Monday, December 18

Open up into In

Title is me not hearing a lyrics correctly to "Memory" from Cats by ALW. It bugs me how everyone thinks it's called "Memories."

Just sitting here, listening to theme songs. To me, theme songs means a song with a very clear message, or that evokes a strong emotion. Not theme songs as in the little ditty before a TV show.

Jenny and I went to the mall today. We were just looking, so we know what there will be when we go shopping after Christmas. There wasn't anything cute except the llama shoes. I love the llama shoes. They are made by Ked's and they are freaking $40, but they are green and have llamas on them and are fuzzy. They also have brown ones with owls and blue ones with seahorses, but those aren't fuzzy. They are just so expensive, you'd think they went down in price after all these months. Plus, it's winter so I don't need flats. And I have a very cute flats collection already. I don't need any more shoes. Marisa would be very jealous if I got them.

Jenny and I ran into Ben and Zac at the mall. They were sitting, taking abreak from Christmas shopping. They are very nice and comical and I wish I knew them better. Theatre/musical theatre kids are so charismatic. I wish I - well, no. I don't wish I were like them. I am glad that I am quiet and introspective. The problem with theatre kids is that they are so constantly around each other and in other people's problems that they never have time to look at themselves and find out who they are or think about what they really want. They are too busy being other characters and dealing with others that how can they find themselves? I guess this is where the saying "in order to find yourself, you have to try to be someone else" but I can't see how that works. I guess it"s because I've never tried it. It's not that I'm content with myself, but I wouldn't give up band and chamber music just for an experiment like that.

So back to Ben and Zac. I wish I knew them better. I wish I were friends with them. It's because they are so charismatic that people are just attracted to them. They think on their feet, they are animated, and they always have something funny to say. They're like Tim only they don't insult you so much. I used to wish I had Ben's email address so I could email him and say, "Hey we don't know each other very well but you're really nice and I wish we were better friends and since we have no classes together just email me back if you want to chat." but it would never work because he'd think, "Whoa, stalker!" and hate me forever.

I can't say I like any boys because I don't know any well enough. Sure, there's Garrett, who's really cute, but I've only talked to him once and it went like this,
Me: I didn't know you wore glasses
Garrett: Yeah, my eyes are screwed up...

Can't you feel the connection?

Listeneing to "What you Own" and thinking about Christina's party. Everything makes sense. "For once the shadows gave way to light" For once I got to talk to all the theatre/musical theatre kids "For once I didn't disengage" For once I held their gaze and flirted shamelessly like a saloon girl.

Jenny and I looked at the pictures on Netta's myspace. That party was so fun.

Have I said too much? I can't think of any more to say. I need to studyt for finals. ttyl!

PS Elphaba is right, as always. Love comes at much too high a cost!

Saturday, December 16

Murder at the Deadwood Saloon

Christina's birthday party was last night. It was really really fun, but I lost my voice and I might be getting sick, so that put a damper on it. I was a saloon girl and got to flirt with all the boys, which was really fun because I normally only flirt with Drew because it's hard not to flirt with Drew because he's just that kind of person. But anyway, it was fun because they were all musical theatre or drama boys, and I don't know them that well so it wasn't really awkward. There was Ben, Zac, Charlie, Cameron, Corey, and Daniel. Hannah and Kati also played boys. So I got to flirt with everyone but Cameron and Corey because I barely talked to Corey at all, and Cameron was my employer.

It was fun. But there was one really awkward interaction with Charlie. So I know I was a saloon girl, and I dance with people, but am I a whore? So Charlie and I were talk/flirting and he was all, "I need some asistance," and I didn't really understand what he meant. So I was like, "How so?" and he said, "You could start at the belt and work your way down," and that was pretty suggestive and I didn't know if I was supposed to agree or be offended or what. So I said something about money and he totally freaked out and said something like, "Okay, I'm going to have to back out of this one." so I don't know if he had meant something completely different, or maybe someone else came into the room and he had to talk to them as one of his objectives, or whatever. But then for the rest of the night neither of us mentioned it and just flirted shamelessly like it hadn't happened. Should I ask him about it? Will I ever talk to him again? We've only talked before once, at the blood drive, and that was only for a minute because he wanted to talk to his drama friends.

I didn't dance with many people because everyone just wanted to "talk business" and figure out the murder and accomplish his or her objectives.

It was a party. Everything I did meant nothing because it was acting. No regrets. Just fun memories.

I've been thinking; maybe the Mark in a Chorus Line is the same Mark in Rent. But that would make Mark in Rent like 33 years old, and I think he's supposed to be early twenties. Too bad. That would have been so cool.

I have to go. Happy holidays and ttyl!

Wednesday, November 8

Hamilton Science Night

I worked at the Hamiltonj Science night and I helped at the digestive system table. Christina was at the skeletal and mucsular systems table and the adult running that table was a personal trainer for Idina Menzel and Tracie Thoms when they were in San Francisco filming Rent. His wife is a nutritionist who worked with the cast also. After all the kids left, Christina introduced me to him and so I am two degrees away from Anthony Rapp and Idina Menzel. And the guy's kids are going to London to see Idian Menzel in Wicked and they have back stage passes. That is so amazing. I feel happy and sad because now I am relapsing into being obsessed and I don't want to be obsessed but I so wish I knew Anthony Rapp. It would be so fabulous if I were some famous person's architect or psychiatrist/psychologist. Then when I'm at a science night function there will be awkward teens gawking over my connections and I'll feel special and tell them, "Yes, I know Anthony Rapp. He's a very nice person." and they would spazz out and their dream to meet their role model would be reignited.

I wonder what Anthony Rapp is doing right now. Probably sleeping. That's what I should do. ttyl!

Monday, October 16

Two Butterflies

Most hilarious thing just happened. On the AcDec music samples, I really like this one song called "Two Butterflies" by Pang Long so I looked it up on the internet and the first site was this kid's blog that says the same thing I just said! Except for the part that it happened to him too. How hilarious is that. So I totally wanted to leave a comment and say that it was my favorite song on the CD too but you had to have an account to leave a comment so now he'll never know.

So anyway I had a really weird dream and I know I haven't written up any of my dreams for a long long time but I usually don't write them up if I can tell someone about them and I couldn't tell KK all of it because she wouldn't like it and I didn't understand the chemistry so I had to pay attention in class for once. So. So it starts as like a movie would. Nice, normal suburb with a crazy old man living in it. He runs out of his house with a rifle because the senator lives across the street and he's trying to protect her. But he's crazy and the senator's at work so it doesn't matter. Then all of a sudden a huge jet plane crashes into San Francisco and destroys it all. The crazy man's wife comes outside to see what happened and she realizes that it's going to be a New Orleans incident and grabs the man's gun and shoots herself in the head. Then unfortunately for me at that moment I just had to become a character instead of just watching this happen so I was their kid and the crazy guy was trying to shoot me too but she shot himself instead and I ran away. Then I was at home and it wasn't my home and it wasn't even my real home in my dream but my room had a perfect view of San Francisco and this terrorist group had set the whole city on fire to set up this huge affordsable housing communist building. Me, future architect of America, was critisizing the building because it blew up San Francisco and because it wasn't very pretty. (they had already layed out the foundation steel support rods and inner structure stuff) But the guy in charge of it set up his headquarters right outside my window and he could hear and I really hated him because he killed all these people just to build a communist affordable housing building. And he wore cream colored slacks and one of those white peasant tops that have a low V-neck. Weird. And he had short blonde hair. I don't think he had a name. This bugs me. Oh well. So my mom and I were in this awesome house and I guess there was a party going on because there was a bunch of people there and we were eating junk food and watching TV and trying on funky clothes and stuff but it was really late and I was tired and I was leaving to go to Arnold's grandmother's house in Scotland. I don't know an Arnold, though. So that ended and I was at his grandmother's house doing all sorts of errands and realizing that Arnold is really stuck up and full of himself because he is so virtuous and always knows the right thing to do. I had a lot of adventures right here but I can't remember them. They involved exploring the house and running errands. And his grandmother was being blackmailed by a motorcycle gang and they wanted 40lbs of dried prunes and I was going to the grocery store anyway to deposit a bunch of coins in the coinstar thing for her, so I had to buy prunes too. They were having a sale at the store on them, which was good. And Travis worked there. He helped me find the 20lb cans in the back. So I got those and forgot about coinstar and got in line to pay. And in the chasier line next to me was the leader guy of the communist affordable housing building. And his cashier was all, "You stole this credit card, dude. I'm going to have to get you arrested." So I felt really bad for him because his downfall should have been something more interesting than credit card fraud. Then I gave him a huge hug because I felt so bad for him and everyone was confused because I hated him. So I had to explain myself that I was only hugging him and can't I feel bad for someone and hate them at the same time? But I think we did more than hug but that isn't appropriate for this blog. So then I left with the dried prunes and did I mention this groceryt store was in London and Arnold's grandmother lived in Edinburgh? But luckily, the two cities are only three blocks away. So a ran into the street and a big blue bus was coming, so I jumped out of the way and sat down on the sidewalk and started crying because I almost got run over and I was kind of stressed out about what happened at the grocery store because I might have been falling in love with that evil communist affordable housing building guy who bruned down San Francisco even though I still really hated him. And he counts for someone who I hate even though Sueli doesn't think I hate anyone. I hate the communist affordable housing casanova part of me. So then everyone in the cars were all, "So are you going to cross? You can the right of way now!" So I did and then a dragon came and stole the prunes and I woke up. Oh yeah and the evil communist affordable housing building guy had an English accent.

