sigmastolen: (Default)
1. AWKWARD STORY!!! So remember bull-like percussionist (BLP)? Okay. So, rehearsal goes from 3:30-6 with a break in the middle. The Tuesday before the concert, we had been rehearsing Mozart 39, on which I played first bassoon and he played timpani. When Maestro Z let us go to break, he released the trumpets and timpani because we would be working on the slow movement for the rest of rehearsal. So I was sitting in my chair, maybe noodling? probably just sitting, and BLP comes over and is all, "So, how about getting drinks after this concert? You're not going to space out again, right?" Which, BY THE WAY: THIS IS EXACTLY THE WRONG WAY TO APPROACH A WOMAN. Because I didn't see him coming, and he got all up in my personal space, and the wording and tone conveyed a sense of entitlement and resentment failing to pass itself off as a joke, as well as left me no way to tactfully decline.

So I did the only thing I could do: "Suuuuuuuuure," I replied. Cue awkward conversation that I don't want to be in, in which I also misunderstand about half of what he says because he mumbles. *eyeroll* Aaaaaand then he left and I spent the rest of the rehearsal having a small "OH GOD THE AWKWARD" freakout.

The rest of the week I was polite when he initiated conversation but honestly I avoided him a little and exaggerated my natural social awkardness because I really wanted him to take a hint.

(fun fact: at the next rehearsal, Maestro Z tried to correct something BLP was doing and instead of accepting it (or at least pretending to accept it, as musicians WHO WANT TO KEEP THEIR JOBS do all the time), he said, defensively, "I'm just trying to accommodate everyone else," or something to that effect. And honestly, if I had been interested before that, I definitely wouldn't have been afterwards. PROFESSIONALISM/REHEARSAL ETIQUETTE FAIL. NEGATIVE POINTS.)

So anyway, I contrived to bring Comrades K and R along and possibly some other people as well and make it clearly a JUST BUDDIES OKAY kind of outing. We played the concert (and BLP and I definitely didn't discuss this having of drinks during the intervening time) and I was chatting with the clarinets going offstage and while packing up. When we made our way out of the hall, I found my bassoon comrades, but BLP was nowhere to be found. The clarinets asked if we wanted to get frozen yogurt (I really like saying "fro-yo" but it looks so silly in writing), but Comrade K wanted booze, so we went to a nearby bar instead. Crossing the street on the way there, we saw BLP walking ahead of us with a cellist (who, hilariously, has a very similar build to mine, but she's blonde. well, I was entertained, anyway). I guess he got the hint? Which I guess also makes me a bitch, but I'm actually pretty okay with that. My Comrades and I had a beer with the grad conductors, who are all precious. BLP and I have had zero interactions since. Oops.

2. Grad Conductor J is Czech, and he is conducting the Stravinsky Septet, which I am playing in, for this Contemporary Music Ensemble concert cycle. His English is not great, and he mumbles a little, and makes hilarious faces when he conducts, and for some reason thinks it's okay to wear a white bow tie and red cummerbund with his black tux when he is conducting a concert... But it's kind of awkwardly charming, mostly because of his accent (and because he's pretty sweet, and definitely well-intentioned). Anyway, I'd really only spoken with him very briefly in class, plus one awkward mumbled conversation on a crowded bus, so hearing him talk as much as he does in rehearsal is a novel thing. It fascinates me. He keeps saying the word slowlier -- as in, "we take it a little slowlier" -- which is an adorable word-formation. I don't remember my Origins & Nature of English Vocabulary as well as I would like, and I left all my old notebooks in Long Beach (how's that for cutting the cord, yo? except I didn't get rid of anything, it's all in a box in my parents' house...), so I don't know exactly what neologistic processes are going on, but it's clearly a conflation of "slowly" and "slower," yeah? Cute. Also, he says "bassoon" with a fun accent. It's a little like "bassyoon" -- not pronounced enough to be umlaut-u, maybe a little like French u? As well as "wiolin" and always "celli" (never "cello"). It's fun.

3. The Stravinsky Septet is a lot more fun (and a lot easier to read) with more than four parts accounted for. No joke, for the first rehearsal last week (at 9 a.m.), I was the first person to show up, at maybe 20 of? Grad Conductor D, the CME manager, arrived soon after, and we set up the chairs (as we were doing so, someone from the rehearsal crew, which I guess is a work-study deal? they do set-up and tear-down for all the "large ensembles" -- orchestra, wind ensemble, and CME -- poked his head in but we were all, "we got this" so he left), and then Grad Conductor J came as well, and I warmed up. The violinist and violist were also essentially on time, so Grad Conductor D covered the piano part, and we started reading (we'd only gotten the parts scores (the parts are on back-order, bah) the night before, okay? I only remembered to pick mine up that morning). The pianist arrived 45 minutes late. The clarinetist and cellist never showed up at all, and Grad Conductor D had forgotten to put a horn player on the roster. This morning's 9 a.m. rehearsal had everyone but the horn, which, eh, not cool, but it was still much easier to put things together and get shit done. Yesterday's 8:30 a.m. rehearsal of the Stravinsky Concertino for 12 players was also pretty pathetic -- four people (violin, clarinet, oboe, trumpet 1) never showed up, trumpet 2 arrived halfway through the rehearsal, trombone 1 even later, and we started about 10 or 15 minutes behind schedule because we were waiting for people to trickle in.

I understand that this is college and it's hard to get up for things that early, but we are musicians and this is rehearsal. This shit? Is how grownups get FIRED. Dammit.

4. So I'm working with Tall Composer on a project for Research Seminar (which is something that happens to All Masters Students Everywhere, I'm told), because his joined-at-the-hip roomie is working with his new bestie, the oboist from my quintet. And it turns out he's kind of a douche (so props to you for calling it, Jeff). Best of all, it's in a way that reminds me unpleasantly of DIAF. Now I'm extra glad I decided I don't actually want to date anyone.

