guy how I was using my gas oven to bake, and suddenly the CO alarm started going off. He un-energetically says “…you were cooking…” like he doesn’t believe it. I say “yes. baking. with the GAS. OVEN,” almost adding “…which produces poisonous gases that kill tenants in their sleep, HINT HINT.” He informs me that some of the CO detectors they installed needed to be replaced soon after installation, or that maybe the battery needs changing (note: the battery light should blink if that’s the case. The battery light was definitely not blinking. Just the “get the hell into some fresh air” light). He says to go inside and reset the detector and see what happens. He doesn’t even say “make sure to find a place to stay tonight that isn’t your apartment” or something along those lines.

So I go back inside, frustrated, and reset the alarm by removing the battery. It doesn’t go off again, but I read on the back of the alarm that the alarm will not sound until it’s sensed CO for a certain amount of time, depending on the amount of CO it detects. This is not reassuring news. I decide the best thing to do is leave, and end up staying at Eric’s apartment.

That was actually cool, making fun of the names of the TV-shows on adult channels on the TV-guide channel and watching the Mormon episode of South Park. We also talked about the end of the world, and how our planet is fucked. Seriously. If you want to get into my super-pessimistic head, ask me what I think about global warming. I also got to bond with Eric’s pretty damn insane cat. It was fun. I mean, “fun” in the sense of being a human cat-toy throughout random hours of the night. But seriously, fun. Boomer is a cute cat, for being so damn evil.

But anyway. I went back to my apartment fairly early in the morning to find it quiet, no alarms sounding. No neighbors having broken in and smashing any alarms which wouldn’t shut up. This has not stopped me from composing a fairly strongly-worded email to the property-owners. Because the way I was told to handle the situation I am pretty sure is bull-shit. “Yeah, some of the alarms were malfunctioning after we installed them, so you should just take my word for it and possibly die in the middle of the night.” Seriously, though. I should be able to at least cook in my own apartment. What else do I pay this much for, being limited to microwave cooking? I think not. Also, it’s notable to mention that this isn’t the first time I’ve been told to shut up and deal with it by the maintenance guy, and I think it’s about time for that to be brought attention to.

The most tragic part of this whole ordeal was having to throw out the cookies I had made, as I read somewhere that foods cooked in CO-giving-off ovens are not a great idea. Sigh.

Yeah. So…huzzah. I’m alive and stuff.

The cello party was actually pretty awesome, if I may say so. I made a greek potato salad, which was great and very colorful, and I’m not regretting not taking any photos of the thing. There was also meatloaf present which…I never realized how much I enjoyed meatloaf until maybe last year. Hmm. But the party. Very awesome. We watched the Illinois football team get their asses (eventually) kicked by Michigan. Rock it, Illinois.


listening to: the sound of the shitty rattling fan hopefully pushing the Carbon Monoxide in another direction

Oh. My fucking god.

It’s come to my attention I live in a shit-hole disguised as a cute little one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of an old house. I’ve just been in denial for the previous two years about the “shit-hole” part. And it wouldn’t even be a problem if the people in charge of fixing the problems would actually fix the problems, as opposed to just saying “that’s just how things are” and then leaving tenants to die in the rubble.

I just…of the three years I’ve been here? This is the straw that breaks my camel’s back. And nobody wrongs my camel. Nobody.

More High Llamas Obsessing

listening to: the high llamas – in the yacht

Sean O’Hagan, why do you do this to me?!

(note: the flash player does not appear if you are viewing this entry through a reader or aggregator. if you want to hear the song, you must view the actual entry or web-page. but who am i kidding, i’m the only one who wants to hear this song)

I think there’s something wrong with me or some part of my brain, but I can’t stop listening to this song. Seriously, though, it’s got to be the repetition. When something is slightly catchy, I grab onto it. When that slightly catchy something takes you somewhere even more catchy (refer to minute 3:55 of track)…that’s awesome. I will also admit that the realistic audio interaction of acoustic sounds (brass, banjo) and electro-acoustic (keyboards) make me happy. Brass on the downbeats, keyboard on the upbeats? Brilliant (in my head).