Pretty weird, huh? ttyl!

Thursday, September 28

Happiness is walking hand in hand

Quote from "Happiness" in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. I don't know who wrote it.

Yesterday was the whole incidient with the crazy trespassing guy and me calling 911 and totally spazzing out and Erik was there but he was silent. I'm listening to Rent and remembering when I first got the CD and following along in the libretto and feeling a strong feeling of thankfulness toward Jonathon Larson and Anthony Rapp.

I'm supposed to be doing my history homework. Did you know Emannuel Swedenborg is mentioned in Les Miserables by Victor Hugo?

Inspiration for a new phic by the play 'Mother Courage". Somehow Erik takes in a girl who can't talk and is amazing on flute. She can't read literature, but she can read music and spells her name out "A-B-B-E" and Erik decides she means Abby. Then Erik tries to teach her to read but he isn't sure if she is learning. There is general confusion about how smart she is and then in the end she saves Erik from some kind of peril at the cost of her life.

I need to keep working, so ttyl!

Wednesday, September 20

IRISH BUTTER con't

Yesterday I was going to make brioches, but it didn't end well. I got to the step when you add eggs. One of the eggs was all bloody and the yolk had a lump on it like it was fertilized. I was really depressed. So we had to throw it all away. And then I forgot to ask Ms. Sommer if I would even get extra credit if I brought them in. Then today my mom went to Trader Joe's and got more IRISH BUTTER, but she got salted, and you can't bake with salted butter! So tomorrow I have to ask Ms. Sommer about the brioches.

I don't know what else to say.
ttyl!

Tuesday, September 19

IRISH BUTTER

Just reliving seeing WICKED over the summer while listening to Idina Menzel belt out "The Wizard and I."

So the problem about what to do with the IRISH BUTTER is solved. And my mom says butter keeps really well so it won't go bad any time soon. I am going to make brioches! I'm hoping Ms. Sommer will give me extra credit for making a vocab word. Brioches are really hard, so I have to get up at 4am to make them. I hope I can do it. The hardest bread I've ever made is challah. It took a very very long time. Some eight hours, I believe. So I've mapped out my brioche making time. I have to start at 7pm this evening and should be done by 6:30 tomorrow morning.

God, I love Wicked.

I should do my binary composition. I think I'll do a ternary composition instead. I just have to slightly rewrite a guitar duet and then I should be good.

What am I supposed to do with all these stupid Spanish vocab flash cards? I don't think I'll ever use them ever. It seems like such a waste to recycle them. Maybe I'll do it anyway. It's recycling!

I think for my Sophomore Speech, I want to do something like "Restaurants should put in their menus where and how their seafood and fish were caught so customers can be more aware about what they are ordering." But that's not really an issue, so it would be hard to find another side to it.

ttyl!

Monday, September 18

Do not Obfuscate the Paternal Brioche of Antiquity's Excerpt from the Felonious Verisimilitude of The Ethical Electorate of Posthumous Paupers!

Woo vocab.... So I haven't written in a long long time and I'm not going to recap the entire three months that I haven't written about. Basically I should be studying for my vocab test tomorrow, reading the AcDec papers, doing my binary composition, and practicing my clarinet, but I don't really feel like it right now. My mom came home from Boston today. I was going to make her cookies with my cool IRISH BUTTER but my dad made pie so I didn't. Now my IRISH BUTTER is going to go bad! Maybe I should make cookies anyway. But with the pie we have enough dessert.

I feel like I have more homework I should be doing... but I don't. Wow.

Last Friday I went to Rancho's Family dinner thing with KK. It wasn't much fun, but it was nice to see Isabel again. Plus KK won the cake walk. But the fun part was singing with KK. I like singing. I feel like all my blog entries are about singing, when it's actually a very small part of my life. We sang the little bit with Eponine and Cosette in the Finale of Les Miserables. It's my favorite part. I like singing Eponine's part. I transcribed it for my ear training homework.

We're reading A Tale of Two Citiesby Charles Dickens in English. There was a very good monologue that I would like to record.

"O, sir, at another time you shall know my name, and who my mother was, and who my father, and how I never knew their hard, hard history. But I cannot tel you at this time, and I cannot tell you here. All that I may tell you, here and now, is, that I pray to you to touch me and to bless me. Kiss me, kiss me! O my dear, my dear! If you hear in my voice - I don't know that it is so, but I hope it is - if you hear in my voice any resemblance to a voice that once was sweet music in your ears, weep for it, weep for it! If you touch, in touching my hair, anything that recalls a beloved head that lay on your breast when you were young and free, weep for it, weep for it! If, when I hint to you of a Home that if before us, where I will be true to you with all my duty and with all my faithful service, I bring back the remembrance of a Home long desolate while your poor heart pined away, weep for it, weep for it! If, when I tell you, dearest dear, that your agony is over, and that I have come here to take you from it, and that we go to England to be at peace and at rest, I cause you to think of your useful life laid waste, and of our native France so wicked to you, weep for it, weep for it! And if, when I shal tell you of my name, and of my father you is living, and of my mother who is dead, you learn that I have to kneel to my honoured father, and implore his pardon for having never for his sake striven all day and lain awake and wept all night, because the love of my poor mother hid his torture from me, weep for iot, weep for it! Weep for her, then, and for me! Good gentlemen, thank God! I feel his sacred tears upon my face, and his sobs strike against my heart. O, see! Thank God for us, thank God!"

My hands hurt now. I am going to memorize this and say it to Erik one day. Now I am going to go eat some pie.

ttyl!

Friday, June 9

Dead Week

Dead week was really low key. I'm not stressed about finals at all, even though I don't feel prepared at all. We got our yearbooks yesterday. I feel loved because so many people wrote in mine. But I still have room for next week, so it's all good.

It was really funny in PE because Ben was singing "Goodbye Love" from Rent and I was all, "No! Shh! Shh! That song always makes me cry!" So Ben and I were both trying to shut each other up, but then we started singing "Tango: Maureen" and I kept forgetting which lines were Joanne's. No wonder everyone loves Ben. He's so fun to hang out with.

I wish I could sing.
I wish I could sing well.
I wish I could get singing lessons.

