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Tomorrow I receive a bicycle. It will be nice to have the option again.
I'm debating whether I want to do anything for my birthday. Half the day will be spent travelling regardless.
Time is moving way too fast right now.
There are too many books I want to read, too many books I need to read and never enough time. This frustrates me.
I'm snarky, and should keep my mouth shut as much as possible for the next few days.
I feel very odd today, and it's not just the coffee. I'm baking again, and actually cooking meals as opposed to eating whatever is in the fridge. I'm off to play with the DYO tomorrow morning, I may even play some english horn parts. I saw Alex today, of the theatre, tall and amusing whilst drunk variety, not the starbucks or cello variety, respectively, and exchanged a quick greeting. I've almost forgiven myself for r&g, and I am being sucked back into theatre once again, if in a much smaller way. This is, I think, a good thing.
I have three essays in March, all of which I need to do well on. hm. I am almost done with this business you know, a language course and then 6 more credits. Dear gods I hope the little tack on thing at the academy is primarily performance oriented, I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle.
I've been overcoming nervousness with a bit of false bravado lately, I don't like the result. I don't like alienating people, I've felt that way too much myself. I'm going to go read some Roman dude's travel diary now. (he even includes the wet dream he had at the hotel..)
Occasionally I get so hungry that I make ridiculous amounts of food. Today was one of those days. I cooked two big heads of broccoli in cheese sauce with a topping of parmasan, butter and bread crumbs, a yam, and a huge salad consisting of beet pickles, dill pickles, celery, sprouts, carrots parsley and cherry tomatoes. I am so very, very full. I almost started making bread and chicken stock before I realised that it was almost ten and I am already running on too little sleep. Tomorrow morning I make reeds, practice and catch up on readings. I might have time to vacuum if I'm lucky.
The strange concrete sculptures that used to live near the music building have migrated, and although the one in the garden near the library looks quite happy, the others aren't quite as lucky. When I left today I noticed the umbrella and the multicoloured wall were in a heap by the trash can. No one I've talked to seems quite as sad as I am about this, but really, I'd grown so attached to the ugly little things that I almost took the umbrella home. Only the thought of carrying it on the bus stopped me..it really does weigh quite a bit.
I've been very concious of where I stand lately, in relation to people I'm friends with and people I deal with at school. I tend to assume too much, even though I always feel as though I'm not; I round edges and sometimes make bridges that don't cross anything, or are quite a bit too short. It's hard for me to tear them down, but good, I think. Honesty in one area makes me suspicious of others, and lately I've been reawakened to the fact that I am still very, very far away from playing in a professional orchestra. I've had a week where none of my reeds work, a week where technical difficulties have made themselves incredibly public, and a week where I disgusted myself by using the 'I'm tired' excuse.
Tiredness might take a sparkle out of a performance, but if the piece is there technically, it won't fall apart just because of a lack of sleep. I refuse to become just another failed musician, I refuse to be defeated by the number of hours in a day; I will get up earlier, I know I'm capable of it, I just haven't been pushing hard enough is all. I don't practice enough, I get an hour a day tops right now, and I miss days. I haven't got a real schedule happening for either reedmaking or practicing. I'm taking on more music than I can probably handle, and my classes are suffering. Most professionals I've talked to comment that they had way more time to practice during university than they do now. I need to work out a schedule and actually stick to it. I can't go around sounding like crap if I expect people to take me seriously. Things need to change.
My Balinese midterm went both extremely well and extremely poorly. The transcription went really well, and I had no trouble hearing it at all, plus I remembered the kotekan patterns and which mode was which and how to transpose to it, all of which, for me, is amazing. Sadly, I spent so much time listening to the cd that the transcription was supposed to come from that I forgot to listen to the other cd for which we were supposed to know all the names, eras, social contexts and forms for. Colour me stupid. Argh, I think I did tolerably well with the short answers, although one on the difference between the intervals in selisir mode and slendro (a scale) really sortof frightened me - I was either really right or really wrong on a few. Bah, at best I'll get a middling B, at worst a C+, this is just not acceptable for this course. grrr. The worst part is that I know that I could have been better prepared.
I have half an hour, a lesson and then a masterclass. I have one reed that is dying and one that is so new it's barely playable, but the comforting fog is back and I'm starting to feel connected to what I'm doing again, which is good. I'm extremely tired, but full, and somehow settled in a way I haven't been in a while. Maybe it's just the music.
Currently listening: some mellow folky country stuff
I can't quite see yet, can you?
I'm going to be playing the english horn solo on track 15: Joaquin Rodrigo
I haven't practiced in two days. I keep trying, and I think I might be able to now, or in a few minutes, but simply breathing in and exhaling a musical line seems beyond my capabilities right now. I sat for a while, I've been sitting for what seems ages, then finally I left. I walked North and the cold swept through me. It was welcome, clearing everything away and making my cheeks sting till all I could see was sky. I walked East till I knew it was too far, walked west as the sun fell a little further down, and finally south, home. I want to go swimming, I want to go alone, I want to go with an American, because he is so like me, and so unlike me, and because I don't love him, and he doesn't love me, but we like each other, and there's nothing more. I want to feel as though I'll never be warm again, frozen to the bone I'll scream till my voice disappears.
