Today wasn't a particularly unlucky day. I finally banged out what will be the opening track to the new album. The whole thing is going to be very unambitious. Just a few simple songs that repeat a bit and then end. I kind of figured it might be this way, since I'm so strapped for time and energy. I've been kind of out of it lately, and this week has been kind of frustrating since today was my only night off, and I had to say "no" to CVS in order to get it (they asked if I'd come in).
I hate having things to do. Why can't school just end already and why can't I not have to work in order to earn money. Why can't I just do what I want to do. Why can't life work that way. We all spend eighty percent of our lives doing what we'd rather not, and twenty percent dreading it. It's nice to have Heaven to look forward to. I guess.
I wish it were Sunday already. I'm kind of annoyed by how stagnant everything is. I can't seem to make any head way... but it's all my fault, really. I'm the one not doing anything.
This isn't a very happy post. Appropriate for the day, I guess. On a lighter note, I get to see my Rachel two days from now. She's about all I could think about all day.
I love her.
_Dr. M
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Friday, February 13, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Life is Stupid
Well, I didn't win Poetry Out Loud. I didn't even get second. Worst of all, I don't even harbor any opinions on whether or not the winners were actually any better than me because we weren't allowed to see each other perform.
I was pretty well destroyed last night. This is in all likelihood the last poetry recitation contest I'll ever participate in, certainly the last national one. I think I'm pretty damn good at it, and now it's all over. The girl who won is a fucking tenth grader. I'm a senior, this was my last shot. Last year I got second place, and now this year I was supposedly a lot better than I had been last year. How could I not fucking win? How amazing were these girls? They were both girls, who were the top two, and it just so happens all four judges were female. Not that I'm insinuating anything.
I know, it's very subjective, and the scores were probably very close, blah blah blah. Nothing can make me feel any better about it.
In the end I spent so much time working on these poems, obsessing over my tone, my movements, everything, and it's all for nothing. I learned some poetry, learned a little about poetry, and maybe taking such a hard loss will better prepare me for the future. Maybe. But right now it all just feels so fucking stupid. What a god damn waste of time. Fucking judges. Fucking poetry. God I hate everything.
Anyway tomorrow morning is my audition for Temple. My mother thinks maybe they'll offer me a better deal than UArts, that the two schools may actually compete over me. But I don't know if Temple even offers scholarships based on your artistic potential like UArts does. I think the only thing they base scholarships on is academic standing, and going by that I'm not sure if I'm even good enough to be admitted at all. My guidance counselor says I might be meeting minimum requirements, but remember, this is a big school, and my grades are not very good. We'll see what happens though, at the very least it's another chance for feedback and to practice interviewing. Just another experience to throw into that big vat of experiences my stupid life has me going through, for better or worse.
My mother really freaked out at me tonight. Over just about everything, from how poor a student I am to how I quit drum lessons when I was eleven. I can never tell when she's genuinely mad or when she's just not feeling well, though tonight it's probably a little bit of both. Needless to say, I love my mother and will miss her when I leave, but I will definitely not miss her random crazy rants.
Time to focus on other things now, like music. Yeah, there's always that.
_Dr. M
P.S. I got the solo Those Canaan Days in the school show, and Brandon is Joseph, just like how I predicted. I'm pretty excited about it, I actually think we have a pretty good cast. Rehearsals start next week.
I was pretty well destroyed last night. This is in all likelihood the last poetry recitation contest I'll ever participate in, certainly the last national one. I think I'm pretty damn good at it, and now it's all over. The girl who won is a fucking tenth grader. I'm a senior, this was my last shot. Last year I got second place, and now this year I was supposedly a lot better than I had been last year. How could I not fucking win? How amazing were these girls? They were both girls, who were the top two, and it just so happens all four judges were female. Not that I'm insinuating anything.
I know, it's very subjective, and the scores were probably very close, blah blah blah. Nothing can make me feel any better about it.
In the end I spent so much time working on these poems, obsessing over my tone, my movements, everything, and it's all for nothing. I learned some poetry, learned a little about poetry, and maybe taking such a hard loss will better prepare me for the future. Maybe. But right now it all just feels so fucking stupid. What a god damn waste of time. Fucking judges. Fucking poetry. God I hate everything.