I don’t need a masterpiece to be entertained or even just satisfied a lot of the time.

In non-obsessive other things…

My left hand is much much better. I made it through a coaching and a rehearsal (and an actual five minutes of non-hurting slow practice) yesterday with only some leftover stiffness from wearing a wrist-brace for three days.

And what’s more is that I think I’ve pinpointed exactly where the tension started to build. Because my fourth finger is so much shorter than the rest of my fingers, I don’t always compensate and put all my weight onto that finger when I move there, but more land on it in kind of an awkward spot. Especially when I keep being instructed to lift my arm to reach things with that finger, if I’m not putting my weight where it should be, tension will build.

However, I do think something else might have set it off in addition to just the fourth-finger thing. Like not releasing the fingers during fast passages (all I’ve been practicing for a while with Haydn). So I’m going to keep watch.

I have to say, while this whole “not being able to play” thing was pretty depressing, I’m glad it happened because it made me re-evaluate so much about how I play and practice, in addition to what my hands do that still hinder me.

And…it’s true. My iPod died. It’s alright, it’s just the battery. I’ve used the crap out of that thing since I got it two years ago, after all. I’ve decided to just buy and install a new battery myself and saving $50 by not sending it into Apple. So…go me, I guess.

Some Things Are Givens And Others Get Away

listening to: r.e.m. – auctioneer (another engine)

Sometimes it’s hard being a serious and well-rounded geek. There is this list of junk piling up that I either need or want very badly. That’s fine. Everybody has lists of things they would buy if they had money (or in my case, money and less guilt). But I’m just starting to realize that the well-rounded part of being a geek causes problems. It’s like…I enjoy all this stuff. Photography and reading and experimental music and the internet and cooking and blah blah blah. But…I can’t just sort of like it on the side. I’m not a part-time geek. I am extremely serious about all my non-cello interests, and when it comes to having the resources and tools for those things, I want the best of the best (this means I want a KITCHEN-AID MIXER RAAAAH).

And so I realize this isn’t that great a need and that I don’t “need” it the way I need something like…um…food and shelter. So let’s just put this down under “very intense want.” I know I just got a new Kodak point-and-shoot at the end of August, and I like it, I do. It does what it’s supposed to. It takes good photos. The manual settings are really good to use. But a lot of the world of photography has opened up to me since then, and suddenly I’m seeing that what I really need is a dSLR. It’s not just because the actual quality of the photos is better, though that’s part of it. While composing photos through the LCD screen is handy and a nice way too preview, I feel like I’m doing something wrong by basing so much of my photography on something so instantaneous. But I guess I could also point out here and now that I’m crazy. Also, I would gladly use the regular view-finder on my camera but it’s CRAP. You can’t see anything through the damn thing, and you actually have to press a button to manually switch to the viewfinder from the LCD preview-screen. And THAT is my complaint about my current camera (also, that the chinsy-ass lens-cap broke the SECOND day I had it).

It’s more than that, though. I want to learn more with the manual settings and I REALLY want to get down and dirty with different lenses. I feel like I’ve actually learned some things about photography through some of the Flickr groups I’ve been following and taking part in. Now I want to really try it.

And so I want a dSLR. In my ravenous obsession, I’ve started researching models. A Nikon40D would actually be affordable with the money I have. But who am I kidding. I have too much guilt and an urgent need to save money, and dSLRs are really not cheap. I also have the weight of all the other various things I really kind of need, like…

1. A bike. Ooooh my word, I so seriously need one of those. My bicycle is now around 10 years old, and while it’s a good brand (Gary Fisher) and has held up amazingly well over the years, I think it maybe a little small and worn-down by now.