I wonder why I'm so nervous playing my clarient in front of people, but I wasn't embarrassed at all to sing in the middle of PE with everyone being all, "Okay, let's shut up now and just run." Is it because singing is my real passion or because with singing it's just you and more things can go wrong with clarinet? If I had to choose between singing and clarinet, I'd choose clarinet because I've never really tried singing so I don't really know what it's like. I mean, I've sung, but not for anyone or gotten lessons or been instructed in it.

Whatever. musictheory.net is a good site. Go there.

ttyl!

Wednesday, May 31

I can't believe a year went by so fast

Quote from Rent "finale A" "December 24th, 10 PM, EST, I can't believe a year went by so fast. Time to see what we have, time to see."

I've had this blog for over a year. It seems like so long. I really grew up this past year. My first entry I'm so obsessed about I'm fat, and now I do the calculations and I wasn't fat last May and I'm not this May. So I spazzed out about nothing. Then I spazzed out about group dynamics and popularity. I have problems with people. But I learned that it's not about who you're working with, as long as you get the work done. It's just that most of the time you can get the work done with people you like and work well like, AKA your friends. Just today all my friends in biology ditched me, so I had to join the musical theatre group for the frog speculation. Not dissection, we didn't cut it up. That's tomorrow. And no one was working. Two people were working on health homework, two people were just talking, and Ben was scaring everyone by putting the frog in their face. I was trying to do the work. Ben helped a lot, because he was the only one focusing, but it wasn't fun.

I keep forgetting Christina hates it when I give her advice. Today I told her the style was to put your belt buckle on the side, not in front, so she called me stupid. I don't understand her. She hates it when I tell her anything, but she gets pissed if I don't explain to her how to do the math homework. Sorry, Christina, you told me you hate it when I tell you how to do things. Maybe you should actually pay attention in math class. It's not like Mr. Duffey is going to sit down and have a one on one tutoring session with you to make sure you learn. Maybe you should look in a math book. I resent it when she says, "Em, no one told me how to do this," and expects me to explain it to her, when I'm busy doing my own work. I don't have KK's gentle touch in reminding people, "I think I was speaking," or, "I'm sorry, I can't help you just now." I don't know what to do. I try to say, "Why are you mad?" and "What can I do?" to fix it, because that usually keeps anyone angry from ranting if you focus them on a question like that. But I don't know. It probably makes them even more angry because I don't know why they're angry at me.

I'm going to stop now. I'm reading Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire. I like the books I've read of his. Even though he scares me sometimes.

ttyl!

Sunday, May 14

Santa Rosa Symphony: Stravinsky and Rachmaninoff

I saw the Santa Rosa Symphony perform today. It was amazing. Especially since I knew so many people in the symphony. Mr. Peabody, Roy, Bonnie, Mr. Michaelsen, Rebecca Roudman, and Allen Biggs. Roy had huge solos and it was really cool to hear him. And Mr. Michaelsen had a solo too. They played Rite of Spring by Stravinsky and Rachmaninoff's Second Symphony. It don't know which one I liked better; they were both fabulous. I wish the English language had stronger adjectives for describing good things. This is why I can't describe it very well. But it was good.

It's probably sold out for tomorrow, so I guess you'll have to wait until next season to hear them perform again. ttyl!

Friday, May 12

STAR Testing

I'm currently on Mr. Ballou's computer. In geography. We just finished STAR testing and I'm bored. This is really fun. I finished the whole biology section in the first half of the test taking period. Then I finished crotcheting a scarf. It looks really bad. I'm sad because I messed it up. But it's a really pretty purple.

Ok. I have nothing to say. I don't like Mr. Ballou's computer. It doesn't have a mouse. It has one of those little touch pads. It's really annoying.

That's about it. ttyl!

Thursday, May 11

Narcissic Old People and My Battle with Poseidon

I have to name my dreams so I can remember them until I can type them up on my blog, so that's the title of this entry.

I had a dream that my dad and I were driving, and this old couple started ramming their car into ours. Then I got a bunch of emails from them, one of which said that they had planted explosive devices all over our house and were going to blow us up randomly. They would also blow us up if we tried to run away. I cried and asked my mom why anyone would do such a thing, and she replied that some people were narcissic and it was in their nature. So we lived in constant fear for a day. Then I woke up and told my mom I had a bad dream. I went back to sleep and the dream continued. I went to school from 8 to 10. Then I had a lunch break until 2, so I went back home. I was looking for the explosive devices. I found them. They were like straws filled with gun powder. I gathered them up. The old people knew I had found them because they were watching our house. They told us we couldn't let go of the straws and if we did, they would blow us up. They said they wouldn't kill us until after I got back from school. My mom was at work. I suddenly got an idea how to get away. I told my dad to throw all the straws in the fire. They would explode, but we would run out of the house before it could kill us. I pulled my runnning shoes on, grabbed my clarinet, wallet, and iPod, and fled with my dad. I wanted to run to KK's house, but we never made it. We got to this big field with scattered oaks. There was a pregnant woman. She said she was so happy to have her fourth child. I wanted to cry because I knew the old people would be after her next. I think I went to school because the last thing I remember is asking Peabody if I could live in the band room.

I can barely remember my other dream, but it was like I did this dance/fight on a big blue jellylike thing to classical music. A Samurai was chasing me with a bo staff. I had defeated him once before, but it didn't count because I was in my parent's bedroom the first time and no one saw it. So we had to go to this arena with these two judges to watch the fight. Then I would become a Samurai too. I think the blue thing we were standing on was Poseidon. It was like a jellyfish. It was like the diva in 'The Fifth Element". You know, the blue lady with the stones in her? Like that. Weird.

That's about it. STAR testing this week in school. The only question I'm really stumped on is "If sinsquaredX is one third, what is tanX?" Everyone's all, "Sin over Cos is Tan" but I don't know.

Whatever. ttyl!

Thursday, May 4

I think there's one in my raincoat

This song quote is from Simon and Garfunkel's "America".

I had a very odd dream last night. It was pretty long. I was in the car or something. I had an assignment from Madame Baird to make a piece af artwork out of ripped construction paper. I didn't what to make. I finally decided to do the logo of Wicked. You know, Elphie on a broomstick? But then we started driving and I couldn't work while the car was moving. Then I was in this zoo on Mt. Olympus. I think it was on Mt. Olympus because we were all nymphs or something because we could fly. We had to feed the turtles, but they were attacking us. I didn't have my construction papered Elphie, so I was trying to go somewhere to think. We were all roleplaying, by the way. I went in this little room. Somehow I was listening to iTunes. But I was listening to something I'd heard before in a dream. But it wasn't a real soundtrack. That pisses me off when I compose songs in my dreams and can't remember them when I wake up. It sounded like the allargando in Hammersmith in that it was loud and dissonate, but the plot had something to do with Candide. It had about 20 songs that were one and two mintues long. Then the second to last was 6:27 and the last was 9:16. But the last was at the top and I listened to them backwards. I listened for a while and then this girl came in at the second to last song to see if I was okay because I was laying on the floor. I grabbed her ankle to stop her from leaving. I asked her if we could go somewhere quiet to talk because I needed help thining of something to do for the assignment since my project was unfinished and in the car, which was miles away. It might have been Allie, but since I didn't know her character, I had to be all polite because she was older and higher ranked. We tried a lot of doors to find a quiet place to talk, even though I had looked in on all of them on my way from feeding the turtles to listening to music in that little room. One had a plant in the window, but someone was talking on the phone. Then we tried this one door and it was like a hotel lobby. It had a staircase in the back where the rooms were. Ben was like a bellboy or something. He had on a blue jumpsuit. We asked Ben what he was doing. He said he was trapped here because he had stayed too long. He told us to get out before we were trapped by the concierge too. Somehow all three of us managed to get out, but we lost our ability to fly. Then Allie left. Then somehow the building we were in dissolved into school and we were near my locker. Linda was at her locker, which was right below mine. Ben wanted to go say hi to Linda, so we linked arms and walked over. Remember we were roleplaying, and my character had a huge crush on Ben, so I tried to get a dreamy look on my face and clutched his arm a bit too tight. He had really thin arms, but they were all muscle. Then we were talking to Linda and Ben started paying more attention to her than to me, so I was sad. But then Linda turned around and it actually wasn't her. I was really embarrassed because I was being really friendly and I actually didn't know her. Then I was all, "Oh great now Ben's going to think I'm stupid because I can't even tell between my friends and complete strangers. He'll never like my character now." But it didn't matter because I woke up.

