Dear Journal,
Today I am making an attempt to meet new people.
Today, I made a decision. I'm giving a book (thank you, Kelly), Now that You Know to my father to open up some communication port between us.
He sent an email to my school over their poor performance. I was told I would be going to Chadron (that's in Nebraska, no, I haven't heard of it either) for a national scholastic competition in American History. I wake up at four, prepare myself, arrive at five (in the morning, gah), and took my seat on the bus. My name is called, and then I'm called to the front of the bus and told I'm ineligible and that I have to go home. Stupid bitch.
So, my dad is upset about that, which is good.
I'm learning Chopin's Prelude in C minor, Op. 28, No. 20 for a competition coming up at the end of the month. It's pretty easy, and a gorgeous piece. I'm also having to learn the Op. 28 No. 2 Prelude for my piano jury for the college, as well as Brahms's Waltz in A flat Major. My teacher finally got sick of attempting to teach me how to play Kuhlau's Sonatina No. 2, Op. something or another, and I refused to practice it. Band sucks, by the way. We're playing Pirates of the Caribbean music. H8.
I'm single. Horny as well. We're probably moving back to Longmont or Brighton come August, thank God. I can see Brandon again (bitch at him), go to a school I actually like, and do the things I enjoy doing. Stephanie and Dave came over the other day and played pool. I let them drink my father's alcohol, for some idiotic reason, and he found out because Dave left a bottle of vodka on the counter which I missed in my cleanup. Also, I got drunk off a White Russian or something. It was nasty. And I will never drink again.
The piano has swallowed my life, even though I sit and play songs that will, inevitably, make me sob like a little baby. That's okay. I've stopped taking my antidepressants because they had little effect, and I'm hoping my father will notice enough change in my to call a counselor.
Ende.
Today, I made a decision. I'm giving a book (thank you, Kelly), Now that You Know to my father to open up some communication port between us.
He sent an email to my school over their poor performance. I was told I would be going to Chadron (that's in Nebraska, no, I haven't heard of it either) for a national scholastic competition in American History. I wake up at four, prepare myself, arrive at five (in the morning, gah), and took my seat on the bus. My name is called, and then I'm called to the front of the bus and told I'm ineligible and that I have to go home. Stupid bitch.
So, my dad is upset about that, which is good.
I'm learning Chopin's Prelude in C minor, Op. 28, No. 20 for a competition coming up at the end of the month. It's pretty easy, and a gorgeous piece. I'm also having to learn the Op. 28 No. 2 Prelude for my piano jury for the college, as well as Brahms's Waltz in A flat Major. My teacher finally got sick of attempting to teach me how to play Kuhlau's Sonatina No. 2, Op. something or another, and I refused to practice it. Band sucks, by the way. We're playing Pirates of the Caribbean music. H8.
I'm single. Horny as well. We're probably moving back to Longmont or Brighton come August, thank God. I can see Brandon again (bitch at him), go to a school I actually like, and do the things I enjoy doing. Stephanie and Dave came over the other day and played pool. I let them drink my father's alcohol, for some idiotic reason, and he found out because Dave left a bottle of vodka on the counter which I missed in my cleanup. Also, I got drunk off a White Russian or something. It was nasty. And I will never drink again.
The piano has swallowed my life, even though I sit and play songs that will, inevitably, make me sob like a little baby. That's okay. I've stopped taking my antidepressants because they had little effect, and I'm hoping my father will notice enough change in my to call a counselor.
Ende.