5. I am crocheting! I am crocheting "convertible" gloves -- the fingers are full-length, but they have a slit about halfway up, so you can stick your fingers out and be dextrous while the top of the finger flops around behind, and then when you're done you can be warm again! But you guys, I have remembered why I switched over entirely to knitting: crocheting sucks. Completely aside from the fact that I had to RE-LEARN EVERYTHING (except for how to chain, I guess), it is very slow going, and I have to look at what I'm doing all the time because I can't find where I'm supposed to stick the hook through by feel, and while the left-hand glove feels warm when I try it on indoors (it's the finished one; I've only begun the cuff on the right-hand glove so far), it is rather bulky and I'm sure the wind will cut right through all the GAPING HOLES that crocheting creates. Ah, well. I'm enjoying it well enough, I guess. And I LOVE the yarn I'm using! It's Elsebeth Lavold BAMBOOL (so named because it is 80% bamboo viscose and 20% merino wool) in midnight blue, to match my corduroy blazer (that it's probably already too cold to wear YAY). AND AND AND it's only $6.99 per 50-gram ball at the AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME yarn store near my flat, Knit One. It's deliciously soft (one of the owners confided to me, while I was checking out, that she had passed it off as cashmere in a hat for a friend, because they had no cashmere yarn in the colour he wanted), and pretty, and warm (I hope). MY NEXT PROJECT: convertible mittens (this is where it's "fingerless" (properly half-fingers, here) gloves underneath and a big mitten flap over the top) in a grey tweed wool, to go with my peacoat. And my trench. And, you know, everything. (Freedom Spirit by Twilleys of Stamford, $5.95 per 50-gram ball, score! srsly some of the yarn there, like the silks or the actual cashmere, was upwards of $30)

6. So it turns out I might be good at what I do? I always feel awkward when people compliment me. Which happened after pretty much every rehearsal for Mozart 39, be it from the clarinets, the grad conductors, or Lipstick Lesbian Horn Player (I like her, she's from NorCal and is pretty cool, even though Comrade P and Metal Oboist say she's a bitch. I suspect this is almost entirely because she does not like the cock). And now it's happened after a couple wind ensemble rehearsals as well (OH GOD WIND ENSEMBLE HERE KILLS MY SOUL. AS ANNOYING AS IT WAS AT UCLA, AT LEAST DR. DIRECTOR OF BANDS STILL LOVES HIS JOB), and Wind Ensemble Directator tossed off an awkward, "I love your playing," in rehearsal once (SO AWKWARD). And, while I am reasonably happy with the quintet I was assigned to this semester, I have been propositioned for next semester by three other groups so far: a trio wanting to become a quartet, the quintet that Comrade P is leaving, and a quintet that is trying to form (this one probably has the least chance of being graced by my presence, because the clarinetist is douchey and the oboist, though excellent and hot like burning, was one of the people who didn't show up to the Stravinsky Concertino -- although to be completely honest I really don't like the way the oboist in Comrade P's quintet plays. at all). So, uh. I seem to be in demand. Which is actually a little uncomfortable. But I really shouldn't be complaining, because, hey, the more I get to play, right?

7. Uh....... was there a 7? idek. WHATEVER, YO, IT'S 0040 AND I WANTED TO WATCH SOME BSG TONIGHT :\

8. OH BTW I WATCHED WHIP IT AND I LOVE LOVE LOVE ELLEN PAGE AND ALSO I WANT TO PLAY ROLLER DERBY AND BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF OTHER GIRLS IN FISHNETS AND QUAD SKATES.

9. DEAR APPLE: Photobucket WTF DOES THIS MEAN??? D: YRS, SIGMA
UPDATE: Photobucket WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
sigmastolen: (Default)
So I definitely meant to make several different posts throughout the past week, none of which actually happened. So I'll abbreviate my week, I guess, in order to have sort of a clean slate before going back to the high school in the morning.

1. Monday night we had the first of three Double Reed Studios classes on practising. This week's was Practising and Imagination, and it was pretty cool. It culminated in the oboe teacher having us all come up, one by one, and write a signed statement that said, "I promise to practise at least five minutes every day," and then giving us a little notebook to use as a practise log. As cult-like as it seems (and that's totally what it was -- an initiation ritual into the double reed practise cult), it's worked, at least for this week. I have indeed practised at least five minutes every day. Maybe having witnesses to that resolution is what's keeping me honest? Or maybe it's the notebook?
Afterwards we went to Margarita Mondays at Acapulco for Double Reed Bonding. Yay!

2. The kitties had a bath this week, and I find ways to improve my cat bathing technique every time I do it! This week's revelation: don't let them get above knee level. If you lift them, they will climb you. If you kneel, they will climb you. And if they jump to what they think is a decent enough height, they will then jump from there onto you and they will climb you. And being climbed is painful.
They were so fluffy afterwards, though! You know, after they sat and licked the water off for a couple hours.

3. Bratty New Library Assistant is in my Music of Asia class and he is a twat. Sat behind me in lecture on Tuesday and talked the entire time. Some of my favourite parts were when the professor struck a pair of finger cymbals to signify the start of class and he said, "You did not just ring a bell at me," when my friend Sarah shushed him (this happened several times but the best one was when he protested that he wasn't talking and retorted "you're talking right now!"), and when my TA was giving a powerpoint presentation involving nagas -- serpent deities -- and he got squeamish about a photograph of a statue of a snake (Sarah wrote in the margin of my notes, "MAN UP!" and "CAHONES!!" [sic])

4. On Wednesday we played some chamber music (incl. the Dvořák Wind Serenade) at the Chancellor's Residence on campus, and today when my mum came (to make me sign my taxes) she brought a lovely thank-you note from the Chancellor's wife. Awwwwww.

5. We've started rehearsing the orchestra parts for Flight, this quarter's opera, and it is so. Fun.

6. The (pro bono btw) recording session for WITH GREAT POWER, the documentary about Stan "The Man" Lee, finally happened on Friday. It was by turns exciting (My First Recording Gig! Capitol Records Studio! New bassoon friend! STAN LEE!!!) and frustrating (Terrible strings! Worst Cellos Evar! Bad horns! Bitch pianist! DIAF saying stupid things! Everything took FOREVER!!!). BUT they're going to send me (well, all the musicians) a copy of the DVD and and invitation to the premiere party, which would hopefully have CELEBRITIES!!! like STAN LEE!!!! at it. I told my brother he could be my plus one. There are actually more stories about Friday but I have to teach at 8 a.m. tomorrow.

7. So this week I have been seriously contemplating quitting the credential program. I don't know if it's because I am too afraid of all the work I haven't done yet (and when I say "all the work" I do mean all the work), but I feel like the only reason I'm still at it is to finish what I started, and I don't actually want the credential -- and by extension, I don't actually want to teach -- anymore. And I sort of feel like that's not a good enough reason to go through with it. I dunno. So far everyone I've talked to about it has told me to just suck it up and finish it because I'll be much more employable with a credential than without.

8. I have been cooking up a storm this weekend: asparagus omelet (it was going to be frittata but then I lost my nerve) rosemary cornbread muffins, sweet potato fries. And I found a recipe for rosemary asiago cornbread madeleines and I've decided to do it once I research and purchase a replacement for buttermilk. But I'll probably do them in a mini-muffin tin instead of a madeleine mold. Recipes to follow!

9. ... So I'm moving to Pittsburgh! I decided this morning, when mum was over. Hopefully I'm still able to get all the aid they offered, I kind of didn't read the part where I was supposed to turn in my assistantship application by either 15 or 31 March. I'm going to call the admissions officer about it tomorrow, as well as put the application and all of my "Y/N??" forms in the mail tomorrow.

