Playing the piano is the toughest, most rewarding, most frustrating, most cathartic thing there is out there for me. I cannot explain the exhaustion that I experience after sitting downstairs for three hours, working out a piece.
But when I finally get it - when all the notes and dynamics come together - there is such a sense of pride and accomplishment.
As of now, I am stuck in the "working-it-out" phase of playing a song - one that is quite a bit higher difficulty than I'm used to. It would be super useful if I could actually read bass clef, but I'm going to take a beginners piano class with Rachel next spring. Hopefully all will go well with that. I'm afraid it'll just be a class about posture and all that jazz, which can't hurt. Learning chord progression would be useful. Abby's got that down amazingly. She's amazing.
I love Abby a lot.
My 100 page screenplay is due in a week and half. Eeek! Hopefully all the "wonderful" pages I wrote before can cover up for the rushed, terribly horrifying end. Jeff said that, so far, I can do no wrong. Oh, how wrong he is. Oh, how so very very wrong.
It'll be okay. It's just the end of world, pun completely intended.
In other news, I have been a ridiculously good mood all week long
You could tell, couldn't you?
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Abby's piano playing is so beautiful
Holy shit. Oppenheimer is over.
Lemme go all out here. It's a blog. I'm allowed.
This morning, I was discussing the play with a few people - rehearsals, headaches, tech week, opening night, Friday night, the whole kit 'n kaboodle - and I came to the conclusion that I was mighty confused (yes, I believe confusion is a legit conclusion) about how I got to feeling the way that I did.
Believe it or not, I know I'm decent at acting. I mean, I've always felt that it was something that came a little easier to me than other things did. For some reason that escapes me, though, I think I had decided a long time ago that I was going to disappoint some people with my performance and that my goal had to be to keep that number as low as possible.
But it occurred to me this morning that I wasn't going to disappoint anyone...or if I have, I'm not quite sure that that's really my fault. At this point, it would be completely beyond my power to impress the people that don't want to be impressed.
Both Friday and Saturday shows were enough to convince me that we hadn't given up, and I hope that they were enough to convince others, too.
Regardless, Saturday's applause - for me and for all of us - was enough to put a lump in my throat.
It was enough for me.
We pulled it off
In other news, I am in the process of finishing my stupid research paper. It was lovely to see my professor at the cast party, you know? She was just such a wonderful reminder of all the homework and researching that I had yet to do. Oh well. Monday will come and go and all will be well, regardless of how bad the paper goes. Time does not stop just because I have a paper to do. Tonight will be an all-nighter, but I'll sleep on Tuesday or something.
Still missing you, kiddo, but in a very different way than earlier this week. Thought it would go away, but it's not. Not too painful, though, so that's a relief.
Okay now. It is 3 in the morning and I am only on page 3, so I have five more pages to go at least.
take it easy. don't die. don't get raped. i love you very much
Lemme go all out here. It's a blog. I'm allowed.
This morning, I was discussing the play with a few people - rehearsals, headaches, tech week, opening night, Friday night, the whole kit 'n kaboodle - and I came to the conclusion that I was mighty confused (yes, I believe confusion is a legit conclusion) about how I got to feeling the way that I did.
Believe it or not, I know I'm decent at acting. I mean, I've always felt that it was something that came a little easier to me than other things did. For some reason that escapes me, though, I think I had decided a long time ago that I was going to disappoint some people with my performance and that my goal had to be to keep that number as low as possible.
But it occurred to me this morning that I wasn't going to disappoint anyone...or if I have, I'm not quite sure that that's really my fault. At this point, it would be completely beyond my power to impress the people that don't want to be impressed.
Both Friday and Saturday shows were enough to convince me that we hadn't given up, and I hope that they were enough to convince others, too.
Regardless, Saturday's applause - for me and for all of us - was enough to put a lump in my throat.
It was enough for me.