I have a million half formed thoughts, but I've forgotten them all until I try to breathe and think. Frames flew over the world as I walked, little details screaming for my attention; tiny white flowers against black bark, my tower, tall and unforgiving against the sky with the sun behind it, wires leading to it through the maze of buildings. A forgotten path beside the sidewalk, carefully maintained by some old gardener even though no one walks there anymore. I looked at it and wanted to walk along it, only some half remembered fairytale from my childhood holding me back.
I bought rather a lot of music today: Rodrigo; concertos and Orchestral works, Kabalevsky Cello Concertos, and, rather predictably, The Romantic Oboe (2cds)
A hammer, a dish, and nothing. I picked up the part for the guitar concerto, will hopefully get the english horn soon. Went for food with my sister and Nathanial, went thrift/consignment store shopping and bought ridiculously tight pants and soft fake suede shirt.
The batteries I bought are defective, or, to be more precise, they didn't cost enough and so are of inferior quality. Apparently I should pay twenty dollars and then have better luck. As it is, I take two pictures and the camera has already gobbled them up.
Shallow and mundane, I know, it's all I have left right now, though the crocuses and dafodils promise it won't be forever. I think I've stopped wishing though, and this is good.
I'm going to go practice.
Cold moon, I remember when I'd look up and breathe in the night air and dream of velvet and snow. You were there again tonight, and I was alone as well. Well met, or something like that, you might've said. The smell of burning sugar wound its way through the air, almost bringing the warmth with it, and a lady with wings or blades of light walked past. Focus outwards, breathe, focus on a point, an audience member, a character trait; never look inwards, never let yourself be truly naked in front of the audience, that is disaster, emptyness without meaning, a stutter, an embarrassed pause. No. Look outwards, breathe, focus on a point in the room.
My balance is off lately, just a bit, and it's very telling. I wish.......I wish, I wish, I wish and hate myself for wishing.
I just ate the hugest breakfast that I've made in a long time. I woke up at 2pm today, even later than yesterday and I haven't done a single productive thing yet, but it's ok because soon I shall attack the dishes and make some sort of delicious baked thing, then probably wander over to KMM.
I'm so incredibly glad that I have a permanent focus in my life that transcends human interaction, I can't imagine how I would keep going if I based my entire being on how I felt about others. I'd probably implode or something terrible.
Did you notice that it's wonderfully windy today? Dragonsbreath wind and I love it. I'd love to dress up today in something windblown and simply run about, but I really need to do laundry.
I went to work yesterday, dressed in pink and white and wearing black chipped nailpolish. It's a good thing I don't mind being laughed at.
speak your words
free them
they'll change on your lips.
watch them as they sparkle
turning into mist.
I met with a dear friend today.
Friendships that can last through absence are wonderful and rare.
Words are disjointed because that is how I am right now; that doesn't make them without meaning.
We talked about love
about sex
We talked about cruelty and the guilty
pleasure of being
desired
...my sexuality means nothing to you, and thus is worthless to me.
Not true, but it's just dramatic enough, and is at the edge of what I mean.
naturally monogamous.
complication (just a)
simplicity (is easier)
weakness
show your love through sex
I thought I'd grown up a bit more than this..
why is it that non-existant past conversations about birth control and stds felt like shaky ground?
drama.
he said she said he...
maturity
complex
five years...
we are so different, and obviously the same.
I made the decision not to fall in love you know.
I wonder if I actually want a mirror of this feeling or if I really prefer to be like this.
Terrifying.
there was something profound, but I think I deleted it or forgot it somewhere along the way.
I'm thinking of buying a set of luggage. Perhaps in green.
A little music featuring a japanese sandman reference. er. yes
There's a stillness in the air, even though life goes on at its usual breakneck speed, spring is here, everything will change, again, as usual. The gently curving line of rocks, sand and sun doesn't change, the moss grows a little greener, the flowers come up to die. I'm happy. I can say it again without lying or bursting into tears; it's a good thing.
It's almost time to go swimming, I feel the sea calling to me; I'd like company, but you have to at least be willing to dip your toes in the water, it's no fun if you don't. I have a lot to do, but then I always do; not really a huge number of things, more of a huge mountain or two. It helps that I'm resting on a plateau, but I still need to go beyond it.
I've been getting up earlier lately, waking up to Gong Kebyar and actually eating before going out into the day; it's made a huge difference. I really do function better when I have time to do 'unimportant' things like sitting outside, blogging and drinking tea. There is a large heart made out of the tops of bottles arranged on the concrete at ubc, it made me smile. I think I'll miss the deconstruction of the library when it's gone. I've grown accustomed to the huge, resounding clangs and bangs, humming and scraping that it produces. I know I'm not the first to appreciate the sounds, but it still makes me happy.