2. An external hard-drive. Computer…dying…needs space.

3. An amp =( I still don’t have an amp

4. Logic (like, the software, not the formal science). I don’t need that, but I think I would take that over everything else but the dSLR. MAX-MSP was…confusing. I am not a whiz. I’m not a composer. If I had a full month to breathe and meditate on MAX-MSP, I would probably learn things and then buy the full version (my student version ran out in July). But alas, life is hard.

5. Kitchen-Aid Mixer. Okay, I definitely don’t need that. But it’s a very instrumentalist-friendly way of mixing (ie, you won’t give yourself carpel tunnel). I’m a little bit afraid of normal electric hand-mixers, especially considering how wrong things can go with those mixers if you’re as klutzy as I am. But yeah. I totally don’t need this. I’m just happy that I have a Cuisinart. Ooooh boy.

Anyway. I suck. But I really want a NikonD40. So is life.

*edit* Oh, bitchcakes. My iPod died. Note to self: don’t blog about wanting anything, at all, ever again

She’s Always Always Always Dead

listening to: microdisney – half a day

Procrastination of math homework….go!

(sidenote: it’s really really sad that I can’t do fairly basic multiplication in my head anymore. sigh.)

Yesterday. Was the best day for food. Possibly ever (Uhhh, well, not ever, but…). Anne and I went to Mandarin Wok and ordered the following:

Crispy Tofu
Crispy Tofu

Chinese Style Orange Chicken
Chinese Style Orange Chicken

So so so good. I’ve never been to Mandarin Wok before, mainly because my Taiwanese guides to the local Chinese places (i.e. Tzu-Shan) have just never gotten that far. That and my impossible and interfering need for Chinese Buffet, as well as an occasional stop for Korean food. But I will clearly go back and I will clearly try other things (or just continue to eat the crispy tofu because DAAMMNNNNN). They apparently have great Dim-Sum, too. Mei-Fang says she’ll go there with us sometime in the near future.

Anyway. Anne and I have been talking about baking things for a while, and last night we finally got that far, with Ann and Mei-Fang joining us. We only cooked scones and a Chocolate Ginger Cake from the Moosewood Dessert cookbook.

Yeah. That Chocolate Ginger Cake was simply the best thing, ever. Extremely moist and not too chocolately and just a little bit tangy. Like a little bit of a ginger cookie ended up falling into a chocolate cake mix. We made it with a vanilla whipped cream. The recipe called for the cake being baked in a 9″ round cake pan but uh…we had to improvise with two small cake-pans, basically turning it into a layered cake. This is the part where it’s been reinforced that whipped cream, no matter how good and complimenting to a cake it could be, is not frosting and will not act like frosting if you “ice” it on a cake. And while our cake was still awesome and looked amazing iced with whipped cream, there was a cutting and dishing-out and transporting and refrigerating problem with it that I think in the future I will avoid by just going out and buying my own 9″ round cake-pan.

Chocolate Ginger Cake

But really. The cake was so good I licked the plate, as is traditional in our household when something is really really good.

So ends the absurd baked goods ramble. I will just make one final comment that I am in love with this Moosewood Dessert Cookbook, and have already planned on making more things for our cello section potluck this weekend. HAH YES. POTLUCK.

As for my left-hand, things are improving. I’m too impatient to not type anymore, and as long as I watch the angle of my wrist it’s okay. There’s still some stiffness, and I’m wondering if things are going to be okay when I have to play again tomorrow, but things are better and I’m really happy I took some time off and did the wrist-brace thing.

I’m honestly a little weirded out though by people’s reactions. Some people were really nice and helpful about the injury thing, but I got a sort of aloof, passive, maybe even eye-rolly reaction from a few others. Because I’m making a big deal out of a random and not-terribly-severe injury, or what, I don’t know. Well you know what, I’d rather make a big deal out of an injury and have it get better than ignore it and have it get worse. Even if I have to watch people think I’m stupid or something. It’s not like I’m faking this for attention. Last week was possibly the worst week ever, due to the fact that I was in pain and my level or productivity came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t fun.

