And thus madness set in, and she was never the same again...

Okay, so that's a little melodramatic, but it is November, which means NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and though I don't actually think fifty-thousand words will fit into my schedule this year, I'm at least going to try for half that, because, as busy as I am, if I don't take at least a half hour to myself to just be creative, then I might actually kill myself because it's all just...wow.

In other news...

I have a new brace for my left hand.  Basically, here's what happened: I played piano, something hurt, I tried to stretch my hand, something hurt, I screamed, I stopped playing, went to bed...fast forward a few days, and it hurts more, and I went to my regular practice time today and lasted less than three minutes before I realized I couldn't play anymore.  Bring on the tears, bring on the "I both wish and pray to God not that someone notices and asks me what's wrong," bring on the ice pack...and the advice of two trusted adults that I go see the school nurse.  Unfortunately she's not in, but I am able to see the sports medic, who assures me at least that it's not broken, but yes, I have a problem, and here's how to fix it: get a brace that keeps the thumb stabilized, practice only half the amount you have been ("Yes, you have a recital, but do you want to play at that recital?"), ice it a couple times a day, take Aleve every twelve hours, and come back and see the medic in ten days.  And though yeah, that all sucks, honestly, after wearing the brace for a few hours, I already notice less pain, so I guess she knows what she's talking about.
Though I would also appreciate prayers that this goes away quickly (although it looks like it's one of those things I'll be fighting forever, like if I had arthritis of tendonitis [or is it spelled tendinitis or do both work?], there will be flare-ups until I die), so I can play my pieces freely and not add to the chaos that is my life.

Also, I went to a certain clinic, did certain exams, and you are now looking at a girl (or reading the works of, anyhow) that is on birth control.
Before any of you goodie-two-shoes family members of mine start freaking out (because I'm sure you will), no, I am not sexually active.  I still want to wait for marriage (though I admit the longer I live, the more open I am to someone with a clever turn of phrase, since yeah, he better be clever or he's out immediately), and in the event that I did become sexually active, other contraceptives would be necessary anyway.  I have heard some people refer to birth control as the abortion pill (which is something different, and fyi, the pill doesn't kill the eggs, it just stops them from being released), and as I grew up with that in my ear, I admit I was hesitant in making an appointment.  But I'm adult now, and I don't need Mommy's permission to see doctors, and did you know that birth control not only regulates your periods but your hormones as well?  And if you know me, as I hope you do, or why would you read this, don't you know how out of control my hormones are?  How emotional I get over EVERYTHING?
Case if point: I started crying while doing the dishes yesterday.  Not because I hurt myself or because I'm mad that Keli Rhea never does them or even because there was a sad song on my iPod while I washed.  No, I just cried.  Because I have no control over my emotions, and because I really wanted to bathe myself rather than the pot we cooked dinner in, and because I just cry over everything.  More so these days than ever before.  And yes, there are stressors in my life, but honestly, if I can get hormone regulation for free, why not take advantage of that?
And just in case I do find a clever guy, I've got a year's supply to help avoid the early appearance of my first little girl (or, okay, boy, but I really want a girl first, otherwise I'll worry I might never get one, because I worry over silly things like that).
I had a discussion with the nurse at the clinic, actually, when she was asking all her questions about my lifestyle and such, and though she was clearly surprised by my life of abstinence (I think I can safely assume that most girls that walk through those doors are not leading such lives), she said she thought I was one of the smartest girls out there.  For once, being a twenty-six-year-old virgin is not a stigma.  It is a gift, and while I talked about friends who have half-jokingly criticized my decision (whether this was a true criticism or an effort to make themselves feel better about their own choices, I would never presume, though I admit I wonder), she praised it, and said what I wish my friends would say: "It is your life, and it is your choice, and if you haven't found someone you think is worthy of your body, then who is anyone else to judge you?"
And I suppose you could say I'm writing this little rant to justify to myself, too, but I admit I expect the criticism of family especially, because that's just what I've found my family does.  Not necessarily intentional, but it's always there.  And I just want to take this time to say what the nurse said: "It's my life."  And if you think I'm being an idiot, while I'm sure I love you (I admit, the older I get, the more debatable that phrase is), I would greatly appreciate it if you would stuff it.  Or at least say something along the lines of "We're proud, Em, that you're taking responsibility for yourself, and making adult choices."  If you think those choices are wrong, that's fine, but at least give me credit for making them, especially since even when I got my last tetanus shot at twenty-two, I still had my Mommy call the doctor's office.
So I'm just growing up a little.
Yay me.

