One writer's attempts to come to terms with real life.
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You've stumbled upon just one of the few corners of the internet I call home.
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Hi there! I'm Cassandra, a nineteen-year-old college student currently living just outside San Diego, California. I started this blog back in the summer of 2007 for no particular reason, but it has since evolved into a place where I can post my poetry and prose for feedback, as well as my thoughts on various (and sometimes ridiculously random) other topics.
Feel free to leave a comment (or many), as I love meeting new people. :D
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.
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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