I think I'm going to buy the seeds of a plant that my mom used to grow; I used to mostly dislike it, but now, oddly (much like coffee) I seem to like it. Funny. And it grows well in the shade. haha, off to class.
Last week was dark, every night filled with an intensity of emotion that made any sort of productivity impossible. The days were better, although the emotion was very close to the surface, something that I had thought I'd worked through rearing its head again. I tried so very hard not to let it be anyone else's problem, and that made it worse. This week will be better; I've allowed myself a few of the things I miss, things I thought I didn't have time for, or had convinced myself were bad for me. I feel better, I made reeds, practiced, spent time with people I love and actually slept for the first time in a week. You'd think I would've figured out what was wrong earlier. Ah well.
The funny thing about music, for me, is that it brings out whatever emotion is most present in me and amplifies it to ridiculous levels; oh, I should qualify that, good music does this. I've been feeling a bit below the level lately, and I haven't been able to shake it. There are any number of things I could name as sources but they all fall a little short, I want there to be a quick fix and there isn't one.
When I was smaller, and we still had to go to assemblies to sing O Canada and listen to random people talk, I used to have trouble singing because my eyes would well up with tears. They weren't patriotic, and they weren't sad, but something in that music moved me, as much as I'd rather make fun of it. When I can't play something it makes me miserable because I feel as though I'm failing something much deeper than a few black scribbles on a piece of paper. This connection is constant, I've never fallen out of love with music, never looked back on it and wondered what I was thinking. Music is beyond my own shortcomings in judgement, people aren't, but they occasionally get the same response; it hurts a bit, but I think both experiences are worth it.
Today didn't work even though I made every effort to make it productive. I need to learn to not answer the phone when I'm studying. I'm really cranky right now, in fact, I don't think I've ever been quite this jealous of my time; I hate it but it's necessary right now and people are just going to have to deal with my draconic alter ego or go elsewhere. (I recommend going elsewhere)
don't put yourself in situations where you can be easily hurt because you will be hurt.
Haha. There's something odd about giving advice to my mother and then thinking that I should take my own advice once in a while. Mind you, I dissagree with my own advice in many areas, so whatever. Argh. I had actually started to study before I had a two hour phone call with her. I normally really like talking to my mom, but again with the cranky time hording. I could do another hour, but the momentum is gone. Bah, I should anyway.
I only practiced for an hour today in the morning. I had another hour planned in the middle of that phone call.
I absolve myself of the sin, but not the punishment..
Suicide has been coming up in conversation lately; it always does with my mother since the reserve she teaches on has the highest suicide rate in Canada, but this time they'd had a musician in who made up songs from lyrics given to him by the audience. He was mostly used to going to upper class highschools. The lyrics he got from the students for one verse were: all my friends are angels, I'm at the end of my rope, have to find a tall tree, everything is gone, and I don't want to be here. Apparently he set it in a happy major tune and didn't understand what it was about until after when my mom explained why she'd tried to stop him from ending the song happily with "All my friends are angels, I'm at the end of my rope, I'm going to find a tall birch tree and listen to them singing." Apparently the other verses had been very dark as well; stupid insensitive performer. augh. He got irritated at them for not singing along.
The fact that I knew my mother would be devestated used to keep me from taking the easy way out, and I wonder what keeps others that don't have that kind of love to support them from taking their lives. Now it's grown into a determination and love of life that would never let me give up to that degree, but for a few years it really was strictly the fear of hurting her. Odd, to think that I twice wouldn't exist without my mother.
I have a recent email sitting in my inbox from a friend that I talked to quite a lot during that period, an online friend that I fell for rather dramatically. I haven't answered it yet, it's been quite a few years since we stopped talking, fading in the way I think only online friendships do. I'm not sure how to respond to the attempt to re-establish that intensity, and not sure that I want to. It might be cowardly, but I'm just not willing to put forward that kind of energy right now, mostly because I'm working on diffusing it most every day. I'm not productive at the begginings of things, and it would be like a new beggining. I'm also not the same person. I really should respond though.
Today was thick and heavy; every step was an effort and human interaction was alien at best. I accomplished a lot though, almost sticking to my preplanned schedule, and I managed to put a check beside everything on my list. Hopefully tomorrow will start a little earlier and flow a little better.
There's a pressure behind my eyes that wants to express itself, but I feel like I repeat myself too often as it is. Somehow I don't have the skill to keep each repetition interesting....or perhaps I just don't care to hide the similarities of each recapitulation. I'm never bored, and I love the minute variations and occasional surprize, but I always imagine the listeners beginning to yawn. That same dissonance, the same resolution, maybe a different key, a bit more or less ornamentation, but the same theme, always and always the same theme. All we can hope for, really, is a maturity in the developement and perhaps a deceptive cadence or a german sixth towards the end.
It's odd how addictive weakness and dependency can be; I often wonder where the line between healthy and unhealthy is, and then I realize there isn't really a line. I still sortof want there to be lines, I was so attached to the idea of at least some things having easy answers, oh well, I suppose I'll just have to be happy with terrifying simplicity.