Anyway tomorrow morning is my audition for Temple. My mother thinks maybe they'll offer me a better deal than UArts, that the two schools may actually compete over me. But I don't know if Temple even offers scholarships based on your artistic potential like UArts does. I think the only thing they base scholarships on is academic standing, and going by that I'm not sure if I'm even good enough to be admitted at all. My guidance counselor says I might be meeting minimum requirements, but remember, this is a big school, and my grades are not very good. We'll see what happens though, at the very least it's another chance for feedback and to practice interviewing. Just another experience to throw into that big vat of experiences my stupid life has me going through, for better or worse.
My mother really freaked out at me tonight. Over just about everything, from how poor a student I am to how I quit drum lessons when I was eleven. I can never tell when she's genuinely mad or when she's just not feeling well, though tonight it's probably a little bit of both. Needless to say, I love my mother and will miss her when I leave, but I will definitely not miss her random crazy rants.
Time to focus on other things now, like music. Yeah, there's always that.
_Dr. M
P.S. I got the solo Those Canaan Days in the school show, and Brandon is Joseph, just like how I predicted. I'm pretty excited about it, I actually think we have a pretty good cast. Rehearsals start next week.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Districts, Rachel's birthday, Napenthi
Been a while since the last update! Right now it is snowing outside and it's very pretty. It's been a very cold weekend, which I like. I like how there's never anybody outside, all you have to do is step out your front door to be in complete and utter solitude.
So here's the story of the last five days. On Thursday morning me, my chorus teacher, and the tenor who made District choir drove up to Southern Lehigh where rehearsals were taking place. I liked the guest director who led the group a lot, with these festivals it can be a little hit or miss, but this guy I really liked. He was an excellent conductor, had a good personality, and really made you care about the music, which is the most important thing. People had prepared the music pretty well for the festival so in general we had two very good concerts Friday and Saturday. We got to have them in this nice big church with a real pipe organ for us to sing along with. I'll be getting a CD with Saturday's concert, and I'll probably post some of the tracks for you to hear.
As for the re-audition for regionals (which is the next level up), I lucked out and they picked a piece for the audition which I had already performed at another festival, so I had a pretty good audition and I made regionals easy. Now I have music for that to prepare in three weeks, so that will be fun.
Thinking about it almost made me want to be a choir director again, at a high school or college. Luckily that feeling didn't last long.
Saturday evening and Sunday I got to be with Rachel again, which of course was very nice. She came back for the weekend for her birthday. She didn't have a very good birthday, in fact it was really quite lame. Sunday for a party we went to her brother's house, where her brother and father watched a football game, her mother sort of lurked (she's that kind of person), and her brother and sister tried not to be bored to death. The two of us walked the dog, played with some blocks, and argued about the gift I gave her. Wednesday last week I went to the book store with my father to get her a book. I couldn't find what I was really looking for so I bought her an art book about optical illusions and visual deception. It's a very good book, but she claimed I was thinking more of myself when I bought it (because apparently I like that kind of thing more than she does). What's funny is I thought I was just buying her a good book.
No presents at all (except what I gave her) to unwrap, a tiny ice cream cake without any candles, we didn't even sing to her or anything. I don't even know if anybody else besides me and her had any cake.
Well anyway, her family is in general pretty insensitive and tend to regard each other with tepid indifference at all times. I'm always trying to tell her that, that her family is fucking weird, but she refuses to see it until something like this happens.
Back to the book. Me and Rachel have a long history of her not liking anything I buy her. She claims I don't listen to her, that even her room mate at college knows what she'd like better than I do. Last Christmas, I got her jam, a Bible with anime illustrations, and a wind chime. She didn't like any of it. But I had reasons! I got her jam because I knew how much she liked toast, she was always telling me how much she liked toast, so what goes better with toast than jam. And it was even special fancy jam. I knew she liked anime, and she didn't have a Bible, and it was a little corny but I thought maybe she'd like a combination of the two. And I thought the wind chime matched the decorations in her bedroom. I remember her telling me she disliked wind chimes, but a single tiny bell at the end hardly qualifies is as a "chime", it's more like a mobile than anything (especially if its indoors, hence no wind).
But the gift flopped hard anyway. I think she should feel lucky to get anything, I mean, it's pretty rude to complain about something somebody buys you no matter how close you are. Especially a nice big full-color book that obviously wasn't from the bargain bin. It sure is a lot nicer than what, say, her brother bought her, which was nothing. Oh well, I guess from now on I should just go with more obvious things, things I know she'll like. But it's so boring! I hate boring things.