Why can't I ever link arms with Anthony Rapp in my dreams? Oh well. Ben's cool. But I don't like him like I do Anthony Rapp. Besides, he's got a girlfriend. He's fun to talk to, but even though we sit next to each other in bio, he's got all his musical theatre friends to talk to. The only time I can talk to him is before PE.

Ever since I read Anthony Rapp's book "Without You", I've been composing emails to him in my mind. I don't know. I feel like I know him since I've read his book, and I love his voice in Rent, and it seems like all his fame hasn't gone to his head, but all I know is how he's portrayed himself in his book. And of course his book is going to biased slightly because he's not going to show himself in a bad light unless he felt that way. Did that even make sense? I don't know. And his fansite is down for maintainence, so even if it had his email address on it, I wouldn't be able to ever email me. And I doubt I would ever have the courage to, since whatever I sent wouldn't be good enough for him to read and them I'd regret it. And I have nothing important to say to him. Anything I did say would probably just scare him.

Not like anything I say is actually important. ttyl

Monday, May 1

Where's that confounded bridge?

I've decided that if I can't think of what to title an entry, I'm going to make it a random song quote. This one is from Led Zeppelin's "The Crunge". It's a good song. Very good.

I had a bad dream in which I was a ghost (that wasn't the bad part) which was good because I could be intangible, invisible, and change my appearance. Unfortunately, I couldn't control any of these powers. There was this little house, in which lived two Latino people, a boy of about twenty, and his grandmother, who was like, seventy. Amazingly, even with just one year of Spanish, he and I could have a conversation. Unfortunately again, I was wearing a dress, which somehow couldn't be pulled down past my knees, so that was really awkward because I don't like short dresses. So then I left their house. There was a field next door. It was covered in some kind of flammable stuff, so if anyone had anything electrical on, or lit a match or fired a gun, the whole field would catch on fire and blow up. There was a small troop of guerilla soldiers (I think they were African) who were victims of genocide. I was in the field. I tried to warn them that they couldn't fire any guns or light any matches because they would all blow up, but I was invisible and couldn't talk to them. Then they fired a gun and blew up. I was unharmed because I was intangible (and no longer in a dress but jeans), but I was so devastated. I just wanted to tell the government to close off the field so no one else would get hurt. The cottage was unharmed through all of this. Then a bigger army came, the enemy of the dead soldiers. I lit a match because it was dark, but it didn't affect the field because it was a ghost match like me. These soldiers had torches. They lit the field on fire and blew up. I don't know why the flammable stuff on the field didn't burn up, but it was still there. At this point I just wanted to get home (which was to a house we were renting because we were on vacation even though I was a ghost and actually time traveling) and go to sleep. But my troubles weren't over. The UN came to investigate all the deaths. I ran as fast as I could to tell them to stop, but I couldn't run up the slope to get to the road where they were. They fired a shot and blew up too. By this time, I think dawn was breaking. I was really tired, because my dream began at about four in the afternoon. All the carnage I had witnessed hard to block out, and I knew that sleep was the only respite from seeing the images flash in my mind over and over. I slowly trudged back the half mile to the house, I think accompanied by my mom and some other family members, and climbed the staircases (literally because there were no floors in the house except a ground floor and a loft with the bedrooms and bathrooms three stories up and the staircases didn't connect so you had to climb over the railing to get to another one) and was almost at the top when I woke up.

That was a bad dream. But no more dwelling on it. The next day, I decided that if I could travel back in time and do three things, I would firstly have an interview with Albert Einstein, secondly meet Jonathon Larson and tell him what a big impact he has made on so many people, and thirdly go to Illinois the night Anthony Rapp's mom died and comfort Anthony. So as I was about to go to sleep, I was deciding exactly how I would comfort Anthony. I won't go into all the mushy details because I don't think anyone would appreciate that, and as much as Cameron thinks people love it when stranger give them shoulder massages, Anthony would most likely want to kill me for interrupting his period of grief than instantly falling in love with me and my exceptional yet untrained voice. Well, it's nice to dream.

Speaking of dreams, I had a dream about Anthony Rapp that very same night! I was in a botanical garden I had been to before in a dream, but we started at the end of the trail and were walking back. My mom and dad and I. There was another family with a bunch of little annoying kids too. There was a river, and a little cement pathway beside the river. The path had stairs like it was a bridge. I walked on the stepping stones in the river. It was only a few inches deep. Then we got to the car and were driving home. The dream mercifully skipped all the walking. We were driving through a forest over a hill. At the top of the hill was the Civic Center, except it wasn't. It was a theatre. The Rent 10 year Anniversary was in there. It was intermission. Anthony Rapp was outside, taking a break. I yelled at my dad to stop the car so I could meet Anthony Rapp, but he didn't because there was no parking. I told him to pull over at the side of the road, but he said we were too late and we had already passed it. I said I would run back, but he didn't stop. I was so frustrated. I wanted to scream and jump out of the car and talk to Anthony Rapp. The car passed him, and I was like three meters away from him. Close enough to see the expression on his face. His head was tilted slightly, and he was confused as his gaze followed the car. It was as if he was asking himself, "Did they really dislike the show so much that they're leaving at intermission?" And I wanted to cry "No! I love you! I love the show! We didn't see it! I didn't know!" But it was too late and we went down the hill and he was quickly out of sight.

I also had a dream last night. I'll try to make it quick. I was at Hogwarts. KK and Tasha and some other people were there too. Except in order to get to the library, you had to cross a beach on these enchanted boats. The way to cross was to step in a clear plastic bag, get on a tall white washed wooden platform, and if you weren't quick enough getting in the bag, it would start without you. Then the platform was like a boat, and the bag was so you didn't get wet because the waves got you wet, and the tide changed every twenty minutes. So we were in the library, but Malfoy and his gang were stalking us. They had an invisibility cloak. We were in a private room to do our research, and I was the lookout. KK showed me three spells to prtect us from Malfoy: expelliarnus, burmeas, and sectumsempra. It wasn't actaully sectumsempra, but it was a silent charm and one to inflict pain, but not as much as sectumsempra. Then I saw the library door open and no one come in, so I knew Malfoy had come in under and invisibility cloak. I said sectumsempra in my head, but I forgot to wave my wand until it was too late and the spell didn't work. Then I yelled burmeas, and their invisibility cloak flew off. Then they knew they couldn't surprise us, so they gave up. Then time passed and it was time to go, but the tide was high, and I had to go in the boat alnoe, which is worse than with someone and I had never been in a boat by myself, and I got wet because I couldn't get my feet in a bag to keep them dry. Then I woke up.

I want to start recording what song I have stuck in my head when I wake up. It would be interesting, but I don't know if I would remember to. Oh well. ttyl!