I feel I'm changing more and more every day, getting more confident, more out-going, and yes, sometimes, more mean (because seriously, I've been nice for so long, I just don't care anymore; if you're being an idiot, I'm going to tell you), and though it's a little weird getting used to the new me, it's also kind of fun.  I may be a little crazy, and I may sometimes have too much energy, but I'm feeling a sense of hyper-focus lately that can only bring out the best...
[Or okay, maybe make me hurt my hand with the over-intensity I've had in my practice, but we covered that already, so meh.]
So, to end on a lighter note (and a less defensive note, because I hate feeling that way, though I wanted to explain myself fully anyway), here are a few things that are gaining in awesomeness from my newer self:
   1. My writing has never been more powerful than it is now.  I honestly feel like I will be ready to publish my first book by the time I graduate, with another one not long after.  And I hope you will all read it when it gets to your local bookstore.
   2. I chose a few new pieces for my next recital (which is eons away, but since the junior recital will be done in two weeks, I figured why not?) without consulting my professor, who was away in Italy this last month.  It's a daring move, and I was a little afraid that I would discover I put effort into pieces she hates, but she approved them all right off the bat.  I'm not sure if it was my "So I know you like collaboration..." opening, or the fact that I was just so earnest in my asking her if I could pretty-please play these pieces, but there was not a single argument.  And maybe, maybe, that's because she really thinks I can play these pieces.  Because I'm just that much more awesome these days.
   3. Though as I said, I'm not going to push myself for those fifty-thousand words, I am confident that whatever I write for NaNo will be amazing, and the ideas coming are already some of my best...here's to an awesome month.
   4. Oh, and I may be finding love sometime soon...but we'll keep that one hush-hush until there's something more concrete, okay?

I may be a little bit mad, but as Charles Kingsleigh said, "All the best people are."
Here's to madness.
Cheers.

Perspective: Twenty-Six

Twenty-six.
I've liked the number ever since I watched a certain remake featuring a wicked almost-stepmother who, when asked how old she was, smiled beatifically and said crisply, "Twenty-six."
Yes, she turned out to be Cruella in disguise, and thank God the father went back to the real mother, yada yada yada, but it's been on my list of so-called 'lucky numbers' ever since.
Now that I'm here, I have mixed feelings.
Many of my friends are engaged, married, starting a family, or even adding to a family that might already be too big for the two-bedroom apartment they live in.  With very few exceptions, the friends that are my age have graduated college; some of them have gone even further to masters and law degrees.  They have everything right where they want it; they know what they are doing, they like what they are doing, and they are not alone in whatever they are doing.
Yet I have to think, are they happy?
Would achieving all they have make me happy?
What am I doing, at twenty-six and in my senior year of college, that makes my life better or worse than theirs?
My therapist keeps harping on perspective lately.
(I shouldn't say 'harping,' that's a little harsh, but it's a constant debate between us.)
Perspective No. 1: I may be single, and sometimes I feel alone.  But I do not have the capacity to focus on my schooling and another person at the same time.  I'm better off alone at this time because if I wasn't, I would either be distracted from my studies (which isn't a hard state to be in, regardless), or I would be neglecting that other person, and I can't bear the thought of being so cruel.  So alone is good.  For now.
Perspective No. 2: I am a horrible person.  I am selfish and lazy and I have the messiest room ever (unless you're looking at my roommate's, then she wins, hands down), and I lose things that are literally right in front of me.  I have very little drive and I am only so reliable as my sleep patterns (read: not at all).  As such, I am in no position to be having a child, raising a child, being responsible for a child.  Despite my age, I am a child, and I need to grow up if I don't want to screw up another life as badly as mine has been.  So why should I let my barren state hurt when giving life to another soul would hurt so much more right now?
Perspective No. 3: I was not ready for school when I was eighteen and graduated.  Yes, I tried a little after a single semester break, but as stated previously, I have very little drive now, and had even less at eighteen.  I was not equipped to go to school then.  I wanted to be everything and see everything and I probably would have ended up majoring in something ridiculous like philosophy and Baroque art with a minor in ancient Greek --because that's obviously a useful degree, right?  I would have probably stayed in Minnesota, and though yeah, they say 'Minnesota Nice' and all, Montana is WAY nicer (if the drivers are a little stupid, so what?), and I have been given the opportunity to study under some really fantastic professors.  And though I have gotten flack for finally settling on music in my studies, I know now that it is something I am passionate about that I could actually make something of myself with it, and I could be happy doing it.  So I'm a little behind the rest of my age group.  So what?  I'll get the other degrees in my own good time.  I'm where I need to be right now.
So I'm twenty-six today.  And I have great friends that have spent time with me.  I got a pair of earrings that is absolutely adorable.  I only got a few weird looks for wearing a tiara (because they've probably come to expect that from me anyway).  I made cupcakes for the first time today, and if the first batch looked a little weird, they tasted delicious.  I have purple in my hair, just because.  And I get to sing second soprano on one of the songs in chamber rather than alto.
It is what it is, and right now, it's good.
Perspective.

