Feeling: quirky
Listening to: Finger Eleven - One Thing
Reading/Watching: World Civilizations to 1650. Them crazy Greeks, I tellya.

This is my second attempt at a topic for today.

I was going to write an entry detailing the thoughts running through my head during my humiliating farce of a violin lesson today, but I realized halfway through it that it would require more Parental Advisory stickers than a he's-really-dead-we-swear Tupac album. We're talking some explicit language, people. More "fuck"s than a scene from Good Will Hunting.

"Downbow, Katie. And square your elbow. Wrist down. Knuckles flat. Keep your pinkie finger curved and your index finger straight and two middle fingers on the frog and relax your hand. Angle the bow. Fingertips flat on the strings. Don't lift the bow, don't let it slide sideways. Stand straight. Keep your strokes steady. Relax!"

My inner commentary has quite a vocabulary, I'll tell you that.

But her criticisms are not undeserved. Seriously, I stink (as Josh so poetically says) "like hot sweaty asscrack." And this is not something I say often. It is very odd to suck so much at something musical, no matter how much I practice. Odd and humbling. Got out of the lesson with my knuckles aching from wanting to move and being locked in place with the semblance of being "relaxed."

Found a practice room and hammered on a piano for a while, singing a bit of Sarah, a bit of Tori, pecking out some Evanescence by ear. I'm close to having "My Immortal" memorized. Ahhhh, better.

But I'm feeling more cheerful now, talking to Phulish, because he has perfect taste in music and likes to send me mp3s. Plus, he says guys have fat days too.

So adorable, is PG. Ooh, and now with no pants! ::tries not to stare::

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