And that is what Cory was talking about when she said not to listen to people because they’re stupid.

Important To Note

listening to: the high llamas – the sun beats down

I feel that it is important to note than in addition to being whole-heartedly obsessed with The High Llamas, I have a moderate to serious crush on Sean O’Hagan and his string arrangements and lead vocals.

Also, I love this song:

My hand is feeling much much better. I don’t feel any strain in the fore-arm anymore, though I still haven’t tried playing the cello yet. We’ll see how that goes tomorrow.

Good Advices

Two pieces of good advice I’ve received in the past few days…

From my Dad: “What you need is to drink half a bottle of wine and go to bed.”

Funny because I really don’t like wine that much. And it’s my Dad. AND MY DAD IS NO LONGER PLAYING ON A FOX BASSOON. But shhhh. Don’t tell anyone.

From Cory: “Don’t listen to your friends. Your friends are stupid.”

Ooooh, hilarity.


listening to: stuart davis – progress

I’m kind of certain it’s just the ibuprofin talking but….BRAHMS!!! And also TYPING with TWO HANDS!!!

I should go to bed RIGHT NOW so I can shake my cranky habits so I might stop worrying that everyone loathes my presence because I’m so damn cranky all the time. And also shake the post-concert weirdness.

Oh Brother

Down to one hand.

Obtaining wrist brace tomorrow.

Instructed not to play for three days (starting tomorrow, since our freakin’ orchestra concert is tonight).

Am somehow still really enjoy the smell of tiger balm. Mmm. Cloves.

Things: Bad

listening to: tori amos – sweet sangria

Cello: bad

Typing with two hands: bad

Everything: bad

That’s not completely true, I guess.

This web-comic: cracked me up

Other than that, though…

One day, I hope to be able to type with more than six fingers (i’ve been reduced to r.h. plus index finger of l.h.). But until that day, I’ll just walk around smelling like tiger balm (I guess that’s not an entirely bad thing, either…mmm…clove oil).

Not So Good

listening to: the high llamas – up in the hills

I’m willing to admit defeat now: this really sucks. Are we done yet? I miss left-hand use and typing fully with two hands. And more than that, I miss the weeks in which I practiced for more time than I did math homework. See, that’s depressing.

But aside from that I’m just down. I think the weight of my normally realistic amount of pessimism somehow became far too much to bear, and I’ve imploded because of it. OH, PESSIMISM. WHY MUST YOU BE SO STUPID AND YET SO OMNI-PRESENT IN MY LIFE NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY TO USE YOU FOR GOOD INSTEAD OF EVIL?

I’m just…tired. Of here. Of people. Of cliques. Of not being able to exist in a clique. Of all my close friends being so bleeding far away. Of so many of the friends that were here being gone. Of feeling guilty for eating and breathing and existing.

But honestly? If I could get rid of all those problems or make my hand better, I’d choose the hand feeling better.

In Which I Type Using Only Eight Fingers

listening to: the high llamas – in the yacht

One more stupid probability problem and then I can go to bed.

Also, I guess one blog entry.

So this whole left-hand pain thing is turning to be a real…frustration? I haven’t practiced since SUNDAY. And I’m for whatever reason more antsy to spend time in the practice-room now than I have been in a while, so of course that’s frustrating.

I did get a lot of really good advice from fellow string-players about what to do in a situation like this and how to get over it/avoid it fast. So the following things are good: not practicing. ibuprofin. stretching. icing. rest. breaks in practice

the following is bad: PLAYING.

I mean, playing isn’t bad. Playing is fine. And I guess I did practice today, for about 15 minutes, in which I did scales and only scales and observed that in my holy quest to keep my arm in a certain position when playing on the 4th finger, I think I tend to roll the 4th finger inward and raise my arm in a certain weird way. Especially lately, with all this stupid scalar Haydn stuff. Ye gods. No wonder I hurt.