We pulled it off
In other news, I am in the process of finishing my stupid research paper. It was lovely to see my professor at the cast party, you know? She was just such a wonderful reminder of all the homework and researching that I had yet to do. Oh well. Monday will come and go and all will be well, regardless of how bad the paper goes. Time does not stop just because I have a paper to do. Tonight will be an all-nighter, but I'll sleep on Tuesday or something.
Still missing you, kiddo, but in a very different way than earlier this week. Thought it would go away, but it's not. Not too painful, though, so that's a relief.
Okay now. It is 3 in the morning and I am only on page 3, so I have five more pages to go at least.
take it easy. don't die. don't get raped. i love you very much
Friday, April 17, 2009
^_^
i loveth the summer breeze...
such wonderful smells of men and their essence, drifting on the wind and into my waiting nostrils.
i loveth the summer breeze.
such wonderful smells of men and their essence, drifting on the wind and into my waiting nostrils.
i loveth the summer breeze.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Still swear it's a beautiful life
Cried this morning - just kind of fell apart. It was therapeutic and I'd rather not do it again, but I'm not sure how much control I have over that.
It was one of those time where you're crying and crying and you have absolutely no idea why. You can chalk it up to stress (which it probably is) and a lack of sleep (which it probably is) and the feeling of impending doom that comes with term papers and exams (which it probably is).
Regardless, that isn't what spontaneously comes out of your mouth when you're curled up on the floor. It's something I've said before when I've experienced a stress-related tear session, and at the end of it all, I usually try to come to the conclusion that what I said was just a way of putting a name to a face, so-to-speak. You know? A good, solid reason why. So, maybe it's just supposed to be that I need a physical reason because I feel stupid for being so emotional...but, still.
So, I'm sorry I'm blaming this on you, buddy.
I miss you so much. I'm pretty positive that you'll never really know just how much, but I do. And I'm sure you know, from your own experience, that some days are better than others. Hell, just a week ago, I thought of emailing an old friend because I missed her and I missed the fact that she was one of the few that could walk in a room and instantly make me laugh. I forget how betrayed I felt with her and how one-sided our friendship often was and how bad of friends we were to each other, but I needed her then. And I need you now.
It is a ridiculously selfish emotion and I have a tendency to overindulge in the pleasurable pain of it. I'm so good at dragging things out and out, beating them with a stick until I'm sure they're dead and gone. I am a world-class wallower. But despite that, it doesn't erase the fact that this thing - whatever the hell it is to you doesn't really matter - has some pretty deep roots.
I'd go on and on, telling you the ways that I see you and need you and so on, but that would be an entirely insincere, corny, stupid piece of work. I'm of the belief that there are just some things about a person that you can't put a name to and if you tried, it would somehow ruin that spark. So, I miss you, kiddo.
And we'll just have to leave it at that.
There's constant hope, and a logical knowing, that everything will turn out.
This, too, shall pass, as does all things.
Everyone take it easy. Don't get raped. Don't die.
remember that you're loved, right where you are, in this moment.
It was one of those time where you're crying and crying and you have absolutely no idea why. You can chalk it up to stress (which it probably is) and a lack of sleep (which it probably is) and the feeling of impending doom that comes with term papers and exams (which it probably is).
Regardless, that isn't what spontaneously comes out of your mouth when you're curled up on the floor. It's something I've said before when I've experienced a stress-related tear session, and at the end of it all, I usually try to come to the conclusion that what I said was just a way of putting a name to a face, so-to-speak. You know? A good, solid reason why. So, maybe it's just supposed to be that I need a physical reason because I feel stupid for being so emotional...but, still.
So, I'm sorry I'm blaming this on you, buddy.
I miss you so much. I'm pretty positive that you'll never really know just how much, but I do. And I'm sure you know, from your own experience, that some days are better than others. Hell, just a week ago, I thought of emailing an old friend because I missed her and I missed the fact that she was one of the few that could walk in a room and instantly make me laugh. I forget how betrayed I felt with her and how one-sided our friendship often was and how bad of friends we were to each other, but I needed her then. And I need you now.
