Not That I Should Be Practicing, Or Anything...

Song of the Day: Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah

I think I'll vlog about this soon, but I sort of want to organize my thoughts on the matter first. SO. You know, we say "welp" because it ends up sounding that way in the right tone. I think I'm going to start SOPE.

Got meself all Sorted the other day. Ravenclaw! Admittedly, I was not expecting that. As I was answering the questions, I actually said to Mike and Emily, "Guys, I'm SUCH a Hufflepuff." My answers were things like, I'd want to talk to animals, and I want to be known for being GOOD. Huffin' and puffin' all over the place, so I thought.

The thing is, I was never SURE where I belonged. I liked the idea of being in Gryffindor because I wanted to feel like I could be brave when I needed to be, but I was never fully sure I would be; frankly, I've never really had an occasion where I NEEDED to be all that brave (medical procedures, auditions, all seem like small change in the realm of things that require actual bravery). I didn't feel ambitious (at least not willing to step on others) enough for Slytherin. I knew I wasn't smart enough to belong to Ravenclaw. I professed myself as a Gryffindor but not-so-secretly placed myself truly in Hufflepuff, because I didn't feel like I had the qualities required for the other Houses. Hufflepuffs have awesome qualities that I felt justified in claiming (loyalty, fairness, hard work).

So J.K. put me in Ravenclaw. I think I'm the Neville of Ravenclaw in that I sort of sat there thinking, "No no no, don't put me here! I can't live up to this House's reputation! Just put me somewhere else." But the thing is, Jo wrote the test herself. If anyone knows what they're talking about on the subject, it's her. And if the very Founder of the House(s) thinks I belong there, I guess I sort of have to believe her =]

The other facet of this is that Houses are in shades of grey. There are people who have been Sorted who are like, "Gryffindor? I'm totally a Ravenclaw!" "Slytherin? I'm totally a Hufflepuff!" And they get all butthurt and brush it off. For one thing, Jo wrote it, and every house is awesome, so get over it. For another, it may depend on how you were feeling that day. Here's the rub: I don't think anyone is PURELY one House. I think we all have different bits of different Houses in us, and those come out at different times in different strengths. Flitwick and McGonagall were both Hatstalls between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, but they just tipped in opposite directions. Where you are placed depends on which part of you is the STRONGEST, and which you may end up developing the most. And it's all good stuff. Ambition, pride, bravery, hard work, loyalty, intelligence, cleverness, chivalry, justice. Conversely, Gryffindors have timid or cowardly moments, Slytherins can be humble and selfless, Hufflepuffs can be traitors, Ravenclaws can be intolerant idiots. But there is no BAD House.

I still think I have some Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in me. But I'm also proud of my intelligence (which DOES exist, even when I don't give myself enough credit for it). I'm proud to belong to a House that values wit, cleverness, hard work, and acceptance. It's funny that this came so soon after my beginning-of-quarter pledge to put my rear in gear and get As with occasional Bs this spring. I'm gonna Nerd it up good.

Conclusion: We are all awesome and nothing is black and white (or rather, red and yellow and green and blue). So let's all be friends, yes?

Lovely, never ever change / Keep that breathless charm / Won't you please arrange it? / 'Cause I love you / just the way you look tonight. -The Way You Look Tonight, Frank Sinatra

A Depressing Post

Song of the Day: Norwegian Wood by The Beatles

Dear Anya*,

Today was pretty balls, and the way it started was most of the problem. I got no sleep (I don't think I got more than a couple of hours all together), and then my alarm went off as usual. I delayed it for 15 minutes, and in those 15 minutes I managed to fall asleep and had a dream.

It started out pretty dumb, the way my dreams usually do. There was a deer in my house (my parents' house) and you were looking at it like you wanted to charge at it. So I took you into the back room while Mom got the deer outside. You really wanted to chase that thing, but you were good and you followed me. After we got the whole thing squared away, I hugged you and told you what a good dog you were. Suddenly I noticed that you were just a little too small, and you were wearing your red collar. You wore a red collar when you were just 7 or 8 years old. That was when I realized that you had died, and had somehow come back to me. But that meant you had to leave again.

As I realized this, you started to age. You got a little bigger (very slowly, aging a few years every minute or so). You got a little grayer. Your coat became less shiny. I started crying, trying to make you comfortable, trying to make it stop. You laid down and I could tell you knew exactly what was happening. I was hysterical by this point, and the whole thing felt way too real. Probably because I had already felt it. I watched you die in real life, and now I had to watch you die again inside my own head. I kept begging you to tell me what I could do, like I really expected a response.

