Sometimes I get really angry at people (but not to the point of actually showing them this anger) for not asking the questions I want them to ask. I get angry that they don’t ask a specific question, I get angry that they don’t ask more questions, and I get angry that their questions reflect them not really listening to what I had just said a moment before.
But then I remind myself that people can’t really read minds (oh good grief I hope they can’t) and then tell myself to chill out and stop being so silly.
Feeling angry because my family does things like store away volumes 6 and 7 of Harry Potter in a place they can’t remember for the life of them (aka somewhere in the stacked box jungle in the garage)and so, if I am ever going to finish this series, I guess it’s “TO THE LIBRARY I GO!” unless someone can get them to me more quickly than that. Which is probably unlikely. Damn.
This morning, I watched Nice Guys (nigahiga's and kevjumba's versions) multiple times while making a graduation card for a family friend, getting distracted both times by kevjumba's face and a squirrel that can be seen skittering up a tree at one point in the video.
I would like to see one of them forrest critters in real life ohoho.
I woke up closer to 9 today even though my alarm was set for 8. It’s been like this since the university’s spring break: I haven’t been waking up when my alarms go off at all. I hear them, shut them off, promise myself to get up in a couple of seconds, and end up sleeping with my phone clutched in my hand for another 30 minutes (at least), with no chance of the alarms going off again because instead of hitting snooze, I had already shut them off.
“We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.”—Herman Melville (via thoughtsdetained)
I cried through SWE’s performance in shame as I felt feelings of anger, sadness, and joy soar through me after the news about Carnegie Hall.
My parents joked so much about how our year just missed the opportunities for trips, like in middle school, when they let the orch go to Japan the year before us. Similar with Carnegie the year before we entered HS.
I was feeling pretty damn jealous, ‘cause MJ got to go to Japan in elementary school, and JR went to Disneyland for that music performance. Now they’re both so, so very lucky to have the opportunity to go next year. (Together. Implied: without me)
The thought that wanders through my head the most, shamefully, is if somehow the world is saying that maybe I haven’t been working hard enough, if maybe I’m being punished for all the wrongs I’ve committed, if all the half-assery of my life means that this is what I’m deserving of.
Then I keep telling myself that I really am just very jealous. So very jealous. And so very desperate and devastated, because WHEN WILL I EVER PLAY IN SO GOOD A GROUP that Carnegie is even the slightest of a possibility?
I am filled with so much longing to go back to our SO days. It’s nice to be playing under Miyamura at UH, but the orchestra gives me nothing close to the feelings I experienced in high school. I haven’t taken private lessons in two years. TWO YEARS. I realize how much my playing has degraded in that time and I feel so severely disappointed in myself. I need to practice.
So many feelings.
I really am proud of SO. I’m so glad that Seta has been able to whip each orchestra into shape every year, to keep the standards for quality high and the music produced honest, so endearingly honest.
I cry, but I realize that it must have been much worse for those seniors standing on stage, knowing that they have literally just missed this. I cry in my jealous state, and I also cry in pain for them. They are incredibly deserving, and they had to bear with hearing that on stage, smiling despite the celebration around them. I want this silly pain to heal and be truly, fully replaced with nothing but joy. I really wish my body would resort to displaying the happiness that is there instead of this sadness. This is really a great thing.
If they’re going next year, if classes permit, if my parents go, no way are they going to leave me behind.
Really, guys. Let’s meet up in New York. Let’s go.
Despite what I wish for, this is what is. Let us be proud and let us be supportive, let us be loving and let us be respectful. Let us remember all that we experienced, let us be glad that this impending future will inspire years beyond to play their hardest and work for such an honor. Let us hope that the future is full of these opportunities in the arts. Little miracles… to keep music alive.
Instead, I just skimmed portions of a Wikipedia page and now am slightly horrified at the fact that USB plug/receptors are occasionally referred to as male/female, respectively, if only because the description about connecting them correctly referred to the act of connecting as mating.