Tuesday, April 18

The Best of All Possible Worlds

I chose a song from "Candide" as the title to this entry because it's really ironic. I had a bad day today. I actually got better after lunch, so I guess I just had a bad morning. First, I wake up at 4:00 AM and can't fall back to sleep without dreaming about school. So it was like I was at school for an extra two and a half hours before I got up. Then I sit down to eat breakfast and my dad shoves the New York Times in my face. On the front page is a picture of someone pulling a dead man out of the wreakage caused by the suicide bomber in Tel Aviv. I tell my dad, "I really don't want to see a dead person first thing in the morning, while I'm trying to eat," turn the paper over, and push it away. Then Dad gets really pissed and says, "This is my family." I thought he was referring to the article, not me, until lunch when I told the story to KK and it sounded like he was talking about me, but they way in which he said it I think he was talking about the article. It was more of a protesting statement than a sarcastic one. So then I'm really worried that someone I know was killed in the bombing and that's why he said it, so I felt like crying for the rest of the day. Then I was late for my carpool, and I almost cried in biology because I was afraid someone I knew died, and then we had to change seats in geography and I put up a big fuss because I didn't want to sit in the old wooden desks because they're so high and all my papers fall off of them. And Mr. Ballou wouldn't let me switch the desks, even though there were three of the good desks that no one was sitting in. And he asked me why I was in such a bad mood and I told him he would be too if the first thing he saw in the morning was a picture of a dead person, and of course I got no sympathy from my class. And Joyce sits behind me now so I'm not going to be able to concentrate very well with her talking all the time. And she called me emo for being in a bad mood because of the picture. But I sit next to Julianna, so that will be good I suppose.

Spanish was really boring, nothing new there. Then at break I had to put my clarinet in the band room because it wasn't open before school, and as I was walking away from it to go to my locker, I pass Lily. And Lily asks is she can give me a hug because she was thinking about me last night and she thought I was a really nice person. It took everything I had not to cry because I was so touched by this random act of kindness I really wanted to say something nice back but I couldn't think of anything good enough to tell her. And now that I'm alone in my room I can cry for Lily's loving gesture, which came so appropriately because I was having a bad day. I am so thankful for Lily.

Then it was just little things that built up that made me almost cry again at lunch. I didn't understand the math homework, so I was trying to figure it out, but I couldn't and Marisa didn't get it so she couldn't help me and Mr. Duffy was helping some other people, so I got frustrated. Then Christina got mad at me for not correcting her English essay. I was tempted to remind her that she took four days to correct mine last time, so she shouldn't be upset when it takes more than two periods. Then I went outside and ate lunch with KK, but I was feeling lousy and didn't eat much. I asked her for help on my math homework, and she helped me. I still didn't have it all done, so I took it home and redid it. But it was okay.

Then in band Sueli said they cancelled our lessons with Roy, so that was good and bad but mostly good because I wasn't prepared and I wasn't up to a lesson today. Then I threw a bag of Vegan peanut butter oatmeal cookies at Mr. Peabody, but I don't think he appreciated that. I meant to get them on the podium, but I didn't throw them far enough because I didn't want them to hit Peabody, so they fell on the floor and I felt really stupid. But Laura laughed too, so I guess it was okay. Then at the end of sixth period, there was a cookie missing, but Mr. Michaelson might have eaten it. Peabody didn't say anything. I don't know if he remembered I told him on Monday I had made Vegan peanut butter cookies.

Mr. Michaelson called Mr. Peabody Mark and Alli said sarcastically, "Mark? Who's Mark?" and then Mr. Michaelson said in a really childish voice, "Mr. Peabody." and it was really funny.

Seventh period Laura was mad because she wanted to have sectionals, but Peabody wanted the whole woodwind section together. But it was fun because we all mixed up and I sat in the flute section and it was cool to hear parts that I normally didn't hear as well. P.E. I had fitness testing and that was okay because it was easy and my BMI was the lowest of all the Freshmen taking the test. Ms. Peisch and I both got BMIs of 21, but since neither the scale nor the measurement for height was accurate, it doesn't really matter. But it was encouraging.

I hope tomorrow will be better. No crying tomorrow. I cry a lot. I only update my blog in a bad mood, and writing my blog makes me self-pity, so it just makes things worse. That's why I cry when I write my blog. Or maybe it's PMS. ttyl

Saturday, April 15

Introspection

When I saw the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, it was a great experience. I want to see it again. Easily my favorite scene is "The I Love You Song", in which Olive's parents comfort her because she is depressed, misses her mom, and her dad is abusive. It's such a beautiful song. The sample on iTunes doesn't do it justice at all. When I saw it performed something really weird happened and I'm sure you won't believe me, but I swear Betsy Wolfe (who played Ms.Peretti and Olive's mom) was looking right at me when she sang

We always knew you were a winner

We saw it when you smiled
Start from the beginning
When you were a beginner
You were the perfect child
We always knew
We always knew
You were a champion
You sadness filled my room
Dear if you should feel my gloom
Blame it on me
Blame it on your Daddalee and Mammalee
‘Cause depression runs in our family

I love you
I love you
I love everything about you dear
And I swear it’s true
I love you


The only other time I was certain an actor was looking at me was at the Marin Shakespeare Company. I can't remember what production it was, but I was playing with my retainer absently and I'm sure I looked really weird because one of the actors stared at me for a second with a "what the heck?" look on his face before continuing his monologue.

And that was embarrassing. No one else knew, but I know that's what happened. So when I thougt Betsy Wolfe was looking at me, I made sure my mouth was shut and my hair wasn't messed up or anything. I didn't know why she was staring. Maybe she just had a faraway look in her eyes and she was actually staring past me or something.

But in the hypothetical situation that she was actually looking at me while she sang, why? Did I look depressed? Did I look like I wasn't enjoying myself? I was tired, and the song is kind of calm, but I liked it. Did she just randomly pick a girl in the audience who looked to be about the same age as Olive and sing to her?

I have so much regret for things I've said. I'm sure I've ruined great relationships because I said the wrong thing. I just didn't think before saying something stupid. I want to feel special like she was singing to me, but I don't want to be let down. Then again, I'll never be able to ask her what she was doing and thinking, so why not pretend I'm special? Why not just live in my own little fantasy world that some random Broadway star dedicated a song to me?

I'll never know. For the rest of my life I'll be wondering about it. Until I decide that I don't care anymore, then maybe I'll forget it.

I finally figured myself out. I want to understand me. That's basically all I want to do in my life is to understand why I did what I did and what it means about me. So I want to find myself. That's why I'm a hypochondriac and keep thinking I have schizoid personality disorder. If I did, then it would explain everything. And then the doctors could have me figured out, and I'd finally understand. Then I could be all, "Oh, that's why I have an excessive preoccupation with fantasy and introspection; I'm schizoid."

That's really creepy. I've just been talking about fantasies and my introspection and then it's suddenly a symptom of schizoid personality disorder. Then again, it's probably a symptom of autism too. But I don't have that.

The coolest name for a disease is Marfan Syndrome. It's a genetic disorder. We had to do research on genetic disorders in seventh grade. I wanted Marfan Syndrome. I knew everythign about it already. But I forgot it all. I had to do Huntington's Disease instead, which wasn't cool because it's hard to diagnos because the symptoms vary so much.

I need to finish my research paper for English. I also need to bake cookies. But none of the recipes look good. I've tried all the good ones. I want to do something new. Maybe I'll look up a recipe on foodtv.com. ttyl!

Sunday, April 9

Memory

I had a really quick dream a week ago. I was in geometry class, writing a madlib about Raoul. Raoul was giving a speech in which he clears his throat so I wrote "*Clears throat* ..." And Christina was confused so I wrote above it *coughcoughhackhackcoughcough*. And that was it.

I hope Allie gets into MSA musical theatre. Her audition went really well. After her audition, I had an urge to sing "I'm Not That Smart". I had the choreography and everything in my mind. But it will never happen. It's one thing to sing along with the CD or sing when no one can hear you, but I've never taken singing lessons or anything. I can't sing. I wish I could. I wish I could do a lot of things.

I want to do something, but I don't know what. It's a bit too late to start anything. I have no books to read in Mendocino. I'm going to be really bored. I can listen to music, write some chorales for practice, and crochet, but I want something to read too. I might even do some poetry. Mendocino does that to me.

I made a fool of myself at the soiree. I have to remember not to talk about myself or speak disparagingly about anyone. How can I expect anyone to like me if I talk too much? I guess it's better for eveyone to think I'm just a Freshman than someone who's stuck up and mean.

I betrayed my sister's trust. I told Alissa something I shouldn't have. She probably thinks I'm really mean now.