My alarm went off again right as you slipped away. I woke up, controlled my tears, and went in to shower. I actually thought I might throw up, but the tightness in my throat subsided as I forced myself to calm down. I've tried not to think about that dream throughout the day but it just brought up everything that sucked about that day; knowing you were in pain, wondering if we were betraying you or relieving you, wondering if we had held on too long in our selfish desire for your company, just trying to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. We didn't cry until you were gone. We wanted you to know everything was going to be okay.

At any rate, I hope you are somewhere wonderful and warm. I hope someone plays with you and lets you sleep on their bed, and doesn't fight back the way I did when you took over most of it. I hope your hips don't hurt. I hope you know how much I love you, and that you are the reason I love dogs and want another one, but know that I could never replace you and the 14 years you gave me.

I wonder if my body was keeping me awake last night because it knew that dream was lurking in my subconscious. I appreciate the effort, I suppose, even if it was for nothing. I felt bad for Mike because it was like, "Good morning, you have an emotionally distraught girlfriend to deal with!"

That's the sort of dream that makes you afraid to fall asleep again.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

*This star is really just for Michael, who may want to note that Anya was my dog

No Kinda

Song of the Day: Lookout for Yourself by Julia Nunes (I'm on a Nunes kick)

Dear Erin,

I'm terrible at starting letters. I never know what my first sentence should be, so it almost always ends up being a statement of my inability to begin letters.

You brought my confidence a long way. I remember when I was headed for my Cornish audition, you told me that it was as much about me as a musician as it was about the music I was playing. "Your leather jacket. Your tattoo. You know who you are. And you adore what you do. Show them that." That was always my biggest challenge: setting aside what I thought of my abilities (and lack thereof) and just letting my love for my cello shine through. Very occasionally you would get me to let go and just focus on enjoying the sound I was making, and it made an incredible difference. You said, "I know you love your cello. I know you love music. I can hear it if I close my eyes. But when I open them, I don't see it."

Seeing it matters. Obviously music is mostly about our ears, but you can see when a musician is totally absorbed and swept away by what they're doing. And I appreciate how hard you tried to get me out of my shell in that sense. You said, "Make the mistakes properly. Attack them. If you don't make a mistake all the way, you can't fix it all the way. Dare the mistakes to happen. You can only whack the moles that pop up, right?" "Right." "Don't just kinda play it. Don't just get through it. Make every single mistake, and relish every single good note--there are more of those than you give yourself credit for." "No kinda."

I've always had performance anxiety--I still do--and you worked hard to get me over that. I would start panicking before auditions and you would tell me to breathe; if I couldn't get a full breath, you would make me laugh and just that little bit of relaxation enabled me to breathe properly, which relaxed me further. You never told me there was anything I couldn't do. You didn't laugh when I told you about my future goals. And I could talk to you more freely than I could talk to my own mother. You were so intuitive about anything that was bothering me, about my insecurities, my competitiveness. You were there. Every single time.

And now I am here. I am here doing what I love and learning to do it better and better. While my new teacher has to correct some minor technical things that he didn't care for, he approves of what you instilled in me about attacking the music and just loving it. I still get so frustrated sometimes by the limits of my current ability, but I can feel myself getting better. And I know I wouldn't have gotten here without your help and encouragement. Believing in myself is something I've always struggled with, and you not only cheered me on, but you helped me work toward cheering on myself. It's still a struggle, but I'm learning every day to have more confidence in my abilities and be okay with the fact that they are a work in progress. As you reminded me, even those who seem so much more talented than I can still learn more and improve their skills; I can only fairly compare myself to Past Me, and then I should feel nothing but pride in my progress.

Thank you for every Monday morning.

ceci ne pas une post

Got an idea and I want to write it here so I don't forget. I think this was inspired by an old friend's tumblr post today, but I suddenly feel the desire to write letters. But not actual ones. Ones that I post here, where 3 people TOPS will read them. Because this is where I can Feelings in safety. I don't know how many I'll write, or to whom. But...yes. That is probably a thing that will happen. A series, if you will. Stay tuned, kids.

Things

Song of the Day: Short and Sweet by Julia Nunes

Things that are on my mind, mostly just in an attempt to organize them.

1. She is worried and it is my job to make her not worry. I don't want her to worry. I want her to be the happiest person in the world and if any worrying needs to be done I want to take care of it for her.

2. They're getting all ish'd out about moving in together. I just need to sit her down and tell her it will be okay, listen to her concerns and help her work through them. It makes me so sad to see them both backpedal away from something that will most likely make them both really happy. I know it's scary, but I hope that talking to someone on the other side of it will help.

3. Similarly, I hope my very relevant past will help with her current worries. I was scared, too. I know it's a big deal because it's total foreign ground, but I want to see her take the leap. It's not even a leap. It's a little hop that may or may not turn into a leap. Again, I know it's easy to yell, "Jump!" when you're already on the ground. But it's not like I'm yelling, "Jump into a pit of crocodiles!" I'm yelling, "Jump onto a huge fluffy pillow that you may or may not want to nap on!" ...I think I just broke the metaphor.