So yeah. This, among other things, goes on my list of things which might make one hurt.

It’s just…(again) frustrating. I’ve never had a really serious injury before, but I’m also a hypochondriac of sorts. But then it really freaking hurts to play. And it’s just…not happy. I’m not in a happy place.

Honestly, the last 24 hours (or rather, between 3pm Monday and 3pm Tuesday) have been maybe one of the stupidest days of my life. Yesterday was just…blah. And today the first thing I did was step on my good pair of headphones. Followed by breaking my Kiplinger book-bag. See? That kind of 24 hours. And also be really grumpy and probably scare people at school. But by about 3pm, things were looking up. I cooked, and had no major kitchen incidents or rice-spillage, and even managed to work fast and keep things on the clean side. And then I ended up skipping out eating the thing I prepared in order to eat Indian food and whine at willing listeners (both of which were good for the soul). And now I have leftovers for the next week, between Indian food and the thing I prepared. And typing with 8 fingers isn’t so bad!!

And tiger balm is my friend and smells like cloves. You can’t beat that.

Also, I love the High Llamas. More than I can convey. I mean, I LOOOOVE the High LLamas. In an unconditional, pure kind of way. Different than my crazy loves for other bands. Unlike R.E.M. or Shiina Ringo, which is an obsessive, rough kind of love. Uuuh, maybe I need to go to bed. Yeeesh.

Colin: Skiffle!!!!!!! Hahahaha, oh, your comment made me laugh.

Josephine: Sorry I destroyed that shirt =( But it’s useless! I can’t even wash it! It doesn’t even fit! I saved the top part, though. Maybe I can make a small pillow out of it that will be ruined if it ever encounters anything even relatively liquid.

Renata: Yaaaaaay The Office! Well, yeah. I think you’ll enjoy Season 4, particularly Garbage the Cat. Thas’all I’m gonna say.

Dwah. Sleep.

The Crankiest Pants There Ever Were

listening to: the high llamas – up in the hills

Some days are bad for reasons I can’t even begin to figure out.

But I think between a class at 8am, spilling a lot of rice on my kitchen floor, and some random internet ass-hat trying to tell me that any one particular style of music out there is superior to all others and anyone who doesn’t subscribe to that music is an oaf, I’m starting to figure it out.

I’m sorry. But everything’s relative. There is so much freakin’ music out there. And it’s all so different. Just because there is something out there that I don’t like or don’t understand doesn’t mean I’m going to say it’s not valid and that it would not be enjoyed or even loved by someone else. I say that if a person likes something, let them. It’s all just sound, for Pete’s sake. Organized, form-riddled sound that is generally shaped by history and instruments and technology. IT’S ALL EXTREMELY DIFFERENT. AND RELATIVE. DID I MENTION THAT ALREADY?!

And also, for the MILLIONTH fucking TIME, just because I am training in classical music doesn’t mean I have to listen to classical music every waking moment of the day. It doesn’t mean that only classical music is valid. I let me ears and my brain decide for me what I should get excited about.


Augh. I know that wasn’t really a very striking or well-thought-out ramble but…uh…deal with it?

More frustrating than anything else, though, is the fact that something weird is up with my left-hand. And it’s not the dreaded thumb-tension spot. It’s the 4th finger. I just knew that orchestra today was hell on wheels (or….hell on FINGERS!) every time I had to move 4th finger. And it’s confusing because I practiced less over the weekend than I usually do, and suddenly, pain. A lot of pain. All through 4th finger joints and into the wrist. Bad bad bad.

I’m concerned. I mean, true, I’m a hypochondriac, but in addition to that, I am way concerned. It hurt.

In conclusion, I suck, and so do you, and I’m going to bed.

No Springs…Oh, And No Redemption, By The Way!

Aaaaaaaah, sleep. I love and have missed you.

The last two days have been the stupidest days, ever, for completely non-musical reasons. So I’ll just point to “math” and “cleaning” and leave it at that.