Why does everyone love Piera so much? One minute they're saying she's so mature for her age, and then they're saying she's so cute. She's everyone's friend, but then why do I feel so distant from her? She's always the center of attention, but do we really know her? But then Heidi, who is always by herself, I know her better than any of my friends do. So I guess the people who stand off to the side are the ones who really get the close friends. But then why in my birthday card did KK say she doesn't understand me? I thought she did. I've confided more in her than anyone beside my mom. It's heartbreaking to suddenly realize that your closest confidante doesn't understand you. Is this how Heidi feels about me? No, because I understand her. I'm so worried about Heidi. Madeleine better take care of her while I'm on vacation. I hope Heidi calls Madeleine too.

Who am I kidding? Heidi probably only calls me when she can't talk to Madeleine. I'm only someone's friend if no one else is availible. Laura only talks to me if Emma and Kelly aren't there. Audrey only talks to me if there aren't any boys around. Christina only talks to me if Netta isn't around. When Netta's around, she acts like I'm Houdini. I feel like Chris. Hamlet's Inner Self. Except that I have no outer self to hide behind. I wish I was schizophrenic. Audio hallucinations. Then I'd always have someone to talk to.

I'm not a good poet. I prefer using other people's words to express myself. Through song. I am so influenced by hearing music. When I'm playing music, then I control it, and influence it. It's like exacting revenge on something that is both harmful and loving at the same time.

I think if there wasn't any music to control my moods, I'd fall into depression and die. A slow and silent death. Unless KK was there for me.

I think if she read this, she'd avoid me because I've my well-being in her hands. But she'll never know.

ttyl

Sunday, April 2

Are you sick of my dreams yet?

I have a lot of things to talk about. I've had five dreams, but I can't remember the first one. Or maybe it's the second one I've forgotten. And then I have an anecdote from when I was little. Maybe when I was five or six.

I walked to KK's house to return a pillow. I gave her cookies. Then KK, Gregory, KK's dad, and Simone and I drove to Japan to watch Harry Potter 3. Gregory had to stay in the car because he was too young to see it. Then KK's dad stayed in Japan for business. Simone drove us to Arkansas. We went on a train. It was in the 1800s I think, and it was the first train open to the public. It's first voyage. I didn't have a seat, and if I touched the walls, I would be electrocuted. I couldn't sit in the aisle because I couldn't be in the way of the fireman that shovels coal. That's what they're called, firemen. So that was odd, being on the very first train right after seeing Harry Potter 3. And we were only going like 40 miles an hour. Then we got to KK's house. It only took about a half hour to get from Arkansas to KK's house. Whatever. Then Natasha and Laura were there and we were talking about what we were going to bake each other. I was going to make rice crispy bars, Tasha was going to bake brownies, KK was going to bake cookies, and Laura was going to bake her famous white cake with cream frosting or something. It had like four different toppings. Then I went home and decided to bake all four just for myself. I looked over the recipe for Laura's white cake, but it said to add all the alcohol I had in the house, and I didn't want to do that, so I was confused. Then I woke up.

I was at school. All my friends had gotten into Honors English 10. Ms. McDougal was the teacher. But five minuites before class started, she quit. Then we got this really mean teacher and we were sad. Then at break Drew left his locker open. It was five lockers away from mine. Greg and some other people wanted to take everything out and throw it all away, but I just wanted to put it on the ground until Drew got back from wherever he was and let him deal with it. Then I woke up.

I was in PE. Ben was there. Then PE was over. I cant remember much about that part. Then I was an alien. I actually wasn't, because I was from Earth, but I was just special because I could shapeshift, fly, and I had limited control on fire, water, and earth. Ben and I were in an underground facility. We had to get out. I think he was an alien too, but he could only fly, shapeshift, and control fire. We eventually got out through some water pipe. We ended up in the SJMS gym. I had had this dream before. I had to get to this lake and make an archipelago of tiny islands in it. I don't know why. I think it had to do with world peace or something. The last time I had this dream, Ben wasn't there to help and I was shot before I could accomplish my task. But this time, I found Ms. Rav and told her not to shoot us. Luckily, there was only faculty this time and not the National Guard. Ben and I got to the lake, which was only like half mile away from the gym. Where the IVC would be. I made the archipelago, but I couldn't figure out what to name it. Ms. Rav and everyone caught up with us, and I had to name it before I died. I wrote using clouds, "Aep Aen Aen". The main island was named something like Aeripella. The second largest was Roucn. My task accomplished, I woke up.

I was at some camp. I had a red soccer ball. I didn't have any friends. I walked up a hill with my soccer ball. Madeleine and Christina were there. Madeleine's grandparents were too. Their house had no floors, only staircases. Anne was mad about something Rachel did. Remember, I was reading Anthony Rapp's autobiography. I did a lot of climbing around staircases and balustrades. Then I lot Ms. Early I had lost eight pounds since November. She said that was good and that was 3/4 of a pants size. I guess every like 10 pounds is a different size. I don't know. But I actually think it was since August, so it's not that impressive. And 8/10 isn't 3/4.

Those are my dreams. I wonder if this dream log will be of any use since I'm missing so many dreams. Now for the anecdote. I was in the car with my mom. We were on the freeway on our way to Safeway. I asked her if people were only black or white. She said that everyone was a different color. Then I thought about how Native Americans are reddish and Asians have yellowy skin sometimes. I don't know. I don't agree with these stereotypes now, but I was young and didn't know better. I asked my mom if people could have purple or green skin or polka dotted skin. She said she was sure it was possible. I wished I would meet someone in my life with green skin.

And then there's Wicked! Everytime I see a black bird in the western sky, I 'path it to ask to say hi to Elphaba for me. I still wishI'll meet someone with green skin. Especially Elphie. I've been green in my dreams, but it's not the same. ttyl!

Friday, March 31

Without You

I miss Amber. Yesterday I wrote a letter to Cat Fancy magazine. "...I don't have any cats because my dad is allergic and refuses to consider getting one even with all the new medicines and your article about how to control cat allergies. Well, I suppose this isn't quite true because last year a stray cat took up residence in my backyard. I named her Amber and set up a home for her in the gazebo. We think she was abandoned because she was too friendly to be a feral cat. We put up found posters all over the neighborhood and put her up on the internet, but no one claimed her. We kept her for two months until we took her to the local animal shelter for adoption. We did this because Amber needed more attention than I could give her, and she needed to be inside. She couldn't come in my house because of my dad's allergies. She may also have had separation anxiety problems from being abandoned. Although we never officially owned Amber, the paperwork at the animal shelter says it was an owner surrender, so I like to think that she was my cat...."

I started reading "Without You: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and the Musical RENT" by Anthony Rapp today. It isn't helping. It's actually making it worse. And listening to "Your Eyes" and "Finale B" is definitely not helping. And talking on the phone with my sister about how stressful school is and how many things I need to do and how many clubs I need to join and how I need to get a boyfriend isn't helping. And telling her that everyone in band thinks I'm just a stupid freshmen doesn't help. I feel so alone, and Amber's not here to comfort me. I remember one Friday that one Friday was the worst. Mr. Knapp was making my life miserable. That was the day we all started crying. He didn't notice. I was hit in the face with a book. He didn't notice. I was so disturbed I got out of sixth period to go to the office and tell Ms. Rav. But I couldn't speak because I was crying so much. THen when I got home, I wrote a poemish. I was too disturbed to distinguish between prose, poetry, and what/who I was writing about. It sounds really bad. But it gets the point across.

The sky is crying

But not with me

It’s crying for all the things

You used to be

I had high hopes

But you proved me wrong

I thought you were my friend

But you weren’t for long

There’s evil in this place

You made a promise

To hide me from it but you couldn’t

Shield me from yourself

Is this a circus?

Are you doing your job?

If I even have to ask

You know something’s not right

You know something’s wrong

When you cater to the slackers

And forget those who work

Those who matter

You forgot me

Or did you ever meet me in the first place?