10. Typing sideways in the dark is hard. I have done so much "typo-->delete (repeat ad nauseam) -->retype" tonight. Gah!
sigmastolen: (Default)
This is probably a stupid idea, because tomorrow I'll be travelling again and Mr. Stevens always impressed upon us that it's the night before the night before an event that you need to get more sleep -- 48 hour sleep cycle, whatever -- but I need to get caught up with the Pittsburgh stories before embarking on this weekend's adventure, so here goes. I'll try not to be too florid, in the interest of my sleep cycle.

To review:
-1) Library Brat Hates Me
0) Off The Deep End
1) Sunnydale Airport is Long Beach
2) Happy belated birthday, Mozart
3) Travel misadventures: delays, changes, ginger ale
4) DIA: dinosaurs in the tile, "free wifi" fail


And here we resume:
5) OMGWTFCOLD
My second airplane was pretty uneventful -- everyone seemed tired after the 1.5-hour delay. It was a little plane, only four seats per row. I played a text adventure on my computer and when the battery ran out, I drew and looked out the window (but night isn't that interesting unless it's clear enough to see stars, which it was not); the woman in the seat next to me slept. We taxi'd for a long time at PIT. Before we disembarked, the pilot did the usual announcements, including the local weather -- 12ºF. And I just had no idea what that meant. I found out, though, when I went outside to hire a cab: Pretty Damn Cold. Hat, scarf, and gloves cold. That was at about 1 am; during the day it was probably around 20ºF, maybe 15-ish with wind chill. But yeah. I have a whole new point of reference for "cold."

6) Dan's House: Dudes, Dude Loofahs, Towel Improv, omg cardinal!
I stayed at Dan's house because Dan is the man. He lives in a formerly-two-bedroom (the living room was really shoddily partitioned into a smaller living room and two more bedrooms; Dan has the front one and shares the front window with the living room. His wall doesn't actually touch the front wall or the ceiling) with three of his brothers from Theta Xi. And it's definitely the dwelling place of a bunch of Dudes: a bit grimy, dirty dishes, old pizza, empty (and partially-empty) beer cans, the works. I kind of enjoyed it, though. I definitely enjoyed the chance to observe a bunch of Dudes who weren't editing themselves because a girl was there. Dudes are funny. They also have about 6 kinds of hot sauce. Anyway, I got there maybe around 2 and it was just Dan there (well, also a sleeping roommate but as I didn't meet him until the next day it was like he wasn't there); the others came home from a bar not long after, and they (plus 2 friends) stayed up playing Mario Kart for a while. (p.s. this definitely rekindled my desire to get an N64) I slept on a couch in the (finished) basement, with throw blankets and a Heat Dish to keep me warm, and it was quite cozy. 2 things about showering the next morning: (a) it is permissible for Dudes to have Loofahs. Appropriate colours include powder blue, spring green, and black. and (b) I did not bring a towel, and I didn't think to ask for one the night before. I poked around futilely for a linen closet (I didn't actually expect there to be one, because, Dudes, but no harm in checking anyway, eh), and ultimately improvised with paper towels. It took fewer sheets than I expected, which was awesome. And during breakfast, Dan and I saw a cardinal perch in the tree outside the front window :)

7) The Audition
I think it went okay? They didn't ask me to play very much, I think because they were trying to get ahead of schedule, but then afterwards we chatted a while, about reeds and music ed and my teacher's bassoon sonata. There were four other bassoons, two undergrad and two grad. (From outside the door, it seemed like they all did a lot more playing than I did.) I'm trying not to have expectations either way.

8) And Then I Slept For A Year
Afterwards, we hung around at the music building a while -- Daniel practised and I availed myself of the table of snacks -- and then went back to his house, where his roommates were watching Kicking and Screaming, and I had no idea that this movie existed before that afternoon (Will Ferrell + youth soccer). And afterwards there was more Mario Kart, and then everyone left for dinner and Dan and I had talked about going back to the music building to practise more but he decided to make reeds and I decided to sleep. This was around 6, I think? And I woke up again circa 1 a.m., and a bit after that Dan and his came home from a party they'd gone to and we had grilled cheese (dinner, for me) at 2 in the morning. Yeeeah. And then I slept for another hour or two, and then I got up to catch the bus to the airport. Yay.

9) PIT at ass o'clock, chatty dudes on the plane, The Informant!
I don't remember what I was supposed to say about PIT, except that I was there at 7 a.m. and it wasn't light out yet. I caught the bus at 6, and let me tell you, the ten minutes I spent sitting at the bus stop were some of the coldest ever. At least it wasn't windy. I think I should have stood to wait, though, because I was not too cold except for where my ass touched the metal bench. Classic. Anyway, on the way back to Denver, I had a middle seat between two really chatty 40-something guys. I don't know, is there something about a young woman travelling alone that begs for conversation? Or do I just seem approachable? It was kind of fun, though. They talked about skiing and their kids and their pets, and we chatted about the movie -- The Informant!, and I enjoyed it, mostly, despite some gratuitous cheese -- the aisle guy was actually reading the book it's based on, and he says it reads like a spy novel.

10) DIA v. 2.0: recycling, smog, OMGBIRDS!
Back at DIA, there was smog, but I didn't really expect not-LA places to have it, so aisle guy teased me for not recognising it. DIA recycles, which is nice -- good for you, DIA! My gate for the flight to SNA was at the very end of B Concourse, and there were a bunch of little birds inside, swooping around the rafters. I wonder how they got in -- and I wonder how they get out.

11) This Is Why I'm Fat: Airport Edition (related: why no napkins, McD's?)
And I realised that I eat total crap when I'm travelling, because I feel like, oh, it's okay, it's just today except it's also a couple days after that, and two weekends after that, and the weekend after, and the weekend after after. I need to be careful, I guess. At all the airports for that trip, I had a cheese danish and a banana and water from Starbucks, a pasta bread bowl and soda from Domino's, a Sausage McMuffin and hash browns and coffee from McDonald's, a Mac Wrap and cinnamon bites and a soda from McDonald's again, and a snack box on the plane. The banana and the snack box were probably the healthiest things on that list. (And that's not including the pizza, grilled cheese, and Cheerios at Dan's.) On a related note, neither McDonald's gave me napkins, wtf?

12) chatty Taiwanese businessman
On the way back to SNA (John Wayne International Airport in Orange County, I have no idea why its call letters are so unrelated), I was in another middle seat -- bleh -- and a chatty Taiwanese businessman had the aisle. We talked about music and UCLA and I think I agreed to do a refresher lesson on reading music, because he says he's forgotten in the 20 years since he last played guitar. I didn't get his name, but he has my e-mail... so... *shrug*

13) And Then I Slept For A Year (redux)
Well, I went to sleep at about 4 after getting back to LB at 2:30, and then I didn't get up until the next morning, and then I had to boogie back to my apartment to get the cats settled and go to school for rehearsal. Luckily for me, SaMoHi had the day off.