But of course later in the evening we kissed and made up (and out) (ha ha j/k). She said at least the book will be a good distraction for me when she's busy with something and can't lavish me with the attention I so readily deserve.
She left this morning, and I look forward to seeing her again, hopefully around Valentine's Day.
If you're wondering what Napenthi is, it's the name of my new band. Well, sort of. I met with Khai the guitarist today to try and get something a little bit organized. We ironed out what songs we are going to prepare for a possible live performance on the first in two weeks (death doom destruction). He talks like he's really serious about this and knows how to play. I have my hopes, and my doubts, but there's no reason to give up before you start. Today I'm going to prepare practice tracks for him, just bass drums and chords, so when we meet this weekend he'll have his parts down slightly so we can see if we actually have something or not. I'm not going to make any judgments on the potential of this project until we've both had time to practice. Napenthi is a botched spelling of the word Nepenthe, which is a mythological drug of forgetfulness. I may need some Nepenthe after this week.
This week being school show auditions and all. I've been trying to let my voice rest yesterday and today, since it was pretty well tired after singing all day Thursday and Friday. Tomorrow is a half day, we get out at like noon (for the end of the semester), and then we'll have to come back for auditions at three. During that time I'm going to practice the song and make sure I can still sing it. It is very high, mind you. I'm a little anxious to have it over with. With any luck I won't get a good part and I won't have to do the show, or I'll get the lead. One or the other would be ideal. I kind of hope the directors don't read this blog.
That's all for now. I think I'm going to go watch the snow.
_Dr. M
So here's the story of the last five days. On Thursday morning me, my chorus teacher, and the tenor who made District choir drove up to Southern Lehigh where rehearsals were taking place. I liked the guest director who led the group a lot, with these festivals it can be a little hit or miss, but this guy I really liked. He was an excellent conductor, had a good personality, and really made you care about the music, which is the most important thing. People had prepared the music pretty well for the festival so in general we had two very good concerts Friday and Saturday. We got to have them in this nice big church with a real pipe organ for us to sing along with. I'll be getting a CD with Saturday's concert, and I'll probably post some of the tracks for you to hear.
As for the re-audition for regionals (which is the next level up), I lucked out and they picked a piece for the audition which I had already performed at another festival, so I had a pretty good audition and I made regionals easy. Now I have music for that to prepare in three weeks, so that will be fun.
Thinking about it almost made me want to be a choir director again, at a high school or college. Luckily that feeling didn't last long.
Saturday evening and Sunday I got to be with Rachel again, which of course was very nice. She came back for the weekend for her birthday. She didn't have a very good birthday, in fact it was really quite lame. Sunday for a party we went to her brother's house, where her brother and father watched a football game, her mother sort of lurked (she's that kind of person), and her brother and sister tried not to be bored to death. The two of us walked the dog, played with some blocks, and argued about the gift I gave her. Wednesday last week I went to the book store with my father to get her a book. I couldn't find what I was really looking for so I bought her an art book about optical illusions and visual deception. It's a very good book, but she claimed I was thinking more of myself when I bought it (because apparently I like that kind of thing more than she does). What's funny is I thought I was just buying her a good book.
No presents at all (except what I gave her) to unwrap, a tiny ice cream cake without any candles, we didn't even sing to her or anything. I don't even know if anybody else besides me and her had any cake.
Well anyway, her family is in general pretty insensitive and tend to regard each other with tepid indifference at all times. I'm always trying to tell her that, that her family is fucking weird, but she refuses to see it until something like this happens.
Back to the book. Me and Rachel have a long history of her not liking anything I buy her. She claims I don't listen to her, that even her room mate at college knows what she'd like better than I do. Last Christmas, I got her jam, a Bible with anime illustrations, and a wind chime. She didn't like any of it. But I had reasons! I got her jam because I knew how much she liked toast, she was always telling me how much she liked toast, so what goes better with toast than jam. And it was even special fancy jam. I knew she liked anime, and she didn't have a Bible, and it was a little corny but I thought maybe she'd like a combination of the two. And I thought the wind chime matched the decorations in her bedroom. I remember her telling me she disliked wind chimes, but a single tiny bell at the end hardly qualifies is as a "chime", it's more like a mobile than anything (especially if its indoors, hence no wind).