You mattered to me

I thought it was mutual

But when you didn’t notice

My friend was hurt

I began to notice

You were too wrapped up in yourself

Who are you to change the rules?

I’m afraid and I don’t know of what

I began to hurt and you didn’t even care

Maybe because you didn’t even see me

You pay more attention to my enemies

Than you talk to me

You say you want to help but you never come through

Do we really need to set up a time for talk?

Have you ever felt remorse

For what you’ve done

To not only me but all else

You’ve influenced us

We’ll never be the same

Thanks to you

We’ve learned to distrust

Those who are new

But you’re not new anymore

Stop fooling yourself

I need someone to lean on

You’re just a setback in my quest

I thought I had found who I needed

Thought you could make a difference

But you’ve just confirmed my beliefs

There’s no one for me

Let me be afraid for you

If I’m like anyone else

They’ll all be singing their own lament

About a false friend


I don't know if it sonds like this to you, but it sounds like I'm breaking up with someone. What I meant was I thought I could rely on him to be a good teacher and help me succeed, but he didn't. So I wrote this and went outside to see Amber. It was raining. I love the rain. Amber jumped up on my lap, expecting to be pet. I tried, but I was crying and shaking and Amber didn't like that. She jumped off my lap and went to the other side of the gazebo.

I was all alone and even the cat didn't want to be near me. How pathetic.

And yet, that's how I am right now. I'm all alone and Amber's just a picture on my wall. A handprint on my heart. Pawprint.

It's not that I want to be comforted by someone, I actually want to be left alone to vent. And I know I'm not alone because God and Erik are always there. Sometimes I wish I had a sign from them that they were there to watch me. Then I cry a lot because no sign ever comes. Then I listen to my iPod to go to sleep and I get the sign. It's called "Bridge Over Troubled Water".

"If you need a friend,
I'm sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind"

That's not Paul Simon, that's Erik. Erik's message. It's everywhere. Just open your ears. He's with us all the time. I wonder if this is how Christians feel about Jesus. ttyl!

Monday, March 27

Adventures in Geography

I don't know if I've complained about geography in my blog, but it hasn't been going well. Mr. Ballou is constantly unprepared, assigns us homework on stuff we haven't covered, tests us on things he says he won't test us on, and tries to be too creative in his lesson plans. He can't focus in one topic and can't control the class. It's pretty stressful when I'm trying to learn because it's not a learning-friendly environent. Plus, it's the only class where I can actually smell the smoke on the kids, so that sucks.

But today, we were finishing our posters on Africa (which I protested because I don't learn by doing posters and I can't learn from posters my peers have done because they're not thorough enough and the extravagantness of the poster distracts from the info, so it doesn't stick in my mind.). My group finished (I think), but it doesn't matter because they wre due today so we turned it in. Whatever. So Mr. Ballou was playing some song on his computer, and he had his iPod. So I took out my iPod and we tried to load my songs onto his computer, but it didn't work. But it was nice because we listened to The Who Live at Leeds while my iPod was connected to the computer. But everyone was getting pissed because they couldn't figure out how to get songs from my iPod onto the computer. Then we figured that the songs were encripted specially so it was impossible for us to do that. So we were sad, but then the bell rang and I left.

Having my iPod at school makes my day a lot better. In biology, after I finish my work, I listen to my iPod. After school, iPod. Running in PE, I think I should, but I don't know if Ms. Peisch would let me.

Estoy muy emocianada porque acabo de aprender progressive tense en espanol! Que chevere! Progressive tense sounds prettier than present tense. Which is prettier: Bailamos o Estamos bailando? (it means we are dancing) Estamos bailando, although longer, is just prettier. Especially if you use it a lot. Estoy escuchando los jovenes quien estan cantando muy fuerte.

yay! ttyl!

Saturday, March 25

Music Theory Lessons

Yes, I figured out that the answer was $96 right after I posted my last blog entry, but your way is a lot more logical than how I went about it. Cameron, I need to got your email address so we can talk. Oh, and the dream I had about a cross-dressing Cameron was about a different Cameron, FYI.

A few days ago I felt like being random, so I asked one of my favorite authors on fanfiction.net if I could borrow her Erik for an afternoon to help me with my music theory homework. She agreed, and I wrote a sketch about it. Plus, it actually helped me remember everything. So now whenever I think about direct octaves, I'm going to imagine Erik getting really mad at me.

I want you all to read it, but I doubt any of you would go to it if I linked it, so I'll just paste the whole thing in. Just a note, the Emily in the sketch refers to the Emily that I borrowed Erik from, not myself.

Saturday. Such a wonderful day, Saturday. It was just another Saturday, a day filled with homework and chores. Fun, fun. Except that it actually wasn’t. Because this Saturday was different. Erik’s coming over!

I completely cleaned my room. I threw all of my sister’s stuff out of it, and vacuumed. Everything was going to be perfect for Erik’s arrival. But I couldn’t figure out whether or not I should cover up the mirror on my closet door, and if so, how.

I wasn’t quite sure what time Erik was coming over, so I decided to start on my geography homework. I had to read one of Jules Ferry’s speeches on French imperialism in the late 1800’s and answer a few questions about it. I was halfway through answering the questions when a voice behind me says, “What a freak. He’s saying ‘superior races’ have a duty to wipe out all the ‘inferior races’?”

Of course, I totally freaked out. I was surprised someone was in my room because I thought I was alone, and then to hear this absolutely amazing voice right in my ear was an experience I’ll never forget. I spun around in my chair so quickly that I hit my arm on my desk and fell out of my chair. Then I saw him. Erik. The Angel of Music. In the flesh. In my bedroom. That fact that we were still in my bedroom disproved the notion of me having died and gone to Heaven.

I was in shock. I stared at his intelligent green eyes, and his sensuous mouth, his thin but well-muscled frame, his hands. I used to fantasize about Erik’s hands because they were supposedly so amazing, but that adjective doesn’t do them justice. His fingers are abnormally long and thin, bony jointed, and pale skinned. But what he can do with those hands! Make the most exquisite music, build the sturdiest building, pull the funniest prank on Carlotta, or hold a pencil and write my music theory homework for me.

I’d love to make this account extremely romantic and say that I fainted and he picked me up and put me on my bed, tenderly caring for my scraped elbow, but that didn’t happen. Unfortunately. What really happened is that I blushed so much I was certain I had turned purple. Erik ignored me and went to pick up the paper with Jules Ferry’s speech on it. He skimmed the page, flipping it to the back. “The audacity of it all…” he muttered.

His lips moved. It may not sound like all that, but trust me, it was. I don’t know what I wanted to do more: make him speak again, or just kiss him. Luckily for him, I managed to restrain myself by reminding myself that Emily would kill me if I even thought about such things.

I picked myself up off the floor, running my finger through my hair to make sure it looked okay. I realize now how stupid that was, for Erik is the last person in Heaven or on Earth to judge anyone on their appearance. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t quite think straight. Erik finished reading, and he turned to look at me. I was lucky my knees didn’t give out.

Then he spoke again. “Marin School of the Arts presents ‘Hamlet’?” he asked as his visible eyebrow rose.

I was extremely confused. Then I realize he was reading off of my sweatshirt. “Oh. Yeah,” I replied, looking at my sweatshirt. “It’s my school play. I saw it last night.”

Erik lost interest in the subject and turned back to have one last penetrating look at the copy of Jules Ferry’s speech. He then put it down and picked up the red folder on my desk. “What’s this?” he asked.

“That’s my band folder.”

“Oh yeah. You need help on your theory homework,” Erik remembered.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling out my theory homework. “Here it says that parallel 5th and octaves are bad, but then on this page it says they’re okay.”