It is a ridiculously selfish emotion and I have a tendency to overindulge in the pleasurable pain of it. I'm so good at dragging things out and out, beating them with a stick until I'm sure they're dead and gone. I am a world-class wallower. But despite that, it doesn't erase the fact that this thing - whatever the hell it is to you doesn't really matter - has some pretty deep roots.
I'd go on and on, telling you the ways that I see you and need you and so on, but that would be an entirely insincere, corny, stupid piece of work. I'm of the belief that there are just some things about a person that you can't put a name to and if you tried, it would somehow ruin that spark. So, I miss you, kiddo.
And we'll just have to leave it at that.
There's constant hope, and a logical knowing, that everything will turn out.
This, too, shall pass, as does all things.
Everyone take it easy. Don't get raped. Don't die.
remember that you're loved, right where you are, in this moment.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Half this game is 90% mental
Coming up on dress rehearsal tonight - the last one before the show
*sigh*
Picked out my classes yesterday - still need to sign up at 2:00, but it's looking like I'll get what I want. I don't know if I want to try 16 credits per semester, or if I need to, but it's nice to know that if I wanted to drop something, I could.
I'll be graduating this time next year. This terrifies me more than I could ever express in words. I don't know what I'm going to do.
I still have screenwriting pages to finish. Only five of them are due tomorrow, but I have to decide where I'm taking this stupid script. There's no end in sight as of now, and I refuse to make this a 120 pager. I also need to research for my damn paper tomorrow.
I feel as if my abdomen is trying its best to make me as uncomfortable as possible. Hey, organs! You don't need to eat your way out of my body. I know you're there, so for the love of all that is good in this world, shut the fuck up!
It really is one of those day where everything is underneath
Please, don't die. Don't get raped. I'm so apathetic right now that if you did, I'm not sure I could manage the energy to properly freak out for you.
so, take it easy, will ya?
*sigh*
Picked out my classes yesterday - still need to sign up at 2:00, but it's looking like I'll get what I want. I don't know if I want to try 16 credits per semester, or if I need to, but it's nice to know that if I wanted to drop something, I could.
I'll be graduating this time next year. This terrifies me more than I could ever express in words. I don't know what I'm going to do.
I still have screenwriting pages to finish. Only five of them are due tomorrow, but I have to decide where I'm taking this stupid script. There's no end in sight as of now, and I refuse to make this a 120 pager. I also need to research for my damn paper tomorrow.
I feel as if my abdomen is trying its best to make me as uncomfortable as possible. Hey, organs! You don't need to eat your way out of my body. I know you're there, so for the love of all that is good in this world, shut the fuck up!
It really is one of those day where everything is underneath
Please, don't die. Don't get raped. I'm so apathetic right now that if you did, I'm not sure I could manage the energy to properly freak out for you.
so, take it easy, will ya?
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
And he loved me so naughty - made me weak at the knees
I don't know who to blame for this, but someone is to blame.
I know They are.
Why is it that Fate, the Cosmos, The-Way-Things-Be is such a bitch when it comes to dreams? You know? You're there, tossing and turning and doing everything short of crapping your pants and nothing wakes you up. No alarm. No roommate. You are alone in the terror that is a real nightmare. BUT (!!!!!) when it is all that you can do to keep yourself from jizzing everywhere from the sheer ecstasy of a wonderful dream, something always goes off. Cell phone, your damn mother's nagging voice, an early-rising roommate; hell, maybe you get a leg cramp, but regardless, you can never quite finish what you started.
All the build-up and no release.
Oh, how those words haunt me.
I mean, and sometimes it's just a matter of being curious. "Why, no. I've never role-played Cops and Robbers with [insert ridiculously attractive person] where I'm the bad, oh-so-bad robber stealing kittens or what have you and he/she is the rough and tough cop with a pair of leather handcuffs and a fuzzy beating stick...buuuuuut now that you mention it, sounds fun. Wonder where this could go?"
Yeah, well. You don't get to know where this is gonna go, do you?
No.
Your alarm clock sees fit to wake you up right before you're told to turn around and spread 'em.