A Year to Remember, A Summer to Forget

One week down in the second-to-last semester of my undergrad career and already I am wishing for more time.
Not that I want time to reverse, though sometimes there is great appeal in the fantastical idea, but I want to have more time where I am at.  I would gladly spend another six semesters here, in order to learn all that I wish to, in order to see all that I have somehow missed in the three and a half years I've already been here.  And yet, though my time here has been relatively short --I have met several of my peers who have been here five, six, even seven years-- because it is me, any further time is not allowed.
I wish that I could explain how necessary my being here is, if not for my mind, then for my well-being.  "But you're almost twenty-six, Em."  "But all your friends are getting married and starting families, Em."  "But when I was your age, I was King of the Universe."  Perhaps I exaggerate that last, but the longer I study, the more I am made to feel that if I do not finish soon, I am somehow less of a person than the rest of the world.
Needless to say, I've developed a bit of a complex, though only a select few will be privy to the breakdowns I have, and the rest of the world will only see me smiling, working hard, pretending that I'm excited to finally be done when school when the truth is, I couldn't be dreading anything more.
Perhaps I fear the unknown.  Where will I go?  What will I do?  Who will I keep with me and who will I toss aside?  What can I do with a music degree?
Perhaps I fear falling into patterns, becoming weighed down by generational curses.  So much talent, so much potential, but what if I end up like him?  What if, once in the so-called 'real world,' I become a terrible person?  What if I ruin everything I touch?  What if I hurt the ones I love the most?  What if I find myself wandering down the side of the road in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, shivering in the evening air, without a friend to my name and nowhere to go?
What if I'm just being overdramatic?
Whatever may come, this shall be a year to remember...and I hope to God I can forget that summer to make it so.
Cheers.

Long time no see...

With the exception of the randomness that was my last post, anyway.

So perhaps you're wondering, what's new with Emma?
Or perhaps you're wondering, who is Emma?
Well, let me fill you in, on both counts...

I am in the spring of my junior year.  I'm preparing for my recital, come April.  Those of you who dare to live less than a twenty-four hours' drive from me, I'll be disappointed if you can't make it.
[Fact one: I have irrational expectations of family/friends.]
I'm supposed to practice at least three hours a day, though lately it's been around two, and half of that is taken up with practicing pieces for my accompanying class.  I'm accompanying two of the freshmen girls (is that a weird distinction to anyone else but me?), Aimee and Amanda, the first being a soprano, the second being (I think) a clarinetist.  Or wind instrument of some sort anyway...perhaps I should look at the score, but...
[Fact two: I miss out on the details because I'm impatient.]
It's a lot of fun, anyway, and I love playing piano, and I don't know why it took me so long to realize this...but piano, music, etc, is my life.  My LIFE.  Anyone who tells me I'm ridiculous isn't worth my time.  I pray you're not among that disturbingly numerous people.
I could say more about music, but...
[Fact three: I get bored easily, the older I get...which is probably backwards, but...]

I have three close friends that live in Billings.  (I recently added Travis to that small list.)
[Fact four: I don't open up to people all that easily.]
One of them happens to be MIA at the moment --those of you who are religious-minded, please say a prayer for her-- and I swear, I go through withdrawal when I don't see her.  Some people might think I should give up...judging by the looks of some people, I'm apparently ridiculous to keep after her, but...
[Fact five: When I make friends, I'm loyal to the end.]
Funny thing, that I have over four-hundred Facebook friends, more than three from Billings, and yet, the aforementioned statement stands.  And though I'm lonely sometimes, I gotta say it's exhausting putting in effort to make friends.  Because I noticed, it's always me.  Always.
[Fact six: Sometimes I exaggerate.]
There's this girl in choir that is making an effort, and I might add her if we stay close over the next semester.  My mum once told me that you can't really call someone a true friend unless you've known them for about two years.  The only exceptions are the ones you go through some really crazy stuff with.  Or the often-thought-to-be-mythological soulmate.  I've found one of those here.  Another one resides in Minnesota, and another in Maryland.  Rare and far apart, but they're my best friends ever.  There is another girl in choir that makes an effort...but there was a moment last semester where something was said to another person that should have been said to my face, and...
[Fact seven: I don't hold grudges often, but when I do, I hold them hard.]
She still tries, and I've mostly forgiven her, but I don't think she's the type that I want to stick around forever anyway, so...we'll see, I guess.  In the meantime, I stick with the ones I've got, and when I'm feeling hermitish (totally a word despite the red line that appears), I stick to myself, and it's okay.
[Fact eight: Though I dream big, at the end of the day, I always come back to wanting to be a hermit.]

