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You know you're easily amused if you're sitting at a twelve year old computer listening to Ben Folds Five (what song? Kate, of course, hee hee...) and making a slice of cucumber dance on the end of a plastic fork.

There. I just bit the top side off, so it has curvy devil horns, like Jae in her Devil costume. Time to torment a slice of green bell pepper. This song makes me think of Snoopy happy-dancing on the roof of his dog house.

I stayed up until nearly three in the morning trying to write a paper on Arnold Schoenberg, stalling out after the first two pages. (Believe it or not, Mike, it got harder to write after you left me alone to work.)

Those composers seem all dry and boring, until you read a bit into their lives and learn they each had an existence that would keep the cast of Days of Our Lives busy for a year. Schoenberg's wife had an affair with their painting instructor, and when she returned home, the painter killed himself. Tchaikovsky was a closet homosexual who received lifelong patronage from a woman without ever meeting her. Brahms was a mean old cuss who hated women after playing in brothels at the age of thirteen to help support his family. He even fell in love with Robert Schumann's wife Clara. Schumann himself went mad and died in an asylum. Mozart was a pushover and was henpecked every day of his life by his wife and father, and died virtually broke. Many composers avoided writing a ninth symphony because many others had died after their ninth. (Mahler even wrote his ninth, called it something else, then called his tenth the ninth, and died shortly thereafter. Ha.)

Why am I so happy? I got four hours of sleep last night, for goodness sakes. I have a monstrous cold. But things just seem to work for me today. My voice teacher said she was really proud of my progress and was looking forward to my recital, and turns out I can rent the harpsichord for free. Wheee!

Back to my happy-dancing veggies... then it's time to watch Angel.

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