Except I lied and I’m going to elaborate.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry!! But this math class is just…it’s stupid is what it is. And this is coming from me, the genetically inherent math dunce. I don’t mean “stupid” in the “this is too easy and not worth my time” sense. More like stupid in the “T.A., YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW HUMAN BRAINS LEARN” sense. Just…please! Keep writing down wrong answers on the board as students give them to you like they’re correct answers and then finally finally tell us that those answers are wrong after a significant amount of time has passed. Please.

I hate math. So much. It ignites a burning rage within my soul. Nothing about math is good. Stupid numbers.

“Numbers…I hope I never see another number as long as I live!”

So yeah. Math combined with receiving an email Tuesday evening around 6pm stating that my apartment was going to be shown the very next afternoon was just not a cool thing. Advance notice is in fact appreciated.

That said, MY APARTMENT IS SO CLEAN. Seriously. If only you could see the sheer clean of it all. I did have to destroy a errr uh nostalgic shirt, though.

And somehow, after running around being exhausted all day, I ended up having the most productive practice session in history, last night. My confidence in my ability to learn and perform is wildly different every day. It’s nice to have the good days. It’s really good I’m getting a jump on all this now because…well…let’s just say that N.E.C.’s M.M. auditions are basically like a very extensive recital in front of very well-known faculty. I am justified in feeling a little frantic in learning music right now.

This morning I slept in. Until 10am. I don’t think I’ve done that since last May.

And finally…diminution.

Hymie’s Basement – Ghost Dream

Simple, yet oh-so satisfying. If you’re me, at least.

Frustrated, Because I Don’t Have Frangelico

Nutella Oatmeal Cookies: I could make these cookies RIGHT NOW, except for the fact that I freakin’ don’t have Frangelico.

And that stuff is expensive!! There’s no way I’m paying $23 for a bottle of hazelnut liquor that is in the shape of a monk.

Last night over the phone, my mom told me I spend too much time on the internet looking at recipes. That was an odd moment, because I realized that that’s totally not something I ever would have imagined her telling me 5 years ago.

In Preparation For My Honest Artistic Living

listening to: the high llamas – lobby bears

random amusing quotes: “…that’s okay, you’ll make an honest artistic living…” – my Mom, after I apologized for not being a poker genius who was able to support myself from the age of 18

“Forward is a good direction to go when there’s something behind you.” – Me, when Ann almost backed into a car behind her

Do you want to see my updated (and still tentative) grad-school list?! DO YOU WANT TO?!!? ARE YOU EXCITED?!??! BECAUSE I AM. Kind of.

New England Conservatory
Ithaca College
Rotterdam (Holland)?????
maybe more or maybe a switch here or there because you never know

Notice the various questionmarks behind Holland.

Yeah. I had a good talk with Brandon today. About grad school, and I finally managed to just bite the bullet and tell him that I’m kind of freaked out and not that enthusiastic for a purely classical or performance in general career. And that I think it’s important for me as a human being to do the other things I do. And even though a lot of that is very very idealistic and nonspecific, a lot of very good points came to the surface.

I’ll get to the bottom line of these points: I like chamber music. And that my odd and rounded musicianship will probably only help me in the future.

This whole talk also made me realize that I get completely antsy about never having the opportunities to do something “different” or more in my realm because I am in the furthest physical location from these things. Central Illinois is really not the happening scene weird American, contemporary, all-round string-instrument crazy crap.

I also voiced something I’ve known for a long time, and that is that a lot of these crazy opportunities don’t just land in front of you. You have to make them happen yourself. That’s simultaneously an exciting and terrifying prospect.

I don’t know. Thinking about all this future stuff…it makes a person feel lonely. Isolated. It’s really a journey that you have to make yourself, especially in the beginning stages when you’re idealizing the situation of a place.

I mean…SHUT UP.

I really really really want to say how completely freakin’ awesome the fourth episode of The Office is going to be, this season. Just….WOW.