But the gift flopped hard anyway. I think she should feel lucky to get anything, I mean, it's pretty rude to complain about something somebody buys you no matter how close you are. Especially a nice big full-color book that obviously wasn't from the bargain bin. It sure is a lot nicer than what, say, her brother bought her, which was nothing. Oh well, I guess from now on I should just go with more obvious things, things I know she'll like. But it's so boring! I hate boring things.
But of course later in the evening we kissed and made up (and out) (ha ha j/k). She said at least the book will be a good distraction for me when she's busy with something and can't lavish me with the attention I so readily deserve.
She left this morning, and I look forward to seeing her again, hopefully around Valentine's Day.
If you're wondering what Napenthi is, it's the name of my new band. Well, sort of. I met with Khai the guitarist today to try and get something a little bit organized. We ironed out what songs we are going to prepare for a possible live performance on the first in two weeks (death doom destruction). He talks like he's really serious about this and knows how to play. I have my hopes, and my doubts, but there's no reason to give up before you start. Today I'm going to prepare practice tracks for him, just bass drums and chords, so when we meet this weekend he'll have his parts down slightly so we can see if we actually have something or not. I'm not going to make any judgments on the potential of this project until we've both had time to practice. Napenthi is a botched spelling of the word Nepenthe, which is a mythological drug of forgetfulness. I may need some Nepenthe after this week.
This week being school show auditions and all. I've been trying to let my voice rest yesterday and today, since it was pretty well tired after singing all day Thursday and Friday. Tomorrow is a half day, we get out at like noon (for the end of the semester), and then we'll have to come back for auditions at three. During that time I'm going to practice the song and make sure I can still sing it. It is very high, mind you. I'm a little anxious to have it over with. With any luck I won't get a good part and I won't have to do the show, or I'll get the lead. One or the other would be ideal. I kind of hope the directors don't read this blog.
That's all for now. I think I'm going to go watch the snow.
_Dr. M
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
I'm Going Away
Only temporarily, of course. Districts starts tomorrow, so I won't be able to post again until Saturday. It doesn't feel much like I'm leaving. I'm not really very excited about Districts. I've been in kind of a funk lately, I don't know why. My computer is here, I should be happy as a school boy. Instead my feelings range from slightly dispassionate to a little depressed. Well it's not that bad. Maybe it's those post-holiday blues.
I've gotten into another one of these musical dry spells, and sometimes it takes something big to break out of them. You know what's funny is last year around this time I was talking about the exact same thing. From Christmas break to the middle of January it seems I can't ever get anything down on tape. Last year I broke out of it by recording one of the better things I had recorded in a while. This year I hope to continue in that same tradition. I have to force myself to record even when I don't feel like it, I mean hell, I'm going to be doing this for a living. This is going to be my job. I don't want it to be something fun I do on the side when the mood strikes me, I want it to be the thing I slave over every single day no matter what.
I know when I start making songs again that I want to experiment a lot more with sampling. I want to try and create a method of using obscure enough and short enough samples that I'll never come under fire for copyright infringement, even if I hit it big. Among other things, I plan on using sound effects from movies. All of the sounds you hear in movies, every foot step, every door closing, was recorded in a studio and slaved over until it sounded perfect, so why not use that in my recording. There are some pretty expansive percussive options there.
Again, not all that excited about Districts tomorrow. I enjoy rehearsing and performing new music though, that's why I do these festivals, so doing that again with a semi-serious group of fellow singers will be nice. However, I should probably stop writing and start packing since it's already pretty late.
I'm not really depressed. I think I'm just tired. I need to break out of this rut.
_Dr. M
I've gotten into another one of these musical dry spells, and sometimes it takes something big to break out of them. You know what's funny is last year around this time I was talking about the exact same thing. From Christmas break to the middle of January it seems I can't ever get anything down on tape. Last year I broke out of it by recording one of the better things I had recorded in a while. This year I hope to continue in that same tradition. I have to force myself to record even when I don't feel like it, I mean hell, I'm going to be doing this for a living. This is going to be my job. I don't want it to be something fun I do on the side when the mood strikes me, I want it to be the thing I slave over every single day no matter what.
