Yanks win, Red Sox lose. That's what I like to see. I think I am going to make a shirt someday that says "Got Melk?" Haha.

For some reason, I started thinking about dinosaurs today. T-rexes are funny. They are these huge, ferocius creatures feared by all, and they have these skinny, tiny little arms--good for nothing, really. T-rex skeletons are so funny. Colossal creatures, huge head, gigantic body, I can't even imagine seeing one in real life (I think I would pee my pants), but their arms! You can't really take t-rexes seriously after seeing their arms. Silly t-rexes. Why do they even have arms?

And then I started thinking about how mythological dinosaurs sound. I can guarantee you that nobody would believe in dinosaurs if we didn't have proof. They are giant lizards. Some with spikes or razor sharp teeth, some with necks longer than a couple school buses, some that spit acid, some that fly. They sound incredibly like something that somebody would make up, don't they? But we all believe in them, because we have proof that they existed! Sometimes I find myself involuntarily thinking to myself that dinosaurs weren't real at all. That they are just something we hear about in books, like unicorns. But they were real. They were. There's no denying the evidence. Isn't it amazing what we can believe when we have proof, and what we can't believe when we don't have proof?

This summer ain't half bad.

One of the two rooms that I work in is this large meeting room with a big table in the middle. All around the peremeter of the room are boxes of medical records, overflowing and leaning like that Pisa tower. This room also happens to be a one in which a lot of employees pass through throughout the day. So while I'm sitting there, alphabetizing my files like a good employee, I get a lot of comments from passerbys. Sometimes people stop to have a little chat about my life, and sometimes they talk about their day. But most of the comments are about the overflowing files in the room. Apparently they look very menacing.

"Wow, you really have your work cut out for you!"
"I'm picturing you with gray hair and wrinkles, still working those files."
"Are you sure you're getting paid enough?"
"Makes you want to stay in college, huh?"

Well, today, a lady passed through and said to me (I didn't get a word in edgewise),
"I wouldn't take your job for all the tea in China. You mother says that you listen to the music and you like it, but I wouldn't ever like it."
And then she was gone.

Now, tell me if I'm wrong, but that woman basically said to me, "Haha!! You're job SUCKS!"

As soon as she was gone, I laughed very hard. For a very long time.

These people only think that things look bad because they don't know what's going on. In reality, everything is very organized. But that's my little secret.

Yanks won.

This sentence taken out of context is really funny:
"He was a Red Sock for a year."

There Were Roses
(Tommy Sands)

My song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad
Nor for adding to the sorrows of this troubled northern land,
But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind
I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine.

Allan Bell from Banagh, he lived just across the fields,
A great man for the music and the dancing and the reels.
O'Malley came from South Armagh to court young Alice fair,
And we'd often meet on the Ryan Road and the laughter filled the air.

There were roses, roses
There were roses
And the tears of the people
Ran together

Though Allan, he was Protestant, and Sean was Catholic born,
It never made a difference for the friendship, it was strong.
And sometimes in the evening when we heard the sound of drums
We said, ``It won't divide us. We always will be one.''

For the ground our fathers plowed in, the soil, it is the same,
And the places where we say our prayers have just got different names.
We talked about the friends who died, and we hoped there'd be no more.
It's little then we realized the tragedy in store.

It was on a Sunday morning when the awful news came round.
Another killing has been done just outside Newry Town.
We knew that Allan danced up there, we knew he liked the band.
When we heard that he was dead we just could not understand.

We gathered at the graveside on that cold and rainy day,
And the minster he closed his eyes and prayed for no revenge.
All all of us who knew him from along the Ryan Road,
We bowed our heads and said a prayer for the resting of his soul.

Now fear, it filled the countryside. There was fear in every home
When a car of death came prowling round the lonely Ryan Road.
A Catholic would be killed tonight to even up the score.
``Oh, Christ! It's young O'Malley that they've taken from the door.''

``Allan was my friend,'' he cried. He begged them with his fear,
But centuries of hatred have ears that cannot hear.
An eye for an eye was all that filled their minds
And another eye for another eye till everyone is blind.

So my song for you this evening, it's not to make you sad
Nor for adding to the sorrows of our troubled northern land,
But lately I've been thinking and it just won't leave my mind.
I'll tell you of two friends one time who were both good friends of mine.

I don't know where the moral is or where this song should end,
But I wondered just how many wars are fought between good friends.
And those who give the orders are not the ones to die.
It's Bell and O'Malley and the likes of you and I.

There were roses, roses
There were roses

Well, the FSU orchestra repertoire for the 06-07 school year is out, and I am pumped up! Philharmonia is playing Mozart 25 (though it has no flute parts, sadness), Vaughan Williams 3 (I'm listening to it right now...beautiful, stunning, brilliant!), Tchaik 4 taken ON TOUR!, Honegger, Sibelius, Prokofiev, Mendelssohn, and more, oh man!
I know I won't be playing all of this (and certainly not the all best parts on all the best pieces, as I daydream about), but just the thought of all that wonderful music is making me go crazy. It's enough to make me actually practice my excerpts instead of spending all day with Mr. Taffanel and Mr. Gaubert. I miss orchestra!

Tammy: "Don't touch her! She's..."
Goran: "She's what?"
silence

Everything is a learning experience. Wildacres made me realize more than ever before that I am at the right college and with the right teacher.