Erik took the packet and began reading, “‘The reason Examples 5-11a and 5-11b are unacceptable in the tonal style is that they contain parallel 5ths and 8ves. Although such parallels regained acceptance in the twentieth century, composers of tonal music generally followed the convention, dating from around 1450, of avoiding parallel 5ths and 8ves as well as their octave equivalents, such as 12th and unisons. Note that this does not rule out the duplication of a line at the 8ve, which was common in orchestral writing. The reason for avoiding parallel 5ths and 8ves has to do with the nature of counterpoint. The P8 and P5 are the most stable of intervals, and to link two voices through parallel motion at such intervals interferes with their independence much more than would parallel motion at 3rds or 6ths.’” He thought about what he just read and said, “Well, that makes sense to me. Do you have any questions so far?”

“If parallel 5ths and 8ves are acceptable today, why am I learning this?” I asked.

“Because they still sound bad, even if they are generally acceptable today,” Erik answered patiently. “Shall I continue?”

I nodded.

“‘We can deduce a rule of parallel motion: objectionable parallels result when two parts that are separated by a P5 or a P8, or by their octave equivalents, move to new pitch classes that are separated by the same interval.’”

“So objectionable parallels are bad?” I asked.

“Yes, hence the name objectionable parallels,” Erik answered.

I blushed again, but Erik didn’t notice because he began reading again. “‘If you apply this rule to the three parts of Example 5-12, you will find that all of them are acceptable. In Example 5-12a, the soprano and tenor do not move to new pitch classes, whereas in Example 5-12b, the 5ths do not occur between the same pair of parts. Finally, the parallel 4ths in Example 5-12c are allowed, even thought a P4 is the inversion of a P5.’”

Erik read a lot more, but I kind of lost interest in what he was saying because I was still stunned by his appearance in my bedroom.

Time passed. I don’t know how much time passed because I was slightly in a daze from the sound of his voice. I snapped out of it when Erik touched my hand. I looked at him. He said, “Are you paying attention? Are you even listening to me?”

I didn’t move. Erik was touching my hand. I sensed he was getting annoyed with me, so I pretended I didn’t care. “Yes, of course I’m listening.”

“Then what did I just say?”

“You asked me if I was listening to you.”

Erik sighed and I lost my breath for a moment. He let go of my hand and turned back to the paper. “Here’s a review section. ‘What do we mean by the focal point of a melody?’”

“The highest note,” I answered.

Erik picked up a pencil and wrote down the answer.

“‘What scale degree is the strongest tendency in tonal music?’”

“7th chords always lead to 1st chords.”

“Good. ‘In a four-voice texture, adjacent upper parts should be kept within what interval?”

“An octave.”

“‘Under what circumstances are unequal 5ths unacceptable?’”

“What are unequal 5ths?” I asked, confused.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Erik scolded as he flipped back to the page about unequal 5ths. “Unequal 5ths is when the music goes from a P5 interval to a tri-tone, or vice-versa.”

“Okay…” I muttered, still very confused.

“It says here that unequal fifths are acceptable unless they involve a °5-P5 between the bass and another voice,” Erik answered for me.

“Oh, I get it…” I lied.

“Then you better get this last one right,” Erik said. “‘What are direct octaves?’”

I had no idea. I shifted uncomfortably, “What are you going to do if I get it wrong?” I asked, feeling very small.

“I’m going to get very frustrated with you,” Erik answered, tapping his fingers impatiently.

“You’re not going to leave, are you?”

Erik grumbled, “Emily will get mad at me if I don’t help you finish, so no, I won’t leave.”

I felt a lot better, even though I still didn’t know the answer. In fact, I couldn’t even remember what the question was. I sat down on my bed. “I forgot the word,” I said quietly.

“Direct octaves,” Erik repeated, looking at me with a cold gaze.

I couldn’t meet his gaze. Looking away, I said, “I don’t know.”

Erik threw the pencil down, “Weren’t you paying attention? Everything in this packet is perfectly clear! I read the whole thing to you! Why didn’t you stop me if you didn’t understand something?”

I felt like crying. Erik, my idol, the Angel of Music, whom I had dreamt about so many times and been obsessed with ever since I first heard of Phantom of the Opera, was mad at me. My whole life seemed pointless. I wanted to curl up into a little ball and die. Okay, maybe I’m overreacting. But I did feel like crying.

What was I supposed to say to him? Proclaim my love for him and tell him I couldn’t pay attention to what he was saying because I was so madly in love I couldn’t concentrate on anything when he was so near? No, I couldn’t say that. He’s got a girlfriend already.

“I don’t know,” I said again.

Erik muttered something.

“I do not have ADD!” I exclaimed, indignant.

“…Yeah,” Erik said sarcastically.

“So are you going to tell me the answer?” I asked timidly.

“No. Since you weren’t paying attention, you’re going to read the entire packet over and then answer the question. Then we’ll move on,” Erik instructed.

“But that’s like, over ten pages!” I complained.

“Hey, if I read it, then you can read it too,” Erik shot back, throwing the packet at me.

Sulkily, I took the packet and scooted to the other end of my bed, away from Erik. I tried to ignore him and read the packet as quickly as I could, but I didn’t comprehend anything that I was reading.

Erik got up and looked around my room for the first time. “Wow, you sure like cats,” he muttered, looking at my collage of 593 pictures of cats spanning across two walls.

I pretended to be mad at him and said, “Shhh, I’m reading.”

Erik ignored me and walked over to my bookcase. He scanned the titles and papers on various shelves, getting a sense of what my interests were. “Cats, science fiction, architecture, music, and Phantom of the Opera,” he listed the most common themes of my bookcase.

“That’s great, but I’m trying to read,” I said.

Erik was quiet for a few minutes as he flipped through some floor plans I sketched. Then he became bored and walked over to me. To tell the truth, my room is very small. He didn’t really walk, more like he just pivoted and he was on the other side of the room.

The stood next to me, watching me read. I couldn’t focus, so I looked up at him. He was bored. He took the packet from me and flipped to the page about direct 5ths and octaves. Then he pointed to the paragraph with the definition. I read aloud, “‘Direct 5th or 8ve results when the outer parts move in the same direction into a P5 or P8, with a leap in the soprano part.”

Erik nodded and brought the packet to my desk so he could write the answer down. “Okay. Now it says, ‘Label the chords in the excerpt below with roman numerals. Then label any examples of parallelism that you can find.’”

I got up and leaned over Erik’s shoulder so I could see the excerpt of which I was supposed to label the chords.

“So what’s this one?” Erik asked, pointing with the pencil to the first chord.

I looked at the notes. “Um, G, so that’s I.”

“Good. Keep going,” Erik said.

We went through all the chords and circled the parallels before moving on to the next exercise. The next exercise was to find and label various errors in the music. It was tough, but I kind of understood and we suffered through it without getting mad at each other again. Finally, we finished the work and got to the last page. It was a summary of the chapter. Erik made me read it because he was afraid I wouldn’t understand it if he read it. I wanted him to read it because his voice was so beautiful. We compromised and agreed that Erik would read it to me and then he’d quiz me a little.

“‘Chords in tonal music are produced by the motions of individual musical lines, and the manipulation of these lines is called voice leading or part writing. A closely related term is counterpoint, which refers to…’” Erik’s voice washed over me, and I fell into a phantasmagoric state. Unfortunately, summaries are quite succinct, and Erik was finished reading after a few minutes.

I snapped out of the trance caused by Erik’s voice and thanked him for helping me, “Thanks so much, Erik! I bet now I’ll be the best in my class.” But then I realized I already was. “Erm, I’ll be so good, I’ll have to move up a class or two.”

Erik tried shrug off the praise, but I could tell that he was pleased by my words. “Do I get a hug?” Erik asked.

I don’t know if my reaction was to faint or to throw myself on him. Instead, I returned his hug nonchalantly and took in his famous spicy scent. I guess I hugged him too long because he kind of pulled me off of himself. Nevertheless, he smiled at me. I think for sure I fainted at this time, because the next I remember is lying on my bed with a red rose in my hands.

I hope you liekd it! ttyl!