I know when I start making songs again that I want to experiment a lot more with sampling. I want to try and create a method of using obscure enough and short enough samples that I'll never come under fire for copyright infringement, even if I hit it big. Among other things, I plan on using sound effects from movies. All of the sounds you hear in movies, every foot step, every door closing, was recorded in a studio and slaved over until it sounded perfect, so why not use that in my recording. There are some pretty expansive percussive options there.
Again, not all that excited about Districts tomorrow. I enjoy rehearsing and performing new music though, that's why I do these festivals, so doing that again with a semi-serious group of fellow singers will be nice. However, I should probably stop writing and start packing since it's already pretty late.
I'm not really depressed. I think I'm just tired. I need to break out of this rut.
_Dr. M
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Happy Things and Depressing Things
Today I had a bad runny nose. I don't know why such a simple problem can make you feel like digging yourself a grave and lying down for a little eternal slumber, but it does.
I talked at length about my poems for Poetry Out Loud today with my ninth grade English teacher who is a really god coach for these kinds of things. She had some very valuable insights, things to work on, etc. Hopefully I'm in line to win the school competition. That's my only wish. Regional, states, yeah I'd like to win them if I could, but all I really want to do is move beyond the school competition.
I decided to change my third poem. My third poem only becomes important if and when I win at the school competition, which only requires two poems, it's not until regional you have to have three. Nonetheless I have been obsessing about it nonstop, and I've settled on Self Employed, by David Ignatow. It's probably one of my favorite poems ever, the problem is it's very short and rather odd. But I really connect with it, and my teacher agreed that I communicate it well. It came down to either that or Why I Am Not a Painter. Painter was the "safer" choice, longer, more familiar, maybe a little more accessible. But Self Employed won out, I mean please, that poem is me.
Self-Employed
By David Ignatow
For Harvey Shapiro
I stand and listen, head bowed,
to my inner complaint.
Persons passing by think
I am searching for a lost coin.
You’re fired, I yell inside
after an especially bad episode.
I’m letting you go without notice
or terminal pay. You just lost
another chance to make good.
But then I watch myself standing at the exit,
depressed and about to leave,
and wave myself back in wearily,
for who else could I get in my place
to do the job in dark, airless conditions?
I hope I win just so I get to perform this poem for an audience. In other news, the more I think about and recite When You Are Old, the more I fall in love with it. It's such a beautiful, striking poem. Unrequited love. Never has there been a sadder theme. Also, when I first read Dressing My Daughters, I thought maybe it was about a man whose wife had died. When I read it again I decided it didn't have to be and I was taking too much from it. But when I recited it this afternoon, my teacher assumed the same thing without questioning it, and it's all because of that one line, "How would she connect these bony valves and stubborn eyelets?" There are many reasons the father might be forced to play this role, the mother might be running an errand, or cooking breakfast. But something about it just gives the impression that he's doing this because she is no longer there, he now has to play both parts of a mother and a father. It adds another layer to the poem which really I don't think will really make a difference in how I recite it (maybe make certain lines a little sadder), but it's good to know other people's impressions.
Knight Life is the school TV studio program which I've been in since tenth grade, we put on the morning news show during homeroom, a live Monday evening show, and cover other school events like concerts and sports games. At certain times the club can seem a little more like a cult, we have a green room (like every tv studio, it's the place people sit and chill before the show) where we eat lunch and have study hall, and go whenever we're skipping class. This year the cult level has been kept to a minimum, I don't know why, I think the people in it just aren't as cool. Anyway, funny things happen sometimes, during shows, during study hall, there are stories, it's fun. Where am I going with this, you ask?
There have been a lot of staff changes in the program. Mr. Fox is the very old teacher who runs the whole studio, he's great. Then there's his assistant, who had an accident at the beginning of the school year (VCR fell on her head, got to watch that) and suffered a concussion and who's still not back yet. Then there is another employee of the audio/video department, a man who basically sits in his office all day waiting for somebody to need a TV in their room or a new projector, or can't figure out how to plug something in. This man was much beloved by everybody in KL (old, senile, and the local Salvation Army for hall passes and I.D. lanyards), but lately he also had some sort of medical condition and decided to call it quits. He's been replaced by this guy, who I got to talk to today for the first time. My talk with him is why I'm now writing about Knight Life in my blog.
