Thursday, May 26, 2005

I ate Oreos with my sister on our bedroom floor tonight, making our teeth black, spilling telltale crumbs on the carpet, and glorying in the scrumptious invention of crispy chocolate and creamy white filling. What would life be like without Oreos? I must confess they make me happy, just by eating them. If you ever see me sad and want to help the situation, bring me Oreos. I am positive that they are a good solution to any problem. We justified our consumption of vast quanities of Oreos with the fact that we had gone running today. I wonder how much running equals an Oreo?
As much as I love and celebrate the free will that God gave us, there are times when I wish I could override someone's free will. Not to control them by any means, but maybe to save them from themselves for just a moment. Just a brief small moment so they wouldn't have to live thousands of painful moments that result from actions they make in hasty foolishness. But that is all a part of the beauty of our free will. . .that it is completely ours, with no one but ourselves to make us who we are.

It still hurts to watch them, though.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Since I've been away this semester, my family has begun attending a new church. This morning was only my second Sunday morning, so I sat with my family I looked around the congregation for anyone I knew, or anyone my age that looked interesting. There were plenty of senior citizens, a good number of middle-aged couples with families, and a smattering of people in my age bracket. I was getting half-way interested until I realized that all the people over the age of 20 in the sanctuary were all married. All of them! I didn't see one single person my age who wasn't at least married, if not bringing 2-3 children in tow! Not that marriage necessarily makes people uninteresting, but it makes making new friends a little more difficult. I realized that since I left for school at 18 (when everyone was still single) until now, four years later, all of those single people who didn't leave and go to school found at least one thing to do - making babies! Now I feel like the odd one out, thank goodness.

Saturday, May 21, 2005

I felt like a little kid again, going to the library with my mom and younger siblings. My hometown library is almost like an old friend, being a steadfast presence in my life up until I left for college. After that, the library has become more of a professional taskmaster than a friend; stuffy silence that constantly tells me I ought to be studying and as focused as possible. But that's a thought for another day.

It was at least a bi-weekly ritual growing up - piling in our old '88 red 12 passenger van and invading the library. I'll always remember the slightly disconcerted faces of the librarians when the seven of us would walk in the door. In all reality, we were probably the most trustworthy little kids any librarian could want because we adored books so much. We would routinely become frustrated when we borrowed a well loved book, only to find out that the previous borrower had damaged it! We felt injustice had definitely been dealt on those days. Despite this, the sheer number of us gave each dull and stuffy librarian unusually alarming feelings. Their faces would perceptibly tighten, and they would nervously peer from their perch behind the counter to ensure that we were not desecration any of the ancient library books they so carefully guarded.

And then we would spend hours - yes, I mean hours, in the library, silently walking through our favorite shelves history, science, poetry, and fiction. At first we borrowed books we had never read, but we soon exhausted the small resources of our library and then it was only a matter of choosing the books that we most wanted to re-read. As dorky as this may sound, there is a certain relationship or feeling one gets when a book is read, re-read, and re-read again. Even the other day as my glance feel on the very same books I read ten years ago, I felt all those childhood feelings that I had while reading them; the thoughts, imaginings, and dreams.

Our dear librarians probably dreaded our leaving almost as much as our coming, though, because we would all come to the counter with 7-8 books each, easily adding up to over 50 books. I'm not sure if it was a library policy, or just a policy they made up for us, but after a few such visits, they informed us that our borrowing limit was 50 books. Period. At least it was easier to keep track of which ones we needed to take back. If we didn't have 50, there were some missing.

We never thought 50 books was enough. We read through them long before they were due, if not two or three times. Perhaps part of our problem was that we read our books all the way home, so half of them were read before the week even started. I would try and hold off from reading my own, anyway, but it never worked. If books are to the mind as food is to the body, one would have thought that we were starving all the time.

I saw all the librarians the other day - the same ones that have been there since I was nine. There are a few new faces, but the old faithfuls are still there. I can't say I remember how they have aged; they seem to have stayed the very same for the past 13 years. I wondered what they must think now, or if a thought even crosses their mind when we walk in the door now. At least we don't check out 50 books anymore, and they don't get the anxious looks on their faces when they see us. The funny part is, after 13 years, I still don't know their names, even though they know mine. In some childish sense, they never really had names, they were The Librarians.

At any rate, the childhood memories made me smile as my mom checked out my three books on music, the brain, and Beethoven. The library shall again afford me amusement over the summer. Hello, old friend.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Our dishwasher at work has suddenly waxed philosophical in the last two days. He keeps asking random philosophical questions as I'm running in and out of the dishroom. I never know what he's going to say next, or how in the world it connects to what we're doing at the moment. Maybe washing dishes is conducive to working out the questions of life. Who knows. Here are the four he asked me today:

What is the relevancy of life?
Do you consider yourself a liberal thinker?
Some people think that the soul never dies...what do you think?
Would you be opposed to Cossacks living in your city?

What in the world do Cossacks have to do with anything????

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Today a customer had me ask our chef if our Bouillabaise was good. His response? "Tell him my whole family comes from France, and it comes from being a chef for 28 years. It had better be damn good."
I feel bad for people who's lives are perpetually interrupted by misfortunes that they can't help. It's hard enough for me to deal with the random time I do something ignorantly stupid. Like today, when I found out that yesterday I accidentally unplugged our FREEZER instead of the copy machine. My sister called me and I immediately got that sudden sinking feeling as you realize that nothing you can do will fix the situation, and it's all your fault, even though you didn't mean to do it. Ouch. At least these things only happen to me once in the bluest moon. It must have been blue yesterday.

Monday, May 16, 2005

I found this scrap of writing and was slightly amused. It was from my second freshman semester in the middle of nowhere, Alberta, in a 60 below zero winter. It was cold, to say the least. The class I was in when this was written must have been pretty boring too. Bad combination.

My classroom journey

Inside I sit
This hard desk
My captor
Other's faces surround me
Feigning interest
My own appears
To pay attention
No one knows
My thoughts have left

They have crept away
Sneaking slowly
Across the room
To the window
And jump gleefully
Through the doleful pane
Into the quiet winter

Walking down the sidewalks
Frolicking with the snowflakes
Like the Pied Piper
They have drawn me away
To places of blissful fantasy

A voice interrupts
My thoughts run,
Tumbling back to me
In a jumbled, laughing mess

They laugh at me
Vainly attempting to order them
For a question asked

I am back
In the classroom.
This afternoon as my younger sister watched 'The Fox and the Hound', Charisa and I sat down for a few minutes and went down the memory lane of Disney childhood movies. While watching, we realized something: how is it that we know in every Disney movie that ever gave an animal a character which animals are ugly, beautiful, handsome, etc.? How is is that when the young Todd comes on the screen we all think "Wow. He's a handsome fox", even at five and six years old? How is it that Faline is definately an attractive little deer? It's a cartoon deer, for crying out loud! But we know she's beautiful.Walt Disney was definately a genius.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

I realize this may sound like boasting, but I must celebrate. Against all odds, I actually made an A in Music History! Hooray for me! Cheering, clapping, yelling, laughing, whistling. . .okay, okay. . .so maybe I'm just a little excited.
I think every college student who has a personal website all post something about being home again for the summer. I've already read a couple posts that my friends have written with variations on the theme. With a lack of something else to write about, I suppose I shall join them. I've now been home five days, and finding old things I love, new things I have to think about, and memories I wonder about.

Favorite things about home so far:

Whispering in the dark with my sister under the covers, and then almost getting in trouble because we're too loud. Yes, even at 22 and 19 we get in trouble for that.

Discussing silly stories and daily events around the dinner table with my family. I'm sure we look like a scene from the Waltons or the Brady Bunch, but it's everyday life for us.

Serving Bill and Charlotte at the Cafe. When I'm old and gray, I want to be just like them.

Bringing all my clothes back home and combining them with my sister's for a doubled wardrobe. It's like a free shopping spree.

Giving my dad a goodnight kiss on the cheek. His stubble still scratches the same way as it did when I was four.

Lounging on our big leather couches. I definitely need to have some when I grow up.

Hugging my dog, Louis. Everyone who reads this needs to pray that my family never gives him away.

Going to 'The Buzz', and getting Cafe Vita espresso. Ahh. . .the nectar of life. Just kidding. But it's pretty amazing coffee.

Seeing the Olypmic Mountains! I can't help that I'm irreversibly a West Coast girl who loves the mountains and the ocean at the same time.

It's good to be home. . .

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

I'm finally home. . .sigh. . .it feels good.

More to follow shortly. There's too much catching up to do right now.

Friday, May 06, 2005

I opened the cover and heard the crisp crack of the leather binding as it bend. I turned back the ivory page, wrote 'May, 2005 --- ', and smiled to mysef. Starting a new journal makes me happy, especially when they have leather binding and pictures of old Euorpean streets in them.

Okay, so maybe that's a little dorky. But it's true.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

It's a strange feeling, this being completely finished with everything this semester. All papers are submitted, all juries are performed, all music is turned in, and all that is left is my locker of books that I have to haul home. And for the next five days what will I be doing? I don't know! It's a beautiful thought.

After I accompanied my last jury (Ravel's Pavane) this afternoon, I went and had a long chat with my voice teacher. We went over my jury sheets and comments from the competition I was in earlier in the year. They all had good things to say, and all their critiques were concerning the same thing: my tone is too swallowed in the throat. At least they all said the same thing. We then talked about grad school and doctorate programs; what they were like, where the good ones are, etc, etc. After next year I will have to get serious about applying and auditioning for where I decide to go. It's honestly a little scary to think I'm this close to my graduate work will have to make those decisions so soon.

I then went across the suite and into another office where the chair of the vocal department and my choir director were trying to find a pianist that will still be here the week after next. I told them good luck. . .we're all getting out of here as soon as we can. It's time to go home and play music just for fun, even though we won't get paid for it.

Somehow whenever I talk to both those women our conversation goes in the most random places. Today it went from risque Debussy music, to diction class, to how marrying someone from the geek club is the best option. Yes, that's right. Not greek club, geek club. The question is, do I find a musical geek, or a non-musical geek? My director's answer: non-musical. Then at least one of you can make a decent living.

This post is just as rambling as my thoughts. All logical and systematic thinking has flown out the window for a few days at least. Tomorrow I am going to sleep. For a long time. And then I am going to open my eyes and think about getting up. Laziness is a luxury that I haven't been able to indulge in all semester. Surely five days of it won't damage my character too much.

Monday, May 02, 2005

Tomorrow it will all be over, officially. I accompany my last jury at 1:10 p.m. and then I am a free woman once again. La, what will life be like? Even now I feel a little strange with no classes and no homework. I sat in the library and chatted with some friends for two hours about absolutely nothing today. The wonderful thing about it was, I had nothing in the back of my mind telling me I really should be doing something else. It was beautiful. We made plans to get together a couple times over the next few days before we all go home. We'll all be bored to tears if we don't. What does one do at school when there is no more school to go to, anyway? I must slowly get my mind into gear to pack and clean my apartment before I leave, but it's only very slowly moving in that direction. I think it needs a day or so of rest before it works again.

I will play only music I want to play.

I will read poetry that I have read a hundred times before.

I will sit on my porch and think whatever I want.

I will hang out with my friends and talk about all the things we never knew about each other because we always talk about school.

I will sleep as long or as short as I feel like.

I will listen to Renee Fleming.

I will listen to birds singing and leaves rustling outside my window.

I will not be in school!!! :)