But, if you're dreaming about the person you love the most, dying before your eyes and he can't recognize you...lies in a coffin and he grinds his face against the splintered wood, puss and blood everywhere, because he no longer has the capacity to understand or feel that you're holding his hand as tightly as you can. And all you can do is pray that it'll end for him soon, but as long as you're looking at him, it doesn't end. Grotesque. *sigh* It's then that you don't wake up. Simple as that. You may try to make a bargain with whatever deity is up there running this show, but He ain't listenin'. You're on your own in this one.
Such is life.
In other news:
-Screenplay is going well - Lucifer is wonderous - and Jeff seems to like it a lot. Last note I got on it was, "You are weaving such a wicked, scary narrative." Thanks, Jeff ^_^
-Piano is going slow. I'm trying to branch out and challenge myself and it sucks - not too good at the pushing myself thing. I know a few songs, but I still feel like a pretender. Perhaps a beginner's piano class would be helpful...you know, learn chord progression and all that jazz. Learn to read lead sheets. That would be helpful.
-I want a new pair of shoes. I'm tired of all my other ones
-My hands are very cold
-I want Johnny Depp's shoes, dammit! They have some at Fluvog, but $255 is way too much to spend.
-London is making me nervous. I need to come up with a screenplay. Fuck
-I really want new shoes. *le sigh*
That is all for now
Take it easy, everyone. Don't get raped. Don't die
I know They are.
Why is it that Fate, the Cosmos, The-Way-Things-Be is such a bitch when it comes to dreams? You know? You're there, tossing and turning and doing everything short of crapping your pants and nothing wakes you up. No alarm. No roommate. You are alone in the terror that is a real nightmare. BUT (!!!!!) when it is all that you can do to keep yourself from jizzing everywhere from the sheer ecstasy of a wonderful dream, something always goes off. Cell phone, your damn mother's nagging voice, an early-rising roommate; hell, maybe you get a leg cramp, but regardless, you can never quite finish what you started.
All the build-up and no release.
Oh, how those words haunt me.
I mean, and sometimes it's just a matter of being curious. "Why, no. I've never role-played Cops and Robbers with [insert ridiculously attractive person] where I'm the bad, oh-so-bad robber stealing kittens or what have you and he/she is the rough and tough cop with a pair of leather handcuffs and a fuzzy beating stick...buuuuuut now that you mention it, sounds fun. Wonder where this could go?"
Yeah, well. You don't get to know where this is gonna go, do you?
No.
Your alarm clock sees fit to wake you up right before you're told to turn around and spread 'em.
But, if you're dreaming about the person you love the most, dying before your eyes and he can't recognize you...lies in a coffin and he grinds his face against the splintered wood, puss and blood everywhere, because he no longer has the capacity to understand or feel that you're holding his hand as tightly as you can. And all you can do is pray that it'll end for him soon, but as long as you're looking at him, it doesn't end. Grotesque. *sigh* It's then that you don't wake up. Simple as that. You may try to make a bargain with whatever deity is up there running this show, but He ain't listenin'. You're on your own in this one.
Such is life.
In other news:
-Screenplay is going well - Lucifer is wonderous - and Jeff seems to like it a lot. Last note I got on it was, "You are weaving such a wicked, scary narrative." Thanks, Jeff ^_^
-Piano is going slow. I'm trying to branch out and challenge myself and it sucks - not too good at the pushing myself thing. I know a few songs, but I still feel like a pretender. Perhaps a beginner's piano class would be helpful...you know, learn chord progression and all that jazz. Learn to read lead sheets. That would be helpful.
-I want a new pair of shoes. I'm tired of all my other ones
-My hands are very cold
-I want Johnny Depp's shoes, dammit! They have some at Fluvog, but $255 is way too much to spend.
-London is making me nervous. I need to come up with a screenplay. Fuck
-I really want new shoes. *le sigh*
That is all for now
Take it easy, everyone. Don't get raped. Don't die
Monday, April 6, 2009
Oh, sweet pity. Where would my love life be without it?
