Pieces

of various things.
Scattered.
Time to collect them, slowly, gingerly.
And hand them to Someone
who can fix them better than I.

Resolutions [by which I probably mean wishful thinking]

I want to sell all my clothes to a consignment shop and start my wardrobe from scratch.

I want red hair. Maybe permed again.

Maybe.

I want to pierce my nose. [This, however, will not happen until December 2011 after graduation, lest the full burden of paying my tuition fall to me.]

I want to be the person who says, "Oh yes, I have good music, let me introduce you," instead of being introduced. Not that being introduced is bad, of course, but I aspire to greater things.

I want, oh so badly, to become a morning person. Every attempt thus far has failed.

Hesitantly, I say that I want to learn to enjoy coffee. I enjoy everything about it, thanks to the heart of a barista in me [a good one, not the Starbucks variety] inspired by my first boss, except the taste.

I want to learn to cook.

I want to develop the self-discipline to eat healthier. And to exercise.

I want to make more trips to the beach.

I want to remember how to write stories.

I want to resume piano lessons, both as a student and as a teacher.

I want to break free from minimum-wage employment.

I want to have an original idea. If such a thing is possible.

I hate complaining, but...

I did not get to go to Urban Plunge.
I did not get to go to the Seer Retreat.
I did not get to go to Spring Banquet.
Because I have a busted [very much in pain] ankle.
And the still-fresh sting of a breakup does little to improve things.
I thought I might enjoy this day of aloneness.
But instead I feel isolated and helpless.

Quote of the night

Me: I don't have class all this week because my professor's in Haiti.
Roomie: Wait... Your professor's an idiot?!?

Letting go

also hurts. And I don't have the time to cry.

Sacrifice

hurts.

I love flowers

The headboard of my sister's bed is adorned with five bouquets. She's a theater person.

"But you have such good grades and you're such a nice person!" everyone says when I remark that I wish I were as talented as the younger sister who outshines me.

Good grades and nice personage, however, do not merit flowers.

iPad

I played with one today.

Like The Dark Knight, it deserved the hype.

Piano

Somebody should have warned me that high school theater would be a lost cause. Had I known, I wouldn't have quit piano to pursue it.

On more than one occasion over break, I've found myself in front of pages of music, pages which once inspired my fingers to dance effortlessly over the keys. While I would hardly use the word "effortless" to describe my playing now, I am surprised at how quickly I recall those accidentals, melodies, harmonies, pedal movements, accents, dynamics, chords and runs (oh how I loved those runs).

Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Fibich, Chopin, Mozart, Kabelevsky, Schumann, Khatchaturian... Like old friends you lose touch with, and upon reuniting years later, stumble through awkward, stilted conversation at first, but gradually forget that you'd ever been apart.

If only these reunions weren't so few and far between.

O For a Thousand...

O for a thousand words to say
Support that which I write
The blankness to which I succumb
It keeps me up all night