Wednesday!

Woo! One class down, one more to go... just sitting in the library waiting until 9 so I can go over to the bookstore and sell my books back.

That's right, comrades; today is the Wednesday to end all Wednesdays. Finally.

It hasn't really gotten off to the greatest of starts, though. Which is to be expected; I am cursed, after all. First off, it's raining today, a fact I strongly dislike; this morning, I almost killed myself tripping over an infernal packing bin in the living room, stubbing four toes in the process (damn construction! Finish it already!). And, knowing my luck, I'll have to take the music final. Bah.

But, despite all that, I can't help but feel anxious and excited about this afternoon and tonight, even if all me and Maya are going to do is crash at her place and conjecture about our respective orch concerts of doom, haha. And tonight, I get to see Katelin again (I saw her for a bit on Friday after my movie, but that hardly counts, as I wasn't even all there, my mind was in a different place altogether). Man, oh man. So excited...

It'll be a strange experience, sitting in the audience and watching instead of being up there and playing my instrument with them, I know. But despite all the angst and the drama and the general cursedness, I know it'll be great, no matter what happens. As always, I'll keep y'all posted. (Sorry about not writing these past couple of days, they've been rather hectic/draining.)

And I will get my hug today, dammit.

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Music is my antidepressant

Oh, Lord. I've just watched possibly one of my favorite movies ever.

I don't know how many of you have seen August Rush, but I finally saw it for the very first time today... and it literally took my breath away. It was like I was complete after that, like I had found the other half of my soul. I realize how corny that is, but I have no other way to describe it, really. The storyline was rather cliche, yes, but charming at the same time since I am an utter, complete hopeless romantic. Oh, but the music...

I had heard the music before. But hearing the music without knowledge of what is happening is not the same as when you hear it afterwards. Maybe that's why I felt so whole walking out of that theater. The music had completed me.

Now, you may have noticed the title of this entry, and it's in response to a comment I recieved on "The last leg is the hardest" from crackedlogic. I thank you very much for your concern, but I don't like to rely on medication; I don't even take cough syrup when I have a sore throat. So you see where taking antidepressants, while regulating a possible chemical imbalance, wouldn't really solve the problem. Again, I thank you very much for your concern, so much so that you would leave that comment; thank you.

No, I don't think my problem is medical; I think it's spiritual, emotional. An existential crisis, a fork in the road, and I don't know which way to choose. But music has always been there, and will always continue to be there. Like I have said before, music in the form of orchestra, or piano, or simply listening to it on the radio--music has always been a part of my life, and I cling to that. Music soothes the way no medicine can, and I am grateful for this. For without music, where would I be now?

Perhaps this is another reason why I am so entranced with the story of The Phantom of the Opera. The tragic love story is important, yes, and that speaks to me; but the driving force behind the whole thing is the music. Music speaks in a way no words can, slicing more painful and quick than a knife, or healing when all else fails.

In my world music class, my professor said on the very first day that music was not the universal language. Music presented barriers, separating one culture from another. Music was not the same, music differed. To a large extent, yes, my professor is right. Musical styles vary, musical styles create conflict rather than diffuse it; but no matter what the style, music is a universal phenomenon, reaching out and touching every single person on the planet, connecting every human being in a way nothing else does. And in this, I believe that music is the universal language; music speaks to us, to every, single one of us.

"All you have to do, is listen."

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Dream

I woke up about thirty minutes ago from an awful dream, and now I can't get back to sleep.

In retrospect, it wasn't really that terrible; not like a complete nightmare, or anything like that, but there are a few parts that stick out to me as particularly disturbing, and I just have to write them down; I've already started forgetting about the milder parts.

First off, let me start by saying that I don't dream often. However, this marks the third day in a row where I have been able to wake up and know that I had a dream, though I have difficulty recalling them.

I tried looking up the possible meanings of a few of the symbols in this latest one (aka, what I've been doing for the past 30 minutes), but it only came up with two--which works, because they were the most vivid: a car accident, and fire.

