(no subject)
Stopped by the benches a few times yesterday looking for Capoeira folks, but no one was there and when I went on facebook the event had been canceled. The two music folks that do capoeira were both in a conducting final, so no go there. Turns out no one could make it so we're just going to start on Friday. Not the end of the world. I still get to paint a bench.
But as I was walking around, I saw something.
Here in college, nothing lasts more than a year. You can make your mark, but it just gets painted over for the start of the new year. So whether you have a wonderful year, socially speaking, or a shitty one, it really doesn't matter. This is good or bad, depending on how you look at it. On the one hand, your good times are yours alone. In the long-run, in the big picture, no one will remember them, and even those who do won't remember them the same way you do. No one can take them, but they'll be washed away with every year. On the other hand, your bad times can't take hold. Every year is a fresh slate full of possibilities.
My mark, my hand print, has been washed away, hopefully to be forgotten by the people I've met and shared times with over the past year. I feel like...next year looks very lonely. At the same time it's full of exciting projects and growth. I'm writing a piece over the summer, hopefully with some collaboration with a composer-friend of mine and the flute player I've gotten to play on the piece. The story's already written out, and I have one dance minor that's agreed to do it and another I can ask. Foot in the door, right? My teacher also mentioned last week that I should do a joint recital with someone. I don't know if he realizes that I never want to play a recital. I might have to call it that, but I'd much rather put on a show. I might get my composer friend to help me out. My flute player shared my plan with Judy, who's pretty influential, and she loves it. Actually, the way she put it was, "I love Sarah!" I've also got plans to get some more people to come to 747. We don't want to play the numbers game, of course, because that's not our thing. We're just small and worried that we'll run out of people if we have more people graduate than join.
Anyway, time to head to school.
But as I was walking around, I saw something.
Here in college, nothing lasts more than a year. You can make your mark, but it just gets painted over for the start of the new year. So whether you have a wonderful year, socially speaking, or a shitty one, it really doesn't matter. This is good or bad, depending on how you look at it. On the one hand, your good times are yours alone. In the long-run, in the big picture, no one will remember them, and even those who do won't remember them the same way you do. No one can take them, but they'll be washed away with every year. On the other hand, your bad times can't take hold. Every year is a fresh slate full of possibilities.
My mark, my hand print, has been washed away, hopefully to be forgotten by the people I've met and shared times with over the past year. I feel like...next year looks very lonely. At the same time it's full of exciting projects and growth. I'm writing a piece over the summer, hopefully with some collaboration with a composer-friend of mine and the flute player I've gotten to play on the piece. The story's already written out, and I have one dance minor that's agreed to do it and another I can ask. Foot in the door, right? My teacher also mentioned last week that I should do a joint recital with someone. I don't know if he realizes that I never want to play a recital. I might have to call it that, but I'd much rather put on a show. I might get my composer friend to help me out. My flute player shared my plan with Judy, who's pretty influential, and she loves it. Actually, the way she put it was, "I love Sarah!" I've also got plans to get some more people to come to 747. We don't want to play the numbers game, of course, because that's not our thing. We're just small and worried that we'll run out of people if we have more people graduate than join.
Anyway, time to head to school.