bring me my radiohead 2.0

it's taken an hour of cruisin' iTunes to search out the perfect music to suit the mood to accompany my writing, but i finally settled on a few singles and an album from a band called "the office". where do i start here. it's been ages since i've just sat down to write something that didn't involve a grade. something of quality at least.

the school year ended with "A's" across the board, which has me stunned and super-happy. i'm off to a span-tabulous start if you ask me, and i've also achieved the first "A+" since grade school, which is stunning. we'll see if the french in paris offer the same evaluation this summer. i seriously doubt they want to know what my family is like, what type of furniture i have in my bedroom, or what i'm studying in school. i have a feeling i'll be eating a lot of ham, too, since that's just about the first thing that comes to mind as far as ordering food: second only to nutella. 

i had mcdonald's yesterday. it was 90 degrees or something crazy like that. it's been humid (today is much better) in southern california and i walked outside on my lunch break and thought: filet-o-fish, hold the cheese, fries, and a chocolate shake. my body is still in recovery from the calories and junk. i've been fairly diligent about exercise & diet lately & i just killed it all yesterday. i have yet to motivate myself to the gym or even the pool this morning and i've been chatting with friends and drinking coffee and waiting for my blood to clear itself of toxins. 

piano lessons resumed on tuesday, much to my relief. linda & i talked about certificate of merit and set some much needed goals. we'll see where i'm at in 3 months' time, though we're aiming for level 8. i left off at level 7 twelve years ago, so i'm aiming high. i've a difficult time accepting the limitations of time, but i honestly believe that there's a reason linda's taken me on again. apart from the fact that she's been someone i have admired all these years, she's been a fantastic mentor and doesn't try to sugar-up the facts. i love it. she was very frank with me on tuesday and willing to say things aloud that i only thought in my head concerning music. we pondered school & she questioned the "teaching thing" as i call it. this is where i learned that she cruises by the 'muse now and again (why do my friends so rarely comment? family? lend me some sugar! i am your neighbor!). i was flattered to learn she's always thought of me as a writer. and encouraged in my pursuit of such recognition. 

therefore, i leave you with magnetic poetry, via my fridge:
murmur a moment
for morning ever was
and storm
will bless
blowing through ~zero (aka dino)

father blue
hear my song
dance earth
dream him warm
turn his day red as
surrender ~zero

empty moonlight
leaves sleepy shadows
balmy summer week
she asks
"what be chill?" ~furiousmuse

fling it like this
throw out use
were time like love
why not
listen see go ~furiousmuse
radiohead tonight @ the greek. i am (not) prepared to be awed.


all consuming

i study for finals. life begins at 12:30 today. 

samuel beckett (1937 letter to Axel Kaun):
It is becoming more and more difficult, even senseless, for me to write in official English. And more and more my own language appears to me like a veil that must be torn apart in order to get at the things (or the Nothingness) behind it. Grammar and Style. To me they have become as irrelevant as a Victorian bathing suit or the imperturbability of a true gentleman. A mask. Let us hope the time will come, thank God that in certain circles it has already come, when language is most efficiently used where it is being misused. Or is literature alone to remain behind in the old lazy ways that have been so long ago abandoned by music and painting? Is there something paralysingly holy in the vicious nature of the word that is not found in the elements of the other arts? Is there any reason why that terrible materiality of the word surface should not be capable of being dissolved, like for example the sound surface, torn by enormous pauses, of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony, so that through whole pages we can perceive nothing but a path of sounds suspended in giddy heights, linking unfathomable abysses of silence?


conclusion to a crappy day

to wrap up yesterdays adventures, presently recalled as hilariously impossible, i give you this. yesterday's trip to the ups store ended thusly:
(after borrowing scissors, wrapping my gift in the paper i brought from home, discovering the leaky water bottle, tossing said water bottle, asking for paper towel to mop up my purse as the gentleman behind the counter lovingly packed my box in popcorn and cardboard after i waited for at least 5 minutes as the employees {and owner!} contemplated lunch and phoned the neighboring sandwich shop with their order, all WHILE I WAITED. when the boy presented the box...)
me: i'd like to ship this ups ground.
he: ok.
me: that'll get there by saturday, right?
he: no, it'll get there next week.
me: how much for guaranteed delivery by saturday?
he: $22.xx
me: uh, ok. how much for packing my gift?
he: $6.95
me: (thinking: you've GOT to be joking) ok, i'd like to just pay for that for now.

