Personal Alarm Clock
As long as I’m not doing anything, I might as well make my existence useful. My dad’s watch is in the shop for repairs, so he needs me to wake him up for work. At 5 AM. No problem, my summer sleeping schedule is starting to take over my regular sleep schedule. But, it’s always the transition that’s difficult, especially when recovering from a cold.
I can’t hang out or invite any friends over until I get better. Until then, lonely tea time will suffice to pass the time. Tonight’s tea is one of my favorites and a classic: Chinese Jasmine Green Tea. And the entertainment? Currently, Johann Friedrich Fasch’s Orchestral Suite in G Major. Melodically predictable, but pleasant nonetheless. It brings charm to this dark nightly hour. I wonder who’s up as well?
I received a call from a former high school classmate and neighbor, Jason. I haven’t seen him or contacted him in over a year. Strange, but it doesn’t seem like a year has gone by at all. College made a strong impact, but not in a way that made the year seem long and senior year distant, if that makes sense. I remember hanging out with Jason and the others during late late nights, having orchestra, english, and math together, but that’s it. I can’t honestly recall any “fun”. I mean, being with them is interesting, and I enjoy their company, but it’s not like..fun. It’s just, I don’t know, nice. It’s nice enough that I wouldn’t mind hanging out, yet it’s not super fun that I would go out of my way to hang out. I don’t know how to evaluate this at all. I guess, honestly, I see no point in seeing them yet. Maybe later this summer. It wouldn’t kill me to say hi, but it wouldn’t kill me if I didn’t see them for another year or so. That sounds terrible, I know keeping people close is important, but I was never close with that specific group to begin with.
I just don’t feel like I have to hang out with a lot of people. I prefer alone time just a little bit more than hanging out with old classmates. (Different in the case of my friends, of course). And, yeah, the fact that I’m sick. Can’t do anything about that. But I’ll probably see them eventually. Breaking into my house isn’t difficult at all, and they’ve kidnapped me more than once. =.=
Can’t say that I don’t feel like a complete loser though. It’s not because I don’t hang out with a lot of people a lot of the time, but because I have nothing planned this summer. The next few months look incredibly bleak and unproductive. Again, where is my life headed? This problem seems to strike me more than most people I know. I need something to do, something to help me get ahead, something relevant to the future. Cooking is just a thought, but I wish I could find something relevant to a future career. Having nothing to do, I feel like I might turn out to be a failure in the eyes of my parents. I’m doing nothing, but sitting on my ass trying to figure out something to do.
Trapped in my own frustration, I can’t believe this. Somehow, I knew I would be in this position. While working on my last DOC essay, I remember a stray thought, “At least I have something to do, work.”
Now, I have nothing to do. No work. No written, academic work to do. Nothing to help me feel productive. Sure, there’s always the portfolio thing, but that doesn’t make me feel as productive because there is never a guarantee that it’ll turn out great or that the people viewing my portfolio will approve of it. I could spend all summer on a crappy painting that may not help my chances of gaining acceptance into a grad program or an internship..it would be a waste of time, almost, if it weren’t for the fact that I paint for my own self-gratification.
Shallow thoughts like these make me feel worse. I can complain about how I have nothing to do, but it’s my own laziness that hinders me. There’s always something to do, I just have to get off my ass (mentally and physically) and find it.
In other news, I found out that I never got Andrew a birthday present. Talk about guilt, it was his 20th! Two decades! And, I forgot to give Amanda her birthday present before she went to Irvine! Ugh. Oh well, at least I have time to give Jennie her birthday present. So many birthdays, I can’t keep up.
Andrew’s gift. It’s silly to think, but I haven’t had to give him a birthday gift since he was..17? That’s so long ago. I don’t even remember what I gave him, but I’m sure I’m out of danger of getting him the same gift. I’m so grateful for our relationship, it’s the one thing that reassures me in the midst of doubt and failing confidence. I know it’s dangerous to invest such happiness into one thing, because if that falls, then I fall. Beautiful vulnerability. I can embrace it with no worries or regrets.
I need someone to wake me up. I’m nodding off between sips of tea and bites of coconut bread. But, I’m getting my fill of classical music, which I’ve missed dearly. (Playing now: Schumann’s Fantasy in C Major) I don’t think I’ve ever heard this song before, but it’s got that calm, sort of melancholy tone to it, similar to Beethoven’s Pathetique in C minor. I wish I could know more about the classical music. I wish I had more classical music.
(Schubert’s Symphony No. 2 in B-Flat) The strings sound like a cascading waterfall, the winds play a twitter of forest birds. Now the strings transform into a steady stream, and a solo flute sounds a playful twitter, a tad flirtatious? I can’t keep up, typing this. Oh, now the strings are racing, an exciting day, it sounds. I love these interplay of rhythms and melodies. God, I miss the orchestra. I really, really, really miss it, playing my part and hearing how it fits into everything else. Playing my part as a defined role and position as noted by the composer and conductor. Following, then leading the melody, the harmonies, whatever is written on that page of notes. The complexity of a symphony is wonderful. I still remember everything, the senses your body registers.
Your eyes are constantly watching the Conductor while reading along the lines. Your ears listen intently to those around you and how well in-tune your notes are; they listen for the overlapping harmonies and melodies, drawing an idea of who’s playing what and giving a specific time placement map to which your fingers may code what notes to be played at any precise moment, for you would’ve practiced enough to gain muscle memory. Your sense of touch, your fingers move in accordance to what you hear and what you see, jumping over any four strings, up and down, shifting along the thin neck of your instrument. In tune or not, sometimes, you just don’t care because you don’t want to be left behind and lost within this non-negotiable diagram of notes. Your destination always travels in one direction, unless met with a Coda or a repetition sign. You can smell the string rosin as it is dusted off your bow whenever you press it hard enough to the strings, the friction drawing out a poof a barely visible white dust. Smells like waxy pine needles. You taste nothing, but the breath of excitement as you bask in the glorious, and sometimes chaotic environment known as the symphony. Or, for me, as the 3rd stand in the viola section. How I miss being there.
Ah, music really is a fantastic thing. To be able to express more emotions than words can ever convey is stunning, an art that I don’t think I’ll ever get close to mastering. I wouldn’t mind learning a new concerto for either violin or viola. Afterall, I need a new piece to audition for the next UCSD musical.