------------

And I do have three more points from this week!
1) Student Teaching Update: conducting, viola, bass, bass girls
Student teaching is fun. I'm conducting two pieces with the middle orchestra, and that's going well. I can tell that my conducting has improved a lot in just the month I've been there. That class is very chatty and they tend to helpfully suggest things we should do instead of rehearsing the way I intend to, but I like them, mostly. In the next orchestra down, I'm playing bass, and omg the girls in that bass section are a riot. Which is why I asked to play bass in that class, really. Bass itself is really fun, even though I'm not learning very fast, and I met one of my teacher's friends the other day -- the principal bass from the LA Opera orchestra is the bass coach at SaMo! He fixed my bowhold. And my hand position. I'm playing viola in the bottom group, and I'm picking it up a lot faster, but it's not as much fun. Anyway, the bass girls have decided that they're going to find me a boyfriend, or something. First they suggested the new bass helper guy, a SaMo alum who is about my age, but then they changed their minds and decided he was too retiring and needs to be more assertive. So then two days ago they decided I should date the second orchestra teacher, who is a UCLA alum and a cellist. I keep telling them, no, I can find my own dating prospects, thank you, but they won't let up.

2) UCLA Auditions: craziness, ass-saving, DIAF
Last Saturday I helped at the auditions for UCLA, and it was fun, I guess, but completely exhausting and actually a little stressful. I was in charge of the guitar, harp, and percussion table, and halfway through the day my runners both left, so I had to do the checking in and the taking to practise rooms and that was a little awful. Also, about half of the people on my lists didn't show up. I did get some of the woodwind gossip, though, because they were the next table down, and I talked to Dan a while when he came. Also, I was a great saviour and provider of piano parts. There was a kid from the bay area who I guess didn't realise there would be an accompanist provided, so he didn't bring music for said accompanist, and he ended up borrowing the Telemann Sonata (which I just bought this summer) and the Weber Hungarian Rondo (which I didn't even know I had) from me. His frantic and grateful mother gave me a Starbucks gift card, which I tried not to take, but she insisted. I guess now I don't have to use my own money at the airport Starbuckses, at least not for a few trips. Dan also didn't bring piano music for the Mozart Concerto, so he borrowed mine as well. I'm just that helpful. OH AND weirdly, Die In A Fire was there. AYS was rehearsing in the morning, so I knew he would be there in the morning, but afterwards he just kind of lurked around the string table for the rest of the day and it was really kind of gross and creepy. Thankfully strings were on a different hallway, but still. Ew. You don't belong here anymore. You should leave.

3) Deep Conversations with Paula
The lead-in to this was my discomfiture at DIAF's lurking. I'm not angry anymore, I don't really even hurt anymore, but I still really don't like it when he's around. Deeply simplified because of time, she thinks that I'm uncomfortable because I was the injured party and I didn't get payback, or the last word, and I suffered a long time while he was out living his life. Maybe. Eh. Also, she said she was talking to the principal bass of AYS about him, and he was like, "DIAF smokes weed? He doesn't seem cool enough for that." Which is, well, kind of true. Because he's an addict, and addicts just aren't cool. *shrug*
sigmastolen: (Default)
coffee is love.

and so are potatoes gorgonzola. i sort of wish i'd called dibs on the leftovers instead of giving them to the composers because damn, potatoes gorgonzola sound so good right now.

okay, guys, important question: I bought a can of coconut milk last week, to use in a sweet potato recipe that I promise I'll post because, yum -- but I only needed to use a tiny bit of it and now I have most of a can of coconut milk sitting in my fridge and I don't know what to do with it. SO! What can I make using coconut milk?

In other news, last night I finally deleted DIAF's number from my phone. (I had kept it so that my phone would know to block the number, but seriously, probability was definitely against ever needing to use that function -- no reason he'd need to contact me, especially since he doesn't have the stones, yeah?) It felt good. At the risk of being premature, I seem to have released the all-consuming rage, finally. I know I'm better off. And yeah, I'll still make jokes about not wanting to go to the training orchestras' concerts because "I don't want to be arrested for assault" and there are just too many people in both of those that I need to punch in the face... but the heat that was once behind statements like that is lacking, now. And you know what? That's fine.
sigmastolen: (Default)
Playing duos with bass players gets me in on some bass gossip. Such as:
When someone asked if we should beef up our bass section (currently two juniors and a freshman, and one of the juniors will be studying abroad for all of winter and spring, which is sad because he's my favourite and the one I'm playing the duo with) by calling Die In A Fire, the response of both the bass teacher AND the conductor was, "NO. NO, NO. NO."

I busted up laughing.

Yeah, it doesn't really hurt anymore, but I have a lot of anger about it still. Not just that -- I have anger about a lot of things. Honestly, I have a lot of rage, these past few months, most of it directionless, simmering and impotent.

But yeah, I still want to punch him in the face. He's pretty scrawny, I bet I could take him out.

Or key his car. Or slash his tires.

Mostly punch him in the face.

RAGE.
sigmastolen: (Default)
1. OH MY GOD BUSYWORK CLASS WTF.
- four hours of bad-quality video to watch (srsly one of them was so damaged that the screen blanked out every few seconds and the audio was wavering ALLLLLLL over the place. WTF BUSYWORK TEACHER YOU WANT US TO LEARN ABOUT CHORAL TEACHING BY NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE OR HEAR THE CLASS?)
- "video review" that contributes to a 30% chuck of the final grade, for which we have NO GUIDELINES WHATSOEVER THANKS FOR THAT
- five (+ about four more that were SEKRITLY STAPLED TOGETHER) articles (admittedly short) to read
- ONE-PARAGRAPH SUMMARIES of aforementioned articles (which I have not done and have very little intention to)
- take-home mini-quiz which BTW WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN IN THE LAST CLASS WAY TO GO WITH THE TIME MANAGEMENT BUSYWORK TEACHER
- random-ass songs to learn and analyse vowels of? I DON'T EVEN KNOW.
To sum up: WTF BUSYWORK CLASS GTFO

2. OMG BASSOON. WHERE DID ALL MY TCHAIK 4 MOJO GO? I swear it's all Charlie's fault, I felt happy about that excerpt until I started working on it with him. FFFFFFFFFFFFFFF IT TOOK ME 3 YEARS OF NO CHARLIE TO GET MY SCHEHEREZADE MOJO BACK I DON'T HAVE 3 MORE YEARS FOR TCHAIK. Also: DEAR REEDS, STOP SUCKING PLS. KTHX.

3. DEAR WEATHER, WTF R U DOIN? It was cold and rainy, and then it was hot and muggy and today was foggy-but-superbright and then I was inside all day and then it was cold and I actually needed to use the heater in the car this evening. What??

4. Note to self: YOU CAN'T PEEL OUT WHEN IT'S RAINING. YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TRACTION FOR THAT. It's okay, though, it happened each time within the first 3 minutes I was driving and none of them were situations that required peeling out and there were no crashes or anything and then after it happened I remembered to accelerate more slowly.