I have familial issues.  Then again, don't we all?
[Fact nine: I'm not a big fan of 'airing dirty laundry,' and tend to look down on others who do.]

This spring I'm going on a service trip with the Billings Catholic Campus Ministry--
[Fact ten: I'm not Catholic, but they're nicer than most other Christians I meet, so I stick with them.]
--to Philadelphia.  I'm going to be living and working in a homeless shelter along side the homeless, for my entire spring break.  I'm really looking forward to it, and I can't wait to see what God has in store for me on this trip.
[Fact eleven: I need to get outside of myself, a fact made obvious to myself more often than I'd like.]
We're doing a bunch of fundraiser things, and studying hospitality and something called 'Catholic Social Justice/Social Teaching' or something like that.  It's pretty amazing how simple it really is, if we only take the time to stop and get outside of ourselves.
[Fact twelve: I tend to repeat things that are important.]
While prayer is the most important thing, we're still looking for donations, so if anyone wants to contribute, please email me: emily.king@rocky.edu, and I can send you more info and such.
[Fact thirteen: The longer I live, the less afraid I am to ask for a handout.]

I almost want to stop there just because...
[Fact fourteen: Thirteen is kind of a 'lucky' number for me, though I don't actually believe in luck.]

Though actually, I could have stopped anyway.
[Fact fifteen: If I'm not writing fiction, I can't focus for very long.]

Anyway, so those are the big things.  And I'll try to get on more often, even if it's just to post a little video or something.

Oh, but before I go...
http://cobalt.rocky.edu/~emily.king/index.html
Here's my school site.  There is a link to this page, plus to another writing blog, and my philosophy class...which is kind of awesome and the first question was posted, and though I think that Crossan (author of the first book we read) is kind of blasphemous sometimes, I still like him.
[Fact sixteen: I'm non-denominational charismatic, I love God, I only go to regular church on holidays, otherwise for all intents and purposes I'm Catholic.]
So yeah, go check it out, if you like.

Cheers.

Because sometimes life doesn't make sense...

Feeling musical...

So I shall share...

First
 ~ My sister's band is pretty epic. http://sweeteverafter.net/  Don't know how we got so much talent up in this family, but yay!!  You're an inspiration, Amy.

Second
 ~ I'm currently obsessed with the piano for this song by Muse. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4EqjvnWfRM  I'm in the process of transcribing it to sheet music, but we'll see where that goes...and then maybe I'll play it for a show or something.

Third
 ~ There's this show you may have heard of: Glee.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ooTzpVGPhr0  Though I've listened to the music for the first show, I haven't watched it yet, and I'm not sure if I will...but it's cool anyway.

I wish that music came so easily to my fingertips as it did to my ears...

Somebody remind me what I'm doing here, please. :)

Dream big...

And try not to crash and burn like me when you do it...

