Les fleurs du mal
My room smells amazing. Tonight was Emily's recital. I accompanied her and got flowers from her ridiculously nice parents. Then I got back to my room and more flowers were waiting, courtesy of Vikki, Julia, and Marisa, and all because I tickled some ivories a few times this week. People are so thoughtful.
I picked up all my paychecks from last semester this afternoon. And I still have to cash in checks from various accompanying jobs. Chooch has money again! Here's hoping I don't eBay it all away.
After half a week of tireless mulling and sulking and more gutteral 'ul'-sounding verbs that I'd rather not expound upon, I've decided that I'm not going to let the disappointment of last Friday's master class get to me. I'm not going to lie; initially I was completely distraught. I started to question my ability as a performer. What's worse, I started to question my ability as a musician. And I'll be damned if that ain't the worst feeling in the world. I was so pained that I went to Hopkins and was thisclose to joining an Asian sorority. That's right, dudes. ME, fraternizing (sororitizing?) with a bunch of Asian chicks. Then I went clubbing for the first time (Journey and I discovered that the bouncers don't really pay attention to your ID as long as you're wearing a small enough top), got just the right amount of drunk, managed not to get raped, came back, came to my senses, and rejected the sorority bid.
It's 10:30 already? I need to practice. And read Mao's Yenan talks on literature and art. But, since I'm a hedonistic failure when it comes to the pursuit of all things productive, I'm first going to watch the latest episode of Heroes, which I just downloaded. Even though I've been spoiled. DUDE, CLAIRE'S DADDY? Um... so much hotter than Hiro's daddy. But no one fucks with Sulu.
P.S. Flowers rock hard.
I picked up all my paychecks from last semester this afternoon. And I still have to cash in checks from various accompanying jobs. Chooch has money again! Here's hoping I don't eBay it all away.
After half a week of tireless mulling and sulking and more gutteral 'ul'-sounding verbs that I'd rather not expound upon, I've decided that I'm not going to let the disappointment of last Friday's master class get to me. I'm not going to lie; initially I was completely distraught. I started to question my ability as a performer. What's worse, I started to question my ability as a musician. And I'll be damned if that ain't the worst feeling in the world. I was so pained that I went to Hopkins and was thisclose to joining an Asian sorority. That's right, dudes. ME, fraternizing (sororitizing?) with a bunch of Asian chicks. Then I went clubbing for the first time (Journey and I discovered that the bouncers don't really pay attention to your ID as long as you're wearing a small enough top), got just the right amount of drunk, managed not to get raped, came back, came to my senses, and rejected the sorority bid.
It's 10:30 already? I need to practice. And read Mao's Yenan talks on literature and art. But, since I'm a hedonistic failure when it comes to the pursuit of all things productive, I'm first going to watch the latest episode of Heroes, which I just downloaded. Even though I've been spoiled. DUDE, CLAIRE'S DADDY? Um... so much hotter than Hiro's daddy. But no one fucks with Sulu.
P.S. Flowers rock hard.