For the first symbol, it occurs twice. I don't remember the circumstances of the first time it pops up; I believe me and my family are in New York, and we are in our old minivan, one that we got rid of a few months back. My dad is driving; he hits something in the road, swerves, and loses control of the vehicle, sending us into the shoulder; none of us is hurt, and we technically don't hit anything, like another car, but we are rather shaken up. It gets fuzzy after this, but I believe we go our way after someone--I don't remember who, but I know them--pulls up and talks to us?

The second car accident is, again, not really an accident per se. My dad is driving again, but this time we are in his current car, a white Chevy Blazer. We are driving down my street, and it is nighttime. All of a sudden, in the middle of the street is a man decked out in full traditional Scottish dress, and playing the bagpipes; his back is to the hood of our car. I am really excited to see this guy, because I love kilts and all things Scottish, but apparently my dad doesn't see him and rams into the poor guy, sending him over the hood and on our windshield, and then he falls to the ground. I freak out and my dad pulls over, and we both get out to see the state of the man. This all happens very fast.

Once we get out of the car, the man sits up; and contrary to what I had been expecting--a young, to middle-aged man--the man is very old. He stands up, and he is fine; he then goes on to tell us the story of his life, apparently? I'm not sure, I just remember him talking for a long time, and there were parts where I would envision myself in the narrative, kind of like they do in movies or TV sitcoms, you know?

The next symbol, fire, I find the most troubling, since we in Southern California just had the huge firestorm back in October. Well, I was sitting at home during the day, and the news was on. I heard the newscaster say that San Diego was on fire; out of curiosity and general concern, I go outside to see the state of matters, when all of a sudden I notice that a patch of my lawn is on fire! Not only that, but the hills to the west of us are on fire, too; occasionally there will be a big explosion over there, which could only be a house igniting, but very, very quickly and violently. I panic, and yell inside to my sister that the front lawn is on fire, but I don't think she hears me. I run to get the garden hose, turn it on, and extinguish the little patch of fire on my front lawn; it takes several minutes, but it goes out nicely, much to my surprise. Then, just as I have successfully put out the fire on the lawn, I look up to the hills to the west only to see this huge explosion--possibly comprised of several explosions all happening at one time very close to each other and in a straight line across the hillside.

That's when I woke up, breathing hard and immediately awake.

It's just all very troubling, because this now tends to be a pattern; I had a dream last Saturday that focused on a huge tidal wave, and now this. Meanwhile, the dream I had Tuesday night/Wednesday morning was talking about Nick having moved away (I don't remember much else than that). There just seems to be a pattern of devastation and destruction, both in my personal sphere and elsewhere.

I just wish I can remember the dream I had while taking my nap yesterday, because that would confirm or deny the existence of my point about the patterns and themes of my dreams recently.

Anyway, I think I'm going to try and get back to sleep; I woke up at 4:30, and I went to bed around 1, so I've only had 3 hours of sleep...

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The last leg is the hardest, but will it ever end?

Almost done with the semester. Almost done...

I'm currently hovering between anger and frustration at myself and a general sense of lethargy and apathy; a dangerous combination, I know. I just want this whole thing to be over so I can start again.

Why the self-directed anger? I need to retake my English class. Not really a big deal, but a big annoyance. I don't know what's up with me for the past two years; English used to be my best subject. First almost failing to graduate high school, barely passing my English class, and now having to retake entry-level English because I really am failing this time? Gah.

On the plus side, I took a five hour nap today, that was glorious.