So my life is a little crazy right now.
School has started back up again, for which I am eternally grateful.  Thus far, my classes, and professors, are fun and quirky, and engaging, and I'm so glad that I am here.
However.
Despite my lovely cheerleader exterior, I am in a constant freak-out mode.
What do I have to freak out about?  Let's see...
I'm turning twenty-five in less than a week.  And I have done NOTHING I wanted to do by this point in time.  I haven't gotten the million degrees I wanted.  I haven't published any novels.  I haven't written a popular song.  I haven't found the person I want to spend my life with.  Or, I have, but he hasn't found me in return, so it's useless.
My room has never been messier than it has been this last month.  You'd think, in a month, I could find the time, and the drive to clean.  But I'm easily distracted (I swear I'm ADD or something), or I'm running around, or I'm sleeping, and so the mess stays and grows and every time I turn around from my computer, I cringe, and turn right back, hoping that denial will actually make things go away.  Yeah, right.
My hands are shaking like ALL THE TIME.  Do you know what that does to a person?  Do you know what that does to a writer, to a pianist?  I'm constantly having to take a breath, tell myself to calm down, and wait for my hand to settle, for just five minutes, so I can focus on something other than how broken I am.  And that's besides the fact that my right hand likes to go numb at random intervals, and stay that way for days, even weeks, on end.
Also, if you hadn't heard, my family is a bit broken at the moment.  We're scattered, we don't talk to each other, and I can't fix anything, because I'm the farthest from all of them, and really, what could I do if I was there, except to smack somebody upside the head, or yell at someone, or...I'm useless.
And so I'm freaking out.
That, and the counselor at school thinks I'm bipolar, my friends think I'm suicidal (I keep TELLING them, I don't want to DIE, I just want to FEEL something), and I keep feeling like all my professors, great as they are, are looking at me with varying degrees of pity, despair, and disgust.
(That last bit might just be paranoia, but I still feel it, regardless)
Oh, and I'm in love with a fictional character.
Like really and truly, where it hurts.
Somebody give the girl a prize for only breaking down behind closed doors (offices or bedrooms), because I'm pretty sure you need a damned Olympic medal for all the persona up-keep I'm doing.

Somebody once said 'fake it til you make it.'
But I don't think I can fake it anymore.

Thank GOD for classes to distract me.  (I really do love school, you know?)

And yay for an emotional update when I've fallen off the radar for months...
Peace out.

Pondering the Enigma on a Tuesday Morning...

The other day I was out shopping, and I had my mum on the phone.  It's not an uncommon thing; I call her more than most people call their mothers, I'm sure, and while shopping is usually my favorite time to do so, because I can ask her advice on recipes, see if I'm actually getting a good deal on something, or just laughing at the weird things you can buy if you feel like wasting your money on it.  At some point in this particular conversation, our subject turned to apple juice (I saw applesauce and the conversation quickly turned to all things apple from there) and I reminisced on how apple juice was my least favorite thing of all, mostly because when I was ten, I had my tonsils out, and they wanted me to drink something before taking the IV out of my hand --need I mention I'm not a big fan of needles?-- and lo and behold, apple juice was all they could offer.  I love orange juice, but there's too much acid in that for so fresh after surgery, and I'm sure milk would have just been weird.  Heaven knows why they didn't just offer me a glass of water...
But I digress.
So I ranted a little on how I hated apple juice, and continued about my shopping, which included picking up some soda for a little party I'm throwing, and I get home to find that, lo and behold, I have a box of apple soda in my possession.
Which makes me wonder what possessed me to get it?
Probably the funky green color and the design on the box...
But seriously, Em?
Though I have to admit, it is rather tasty...maybe I should try apple juice again sometime.

Independence Day Ragings & Other Nonsense

[the following may or may not have a single thing to do with being American on the 4th of July]

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There is a certain person, let's call her 'B' who has been with me throughout my musical college career.  She is encouraging and engaging, and is behind me one hundred percent, always helping me when I have struggles and giving me ideas when I hit a dead end.
She is also one of those lovely people who knows exactly what to say to crush a person.  She's practical and pragmatic and very down to earth in all respects, and, to a person who is spontaneous and crazy and has such big dreams as I, very much a realist.  I can't tell you how many conversations I've had with her where I am nodding because she's just so damn logical that I can't bring myself to argue despite my heart breaking on the inside.
Alas, I have put my life in her hands more times than I know, and I will continue to do so because, to be frankly honest, I absolutely worship the ground she walks on.  And I know she won't steer me wrong.
Though I can't deny that I might cry one or two more times before everything comes together in that lovely ideal called perfection.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There are three things off the top of my head that I want out of life.
  The first being that I want always to be surrounded by music.  I don't particularly care if I'm the one playing it or if I'm just delegated to the role of listener; if I could have music playing somewhere all day, I would be perfectly happy.  Well, as long as there's no death metal, post-90s rap, or Nicki Minaj (I can't stand her and don't know how gullible a person has to be to believe that the drivel she produces is actually music).
  The second thing I want is a warm, and sunny kitchen.  This will take some time, of course, seeing as I live in an apartment that is practically at basement level, and there's no way I would be able to afford a place of my own at this time.  I'm not even sure if I want to stay in Montana forever.  But wherever I settle, I am determined to have a bright and sunny kitchen.  Big windows over the sink, the walls painted yellow with blue accents, the smell of cookies and bread on the air, and thank you, but no dishwasher, because it's just so much more fun doing it all by hand.
  The third and last thing I really want (though it may in fact be the first) is to never be alone.  Heaven knows how I'll manage this, or even when my current lonely circumstances will change, but I still hold out hope.  I want a big family, but I'll settle for just one person to be there always, to hold me, and love me, no matter what silly thing I may come up with to drive the person insane.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"A remarkable felicity of expression."
If someone told me I had this, I would die happy.
Until then, I shall continue in my own messy way.

