It was a sad day.
I felt so idiotic, so out of control standing in front of the group, trying to lead but overtaken by another who kept playing wrong notes. She did say she's a pianist, didn't she? So I tried to be nice; I let her lead, but still I went around, helping those who needed help most. To be a pianist and not know solfege must be such a burden.
Joanne stepped on my slipper again. Alas, the other side spoiled this time, but I don't blame her at all. It was bound to happen whether anybody had stepped on it or not. Can't wait to have my birthday dinner with her there as well. I hobbled around on one slipper and a bare foot, through carparks, on pavements, on roads, in lifts, until I got home to shower.
Shower, Panadol, Study.
Only reached home at about 9.30pm, so I started studying at around 10 after my shower. It helps that I had something I had to do to take my mind off choir, at least for a while. The test, although ungraded, is tomorrow morning at 9am. How sad is it to have two tests on my birthday, with classes from 9am-9pm?
I went around everywhere and couldn't find the Neckermann sandals that I wanted. Eventually it occurred to me that Neckermann does not have it in red, so I either have to get fakes, or just get Birkenstocks. The idea is just crazy, who would pay so much for a pair of slippers? My wise side says it's rubbish, and the cheap ones are just as comfortable, but the whiny side argues that it's my birthday and I deserve a gift. But, neh, I'll go with my wise side on this one.
Choir used to be so much friendlier. People actually talked to each other, laughed, jammed on the guitar, went out to dinner in a huge group after practice. People laughed during sectionals and made jokes all the time. Now they just sit there stone-faced, like cold marble only with a jaw of flesh and eyes that roll. They sit huddled up in twos or alone, whisper-whispering about things that don't matter.
I wonder.
Felt so terrible after practice, I actually felt glad I had to rush off to study. The darkness and comfort of Dad's car soothed me, and Scrubs lifted my mood a bit. Too bad the loading was so slow, I couldn't watch more than a minute of it. When I got home I wanted to break down and have a good cry, but no, no time for tears. I took a shower and panadol, then went to work.
They talked about a career in music at choir. I guess my voice teacher has been harbouring hopes that I go into music and continue studying under her for life. She's mentioned it several times, but I still can't bring myself to. There's always been such a passion there, so why am I afraid it being killed?
I think I'm secretly scared of all the bitching that goes on in a music career. Doctors and surgeons barely have time to sleep, they're always running from place to place, never bored, never having to ponder over everyday life and its emotions. Doing surgery is about putting aside personal emotions and saving the person in front of you.
Maybe that's why I want it so much.
I felt so idiotic, so out of control standing in front of the group, trying to lead but overtaken by another who kept playing wrong notes. She did say she's a pianist, didn't she? So I tried to be nice; I let her lead, but still I went around, helping those who needed help most. To be a pianist and not know solfege must be such a burden.
Joanne stepped on my slipper again. Alas, the other side spoiled this time, but I don't blame her at all. It was bound to happen whether anybody had stepped on it or not. Can't wait to have my birthday dinner with her there as well. I hobbled around on one slipper and a bare foot, through carparks, on pavements, on roads, in lifts, until I got home to shower.
Shower, Panadol, Study.
Only reached home at about 9.30pm, so I started studying at around 10 after my shower. It helps that I had something I had to do to take my mind off choir, at least for a while. The test, although ungraded, is tomorrow morning at 9am. How sad is it to have two tests on my birthday, with classes from 9am-9pm?
I went around everywhere and couldn't find the Neckermann sandals that I wanted. Eventually it occurred to me that Neckermann does not have it in red, so I either have to get fakes, or just get Birkenstocks. The idea is just crazy, who would pay so much for a pair of slippers? My wise side says it's rubbish, and the cheap ones are just as comfortable, but the whiny side argues that it's my birthday and I deserve a gift. But, neh, I'll go with my wise side on this one.
Choir used to be so much friendlier. People actually talked to each other, laughed, jammed on the guitar, went out to dinner in a huge group after practice. People laughed during sectionals and made jokes all the time. Now they just sit there stone-faced, like cold marble only with a jaw of flesh and eyes that roll. They sit huddled up in twos or alone, whisper-whispering about things that don't matter.
I wonder.
Felt so terrible after practice, I actually felt glad I had to rush off to study. The darkness and comfort of Dad's car soothed me, and Scrubs lifted my mood a bit. Too bad the loading was so slow, I couldn't watch more than a minute of it. When I got home I wanted to break down and have a good cry, but no, no time for tears. I took a shower and panadol, then went to work.
They talked about a career in music at choir. I guess my voice teacher has been harbouring hopes that I go into music and continue studying under her for life. She's mentioned it several times, but I still can't bring myself to. There's always been such a passion there, so why am I afraid it being killed?
I think I'm secretly scared of all the bitching that goes on in a music career. Doctors and surgeons barely have time to sleep, they're always running from place to place, never bored, never having to ponder over everyday life and its emotions. Doing surgery is about putting aside personal emotions and saving the person in front of you.
Maybe that's why I want it so much.
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