It was fun and all. And all of the teachers loved me and my playing. But it was emotionally difficult for reasons I'd rather not go into detail about.

Here are some of the crazy highlights:

-Marcusson: "People will pay a fortune to hear you play!"
-Watching Stephen Preston make and eat a s'more for the very first time
-People clap before the baroque piece is over. "There's more," he says, "Sorry."
-Taking a flute entirely apart and putting it back together in under two hours
-A tipsy Goran Marcusson kissing me goodnight (right after he kissed Brad Garner goodnight)
-Marcusson imitating a mountain goat!
-Seeing my new college hero, Martha Long, play
-Swinging on a swingset while screaming the song "Henry the Eighth"
-THE BEST CHOCOLATE CAKE EVER
-Brad Garner telling me that he is in love with me
-Getting asked if I know Jessey Howard like 3788272 times
-The idea of a cow with vibrato
-New Century Saxophone Quartet--wow!
-A new fan club made up of flute ladies
-Dogs running across the stage in the middle of recitals
-Hearing some real, authentic blues. "one, two, you know what to do!"
-Apparently skanks are metallic
-Meeting lots and lots of new people

All in all, a good experience. Life experience, flute experience. I think I learned a lot. Perhaps more than I bargained for.

So, I'm, like, going to this flute retreat thing, and like, I'm gonna be gone for about a week, so c-ya latah, dudes.

I probably won't be able to pick up email or post on blogger until next Saturday/Sunday-ish, so yeah.

Wish me luck--I'm playing for two very famous and very knowledgeable flute players, getting a lesson from probably the most influential flute player in America (and possibly my future teacher), playing a theatrical piece at a recital, rooming with somebody who I have never seen or spoken to before, and attempting to take apart an old flute and put it back together again without breaking anything. It should be a fun-filled week. And by fun-filled, I mean educational. And by educational, I mean really crazy. Yeah.

It's okay, everything is okay.

Work, practice, fun, sleep, repeat.
I've got the good life.

No music major should ever be bored. Never.

One of the many difficulties in a serious musician's life is the practice. You doubt that you have practiced enough in the past, you worry if you will practice enough in the present, and you wonder if you will practice enough in the future. This practice difficulty is always present--24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It never gives you a break, even when you are on a weeklong cruise ship, even when you take a day off to go to a water park. Even when you have already practiced 6 hours in the day. And this is the life I have chosen.

Wow! What a day! (Yesterday).

Typhoon Lagoon, birthday party, Pleasure Island, and my first experience "clubbing" (that word will always remind me of Mr. Jarvis talking about baby seals).

I've finally experienced the mysterious world of the clubs. I am scared of something about them. I can't pinpoint exactly what. Is the the drunk men? The alcohol itself? The attention? My own inexperience?...my past sins and horrible judgement, and present regret? Well, whatever it is, I'm pretty sure I'm not made for clubs. I'm all about good, clean fun.

Besides, I like intellectual men, not drunken maniacs. And yes, I'm pretty sure that they are mutually exclusive.

"How ya doin?"
(My brain): "Well, I was doing okay until you talked to me."

Anyway, I got to spend a lot of time with some of my very favorite people from FSU, and that is always awesome. Thank you Jacqui, and happy 19th anniversary.

Lots of stuff, but tired tired tired now.
ZZZZZ

Says one of our Jackson beginning flute students after Alyssa and I play a duet:
"Wow! You could play on street corners!"

Minor-keyed waltzes are really cool.

I SO watched the finals of the national spelling bee today. And I'll have all you bigheaded guys out there know that the top three finishers were all GIRLS.

Two people got out on music vocabulary words. Giocoso!

I'm going to play for Stephen Preston and Goran Marcusson (that's probably spelled wrong) at Wildacres! Yay!

Anyone have any idea how I can get ahold of a piano part to the Mozart flute and harp concerto?

We are certainly working through all the injuries. My dad and I were on a high tonight! What a game, a good, team effort.

Today I tried to watch The Who's rock opera, Tommy, but it was too weird, even for me (and I can take a lot of weird). I had to turn it off.

The sunset is so beautiful right now. Pink and purple and orange and blue strewn across the sky. It's times like this that make me wish I had a special someone to share them with.

(I admire the sunset for a while.)

The sun is almost gone now. It seems like whenever it gets to its most beautiful time, whenever you wish the sunset could stay forever, that's when it starts leaving. Fleeing moments of beauty, that's what love has been for me.

Editor's note: This wasn't a "pity me" post, I am really very happy, it was just too easy to make the connection. Sorry.

MATSUI IS OUT THE REST OF THE SEASON.
:( :( :(
This makes me very sad.

I'm tired, and I don't feel like writing a whole lot, but I will tell you this: I didn't get a callback, and I am not the least bit unhappy about it.

There was a girl there who I knew who really wanted to make it onto the sub list.

"I really want to make it on the subbing list," she said.
"I want to audition...and I did. So I win." I said.

I am very proud of my effort. As well I should be.

Tick tock telling us it's time..time..time...time
Soon the morning bells will chime...chime..chime..chime

(10 points to whoever can guess where that is from)

EXCESS ENERGY!

Yo yo homie g dawgs.