I was the only one in the green room ninth period, and I was there because of the poetry practice after school (otherwise I would have left after eighth). This guy happened to be around as well, and since I was there, he started regaling me with stories of when he was in Reading High School, as a student in Knight Life. This guy does not seem very intelligent. He's a really young guy, probably graduated high school in like 2003. He talked with a kind of urban drawl and wore big baggy jeans (despite being a professional full-time employee at a high school). I'm sure if he went to college he dropped out, or just barely graduated. He's now stuck with a loser dead-end job that he'll probably have for the rest of his life, if he doesn't do anything to lose it.
I say we "talked", but I didn't really say much. He told me about the time he hit another kid in the crotch with a tennis ball while they were taping a basketball game. He pointed out which of the ratty old pieces of furniture in the green room had been there when he was a student, and how many students are supposed to have had sex on them. The more he talked, the sadder I got. Here was this man, with presumably no other talents to speak of, nothing notable about him whatsoever, who got four years, just four years, of living in a group where he was excepted, where he was at least semi-important. Four years of fond, random, stupid memories of antics with other students that dozens or hundreds of kids have had before him, and dozens or hundreds more will have after him. But that's all he gets. That's all he has. For the rest of his life, he will have that brief bright spot to look back on as he grinds away at a pointless job in a concrete, windowless "office" (where he does no paperwork and has no computer). His only pastime will be seeing how bad the auditorium gets before they finally fix it up, keeping track of teachers leaving and coming and dieing, and telling students like me about how much fun he had in Knight Life.
Maybe this is only temporary for him and I don't know it. Maybe he's an amazing painter and is only doing this to support his career as an artist. I really, strongly doubt it. Anyway, this isn't the only adult I know who can't seem to grow up, to get past high school. Many people return and keep returning despite having graduated years ago. They find some reason to come back, like helping out with band or school show or something. But they're not just helping, these activities are all they have. These are mainly people with no real futures to speak of, but man, high school sure was a blast.
I find this class of people very depressing. I know I'd rather step on a land mine than step foot in my high school again after I graduate, so I won't be one of them, but I still think of these people sometimes. Hopefully I'm wrong and some of them do go on to do something with their lives.
This afternoon I was with Rachel, which was great. She's leaving on Saturday, I'm sad but only a little. I have a lot to look forward to.
I talked school show over with my mother. She won't be upset if I decide not to do it, I have so much else I want to do this semester music-wise and she understands that. She wonders if I should try out at all, but the thing is I should do it if they really need me for a certain part. I just don't think they do. I'm going to see who all is trying out at the audition sign-ups in two weeks. That will make a difference.
Logic came today. =D Get ready for music that will blast your socks off so hard you won't... be able to find them... again. =(
_Dr. M
I talked at length about my poems for Poetry Out Loud today with my ninth grade English teacher who is a really god coach for these kinds of things. She had some very valuable insights, things to work on, etc. Hopefully I'm in line to win the school competition. That's my only wish. Regional, states, yeah I'd like to win them if I could, but all I really want to do is move beyond the school competition.
I decided to change my third poem. My third poem only becomes important if and when I win at the school competition, which only requires two poems, it's not until regional you have to have three. Nonetheless I have been obsessing about it nonstop, and I've settled on Self Employed, by David Ignatow. It's probably one of my favorite poems ever, the problem is it's very short and rather odd. But I really connect with it, and my teacher agreed that I communicate it well. It came down to either that or Why I Am Not a Painter. Painter was the "safer" choice, longer, more familiar, maybe a little more accessible. But Self Employed won out, I mean please, that poem is me.
Self-Employed
By David Ignatow
For Harvey Shapiro
I stand and listen, head bowed,
to my inner complaint.
Persons passing by think
I am searching for a lost coin.
You’re fired, I yell inside
after an especially bad episode.
I’m letting you go without notice
or terminal pay. You just lost
another chance to make good.
But then I watch myself standing at the exit,
depressed and about to leave,
and wave myself back in wearily,
for who else could I get in my place
to do the job in dark, airless conditions?
I hope I win just so I get to perform this poem for an audience. In other news, the more I think about and recite When You Are Old, the more I fall in love with it. It's such a beautiful, striking poem. Unrequited love. Never has there been a sadder theme. Also, when I first read Dressing My Daughters, I thought maybe it was about a man whose wife had died. When I read it again I decided it didn't have to be and I was taking too much from it. But when I recited it this afternoon, my teacher assumed the same thing without questioning it, and it's all because of that one line, "How would she connect these bony valves and stubborn eyelets?" There are many reasons the father might be forced to play this role, the mother might be running an errand, or cooking breakfast. But something about it just gives the impression that he's doing this because she is no longer there, he now has to play both parts of a mother and a father. It adds another layer to the poem which really I don't think will really make a difference in how I recite it (maybe make certain lines a little sadder), but it's good to know other people's impressions.