4. I am incredibly happy for him and so so proud. And I know it will be fine. But that won't make it any easier to watch him leave.

5. I'm so determined to do well this quarter. I feel like I have to prove that what I do takes real time and real work. I know it does, but I can feel people not taking my goals seriously. Maybe that's just paranoia.

I don't mind if you can't be with me all of the time / so be on your way / no, that is not what I wanted to say / I just want you, / no, I need you to stay. -Lullaby, Julia Nunes

But I Am Le Tired

Song of the Day: I Will Go Anywhere With You by Julia Nunes

You know when it's REALLY awesome to sleep super poorly? The night before you have two finals -.- Luckily they are music theory finals, and I know pretty much exactly how I'm going to do one both (or did; I already took one of them). I'm just grumpy because I got to bed late last night and feel like I was awake more often than I was asleep during the night. And I've gotten plenty of sleep the rest of this week, but it would have been REALLY nice to get a decent amount last night because I will be getting very little for the next week.

That being said, the reason I won't be getting much is because I'll be traveling to Disneyland, so I can't really complain =p It is rainy and windy and cold here, and in California it will at least be not windy and less cold. So that's a win in my book. I'd go to Disneyland in a damn hurricane. And hey, less-than-perfect weather conditions make for shorter lines.

I don't really have anything earth-shattering to say. I'm mostly just blogging to keep myself awake until my next final. I don't think my coffee did anything but make me have to pee. Then I'll go home and have laundry/packing to keep me busy and awake. I sound so whiny. I'm really not unhappy. Just a wee bit cranky because of my sleepiness. But my hair is freshly red and my nails are freshly purple, so...so there's that...

I should mosey off to my last final pretty soon. It's my written music theory exam, which I feel pretty confident on(inbytoforaboutofat). I'm sure there will be an obnoxious post-Disneyland blog next week.

A pirate's life is a wonderful life, a-rovin' over the sea / give me a career as a buccaneer, it's the life of a pirate for me / OH! the life of a pirate for me! / A pirate's life is a wonderful life, they never bury your bones / for when it's all over, a jolly sea rover drops in on his friend Davy Jones / OH! his very good friend Davy Jones! -A Pirate's Life, Peter Pan (I quoted that from memory and feel pretty good about myself for that)

In Which I Desire A Library

Song of the Day: Home by Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros

I miss having bookshelves. I never bought any when I moved into my apartment, mostly because there's no space for them. They would have to go in the inaccessible side of my closet, which would be a pain to get in and out considering I'll most likely be moving again this summer. But currently all of my books are in boxes which still reside on my floor, shoved as close to the walls as they can get without touching the stupid baseboard heaters. If they're not there, they're stacked in the piles of shit on my desk. I miss seeing them.

I'm currently tumbling pictures of home libraries and drooling a little. I put up one of those tumblr questionnaire things, but only one person has responded. One of them is "Describe your dream library." I really want a home library. Obviously that won't be an option for a while, but it's still nice to think about.

Natural light. Lots of it. Big windows or even glass doors that can be opened when it's warm outside. A windowseat (a comfy one, to allow someone to actually sit there for a long time while they read).

Preferably in an attic space. Obviously a big attic. But that would provide the best view and the greatest feeling of being tucked out of the way, of getting away from things for a little bit. Plus that gives it a cooler shape.

Lots of seating for all preferences. Big cushy recliner, beanbag chair, ergonomic work chairs at a big table for more studious types of reading.

No TV. No computer. Maybe a stereo because sometimes listening to music while reading is nice. CD and record collections included in the library shelves.

A rolling ladder. Because they are cool and I am short.

I'm torn between warm colors and summery-but-not-exactly-cold colors, like this:

I'm not sure why I find planning houses and rooms so comforting. I think it gives me a goal or something. Like, the places I'll live during college will never be very permanent and I'll never know how long I'll be in any of them, so my only sense of permanency comes from daydreaming about my eventual landing place. I'm not unhappy now, not in the slightest. But sometimes the idea of having a place that's truly my own where I can feel like it's ACTUALLY home is pretty appealing.

This may or may not have something to do with the fact that my parents are selling the house in which I spent most of my young life. I didn't really consider that until now. I did this sort of thing before I found that out, though (as evidenced by my Dream House post a while back). I have a tendency to think a little too far ahead, and it does funny things to my brain. Not that there isn't a certain freedom to not having a real home. I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

Today is going to be long. Concert tonight. Practicing for ear training final tomorrow. Want home. Want read. Want tea. Can't sentence.

Hold me fast, hold me fast / 'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer / I will learn, I will learn / to love the sky I wander. -Hopeless Wanderer, Mumford & Sons