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Every time I find myself satisfied with my life, someone else does something inherently selfish and evil, and I think to myself, what gives you the right to throw away what I so desperately want?
Case in point:
A friend of a friend of a friend...well, a young woman was speaking to her friend of how she was going to miss her four-year-old son.  The friend replied in query, is he going somewhere for a while?  Probably thinking of a trip to grandparents or something along those lines.  The young woman negates the statement however, by announcing that she had put him in foster care.  Immediate sadness and pity is shown, and the question of why?  Were times really that hard that she could not care for him?  And the heartless young tramp announces that it was too hard to be a mother and keep a man around at the same time.
Oh, to be an acquaintance of that hussy and slap her silly.
I would kill to be a mother and she gives up her motherhood for sex?  I've heard of unfit mothers, but really.  What is this world coming to?

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Working in retail is a learning experience.
And a bit worrisome.  There are so many things, shiny, bright things, loud, colorful things, and I have to wonder, if everyone is so poor, why do they spend their money on such silly things as a glitter-bedecked shirt that will lose all its glitter in the wash, or a popcorn box with M&Ms drawn over its surface?  Do they assume that just because they shop at a low-cost store that they're not spending as much money if they go for those unnecessary extras?  Haven't these people ever heard of thrift?
And for goodness' sake, would someone please explain to me what the point of an 18-hour bra is?

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

God bless America.
Because we sure as hell need Him.
Happy 4th, everybody.

A little highlight...

"Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd..."

Even after God-knows-how-many weeks of rehearsals and then performances, I am still not sick of this show.  It's just that good.  Sondheim is just that good.  And I'd like to do another and another and another...
But this last weekend, what really made my day (or night, as the case happens to be) is that after the little sextet group sang our pieces on Saturday (see above picture; I'm the second girl on the right), the audience applauded as we walked off stage.
Now you might be thinking, well, of course they did, that's what audiences do.  But the thing with Sondheim is that he doesn't really leave a lot of time for applause.  There are moments, but the music generally starts up again in seconds, and our director, being a Sondheim enthusiast, tries to encourage the movement as much as possible.  So in this particular scene, even though the music does stop for longer than a moment, the folks from the next bit are generally already onstage as we walk out, so the audience remains silent.  Sad, but I didn't mind overmuch.
Except apparently they were late to walk on stage that night, because the applause came, and now I crave it every performance.
Maybe a little unrealistic, but oh, well...
I just know I had the hardest time trying not to grin as I walked off stage, because Damn RIGHT, they applauded us!!  Or me, because I'm clearly the best in the group.
(HA!)

I wish every night was a musical...

Fancy a nightcap?

A few delightful happenings in my life...

1.  I moved into an apartment with my friend Keli Rhea.  She's pretty awesome --another music major, though focusing on vocal performance rather than instrumental-- and is very easy to live with thus far.  I say 'thus far' because I totally expect to have a blowup at some point or other, but I'm sure we'll survive it when it comes.  I'm completely unpacked, excepting my dishes, because she has quite a few of her own (though her pots and pans leave something to be lacking, but I'll deal), and thought there were skeptics, I was able to fit every single thing I own in this room.  And my room is organized.  And clean.  I also don't have a bed, so I'm sleeping on seven layers of blankets.  Which brings us to number two...

2.  I bought a bed.  Yes, I know, I said, but I only just bought, I don't have it, yet.  It should be arriving at the store for pick-up (because I prefer that to finding a note on the door about it being delivered while I was out so I have to go to some storage place or whatever to pick it up) sometime next week.  I'm pretty excited, because I decided on a bunk-bed, planning for visits from a sister or friend or something, and though it was a little more expensive, I feel rather proud of myself for the planning aspect, and I figure it'll be worth it in the long run.  However, I never imagined that I could be looking for a bed for over an hour.  Seriously, it's just a bed, isn't it?  Well, apparently not.  But mission possible and yay and weird, because despite my age, I feel way too young to be buying my own furniture...guess we all gotta grow up sometime, eh?