I just... I just don't really know anymore. About anything. It's like second guessing and confusion is an integral part of my existence now, and I really don't want that to be the case. I used to have drive...and now, that's gone. Just floating from day to day, not really knowing where to go or what to do. I mean, I don't want to be one of those workaholics who are so focused on the future and success and everything that they don't even take time to stop and smell the flowers, but I don't want to fail, either. I think everyone just wants to be able to make something of themselves, make their life significant, and I'm no exception. One of my biggest fears actually is not heights, or public speaking, but of not living life to the fullest. And right now, that's what I'm doing. I feel like I should be doing something, but what that something is I haven't put a finger on yet. Whether going to school, or writing, or getting a job, or volunteering... it's all just a spinning, mindless vortex that is going to suck me in, and I don't know how to escape. I just want to make a difference, to make my existence on this rock significant. Is that too much to ask for? Will I have to move mountains to stick out in someone's mind? Save millions of lives? Discover a cure for cancer?

All I really want right now is to rediscover my drive. I want to go back to being young again, actually. Little kids have such a zest, such a zeal for living; their innocence moves me, and more often than not I just want things to simplify again, just like old times. And not even little kids; so often now, I think to the things I could have done when I was in high school. If I had gone to one more football game, if I had actually applied myself, sent in an application to a school...

Frak it all.

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Drowning in consumerism

I really do detest this time of year.

I was going to come back and write a second accompanying post yesterday, but, alas, circumstances dictated otherwise. Let's just say the short version would be this: I went shopping with my mom and sister, and then when we finally went to ring everything up at around 10:45 pm, it took forever. I finally got back home around 11:30. Ugh.

That's one of the reasons why I hate this time of year, really; displaying affection through the means of consumerism. I mean, even I feel guilty if I don't get anyone anything, and I'm the one on a soapbox about it.

Like I've learned in sociology this semester (which was a surprisingly awesome class, it seems I lucked out with my professor), the practices of a certain society or nation reflect it's culture. But honestly, how depressing is it, for instance, that a man need to buy a diamond necklace for his wife or very significant other to show her how much he loves her? Shouldn't the words and interactions be enough? (I don't like diamonds either, but I'll save that one for another day.)

Speaking of sociology (and returning to the topic I wanted to write about yesterday but got distracted by Nick, as I am often wont to do)...

Ever since I bought the thing, I've always found the cover of my sociology textbook to be fascinating and a little oxymoronic. On it are... actually, you know what, I'll just find a picture of it.

There we go. Now, I don't know if you can see what each person is doing in that picture, but all of them except the second person from the left hand side are either talking on a cell phone or using an iPod. The girl on the far left is even on her laptop at the same time.

The textbook definition (forgive the pun) of sociology is "the study of human beings and their interactions with each other". Now, in the picture, does it look like these prime examples of college student specimens actually interacting with each other?

I thought not.

But what troubles me so much is not the picture itself, but the message; if this is the definition of teenage social interaction in this day and age, what does that say about our culture and values? That we care more about our personal entertainment than actually talking to someone face to face?

I'm not ragging on cell phones or iPods or laptops; in fact, I have one of each. What I'm saying is that, while the technology is useful and wonderful, at what point does it become too much?

Just a little something to think about.

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Cereal at 5:20pm? Only me...

Yum. Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

I am so unbelievably excited that there are only 5 more class days until the end of the semester. I just want this all to be over, so I can relax, and see all my friends coming home from university, and have a chance at a fresh start. I mean, even though it technically won't be a fresh start because my GPA will haunt me for the rest of my community college career, I plan to act like I'm starting fresh and clean. That means a whole new outlook on everything, too.

And not just about school.

I was talking to Matt (god I love that kid) via AIM last night and he brought up a good question, one that really caused me to stop in my tracks: is all of this worth it? Is all of my pain and angst really worth having a relationship with Nick like I want? Was I sure that the idealized picture I had in my head and the flesh and blood specimen who sometimes refused to poke me as is our bizarre custom--were they one and the same?

"It's complex," I told him.

"Love assuredly is," he said.

Indeed; I'm not afraid to call it love anymore. The whole irony about all of this is this has been one of the first times I consciously guarded against ever saying that I loved him, for I would be grown up and mature about it, never idealizing it, always keeping my feelings in perspective; I was "attracted" to him, or I "liked" him, but never "love". Now look where that's gotten me.