5. ... I don't really know but I feel like there should be a 5. Look for a future post about Star Trek waffles? YES THEY EXIST THIS IS TRUFAX. I sort of wonder how Zoe Saldana feels about people eating her face on waffles. For that matter, also Chris Pine and Zach Quinto (<3 <3 <3)

6. omg i am watching so much star trek. I FOUND ALL THE CHANNELS THAT TOS AND TNG ARE ON AND I DVR THEM AND IT IS WONDERFUL. I LOVE STAR TREK LIKE BURNING.

7. I keep forgetting that having an ear infection is in fact "being sick" -- I run around doing all the things I would normally do and since I'm not coughing or sneezing or feverish or achy or nauseous, I don't actually consider it "being sick" except for the part where my ear sometimes feels funny/painful and I have to take MASSIVE HORSE PILLS three times a day. Except I keep spontaneously sleeping. On the couch in front of the TV, dozing lightly in the library in front of the VCR setup (I HATE YOU BUSYWORK CLASS), taking 3-hour naps in my parents' living room... Well, maybe that's not so unusual -- I tend to fall asleep/take extravagant naps every time I go home, it seems. But still. It's also waaay too hard to get up in the mornings. THANKS BUT NO THANKS, EAR INFECTION.

8. At least I don't have 'flu like my brother. Yeah, apparently today he has a 100-degree fever and coughing. GET YOUR FLU SHOTS, KIDS. Swine flu and seasonal flu. (o btw I was definitely misinformed about the whole "swine flu is the only flu active in the u.s." thing -- there is ALSO regular old seasonal influenza and you should DEFINITELY get flu shots for both kinds k? some of my family from norcal has already had both kinds this fall.)

9. Oh! So, I glimpsed DIAF through the door in a rehearsal for one of the youth orchestras that uses our facilities. And I, like, wanted to get mad and hurt, or I tried to, or something... but then I realised that I don't care enough to get hurt and I don't have the energy for it and, you know what? That felt good. I still kind of wanted to key his car. I didn't, though -- I wanted to go home and eat dinner more. More good, yeah? Heh.

10. My grandma has a guava tree in her back yard and it has FRUIT and some of them are RIPE and so yesterday when we were at her house for lunch my mum and I went out and picked guavas!! And persimmons! (OMG SO MANY PERSIMMON. SO MANY.) I LOVE GUAVAS. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT GUAVAS. THEY SMELL SO GOOD. AND OMG SO TASTY. I HAVE SO MANY GUAVAS. GUAVAS ARE LOVE. (corrolary: my family is love. SO MUCH LOVE.)

11. This business of being too busy for life sucks a lot, not least because it is making all of my LJ entries freakin' ENORMOUS. OH MY GOD INTERNET I MISS YOU SO MUCH
sigmastolen: (Default)
I spent all afternoon at home today. Mum and I got our eyebrows threaded (she was so unprepared for the pain. it was a little hilarious), I watched Wall-E, my clothes are clean without me having to spend tons of quarters, I didn't have to cook my own food, I have my new running shoes, and I spent all day with people who love me.

I still feel shitty.

Also, I just got home and first I had to pretend to give a damn about Flatmate's day, and now she is watching shitty trashy tv and I wish I could somehow just not hear it because it is such utter trash. Also:

Dear Style Channel,
"Tranny" is not a word that is okay for you or the people in your shows to use. If a transperson is using it to reclaim it, that is his or her prerogative, but it is considered perjorative in any other context, especially that of completely imbecilic straight women talking about being unfashionable and having "camel-toe."
Get the fuck out of my living room,
Sigma

-----

In other news, the kittens were very good boys at the vet's this morning. They were getting boosters of a vaccine. And, OMG. I was expecting to have to gentle them through big scary needles, BUT NO. INSTEAD THEY SQUIRTED THE MEDICINE INTO THEIR NOSES WITH TINY KITTY NOSE SYRINGES.

They were pretty okay with it, and I was impressed. I much prefer shots to squirting shit up my nose. Seriously, I hate nasal sprays. Hate.

Whoa wtf Baxter is literally trying to climb the walls. WTF KITTEN. WTF.

-----

It kind of disturbs me that I'm saying this before the school year has even begun, but I want to live alone so badly. OMG GTFO OF MY FLAT. God. GODDAMN I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.

-----

ALSO the news made me angry. There was a segment about medical marijuana dispensaries and how the city of Los Angeles has FAILED ALL OVER ITSELF with a TOTAL LACK OF FEES AND REGULATIONS and it pissed me right the fuck off. Because apparently the borough of Eagle Rock has fucking ELEVEN dispensaries or something, most of them unregistered. I know firsthand that Westwood Village has two or three. There's a loophole in the law that the owners of these places are exploiting to apply to have them, but also the board that is supposed to review said applications or whatever is NOT REVIEWING THEM and they're opening illegally, without licenses or whatever, and no one is stopping them, and OH BY THE WAY the illegal shops? PAY NO TAXES OR FEES BECAUSE THE CITY ISN'T PAYING THEM ANY ATTENTION OR ANYTHING so EVERYTHING they make is profit. And it's a culture and one that is put on a pedestal, fucking idealized and aspired to and worshipped, and somehow the bulk of people pay no attention to how much it actually can (and in many cases does) fuck them up.

But I think what really makes me the most angry is the TOTAL lack of restrictions on who can get a weed card. I am not denying the value of marijuana as a real, medical treatment for some people -- I know a musician who has a serious and painful gastrointestinal (i think?) condition with an equally serious and painful treatment, and being high while she's recovering from it is pretty much all that gets her through it. Similarly, other people with legitimate need of marijuana -- cancer patients, pain patients -- should be able to get it. THIS DOES NOT APPLY to bullshit excuses like, oh, say, exaggerated tendinitis, and then the "patient" immediately goes out and treats it as a justification for buying virtually unlimited amounts of the drug, and a justification for being fucking blazed all the fucking time -- both to others (with limited success) and to himself (BECAUSE ADDICTS ARE LYING LIARS WHO LIE, ESPECIALLY TO THEMSELVES).

I guess what I'm saying is there needs to be a system of controls on (a) who can prescribe it (I'M LOOKING AT YOU, DOCTORS OF DUBIOUS INTEGRITY), (b) for what reasons it can be prescribed, and (c) how much a patient can acquire. YOU WANT TO CALL IT MEDICINE? TREAT IT LIKE OTHER PRESCRIPTION DRUGS. YOU KNOW, WITH REAL PRESCRIPTIONS AND PHARMACIES. NONE OF THIS "CANNABIS COLLECTIVE" HIPPIE BULLSHIT. I AM CALLING YOU OUT, LOS ANGELES, MEDICAL PROFESSION, UNITED STATES, WHO-THE-FUCK-EVER. GET IT THE FUCK TOGETHER. GET IT UNDER SOME FUCKING CONTROL.

