Warning: Weirdness and personal details contained within. Mostly weirdness. You've been warned.

Thursday, March 31, 2005


I would also like to take this opportunity to announce that I wish my brain was able to multi-task better. It would help when trying to think about why the sound on my computer wasn't working and post at the same time.

Incidentally, my speakers weren't on.


I should really listen to my own good ideas sometimes. Instead of taking the e-mail route, I decided to be a good little girl and call my choir director to slouch out of choir. I told her I couldn't make it to the dress rehearsal and that with the assignment for my grad class I didn't think I could make it to the concert either. She asked me how she could replace me. And not in an "I actually want to know the answer," more like "the hell you're not coming." Dude, I'm a second soprano, there are 2 other second sopranos, one of whom is a voice major and who can probably outsing the entire soprano section. Why do I need replacing? And so I fumbled around a bit and said I thought I could make it to the concert.

And hung up and cried for an hour. I don't need the added stress this weekend. Also, that night, when I could have used time to practice singing, H had a friend over playing X-box in the living room, which is where my keyboard is. Which wouldn't be so bad, but we live in an apartment building, and they're not universally known for their sound-proofness. Besides which, I don't like to practice in front of people. Listening to someone perform an entire song is one thing, listening to someone sing the same line 8 times in a row is another.

So, needless to say, I haven't been sleeping very well lately. Thanks body, just what I needed during this stress-free time. It's okay, I'll get my revenge...

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Muse muse muse

I'm debating dropping out of choir. I have way too much stuff going on the weekend of the final concert, and I think I'll probably be less stressed without having to worry about it. Plus I'm not having a lot of fun in it, most of the people there are super snobby. I'm not cool enough. And doing the same stuff each week is starting to annoy me. But the question is, should I call and leave a message, show up and tell her, or e-mail? This is the question. I think calling will work for today, and then an e-mail later. Yes, I think that will be a good idea.

No really, I'm going with the faking of the death again

So I got back on Sunday night from a trip to maul my honey, also known as a "vacation". Which I desperately needed, to say the least. So after a week's worth of sitting around doing SFA, I had to come back. I've been sleeping really badly for about the past week and a half, so this whole jet lag thing just wasn't doing it for me. But last night I got 8 hours of sleep (hallelujah). It hasn't improved my writing ability, but it sure put me in a better mood. And I remembered that I have this blog thing. You know, the one I don't write in much? Oh, and also I have the assignment from hell due tomorrow, the one I only had a chance to look at yesterday morning. The plethora of other things I have to take care of has been pushing it aside quite efficiently. But I started some preliminary work for it, so it's already better than nothing. Oh yes, and I have a day off work this week. Let us all give a moment of silence for this auspicious occasion. Or perhaps just an hour of sleeping in, that'll do.

Hmm, maybe this post would have made more sense if I'd written it as one run-on sentence.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Sorry, I've been trying to fake my own death to the internet

And also I have a really bad sense of time. To know when to water the plants, I ask myself the simple question, "Did I water the plants yesterday?" If the answer is No, then it's time to water the plants. Because I don't really remember beyond yesterday, so the last plant-watering session could have been up to a week ago. You see what I mean?

I was trying to have a nap when I was out at the farm yesterday. My 5-year old nephew was over. He was going to have a nap as well. In theory, kind of like communism. So what he actually did was start climbing over me, running in and out of the room, closing the door in between each foray. Each time he lay down beside me he'd mutter something like "Be mine" in a sinister and threatening voice. Seems he ate too many valentine candy hearts, the kind with words written on them, the night before. And while muttering, he'd proceed to drag my arm around him, once or twice mumbling something about having to cuddle, but having to leave because we weren't married. Then he'd disappear for a minute or two before coming back to repeat the performance. It was kind of like being in a creepy valentine's horror take-off of the movie Groundhog Day.

Be mine...