Wish I was an English muffin...

Music...

nobody@vox.com(Joie) — Sat, 19 Apr 2008 12:06:29 -0500

My senior recital... was basically everything I hoped it would be. I can't even begin to describe it thoroughly or accurately. I went to my early classes, but skipped wind ensemble to go in pursuit of more pedal-appropriate shoes (the ones I had, though adorable, were a slight distraction to me given that they're about 4 inches tall and can make tricky pedaling a bigger challenge). I was expecting this trip to be a bit of a waste of time (although I recognized the important therapeutic benefits of going shoe shopping to calm oneself) when, after just 15 minutes at the shopping center, I walk into Belk, find the absolute perfect pair of shoes: black, strappy, cute, short and not-pointy heel, and OH BTW ON SALE FOR $20. They had two sizes left: 6 and 7 1/2; my size 8-8 1/2 feet slid in comfortably and though the heel bordered on the edge of the shoe, all was well in Toe Land and Comfortville. A SERENDIPITOUS SHOE EXPERIENCE, INDEED.

Okay, that part I can begin to describe thoroughly and accurately. What I can't describe is what it's like wondering if when you get out on stage, you'll forget how to play the piano altogether; what it's like standing slightly off-stage, listening to more and more people file in (we had 90 programs and apparently ran out); what it's like as the stage manager calls up to the whoever and gives the order to cut the house lights; what it's like to walk out onto a brightly lit stage with the most gorgeous piano you've ever laid eyes on while all of your college friends and a surprising number of your high school ones are clapping and waiting for you to play it. I can't describe well sitting down and the tremendous force of will it takes to make yourself just start (a problem vocalists or instrumentalists may not generally have, as they're just sort of shoved out of the airplane by their accompanist), or that truly magical feeling when you overcome your nerves, remember how much you love the music, and manage to start enjoying the experience. Dare I say it? I had a BLAST. Performance anxiety Joie, the girl whose lack of formal piano education up till college has given her some sort of inferiority complex, loved giving a piano half-recital.

And now, what I really can't describe: sitting backstage and listening to your amazingly talented peers play 30 minutes of music you composed. That's all I can say, because it was an experience to which words just don't do justice. There are few times in my entire life that I've been so happy. And may I just say, the second bow thing? Pretty much the coolest perk of a recital ever. "Look at me and clap! Continue clapping so that you may look at me again!" Magic, baby!

I had to get all that out. I'm so thankful for this amazing, once in a lifetime opportunity. I spent literally four years waiting for that day to come, and never thought it would get here. Now that it's over, I'm a mixture of sad and relieved... but I don't think I could've hoped for a better overall experience.

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The semester that keeps on giving.

nobody@vox.com(Joie) — Wed, 05 Mar 2008 23:10:17 -0600

It would be easy to sit down and feel sorry for myself. But frankly, I've done enough of that today, and the truth is, I'm actually amazingly lucky.

Monday night two friends and I went to Sonic. We had the windows down, but I didn't want any spillage in my car, so we decided instead to sit five feet away in the porch area. Right beside my car! And I, the always-responsible, never leaves a car unlocked gal, left my windows down. A truck a few spots over from us was being the typical redneck, but seemed to be revving his extremely loud engine more than was necessary, especially considering it was a parked car. We all looked at it, and commented on the driver's douchebaggyness. We sighed in relief when he pulled away, and I watched him come around the other side of the building. I looked right at the driver, and he at me.

This afternoon, not quite two days later, I reach to get a CD out of my glove compartment. ...There are none in there? Weird, I think, and feel annoyed with my dad for rearranging my car. But then I think... wouldn't he have told me? I call my mom, who knows nothing about this. I'm starting to get freaked out, and I want to plug my phone into the in-car charger. ...Except the in-car charger is not there. There are CDs still sitting on my seat, but all but one have been removed from my glove compartment and both my in-car phone charger and FM transmitter for my iPod are gone.

It takes me about 20 minutes to finally remember what happened and piece together the windows down at Sonic, the unnecessary engine revving, and the driver's eye contact with me as he pulled away. It takes me another 20 minutes to realize that the item I was counting on to make me feel better about losing 15-20 CDs, my iPod Ben, was in my center console. And that's why my center console looked funny to me when I went looking for my phone charger: because my iPod was not in it, where I remember leaving it.

It takes me a solid five more hours to realize they've taken my registration, car insurance info, warranty, and instruction manual for my car.

Needless to say, I freaked out. It's more than losing an iPod to me. First of all, my iPod's name is Ben, and I have a problem with humanizing inanimate objects. Second of all, I'm a musician, and that iPod had so much important stuff on it. Most of it I can get back with time, but not all. And it's just offensive and hurtful. And ironic. I see the amazing good in people as the community of Prattville is unified in helping out families like mine who were affected by a monstrous tornado. And then I see jackasses who had nothing better to do than steal shit out of a college student's car when she was sitting a few feet away like an oblivious idiot.

But here's the thing. I wallowed for a while, and bless him, Brian had to listen to my cry and cry for the millionth time in the past two weeks. But then, while I was at the hair appointment I refused to miss even after this crap, my mom mentioned something about an old man with no home insurance whose home was completely destroyed two-and-a-half weeks ago. And I thought, it's some fucking technology. It's replaceable. You lost your iPod, not your home. Now get over it.

And I did. And I hesitate to even mention this next part, because it's going to make me sound like the most spoiled brat ever in existence. But I need to express just how amazingly wonderful my family is and how lucky and blessed I am to have a family like mine. I went to visit my grandmother tonight, who was upset to hear about what happened and retaliated the way loaded grandmothers do best: a hug and some money. A blank check she told me to give to my mother, actually, upon hearing that I was about to go meet my parents at Circuit City to replace my in-car charger (kind of a necessity, with the calls and driving I've been doing lately). And I arrive at Circuit City to find my parents. We get my charger, but before getting in line my dad cheerfully says, "Well, let's go get the iPod." To which I firmly refuse; but my parents won't be denied when they have their mind made up like this. They knew, and told me they knew, how important my music is to me, how important it is that I have something to keep track of it, study with, learn from, everything. And they had decided I would have another iPod, and I would have another FM transmitter, and there was no room to argue. And if that's not enough, they're not even mad about what happened. My dad said, "You got suckered. It wasn't your fault." It was my fault, I thought and said. And he did nothing but express his sympathy and eagerness to do this for me.

Let's ignore the fact that I'm spoiled for a moment. And you'll just have to believe that I'm being honest when I say... my parents were so happy to help me. In the midst of all this stress and bullshit they've been dealing with regarding our house and insurance and their work and everything, I think it just made them happy that when something bad happened to their daughter, they were able to help. Maybe it's the fact that it was finally something they were able to fix themselves, right then and there, or maybe they're just incredibly kind and generous--I know that it's both. But I think I'll go ahead and vote today a good day.

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~contented sigh~

nobody@vox.com(Joie) — Sun, 01 Jul 2007 19:19:29 -0500

I'm done with work. I've read all the stuff I can for school tomorrow (partially because I can't remember what chapter to read for psychology, but oh well). I've practiced as much as I can tolerate. I am therefore done with all of today's responsibilities. It's only 7:15pm.

I'm in my PJs. I'm no longer sick, I'm no longer ridiculously emotional, I've had a most enjoyable weekend. I've got junk food for now and tasty goodness to make later. I've got the possibility of thunderstorms to look forward to. And by golly, I've got Harry Potter.

Life is good.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Book 1)

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