Anyway, Matt told me to think about it. And I will.

Well, this post turned out completely different from what I had originally intended; I think I'll just come back later and write another one. I do, however, want to answer indeterminancy's comment (who I didn't even know read this, how strange, yet so awesome): to be honest, I've never really thought about seriously starting a band. I've joked about it a couple of times, sure, but, never seriously considered it. And now you've gone and gotten me wondering....

Great suggestion, and thanks for your encouragement, I really appreciate it. =)

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Skipping Class. Again.

...I should probably stop doing that...

Anyway, today is Monday. Sarcastic 'huzzah', right? Wrong! Why, you may ask? There's another orchestra rehearsal tonight!

And no, I'm not going just to see him, but that does play a part, obviously. The simple fact of the matter is: I miss orchestra. That's it. Really.

I think the whole transition from high school to college was rough for a number of reasons. I miss the constant security in knowing that I'm returning to a place with such great memories for another great year (no matter how much the construction sucks). I miss my friends, I miss the social life. Now, when I say that, I'm not insinuating I'm a hardcore partier or anything like that, because that is so far from the truth it is laughable. What I'm talking about are the more simple social pleasures: eating lunch by the bandroom (practically living in the band room...), waving at people in the hall, knowing at least one other kid in your chem class. And orchestra was a part of all that.

I was talking to my friend Katelin, who was also in orchestra with me, and I was telling her about my "orchestra withdrawals". She sympathized with me, of course, but she said that she takes care of those by actually playing with her University's orchestra. Now, she's absolutely amazing when it comes to the violin, even moreso on the piano: it just makes sense for her to continue playing in a setting like that, especially when auditions are mandatory for admittance. Me, however... well, let's just say that I've never really been one of the best. I think the only time I was ever in the first row was in 8th grade when I decided to switch to cello because no one else would. I could sign up to play with one of the community orchestras, sure; but I wouldn't be able to make it, I know it. Plus, it's really not the same thing; meeting once a week, or maybe every two weeks, going over the material, and going your own way until next time. And, while playing is great, I don't think playing my instrument in an ensemble is the only thing I'm looking for.

I want the same atmosphere of it all, which I know I'm never going to get again. And that's hard. Since my fifth grade year, when I transferred into the public school system after attending a small, conservative private school for 5 years, orchestra has really been the only norm in my ever-shifting life. Friends come and go, school years pass, we grow older; but orchestra was one of the only constants in my life, and I think I clung to that. Only when I was forced to give it all up did I realize what exactly it meant for me to be a part of that.

And, once again, that's difficult to come to terms with.

It's not like I can consciously change anything about the way I'm feeling; all of this is nothing more than a product of change, of moving on, with no responsibility on my part (unlike other things....). And, for a while at least, it will be difficult to let go. But it has gotten better, especially since last Monday when I first went to visit. The warmth and security I experienced afterwards reminded me of falling into the arms of a close friend one hasn't seen in years, and I liked that. And seeing Nick didn't hurt much, either. o_~

I think the only thing I'm looking for with everything I've been experiencing is security. I'm generally a creature of habit, though I do appreciate a healthy dose of spontaneity and randomness now and again. And, though the past few months have been hard, it's starting to feel like a routine again, and things are beginning to fall into place. My only hope is that it continues to improve.

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Bleh.

So, I guess I should catch you guys up. Not that I know about anyone who reads this thing regularly, but whatever.

That Friday I was talking about... well, I was going to go visit the school to say hello to a few teachers and a lot of my friends and him... but it never happened. Amy's flight ended up getting delayed until a ridiculous time, so when she finally came home I wasn't able to see her that day because she was about to leave to go to Anaheim to watch the Arcadia band tourney with Sean and his girlfriend. Add a bunch of other stressors, like the fact that one of my online buddies was scheduled to go into surgery that day to remove a tumor from close to her brain... and you have one hell of an angsty day. I think the only good part was going to the mall for Eurydice's birthday and the subsequent sleepover; being with other people helped a lot. Plus, there were these two streakers at the mall, that was pretty amusing. ^_^

I did go to the orchestra rehearsal on Monday to see him, that was nice; I felt so uncharacteristically fluffy afterwards, it was almost disgusting. And I saw him again at the choir concert last night (they do Handel's Hallelujah Chorus every year, and some of the orchestra people help out), but I'll get to that later...