Um. It, ah, touches a FUCKING nerve, okay? FUCK.

because i'll always wish i had protested more.

FUCK.



FUCK.
sigmastolen: (Default)
I dunno. I've been feeling shitty the past few days. fragile. not very much like a person. I've been tired and solitary and irritable and sad, kind of. completely unable to tackle my to-do list, and I've had the same one since thursday. it's taken me two hours of being awake and pretending i'm not to get out of bed every day, except to feed the kittens because they sit next to my face and cry until I do. And after all that I find that it's just too much goddamn effort to put on my running clothes and move, so I lie around for another hour, struggle through a shower, and curl up in front of the telly or with my computer for breakfast and then lunch. I can barely get myself out of the door in time to get to work within ten minutes of when I was supposed to clock in, and then I usually don't even fucking do anything for the four hours that I do work, besides fuck around on the internet and help the occasional patron.

-----
Just now:
Flatmate: *holds up a plastic container that formerly held plums* Are these recyclable, do you know?
Me: *glances* Oughta be. What does it say on the bottom?
Flatmate: *checks, as though she hadn't before* One.
Me: Yes. *hides eyeroll behind computer*

Dude, she took a class in "eco-feminism" (whatever the fuck that is. i often think that 60% of Women's Studies is bullshit. sort of like 60% of Flatmate is bullshit). She talks all about how she's into being green and shit. Why does she not know what is recyclable??? And actually, I would rather not discuss the raised rates for our cable bill right after a mediocre practise session (in which I had a devil of a time trying to ignore the music she was playing while cleaning her bathroom -- I swear it sounded like she was playing something on the stereo that has speakers right outside my door, and is that really necessary when she has a computer which she could put much closer to the bathroom (or inside it, how about that?), instead of needing to turn up the volume on the stereo right outside my door loud enough to carry to her bathroom?), kthx.
-----

Yesterday in the car on my way to work i almost had some kind of emotional breakdown. I was seriously blinking back tears during some old-guy cover of that NIN song Hurt. And then whatever else came on after that, I don't even know. It was awful. i just, I don't even know why, and my mind kept going back to last winter

and somehow i started thinking, 'it was my fault. I did this.' Like I had somehow brought it on myself that -- I don't even know, really. that J. didn't want to be with me after his psychotic break -- like it was somehow my fault for doing what I know was the right thing. or like somehow, if I hadn't gone to SD that weekend with my roommates, things would have turned out okay because I was there to notice something wrong and help him, instead of miss his call because i was on a fishing boat --

I know, it's not like I could have really done anything to prevent what happened, I'm sure, and

god. I don't even know what I'm trying to say now. It was a bad place. And then when I got to work all I wanted to do was go hide in the stacks for a while -- shelve or shelf read or shift or something, a task where it could just be me and the books and I wouldn't have to smile at people or think or anything -- but instead I was stuck behind the circulation desk all afternoon helping patrons and my eyes were tired and it was awful. And I got home in the evening and I curled up on the floor by the kittens and cried and they didn't even care. And Flatmate got home early and I had to pretend to be on and I visited John and he fiddled with my bassoon and that was okay, and his dogs were sweet and we chatted and Nick was there and that was nice too, but then I got back to my apartment and I was exhausted from it and I declined to watch Almost Famous with Flatmate and her bestie and went to bed and had a cry and fell asleep.

And I don't know why it all came flooding back at once, and this shouldn't be able to shatter me like this anymore. I should be done. I thought I was done. But I keep having these crying jags and not being able to fall asleep and then not being able to get up and I've been entirely unproductive for the past three days and I just feel so -- crushed. stomped flat. crumpled. Why can't I just be done?
sigmastolen: (Default)
Dear Shoe Boy,
You're still gorgeous, but the after-hours drop at the library is meant to be used after hours. There is no bin there when we are open, which you could clearly see, because that wall is floor-to-ceiling windows. When we are open, you are meant to come the fuck inside and return your books in the inside drop bin.

Not as indulgent as you think I am,
Sigma

Composers, I swear.

Today when I looked out the window of my flat it was frighteningly hazy, and my chest was tight enough that I needed to use my inhaler without doing anything more than walking to the window, so I decided to delay today's run. Hopefully the air will be clearer this evening? If it isn't, I'll take today as a Day Of Rest and nudge the training schedule back a day. Or until I'm no longer afraid to open the windows. Granted, I'll likely have to regress to a smaller run-to-walk ratio, but that's okay. I'd rather not breathe smoke.

Yesterday I finally started my grad school research. I'm still running with this (admittedly baseless) idea that Chicago is A Place I Want To Be, so that would mean Northwestern (technically in Evanston but not prohibitively far from Symphony Center eh?), Roosevelt, or DePaul. From there I jumped to check out the New York schools (god the Manhattan SoM sounds fantastic but I'm a little afraid of NYC and I'd probably never ever get in anyway), and I'm working my way westwards. The idea is that I want to go to school far, far away. And apparently my parents want to have a Serious Conversation about that with me, which will be joyous, I'm sure. I know I was talking a lot a while ago about going to grad school in Europe, but... I dunno. It's proving difficult to find information on what schools are even "good," especially information in English (because I just don't have the patience to wade through real-life German right now), and I'm pretty sure I don't want to end up playing with any kind of European "sound," although the German sound is miles better than French or even English bassoon. And Europe might be prohibitively expensive right now. Plus I have latched onto Chicago-in-my-head, which is kind of undercutting my motivation to investigate European schools. Eh. Musicians (er, Amanda), where are the other schools I should be looking at? How have I studied music in college for four years without knowing this? How have my friends found out where they should apply? (Of course, now that I'm looking inside the U.S. I imagine my teacher will have a lot more info for me.)

Also! I just spent a good long while chatting with Former Dungeon Master Ben about schools and teaching and sci-fi (he's reading Asimov for the first time; I've been DVRing Star Trek TOS & TNG and overdosing on Torchwood and reading all sorts of interesting meta about Sci-Fi and Television and Issues) and just... life. And I loooooove Ben and I miss hanging out with him, but inside my head (probably not inside his) the spectre of J hangs between us and I definitely still want J to Die In A Fire. I definitely felt a lot less awkward today than a few months ago, though, which is comforting. Because we are, in fact, friends on our own merit and not just through J. I <3 Ben. (and god damn do I miss playing D&D. *pout*)

In other news, one of my fellow Library Assistants suggested putting honey in coffee, which I had never considered before (because honey is for tea!). I tried it today, and it was actually quite good. *shrug* Who knew?

