Olympia Chamber Orchesta can suck an egg. What an infernal waste of my time. Some dirty transposition... 2.5 steps, ick. And in incompetant first player complains that she couldn't hear me, only to have the directior chastise us for being too loud. Moron. Oh and let us not forget the talking. My word, to adults EVER shut up? Making excuses for missed notes and crap... I personally dont' care WHY they missed the notes, I just want them to be fixxed. Ah yes, and then the exercise in tedium that is student led discussion. Next time I'm just gonna tell Monique up front that I am allergic to B.S. so she better say something that goes a a bit deeper than an oil slick. Feminism this feminism that. It was 1949. Women's liberation? what's that? NO I don't think a socialist would be writing about that and if you mention it again I will beat you to death with a rubber truncheon! Peanut butter cookies are good. Made even more better-er with milk.
And in OTHER news. Parents being stupid and "worried" about me. Cause I'd rather sleep than schloof about the house for hours. I like the sweet oblivion better than I like life, sleep is the twin of death. Similar in that pork is the other white meat. Paradoxial. Don't you think? No? You dont' think? then leave. Leave now. You know, it wouldn't be so annoying if they were wrong. But the crux of it is. I think something IS wrong here. Things seem to have lost their luster. Similar to how silver tarnishes with use and age, I find that more and more often the world seems to be in black and white. When did life get so boring? When did it stop being fun? Sick of it. Good music though, there is a source of something, I don't know what. Matchbox twenty - unwell. Good music. Though what makes music "good" mostly the listeners ability to relate to it. Thus if you are always happy go lucky, don't listen to that song, and even better, let me know who you are so I can beat you severly about the head and neck with a large Halibut. Even better: a trout. It is late, but I don't feel like going to bed.
The night is nice. Sitting and listening. To nothing. To silence. Does anyone really think about that? The sound of silence... the raw beauty of it? It crushes me sometimes, leaves me in a kind of awe, on the edge of tears. Why is it that only now, when I am getting ready to leave this place forever, I just now see the beauty in it? Driving down the road on my way to school in the mornings, watching the frosted ground pass like a blur, paying no mind to the colors visible through a mist that has settled over a pasture. Firey reds and gentle pinks splayed out on the far horizon, as though the very earth was splitting with emotion. My last fall in this place has already passed me by and I have no memorys of it depite my best attempts to remember the multitude of colors in trees. A corridor of color backed by a cold grey sky, a comforting contrast to say the least. And a bold statement by nature. Even in death there is undeniable beauty. I only wish that I had seen this earlier. Why is it that I never see things and appreciate them while I have the chance? Is this to be the way of my life, always just missing my chance? The saying goes that you never know exactly what you have until it's gone. I wish I could change that. I wish I could know and understand and fully appreciate and love something while it still exsists, while there is still time. Time. Time. Time. There it goes. Never have these moments again. Could I have made them into something different? Maybe, but would I want to? I don't think so. Because whether or not I like what I have become I don't know that I would be any other way.
Although the names change, inside we're all the same, why can't we tear down the walls and show the scars we're covering?
-CR
And in OTHER news. Parents being stupid and "worried" about me. Cause I'd rather sleep than schloof about the house for hours. I like the sweet oblivion better than I like life, sleep is the twin of death. Similar in that pork is the other white meat. Paradoxial. Don't you think? No? You dont' think? then leave. Leave now. You know, it wouldn't be so annoying if they were wrong. But the crux of it is. I think something IS wrong here. Things seem to have lost their luster. Similar to how silver tarnishes with use and age, I find that more and more often the world seems to be in black and white. When did life get so boring? When did it stop being fun? Sick of it. Good music though, there is a source of something, I don't know what. Matchbox twenty - unwell. Good music. Though what makes music "good" mostly the listeners ability to relate to it. Thus if you are always happy go lucky, don't listen to that song, and even better, let me know who you are so I can beat you severly about the head and neck with a large Halibut. Even better: a trout. It is late, but I don't feel like going to bed.
The night is nice. Sitting and listening. To nothing. To silence. Does anyone really think about that? The sound of silence... the raw beauty of it? It crushes me sometimes, leaves me in a kind of awe, on the edge of tears. Why is it that only now, when I am getting ready to leave this place forever, I just now see the beauty in it? Driving down the road on my way to school in the mornings, watching the frosted ground pass like a blur, paying no mind to the colors visible through a mist that has settled over a pasture. Firey reds and gentle pinks splayed out on the far horizon, as though the very earth was splitting with emotion. My last fall in this place has already passed me by and I have no memorys of it depite my best attempts to remember the multitude of colors in trees. A corridor of color backed by a cold grey sky, a comforting contrast to say the least. And a bold statement by nature. Even in death there is undeniable beauty. I only wish that I had seen this earlier. Why is it that I never see things and appreciate them while I have the chance? Is this to be the way of my life, always just missing my chance? The saying goes that you never know exactly what you have until it's gone. I wish I could change that. I wish I could know and understand and fully appreciate and love something while it still exsists, while there is still time. Time. Time. Time. There it goes. Never have these moments again. Could I have made them into something different? Maybe, but would I want to? I don't think so. Because whether or not I like what I have become I don't know that I would be any other way.
Although the names change, inside we're all the same, why can't we tear down the walls and show the scars we're covering?
-CR
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