--insert irony--

i bring you this morning, at the u.s. post office
clerk 1 (to customer): thank you. hope you have a great day.
clerk 2 (jokingly): we'll have to balance out the good days with every other customer. 'cuz not everyone can have a good day)
me: i had my bad day yesterday, so that's not gonna work. (forced smile)
clerk 1: i guess we can have two good days in a row.
(cordial pause, customer leaves, pleasantries)
me: how much would it cost to guarantee this package will arrive by saturday?
clerk 1: where's it going? (...) it'll have to be sent express mail, since priority mail is 2-3 days. (...) that'll be $22.xx
me: (!!!) ok.
ok man, the crappy day will stop here. back to wrapping up the last of school stuff.


curing the blues

today has been a day quite unlike most that i've experienced in recent years. bit by bit, small mishaps tumbleweeded themselves into a gigantic thorny mess, leaving me frustrated and disappointed enough to crawl home to tator tots and a garden burger brand burrito. i suppose it starts this morning, with the delayed chiropractic appointment that threw my schedule into a crazy time warp. i was unable to deliver my father's day package to the post office and learned that i shrunk another shirt of josh's because i forgot to hang it dry. from there...well, where to start? a processing error at work caused a customer great grief, multiple overdraft fees, and a bouced check to the electric company. whoops! if that wasn't enough, apparently i processed ANOTHER deposit incorrectly and an extra digit beget more research and problem-solving for yet another employee. slowly growing ill at the sound of my name, i procurred marble cake from the bakery and shot off an email begging time off for a weekend in new york. the chocolate was perhaps not sweet enough as it soon became time for lunch. lunch was spent purging my insides of finals-week-induced discomfort and finally scooting to the neighboring ups store to wrap the gift and ship it "poste haste" to dad. it was at this point i discovered that my bottled water was leaking all over my purse. i dumped my dripping belongings into a plastic grocery bag, and in a fit of disgust tossed the (nearly full) 69 cent bottle of h2o in the trash. 

i'm tired of writing about my crappy day. it got a little worse. then it got better: i watched hugh grant & julia roberts in "notting hill" and i dreamed of england. life's not half bad anymore.


13 more days

until freedom rings in my head becase school will be done for the quarter and, as is the possibility, my summer may become beautifully free. i keep waffling on summer classes: "to take, or not to take?" and the current state of "i'm waitlisted" only aids to my crazy waffling indecision. between now and then, i've 2 projects: and you better believe i'll take writing a creative piece for piano over and 8 page paper: if i choose my form of labor-intensive creativity, music wins every time. college writing and the lack of creativity i'm feeling these days is almost depressing. still, it all comes to a head on june 8 and this weekend plans on kicking me up and down the block at least half a dozen times. summer school? what's that?

homework aside, happy times will be had at the expensive of sleep: we're seeing tom stoppard's "the real thing" and "les miserables" before the fateful june 16th hits my door, so this weekend darn well better be productive. this will only be possible if the strange dreams of far-off london stop confusing my sense of reality. the fact that i actually starting dreaming in french is crazy, too, if you ask me. still, i know it was somehow related to those 30 minutes i spent watching "bridget jones 2" on tv last night before dozing off. mad mad world indeed! someone kick me if i even dream of trying a poorly executed british accent while in england in some failed effort to "not appear american"! yes, i'm a bit concerned about paris, too, but i passed my oral exam with flying colors (197 out of 200) and i have confidence, for better or worse. my worry? i hope not to be asked about my past. i don't know those verbs yet.