To Do This Evening:
- run if the air is decent
- practise (despite kitties hiding)
- put a new bag into Mom's Badass Canister Vacuum (which is now MY badass canister vac because she got a fancy new one just like it but better and a different colour!! YAAAAY I LOVE MY MOMMY SHE GIVES ME HER CAST-OFF AUTOMOBILES AND HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES) and vacuum the shit (NOT LITERAL SHIT YOU GUYS) out of my bathroom and the kitties' scratching post and cat carrier, which have been outside de-fleaing and de-Raiding for the past week and are probably now covered in ash.
- make pesto??? -- my basil has gotten pretty large -- and pasta go to with :)
- hang out with Dory, who asked this morning if he could crash on my couch. Yay! I hope he's not allergic to cats... Not that they'll be on him or anything, they sleep with me with the door shut, but still. Dander and all.
- deal with more of my Desk Heap maybe? I got a little bit of it sorted the other night -- or at least, it's now an orderly tower of stuff on top of the printer instead of a jumble of crap all over everywhere. I'm finding myself with a shocking lack of space for papers and things, though, and I don't really know how that happened, because I can't imagine where all these papers used to be hiding. I don't know, Abergavenny? oh god torchwood in my brain
- Pow-wow with Flatmate re: rent, which is due, to find out how we're adjusting for her doing automatic deposits for the cable. (know what SUCKS though? the building manager called me this morning and informed me that the pet deposit will be $400 which is a lot more than I anticipated. Aaaaarg.)
- OMG CUT TIES WITH PAC PROMOS. Which means finding the original paperwork. Which reminds me.

PSA TIEM!!!
If you are approached by a representative of PAC Promos, Inc., DON'T LET THEM TALK YOU INTO ANYTHING. RUN THE OTHER WAY. This mostly applies to ladies who have cause to be on a college campus in SoCal, because that is where they approach people (that is where they approached me).
The discounted salon services sound really nice but they charge you $20 a month and they DON'T STOP. I ended up not even being able to make time for any of the salon trips before the offer expired. At the time, I figured, "Oh well, whatever, I am allowed to make poor choices with my own money" (and $20 a month is definitely my own money, and not my parents') and assumed that they'd stop charging me once the offer expired. NOT SO. Which I did not notice until yesterday. Fuck me. And all the reviews I've read say that cutting ties with them is a huge hassle, which I'm not looking forward to.

... Hooray! Or not.
sigmastolen: (Default)
So Roomie moved out on Sunday... And she took the telly and the cat with her. I miss Roomie. :( And Rosco.

Flatmate was sick as a dog all weekend, which sucked for her a lot because it was graduation and her band had a gig and her parents and her bf's parents were in town and she was pretty miserable....

And now I have caught Flatmate's Monster Chest Cold From Hell. And it sucks a lot. Apparently I currently have a 100-degree fever? Well I just took some drugs so I should be feeling better in about 20 minutes.

Anyway, Flatmate and I just got back from signing the lease to our new place. That's right, we're moving to Culver City... next week. (We saw a Culver City cop car and the seal on the door said, humorously, "City of Culver City." Department of Redundancy Department, anyone?) It's big, it's bright, it's airy, and it's walking distance from a TON of stuff, including a Coffee Bean, a Hollywood Video, an awesome late-night Mediterranean cafe, an awesome Cuban restaurant, a cool-looking cocktail lounge, and several Thai places, as well as a short drive from downtown Culver, the 405, the 10, my high school bassoon teacher's house, the Museum of Jurassic Technology (I've been wanting to go there since I found out about it a couple years ago!!), and a bunch of shopping centres.

All of which makes today better than yesterday, despite me not being quite as sick yesterday... I was sick enough to be irritable, and then I got really randomly morose (I recounted The J. Story to a friend on Monday and I thought I was done letting it affect me that much, but I guess I'm still not really okay with the part where we probably saved his life and then when he was lucid again, he wanted nothing to do with me), and then I cheered up again but I was really weak and feverish and miserable walking home.

So I'm taking the afternoon off, to try and conserve my strength for a rehearsal this evening. Aaaaaaaaaaaaugh
sigmastolen: (Default)
1. Ridiculous Dream )

2. The Tale of Shoe-Boy )

3. Bonus!! Not a story, but more on shoes... The ones pictured above, I bought at DSW; they are the Rileigh by Madden Girl. And these are my awesome boots. They are the Chaingang by Rocket Dog. Shoes are awesome. (christ, when did i turn into a girl?)
sigmastolen: (Default)
The TV advert I just saw? Porn star Jenna Jameson in Zombie Strippers!. Actual quote from the movie: "Our best stripper is a reanimated corpse."

In other news, I have been having trouble reconciling my beliefs about love with how I've been feeling lately. Because I do think love, if it is real, is something that won't go away, but last night I described J. as a "steaming pile of horse shit" (yeah, it made me smirk) and tonight I amended it to "certain steaming piles of horse shit that we all know and hate" and this animosity seems incongruent. Maybe it's part of being a human? But also, perhaps, I loved the man he was. But that man is dead, has ceased to exist... and I'll always love that man, but this new one?

Not so much.

*shrug*
sigmastolen: (Default)
I just unfriended him and his mom on Facebook. No turning back, baby!
sigmastolen: (Default)
I think this is the end for real. Ben's senior recital was tonight, and Jay was there. I walked in and he was sort of standing in the middle of the room. I decided to just be stone, and so I wasn't going to look at him, but then he was like, "o hey" and he started to smile which just -- no. No. So I said, "Don't talk to me," and I didn't even break stride. I sat next to Dena and he retreated to the other side of the room. D. was proud of me. Hell, I was proud of me.

I couldn't stick to my guns, though. I started feeling really conflicted in the middle of it. So afterwards, I stopped him in the hallway. I don't know what I thought would happen, but how it actually went down, well...

Me: Jay. I... I'm sorry for, uh, snapping...
Jay: (repeatedly) No, no, you don't have to apologize. It's your right to feel that way.
Jay: I don't have it in me to do this right now. I have nothing to say to you.
Me: See, that's funny, because I have a lot to say to you.
Jay: I don't have the energy to do this.
Me: No, I need this to happen now, so STFU for two minutes and actually listen to me for once. I was the best damn thing ever to walk into your life. I was so in love with you.
Jay: I never meant to harm you --
Me: No, but you didn't give a shit that you did.

And I walked away.

And it felt really good. And then I got really depressed about it. But then I came home and told Flatmate (Roomie is in Brazil right now... :c ) and her friends, one of whom got dumped by her boyfriend yesterday, and now I feel good about it again. I guess it's just... There's no going back now. I guess there hasn't been for a long time, but now I feel it, instead of just knowing it intellectually. And I am always sad for loss, and I... miss what was, even though everything has been terrible for the last four or five months.

Maybe this is the closure I need. Maybe I'll be able to move on now.

In other news, there are a lot of very very attractive men in my comparative literature course, and two markedly hot guys in my section, and yesterday we did group work and I was in a group with both of them. c: One is named Benjamin and he is buff and has an accent I can't place... I suspect it might be Australia, New Zealand, or South Africa.
sigmastolen: (Default)
So. Thursday was Orchestra Concert.1. Thursday was also when I saw Jay for the first time since all the shit went down.