3.  I have a job.  Nothing fancy, mind you; I'll be working the overnight stocking shift at the local Wal*Mart.  The hours are pretty good, even considering overnight, and the pay is decent as well, plus I've been guaranteed at least thirty hours a week, so maybe I can actually put something away in my savings.  Yay?  Since the shifts are going to be kind of long, I bought really comfortable tennis shoes to wear, and I have designs on becoming best friends with the peanut butter and jam sandwich I plan on eating every night for my 'lunch break.'  It's healthy, anyway.  And so, yeah, my schedule will be a little weird, planning out sleep and such, but I'm pretty good at that anyway.  And once my new bed comes in, and I actually have a mattress to sleep on, I'm betting I'll be great.  Though you could say a prayer for me anyway; I wouldn't say no. :)

4.  I'm considering devoting my life to musical theatre.  Okay, okay, I kid.  But Sweeney Todd is really pretty awesome, and though I've been singing the songs for months now, I'm still not sick of them, and I get so excited every night before a show, and I just love it.  Sometimes I wish I had a bigger part, but singing in the sextet is pretty awesome anyway, and I love the outfits, and the crazy, and Johanna is the greatest...(though I may be biased, considering that Keli Rhea is Johanna, haha)... The theatre announced its next season, and though I may not try anything for the fall, there are a couple shows in the spring I'm excited for.  And I've decided to volunteer as assistant costumer anyway, whether I get something or not, and that will be a blast in and of itself, because our costumer Zach is just delightful.  So I'll keep up with it anyway, whether I sing or not.  I'll always have the concert choir and chamber singers, at least...

5.  I officially started looking at grad schools.  Yes, I know, I still have some time before that.  But I'd like this to be something that actually happens, and not just some fantasy I make up in my head.  And, of course, money not being overly plentiful, I plan on working for some time before I move on, because even with loans, I'll need all the help I can get.  But I started looking today, and called a few places to ask about their programs, and well...I'm excited.  I've only looked in Seattle so far, but I'll branch out from the dream schools soon enough, I'm sure.  If I was really daring, I'd look in Paris or Prague...but we'll see.  We'll see.

Sometimes I think I have too much going on...
I'd say it's about time for a drink, wouldn't you?

Love to you all, and good night!

Sunday Five on a Tuesday...

Why Sunday?

Because I meant to post then anyway, and got distracted...
And I like Sundays better anyway.

So...

1.  I'm in a different room.
  Three doors down.
[Yes, I know that's a band]
I've been told that changing rooms every year like we do here is odd, but I've never been anywhere else, so it doesn't seem anything less than normal to me.  That, and I like the change of scenery, and having an excuse to actually go through my stuff and toss things...which I promise, I do; I'm not a total pack-rat, contrary to popular belief.
  But I can't speak too much on what it's going to be like here.  At the moment, I'm sharing the living space with another piano major, and it's kind of nice to think I might get to know this girl...and maybe get rid of that sense of competition I have whenever I'm around her and realize she's five years younger and a lifetime better than me.  She's great, though, and what I've observed of her, outside the practice rooms, is pretty cool.
  However, things change, and I might, just might, be in another room next month...
  But I have to ask certain peoples first, so we'll wait on that.

2.  Despite what everyone thinks, I do eat.  Sometimes it's just a bowl of cream of wheat or some reheated pasta --there is ALWAYS pasta, especially on my nonexistent budget-- but I eat.  I'll mix things that shouldn't be mixed, just so I can get all my vitamins and minerals.  And if it looks like hell and tastes even worse, what does it matter?  My stomach is made of iron.  And I'm happier full with a yucky taste in my mouth than empty with no taste at all.
  That being said, sometimes I need people to remind me what time it is (i.e., suppertime, breakfast-time, etc).  And sometimes I don't have any milk or meat.  But if I can keep up with my vitamins, I should be okay, don't you think?
  Plus Sam and Bryon will always feed me when I visit, so I can get a real meal at least once a week.