I don't know about you, but all the songs in my iTunes have a particular season with which I associate them. Explosions in the Sky will always be a band for gloriously breezy nights after scorching summer days; bottle of wine, star-gazing, feeling lazy. New Slang by the Shins is a driving-down-the-country-roads-towards-Clark-Lake summer song. Hoppipolla is a fall song.
I am going somewhere with this.
The iPod accompanied me to class today, as it always does. On random shuffle - of 500 songs - it decides to pick Heavy by Holly Brook. I have not heard this song in a while, and of all the days to play it, this just had to be the day.
You see, I assoicate this song with Christmas break. I listened to it ad nauseum during break. It is a winter song. It is a December song.
It is April.
It is snowing today.
I truly feel as if Christmas is just a hop, skip and a jump away.
I told you that to tell you this:
It's going to be a very disorienting day today.
Everybody take it easy. Don't get raped. Don't die
I am going somewhere with this.
The iPod accompanied me to class today, as it always does. On random shuffle - of 500 songs - it decides to pick Heavy by Holly Brook. I have not heard this song in a while, and of all the days to play it, this just had to be the day.
You see, I assoicate this song with Christmas break. I listened to it ad nauseum during break. It is a winter song. It is a December song.
It is April.
It is snowing today.
I truly feel as if Christmas is just a hop, skip and a jump away.
I told you that to tell you this:
It's going to be a very disorienting day today.
Everybody take it easy. Don't get raped. Don't die
Sunday, April 5, 2009
To thee, Pandora, you cruel bitch
Am I copying the blog movement?
You bet I am.
I've tried to keep a livejournal and a xanga in the past. Fail. Perhaps this will be more successful. I doubt it, but it's always worth a try.
Procrastination. I'll always look at the clock and think, "Hey, it's one in the afternoon. I usually go to bed at one in the morning. Technically, I have twelve hours to completely this annotated bibliography. I have time. I'll just play some solitaire."
Yes. Well, some turns into a shit ton and the time that I thought I had? Not so much anymore.
I guess I shouldn't worry too much about it. Strictly speaking, though this semester has consisted of repeatedly hitting myself in the head with a two ton lemon wedge, my grades aren't half bad. Pulling a 3.5 in most of them, so screw it. Pressure needs to set in, anyway. Can't do nothin' right without da pressure.
Such is life.
Oppenheimer. Shit. Less than two weeks out and I still have NO idea what I'm doing. I'll just be phenominally relieved if I can pull this off without too many disappointed people.
Just have to have fun with it, and everything should turn out all right. Yes?
Curses upon you, Carson Kreitzer. And you, too, Pandora - you and your Hope can kiss Lilith's feministic, tattooed ass. Thanks ever so much!
yay yay yay Dinner yay yay yay
take it easy, everybody. don't get raped. don't die
You bet I am.
I've tried to keep a livejournal and a xanga in the past. Fail. Perhaps this will be more successful. I doubt it, but it's always worth a try.
Procrastination. I'll always look at the clock and think, "Hey, it's one in the afternoon. I usually go to bed at one in the morning. Technically, I have twelve hours to completely this annotated bibliography. I have time. I'll just play some solitaire."
Yes. Well, some turns into a shit ton and the time that I thought I had? Not so much anymore.
I guess I shouldn't worry too much about it. Strictly speaking, though this semester has consisted of repeatedly hitting myself in the head with a two ton lemon wedge, my grades aren't half bad. Pulling a 3.5 in most of them, so screw it. Pressure needs to set in, anyway. Can't do nothin' right without da pressure.
Such is life.
Oppenheimer. Shit. Less than two weeks out and I still have NO idea what I'm doing. I'll just be phenominally relieved if I can pull this off without too many disappointed people.
Just have to have fun with it, and everything should turn out all right. Yes?
Curses upon you, Carson Kreitzer. And you, too, Pandora - you and your Hope can kiss Lilith's feministic, tattooed ass. Thanks ever so much!
yay yay yay Dinner yay yay yay
take it easy, everybody. don't get raped. don't die
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