First, though, I need to get something out into the open, because I realized last night that I haven't been exactly truthful with myself and other people about this entire thing. I guess you could say that for roughly a year, I've been living a lie and wasting my valuable time; which isn't exactly a comforting thought, as you can imagine. So, y'all get to finally know his name.

His name is Nick; he's a Senior this year, and he's in orchestra (obviously). *gasps ensue from Zatarra and Eurydice and anyone else who witnessed last year at all...*

I've identified many reasons why I have so much trouble admitting to this, though there are two major ones that stick out from the rest. First, is that I've only recently come to terms with it (even though it's been almost a year, yes); even now, I don't quite know what I want yet: mere closure, or something else. On some deeper level, I would like all of this to work out, but the way things are going, I very much doubt anything along that vein is going to happen. Secondly--and I know I'm being a shallow jerk when I say this, trust me, I know--is that I was embarrassed by my feelings for him, my interactions with him. For the last three months of last school year, I was an unmigitated bitch to him--mostly because I was bitter, but I'll save that story for another day. He's arrogant, gives the impression that he's not the brightest crayon in the box, and a bit of a jerk. And he's definitely not the most good-looking guy I've ever seen or liked before, so I guess for a while (early on, anyway) I considered him a step down. But because of the way I treated him, and the things I said in front of others, I unintentionally created a double standard, which is where the whole living a lie thing comes into play. How would I explain if I was suddenly nice to him again? How would other people perceive me if they saw me with him? Before all of this, I had liked to think myself as apathetic to what "other people" thought of me, and to a large extent, I was. I did some pretty odd things in the halls with my friends that illicited some strange looks, but did I care? Hell no, I was a Senior. But I had never before considered that "other people" would include some (okay, most...) of my friends, even some of my closest. For the longest time, only one other person besides myself was aware of what I was dealing with in the emotional sphere, which is definitely odd, because I had at least four friends at the time that I talk about this sort of thing with (that number has grown since then).

So, why am I so attracted to him if he is quite possibly the furthest thing from what I am looking for in a guy? To be honest, I have no idea. With all the other guys I have ever liked, I've always been able to identify at least one aspect of them that attracted me the most. Maybe they were nice to me when other boys were not, or were hilariously funny; maybe they were extremely good-looking, or had some measure of intellegence. Maybe they had a beautiful personality. For the life of me, though, I can't figure it out when it comes to Nick. I think on some deep, biological, dawn-of-human-existence level, the sheer physicality of him is what attracts me, at least in part; he's quite strong, which he tends to brag about a lot, but I've seen enough to know that he generally isn't overexaggerating about that. He can be very nice, and on occasion I get the feeling that he knows more than what he usually lets on.

He intrigues me.

And he plays an instrument--two, actually--which for me is always a plus; he even told me on Monday that for his Senior Project he was planning on composing a piece for Chamber Orchestra. He writes music...

I daresay this is all starting to remind me of Phantom of the Opera.

I'm just so unsure how to interact with him, what to say... I've been trying to drop hints, but I just don't think he gets it at all. I might ultimately have to be straightforward with him, which is something I do not excell in at all, and it gives me chills just thinking about it. And I don't want to hurt him... to quote my friend May, from the looks of it, "it doesn't look like he's had any female interaction before." Oi vey...

Well, anyway, I do plan on going to the next orch rehearsal on Monday. Why? I guess you could say it's because I am utterly hopeless and just can't seem to get over this whole mess. Or that I'm looking for closure.

But I actually think that the one real reason I am going is this: I miss him. That's why.

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