Blogging on the clock...I am such a rebel.
Things are really slow. I'm still training for my new jobbie (this is week 3), but there is only so much a mind can absorb at once, you know? Plus, it's Thursday, and I am very much looking forward to tomorrow afternoon (it's Friday, no explanation needed).
My spring semester grades should be posted this evening. I'm really nervous. I believe it's going to look like two Bs and two As. There is a possibility that it will be three As and one B. In my dreams, I will squeak through with four As, maintaining my sparkly 4.0 gpa. Let's not hold our breath.
Other adventures. Cliff and Ricka came over for dinner last night. The Wizard made a fantabulous salad and I got to try fresh fennel for the first time. Another of those things I've had on my "to-eat" list forever, but didn't know what to do with. It was quite good, offering a mild crunchiness that we found paired very nicely with red pears and goat cheese. To accompany the salad, we concocted these delightful potstickers filled with eggplant, onion, and zucchini, and seasoned with a little hoisin sauce, red pepper flakes, and dark sesame oil.
Afterward, we all trekked to the park with glasses of wine, played fetch with the Frank-dog, and did cartwheels in the grass.
Back at the abode, the subject of music came up. Lately, I've had a craving to play, but I keep putting it off for no good reason. Last night I finally dug out my clarinet, and I felt an instant connection to it from the moment I started to play. I never really play it because it's had a chip in one of the joints since high school that creates a substantial air leak. I keep meaning to take it in to find out if it can be repaired, but I sincerely doubt that it will be. In which case I need to find out if I can just replace that section of the body, or if the entire thing is a loss, which would make me very sad. The lower register still sounds really warm and rich, but the upper register can hardly squeak out a sound at all. After years of not having much interest in playing it, I've come to miss it more than I ever would have guessed.
As of *I think* June, my viola will be paid in full, and all mine. I'm hoping that within a few months I can start taking lessons again. If I can afford them, that is. I'm toying with the idea of switching between private lessons on all three of my instruments, but viola is my top priority, followed by my clarinet. I'm actually almost too nervous to even consider playing my euphonium in the house...I'm afraid I'll get myself evicted for how loud it is.
All of this has culminated into fantasies of auditioning for the college orchestra. I even went so far as to email the instructor for more information. Unfortunately, the college music program isn't something that's making itself terribly available to me, thanks to my day job. I can manage lower level art classes in the evenings, but things like music theory or those creative writing courses I'm dying to take only happen during the day.
I'm genuinely interested in pursuing music, but I think my options are limited to private lessons for now. Then again, that's not so bad... My viola teacher is a violist with the Seattle Symphony. He has anecdotes about performing with Henry Mancini.
How many people get a chance to train with someone of that level?
Poetry goes less smoothly. I've sat down several times this week to write, but nothing came of it. Everything sounds like forced existentialism and prepositional word association. No bueno a'tall. For now, I'm going to have to find some other project to occupy myself.