Knight Life is the school TV studio program which I've been in since tenth grade, we put on the morning news show during homeroom, a live Monday evening show, and cover other school events like concerts and sports games. At certain times the club can seem a little more like a cult, we have a green room (like every tv studio, it's the place people sit and chill before the show) where we eat lunch and have study hall, and go whenever we're skipping class. This year the cult level has been kept to a minimum, I don't know why, I think the people in it just aren't as cool. Anyway, funny things happen sometimes, during shows, during study hall, there are stories, it's fun. Where am I going with this, you ask?
There have been a lot of staff changes in the program. Mr. Fox is the very old teacher who runs the whole studio, he's great. Then there's his assistant, who had an accident at the beginning of the school year (VCR fell on her head, got to watch that) and suffered a concussion and who's still not back yet. Then there is another employee of the audio/video department, a man who basically sits in his office all day waiting for somebody to need a TV in their room or a new projector, or can't figure out how to plug something in. This man was much beloved by everybody in KL (old, senile, and the local Salvation Army for hall passes and I.D. lanyards), but lately he also had some sort of medical condition and decided to call it quits. He's been replaced by this guy, who I got to talk to today for the first time. My talk with him is why I'm now writing about Knight Life in my blog.
I was the only one in the green room ninth period, and I was there because of the poetry practice after school (otherwise I would have left after eighth). This guy happened to be around as well, and since I was there, he started regaling me with stories of when he was in Reading High School, as a student in Knight Life. This guy does not seem very intelligent. He's a really young guy, probably graduated high school in like 2003. He talked with a kind of urban drawl and wore big baggy jeans (despite being a professional full-time employee at a high school). I'm sure if he went to college he dropped out, or just barely graduated. He's now stuck with a loser dead-end job that he'll probably have for the rest of his life, if he doesn't do anything to lose it.
I say we "talked", but I didn't really say much. He told me about the time he hit another kid in the crotch with a tennis ball while they were taping a basketball game. He pointed out which of the ratty old pieces of furniture in the green room had been there when he was a student, and how many students are supposed to have had sex on them. The more he talked, the sadder I got. Here was this man, with presumably no other talents to speak of, nothing notable about him whatsoever, who got four years, just four years, of living in a group where he was excepted, where he was at least semi-important. Four years of fond, random, stupid memories of antics with other students that dozens or hundreds of kids have had before him, and dozens or hundreds more will have after him. But that's all he gets. That's all he has. For the rest of his life, he will have that brief bright spot to look back on as he grinds away at a pointless job in a concrete, windowless "office" (where he does no paperwork and has no computer). His only pastime will be seeing how bad the auditorium gets before they finally fix it up, keeping track of teachers leaving and coming and dieing, and telling students like me about how much fun he had in Knight Life.
Maybe this is only temporary for him and I don't know it. Maybe he's an amazing painter and is only doing this to support his career as an artist. I really, strongly doubt it. Anyway, this isn't the only adult I know who can't seem to grow up, to get past high school. Many people return and keep returning despite having graduated years ago. They find some reason to come back, like helping out with band or school show or something. But they're not just helping, these activities are all they have. These are mainly people with no real futures to speak of, but man, high school sure was a blast.
I find this class of people very depressing. I know I'd rather step on a land mine than step foot in my high school again after I graduate, so I won't be one of them, but I still think of these people sometimes. Hopefully I'm wrong and some of them do go on to do something with their lives.
This afternoon I was with Rachel, which was great. She's leaving on Saturday, I'm sad but only a little. I have a lot to look forward to.
I talked school show over with my mother. She won't be upset if I decide not to do it, I have so much else I want to do this semester music-wise and she understands that. She wonders if I should try out at all, but the thing is I should do it if they really need me for a certain part. I just don't think they do. I'm going to see who all is trying out at the audition sign-ups in two weeks. That will make a difference.
Logic came today. =D Get ready for music that will blast your socks off so hard you won't... be able to find them... again. =(
_Dr. M
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