(no subject)
last time i posted i was poaching internet. i just yesterday finally got internet and tv for myself. it's so lonely out here without the familiar hum.
i've turned to nothing for comfort. i am a writer of music, my comfort is the sound in my head.
it's a very ominous sound, the slow beat of your drum slowly tearing.
each beat marching.
my supervisors got me a teacher's desk. then, as a joke, they put it in the band room instrument closet. they told me that when i wasn't busy with the class, i could shut the door and grade their papers in quiet.
i love the thought of waking up.
on a positive note, the director of TAP loved the idea pete and i had for our musical. honestly, i was starting to need the reinforcement. i forgot what success even smelled like.
i've turned to nothing for comfort. i am a writer of music, my comfort is the sound in my head.
it's a very ominous sound, the slow beat of your drum slowly tearing.
each beat marching.
my supervisors got me a teacher's desk. then, as a joke, they put it in the band room instrument closet. they told me that when i wasn't busy with the class, i could shut the door and grade their papers in quiet.
i love the thought of waking up.
on a positive note, the director of TAP loved the idea pete and i had for our musical. honestly, i was starting to need the reinforcement. i forgot what success even smelled like.