I was in the library talking to Z and I realised I needed to change. So on my way to my locker I walked past the orchestra room, where the YMF Debut Orchestra was warming up. I looked in to see who the bassoonists were and there he was, playing his bass. I'm pretty sure he didn't see me, as it was just a glance through the doorway, and maybe it's better that way? Because this was a shock (especially to find him in one of MY places) and I almost lost it, but now the initial awful part is out of the way and I'll be more in control if I have to interact with him. It was pretty bad, though. I let it get to me and I almost cried but then I needed to change clothes and play a concert so I didn't and I did and I almost lost it onstage because the Prokofiev was so intense but I held it together and then afterwards I followed Z home and cried a lot.

I almost didn't get up the next day. Or rather, I got up, showered, dressed, and then laid back down and then I almost didn't get up again. I have too much of a complex about being Needed during the course of the day, though.

I want him to hurt. Why should he get to live his life? It isn't fair that he is so unaffected when I hurt so much. Part of the reason I've been able to keep going is pretending that nothing happened and he doesn't exist, and then he was right there in the building and I couldn't pretend anymore and that was a pretty awful shock, too.

I suggested two things at the time -- that we find his car and key it, or that Z punch him in the face for me. Z informed me that I didn't actually want to do either of those things. Having thought about it, I don't think I was serious about keying his car, but I'm pretty sure I meant it about punching him in the face.

Maybe the worst part about knowing he was there, though, was that today I entered the building with my stomach in knots, anxious that I might run into him (I didn't, of course). I don't want to live in fear like this.

:C
sigmastolen: (Default)
I guess what I would most like to understand is this:

I am lovely, intelligent, geeky, sensual, and I am nothing but good to the people I love. Why, then, am I so easy to hurt and to leave?

edit;; Or rather, I think what I mean is, why does it seem to be so inconsequential to them if they hurt me? Why is does it not seem to affect them when they leave me? Why can't I hold on to a man?

Yes, I am a little disgusted with myself right now. I need to stop being so full of the drama.

edit.2;; What lies at the heart of this is the deep insult, insecurity, and bewilderment I feel when I discourse with imaginary! Ben, Diana, or Jay in my head and get to the part where he told me he loved me, then broke my heart and didn't give a shit about it and how is that possible? How can he not care that he hurt someone he professed to love?

Oh god I really need to stop letting my brain circle around this him this shit
sigmastolen: (Default)
I was kind of in a dark mood today, despite the rain, which I love... Ben came into the library this morning (before a lesson) and... I mean. I feel so stilted around him. What with the elephant in the corner and all. And I want to... ask him about Jay, I guess? Because even though he broke my heart and then didn't give a damn, and even though I don't want to see him or talk to him because it will hurt... I do still miss him a lot. Today especially. And just a minute ago, Roomie mentioned that she has always wanted to visit Griffith Observatory -- which was something he and I had talked about doing. It... made me sad.

I swear the middle parts of my day were good. And full of Mozart.
sigmastolen: (Default)
I'd be fine except for the emotional and temporal immediacy of all the Shit That Went Down, and the fact that the go-out-and-have-single-girl-fun plans I made with Roomie fell through (she and her sister are going out to dinner with their family instead, because they're for whatever reason in Santa Barbara this weekend (instead of Fremont), which is totally okay and I understand completely)... leaving me here with Flatmate who is getting ready to go out with her bf (and they're an adorable couple and I love them together, it's just. you know.) and the cat who enjoys spilling his water all over the kitchen floor. And last night all three of us were running around getting dressed up at the same time, but... I was putting on concert black for the opera, while they were going on Valentine's Day dates (or fake dates in Roomie's case but she still pulled out all the stops) and I felt it pretty intensely then, too.

I just... I miss Jay a lot. And I've been much happier since I decided that, no, he doesn't deserve me, and yes, I am gorgeous and smart and can go out with my girlfriends and have a great time. Neither of these things is preventing me from missing him, though. Especially when I remember the opera run last year -- snogging during the intervals and our not-so-inconspicuous exit from the orchestra after-party (on running into the host in the hallway outside the lift: "Leaving so soon, Jay?" "Yeah, well, I've gotta go bang my girlfriend." "Oh, that's all right then.") -- and the fact that Valentine's Day was in the middle of that as well and it had been just a short time since we started dating and my recital was the next day and both of us had almost completely forgotten until someone asked what we were going to do, so we went out to dinner at Islands (classy, I know, but the other place we tried had too long a wait and we were both super hungry) and... well. I'm forging ahead and I'm proud of that, I feel happier, but I still love him and it still hurts a bit. Especially on days like this when it seems like I'm the only one not having fun, when I have too much time to be in my own head, and when American society is telling me, in no uncertain terms, that I should be Out With A Man instead of In With My Cat.
sigmastolen: (Default)
1. My entire life is Mozart right now.

2. I have played so much bassoon today.

3. I have no idea what my flatmate is watching/listening to on her computer right now but it is irritating as fuck.

4. Just now, I tried to type a '/' and ended up hitting '.' ... TWICE.

5. OMG IS SHE DONE? no... no, just something else. but less irritating?

6. I'd like to tentatively announce that I'm losing weight somehow? Not exactly sure what is causing it. I might be eating less. In any case, yay.

7. Today would have been one year. I'm sort of glad I was so busy, because otherwise it could have become very wretched, very fast. I had a rather profound moment of, "You don't deserve me," though, which... made me sad? But it was also empowering.
7a. Seriously, Jill is made of the trashy. What is the appeal? I am so cute and classy and smart and geeky. What gives?

8. I'm really glad today was payday so tomorrow I can pick up the check and *ahem* deposit the one from last time oops and not be so poor anymore!
8a. Also I want to buy new clothes. Esp. jeans, nice-ish tops, dresses.
8b. I need to shop for recital dresses. And also dresses for Going Out (particularly for an upcoming party my roomies and I are planning). And I want a Little Black Dress. Because I don't have one and Tim Gunn says every girl should have one and Tim Gunn must be right because Tim Gunn knows his shit.

9. I don't enjoy being single, and I especially am not enjoying this round of being single, but Roomie and I had a heart-to-heart the other night and she says I'm not enjoying it because I'm not doing anything exciting with it so she decided that she and her sister are going to take me out and she and I will be Single Girls together (not her sister though because she's seeing someone... she's invited because she is Awesome) and it will be fun. I'm sort of afraid that even if it is fun I'll find some way to end up being sad and no fun.

10. Another thing that sucks about being single is Not Getting Any. IT SUCKS. Amirite?

10 feels like a good number to stop on. Well, 10 + 3 anyway.

Profile

sigmastolen: (Default)
sigmastolen

April 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526 272829
30      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 01:32 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios