Toes and Beautiful Weather

Piano. As in, I get to play piano tomorrow morning because there's an elder's quorum breakfast and the church will be open. At 8:30. And I get to play all day if I want :D

Not all day, actually, because I want to go to choir festival at 1:15 as a chaperone so that I can ride on the bus for free. It'll be cool, if I can go.

It was beautiful outside today. It even got so hot that I had to use an umbrella. I went out at 10am with a blanket and the keyboard and my music and some drawing stuff and some books, and stayed out there 'til 2-something. Then I came in and did computer for a bit, then Art Girl called and I did modelling for her 'til 6. Then I went with Aorta to Music Teacher's house (who is also the YW prez) and there was a YW party going on. Alysia Wilson was there. She's cool. But it was fun, and I did paraffin wax on my hands,  and ate too much, and gave two of the leaders (including Music Teacher) foot massages and painted their toenails. Aurora did three leaders. Then I helped clean up, doing dishes and such. It was cool. Service is good.

And now I'm home and wanting it to be tomorrow. Piano.

euphoria close to euphoria i could get lost

My life right now is a bunch of Wednesday-from-5-to-10's and Sunday-from-7-to-4's strung together, with a dash of Tuesday-or-Thursday-at-2's in there. All of it saturated in piano and sloth. Winter has killed my spirit, and I need spring to make me alive. Or friends or something. 

I need to get away from this space, these few square feet that trap me and are making me go backward. I need to get away from the influence that this place and my family has on me. I need something different, because this taste in my mouth won't go away until I go away. 

Change is what I need, variation; I am free; I am not alive when I'm caged like this. I need movement. I need to fly near the stars and drift in the wind.

I need to be able to go where I want when I want, without notifying anyone. I need to be able to disappear once in a while. I need privacy. I need to be untethered.

I'm slogging through thick mud, not unscathed. It's getting in my ears, making me deaf; it's getting in my mouth, making me silent; it's going down my throat, into my lungs, gathering in my stomach, becoming a heavy lump of dead, and it's choking me. 

I was made free; but they have again tied me down. I have had a taste of life, and now I need it to survive. 

My eyes burn when I look into the light; I was just getting adjusted to its intensity. These months of darkness have been terrible.

I need to get out. If I am to stay sane, I need to get out. I've cut myself from them, and they can't have me back. They can love me from a distance. But this close I am smothered. I'm responsible for none but myself; they can't put guilt on me. 

April, April, April, I can see you on paper, I can feel you coming. But why aren't you here yet? Why are you taking so long?

I've run out of time.

Let me go.

April 15th, the day of yes!

Piano lessons today. I got lotsa stuff. I want to play piano. Real piano.  Not keyboard. 

I'm making dinner right now: pineapple pork chops. It requires soy sauce, and I found that we had none, so I'm making a substitute from a recipe that I found online. 

It's 60 degrees outside, or was. LOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

It felt like October.

Art Girl is doing a photo project and I'm going to model for her. In a dress. 

I burnt my tounge eating the not soy sauce. 

I like to eat plain baking soda.

I like to eat plain balsamic vinegar.

I like to eat plain bouillon cubes.

I like to eat food from a can or a pot. Bowls and plates are for not-college-students. Speaking of college, I really want to go back. REALLY.

I'm switching to music minor, unless I get a "no" feeling. But I think it's right. PIANO

And ear training and music theory and tonal something-or-other. And piano lessons. PIANO

I like the crumbs at the bottom of the cereal bag. That's my favourite part.

Make a "W" with your mouth and then go look in the mirror. You look pretty. Then make a stupid face and laugh at yourself for making faces at yourself. Then laugh at yourself for doing what I told you to do.

Schink is allergic to dust mites. And cockroaches. Eh?

Piano. Mozart. Mozart's awesome. I wish I were that good at piano. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmozart.

I have nothing more to say.

I think I'll go to Boston

I like to put lather over my ears when I'm showering and mute the world. Then I foam my hair into a fauxhawk. That's how cool I am. And then, at the very end, I boil myself by turning the water up as high as possible and see how long I can stay in the water before I die of hurt. 

Piano today: from 6-10:30, straight. Not enough time. I think I'll spend whole Saturdays in the Snow building. I can't wait to go back!

I learned "Boston" by Augustana. It is wicked fun to play, and wicked easy to learn. Wicked wicker witches whine while whistling. That song reminds me of Gillette, because I remember one morning after seminary he was playing it, and I asked him what it was, and I didn't remember what he said the song was, but I remember him saying, "It's called blah blah blah. You would like it." And it's the "you would like it" part that bothered me when I didn't remember the name, only the melody. It's such a pretty song. I wish I had written it.

Piano lessons tomorrow. I didn't do everything she asked me to do; I still need to study intervals and diminished and augmented, and which letter goes with which key signature. 'Tis but memorisation. And she gave me a simplified version of "Canon" to do, with the same left hand part the whole way through. If I could memorise it, I could play it better. 

Still working on that Fantasia. I think the hardest part will be the speed. But I don't know; I'm only two pages into it and it's six pages, with a lot of "flying up and down the keyboard" parts. It gives me shivers every time I listen to it in the car.

I just ate a cucumber.

A couple days ago I made fudgies (you lesser mortals know them by the dull name of "no bakes"). Mum's recipe is the best. So is her sugar cookie recipe. But it wasn't cocoa-y enough for me so I added a couple more tablespoons and that's when I learned that I like darker chocolate, 'cuz mum thinks they're gross like that. And today I made yet another version of chocolate chip cookies, and these awesome delicious try-them-or-die thingies that are called "Golden Yam Brownies", but they're not brownies, but they're not cake, but they are probably the most delicious things I've ever tasted. Ever. Look up "Golden Yam Brownies" on allrecipes.com. Make them. Or die.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand I feel really pretty right now. I look in the mirror and don't recognise myself. I just don't look like that, and my hair is not that cool, and my eyes are pretty, but not that pretty...the girl in the mirror could be a model, but I'm too fat and short. And her lips are pretty; so are her hands and wrists and even her nose. But not mine. My lips are too small, my fingers aren't long enough, my wrists aren't thin enough, my nose is too big. That girl isn't me. I don't know who she is. But I wish I were her, because she's so pretty. I'll bet all the guys like her. I'll bet she can wear anything and not look fat. I'll bet she's confident and funny and smart and artistic and good at everything. I'll bet she's cool. I want to be her friend, but she wouldn't ever be friends with someone as boring as me. Except she would, because she's that nice, and she finds everyone interesting. But I'm too shy to talk to her. She has a pretty smile. It looks genuine all the time. She looks so interesting, and so complex; like she has so many different layers, so many different sides to her. I wonder what her story is, because she has to have one. I wish I could be her, because then I would have an awesome life, and I'd be happy and having fun all the time, and everyone would like me. She's not me; who is she?

I like my hair even more, now that it's grown out a bit. 

I didn't sleep last night, but I slept from 7:30am-10am. Sleep is a huge waste of time.

The sun was AWESOME when it was setting. It was HUGE! And ORANGE! I was driving to the church when I saw it and Smells and I (well, actually just I, but Smells was in the car also) chased the sun. I took a few pictures whilst driving. 

I think that one of the greatest things in the world is listening to music turned way up in a small car while driving really fast in the dark by yourself and singing along and improv-harmonising, and it doesn't matter whether you suck or you don't, because you're the only one that can hear.

Today I felt October. But I also caught the tiniest hint of spring. It's waiting.

I'm tired. 

42 days 'til I'm back home.

That's 6 weeks exactly.

Reality 2.0

Self pity doesn't really suit me. Ignore my blobbing. It's all crap. 

Reality

I will never be good enough at the piano. 

I don't have talent, I just practise a ton.

That makes me sad, because I love it so much.

I know that no matter how much I practise, I will never be good enough.

Nearly every mormon can play piano somewhat.

I'm not even sure I want to take a class anymore, because I fear I'd be told that I wasn't good enough. 

Of course, I'm grateful for what I can do. I never thought I'd be able to play hymns. But I fear that's as far as I'll go.

I just wish I were really really good at one thing. Even if it meant not being really good at other things. Because being a bit good at everything is not as good as being really good at one thing.

I would gladly give up all my artistic "talent" to be able to play piano well.

I would give up my ability to cook.

I would give up my photography.

I would give up...whatever else means a lot to me (within reason).

I am grateful for what I am able to do, though.

Is it April yet?

Feel Some Kind of Strange

Because you can go back and edit posts, it's kinda like 1983, where you can erase all traces of whatever you want. Right now, we're at war with Eurasia. East Asia has always been an ally. Trust me.

But whatever. We went to go check out the pinano yesterday and it sounds like a saloon piano. It is WAAAY old. But it's okay, because I knew it was too good to be true. Things like that just don't happen to me, or they do, but there's always a catch. 'Tis my unluck, but I'm used to it, so it's cool.

I'm bored. One month and 15 days, and I'm outta here, hopefully for a long time.

Parts of my dream that I remember:

I was in the parking lot in between the dorms, but it was a bit different, because the dorms were more like apartments, and there were more trees, and they were taller, and mum was there, picking me up to go get dinner or ice cream or something, and I was packing my stuff into the van (I think) and other people were packing and moving out. It started out sunny, but then more and more clouds came, and the sun was lower in the sky, and then, I looked at the sky, and it was THE MOST beautiful sky I'd ever seen: sun making everything yellow-brown-orange, covered by stuck-together-cotton-ball clouds, with a big, dark, grey sheet of  cloud moving in from the right. I didn't have my camera with me (of course) so I RAN back to my apartment, but by the time I got back, the grey sheet-cloud had almost covered the sky. But that moment where the sky was beautiful...it was so beautiful...I'm surprised my mind could make the sky like that. Then once the sheet-cloud had covered the sky, it started to rain: a few drops at first, then some more, then all of a sudden it was raining HARD but it was that warm summer rain that you want to dance in, and everything still had sort of an orange-y tint. It was so beautiful.

Then this other part, I was at Braulim's, and apples were 25 cents each, so I was going to buy a lot, but I didn't have a ride home, and I couldn't carry all of them home, and I had just gotten new roommates (3 guys...I don't get it either. They were all pretty hot though. Tall, skinny, alternative), and didn't have any of their phone numbers (one of them had a car) but they were at Braulim's too, and I just didn't know it, but they saw me and I sorta recognised them, but wasn't sure that they were my roommates because when I met them I didn't really look at them. They assured me that they were my roommates, and so it was okay.

It was a cool dream.