Feeling: owww... feet.
Listening to: Eric Clapton: Further On Up the Road
Reading/Watching: Currently reading Black Sheep, by Georgette Heyer

Thanks, Lala, now I'm singing "Fly" and almost choking up. I saw her sing it on a talk show once, and by the end she was so quiet, eyes closed, that as soon as the last note was over she opened her eyes and tears rolled out.

Now I'll force myself to sing the Dixie Chicks' "Let Him Fly" to feel empowered and stop being weepy. Today was long and I've just enough emotion floating on the surface to tip me over the edge with slight urging.

School. Began.

I actually wrote an entry Monday, but the computer ate it, and after much wailing, rending of hair and beating of breast (doesn't that just sound so cool and Biblical?), I gave in and decided to write later.

Later turned into two days. The new network is not recognizing my password. Bad network. So I'm on the Honors computer (d�ja vu...), having filed an angry message with tech support about thirty minutes ago.

There have been little happinesses and petty irritations, none really worth mentioning, which is why (of course) I shall immediately launch into detail.

Went into my first class of the year, Speech. Everyone all together now: "Blow-off course." Except the teacher walks in and says, "This class is only for international students. If you're not from another country, you shouldn't be here."

Grr. Down to my advisor, who luckily was in his office. Checked the course schedule, found Argumentation & Debate at the same time slot, but there's a recommended prerequisite. I slide into class thirty minutes late, but the teacher is highly cool (and funny, whee!), says the pre-req isn't too crucial, and I'm in. I think I'll enjoy it. This is the closest I'll ever come to taking an elective, I think, since in my lovely 164-credit-hour program, there is no room to have fun and take things like poetry writing and middle-eastern theater of the fifteenth century, etc.

Then Form & Analysis, a.k.a. Theory III. Very fun. Captain Dan is cool, as always, though this is my first time to have him as a teacher, and not a choir director. And I'm in the class with my fave band boys, Sam & Victor, and finally, other females! There is a middle-aged woman and a returning junior, both voice majors. Yayness. Didn't realize how bothersome it was to be the only girl/vocalist until I wasn't anymore. Our class has grown from four people to six. Movin' on up, woo!

Then choir, naturally. The chamber choir is too big to be called a chamber choir. This is wonderful. Way too many sopranos, but I can deal. We'll work it out. The freshmen are promising, and it's so exciting to have eleven voice majors! We've had six or seven, maximum, in the past two years. (before you have to say so: yes, I go to a tiny frickin' school.)

I think the reason the choir and number of voice majors have grown is because last year the choir was much more visible, and the music department was campaigning like mad. It's neat.

Night class- art appreciation. It's actually more interesting than I thought it would be, which is cool, because I was looking forward to it anyway. The bonus is that, being a 3-hour-long class, it isn't boring.

Today, second day, there was College Algebra (ever seen Ghost World? Remember Maxine, the monstrous woman dating Edith's father? yeah, that's just like my teacher.), which, to my surprise, I have with Emily and Robert, a vocalist & a saxophone player, neither of which I know very well, but since the three of us sat together and giggled about how bad we all were at math, it should be fun (when surrounded by those *other* people, musicians always bond. Always).

Next class: Accompanying. will. be. so. cool.

Honors english: world literature. Why not just hand me the keys to a purple VW bug? It is joy. (Okay, so I'd still like the car, but it's been so long since I've had an english class...) We're reading Goethe and Chekhov and Moli�re and Katie is a happy little bunny.

More choir. Ambushed by The Fashion Critics, a.k.a. two girls who always have something to say about the uniform. Grr. After twenty minutes of "discussion" where I struggled to keep my temper, Steph and I said we'd take suggestions after class and agreed to meet later and talk with the seamstress we used before.

Naturally, the Critics would dearly love to give all the girls a new eighty dollar uniform every year designed by them in the latest kick of fashion, but I'm sorry, some of us aren't so rich. We changed them twice last year, and I'm not in the mood to do it again. And last I checked, we're still a choir. And I am the president. You're lucky you're not in navy blue robes, mkay?

So Stephanie and I went to the seamstress, worked out the same deal with her, same price and all. Will let the girls vote (not suggest, just vote) on whether to keep the tops we used last year, or get new ones of our choosing, based on the suggestions of all the girls.

I'm sure I'm boring you all to death. Moving on.

Today was probably not the day to wear cute little white sandals, since I spent about two hours trekking all over town looking for guys' vests and/or new shirt ideas.

One of these days I'll have time to hang up the last of my Waterhouse prints on the wall.

Oh, and my little laptop has a name. We shall call her Delilah. Thank you, Greg, though your suggestion might have been sarcastic. :)

Comments? 0 so far...
Not a Diaryland member? Sign the Guestbook.