3.  I'm a hopeless romantic.
  Not really a surprise, is it?
  It really hits home, though, when I almost freak out because I almost broke a teacup that holds the corsage from my senior prom.  And it's not about the boy or the dress or the music.  It's about how pretty it is, and how just looking at it makes me feel like a princess.
  And speaking of princesses, I have two tiaras in my room, and yes, I wear them on a regular basis.
  I believe in fairy tales and am crushed when I read something and find that an author I held in such high esteem throughout my reading shows me in the last two or three pages that he/she is a little less optimistic about life.  I war with wanting to read more or returning to such tales as Cinderella and The Sleeping Beauty, but then I remember that despite my 'hopeless romanticism,' I'm also, well...
  Suffice to say that in the last year, I have succumbed to numerous jealous fits when someone other than me (and it's always other than me) gets a 'happily ever after.'  Granted, such fits are often followed by a tearful jag beneath the covers that only leads to nightmares where 'happy' isn't even in the lexicon.
  I'm sure there's something off about a romantic who is tormented at even the thought of romance.

4.  I have become...well, 'addicted' is such a harsh word...let's just say that I really enjoy fanfiction.
  You know fanfiction, right?  A fanbase is so enamored of a character or two (or three, or four...) and so in love with the world that they live in that they will hence proceed to write their own story-lines to those characters and worlds.  I'm not sure if they believe they can do it better, or they're just in a constant state of wondering 'What if, instead of that, he did this...' and so they write about it, and the rest of the world stumbles upon their words, quite unaware of what they're getting into until it's up to the fifteenth chapter, and it hasn't been updated in a week, and they're screaming at their computer screens...
  Not that I've resorted to screaming.
  Yet.
  But being an avid reader, it's hard to turn away from something that discusses a subject I love, and so I read and read and read, and find myself caught up in all manner of literary travesties, some of them silly to the point of stupid, others full of smut-smut-smut they wouldn't show on Skinemax, and still others that are so brilliant they bring a tear to my eye when they find the perfect ending.
  And this doesn't even touch on the AU (alternate universe) themes that crop up as well.
  I have yet to succumb to writing one myself, but my fingers itch at the thought, so I'm sure I'll be there in no time at all, if only because sometimes, just sometimes, it's a relief to have a character already written out with only the dialogue and scenery to supply.
  Heaven help me if I decide to drop my personal fictions for this...drivel...

5.  I'm taking statistics during the May term.
  Believe it or not, I actually kind of like math.  The reason why I've scorned it in the past is simply due to the fact that I have a very short attention span, and can't focus for an entire semester, let alone a year, like they expected in high school.  It's just not feasible.  I don't know if I'm a touch ADD or what, but I just can't do it.
  However, sit me down for a three week course?
  I'm golden.
  And I really, really, really, really like math.
  Which is why I keep my math books when I'm done.
  Well, that, and the fact that every time I'm in a math class, it just happens to be the last one where they use the book that I bought, so the bookstore won't take it back.
  Still.
  Math is kind of cool, you know?


And that'll do it for today.
Happy Sunday on a Tuesday.

Romantika v každém věku [Romance at any age]

Photo courtesy of my friend Zuzana...though idk if she actually took it or not lol

I'm not sure there's really a point to this post...

I just wanted to say hi?

Feel free to say hi back...

[please say hi back]

Okay, so...

Finals for spring are finished.

I passed my level-change jury.

I'd like to do a recital late fall, early spring, but we'll see.

Bach is both a lover and an adversary.

And I really don't understand twentieth-century composition, but if I read the book a few more times, maybe it would click.

All but one roommate is gone.

I get the leftovers.

I clean what doesn't get cleaned.

And I move into a new room in two weeks.

All the while wondering what in my own room I can donate or simply toss, and try not to have so much clutter...

I watched a film once, this guy says, "I take pride in the fact that I can fit my entire life into two suitcases."

I'll take three and a laptop case.

Currently I stand at a full Blazer plus some extra boxes I might just tie to the roof.

Dangerous.

I currently have in the works plans to visit.

First, visit my grandparents, in Minnesota, along with my sister, my brother, whatever other family might be around, and some friends that live in a two-hour radius of the place, for the first two weeks in July.

Second, my sister out in California, sometime in October, no more than a week, and I have no idea what we'll do, but it might be awesome.

Third, this luthier out in Bozeman, to get a better violin, as the one I have, even fixed, is just a crappy violin that works in the short term but will never sound good, no matter how good I get.

[Not sure when that one will be]

And maybe a few other things that keep slipping out of my reach...

And really, only the third is definite, because when it comes to saving money, if there's not music involved, I'm just not good at doing it.  Though I'd love to play on Grandma's piano again, and since my sister is a musician herself, well...

Maybe I'll hotwire my brain to think the circumstances equate each other.

...

And that's all I feel like spilling atm...

Adieu, mes amis.