It is so ridiculously cold in my room right now. For May it has been rather cool in Pittsburgh - almost disturbingly. What concerns me even more is that I'll be heading North in about a week. For the few days I have remaining in the Steel City I've resorted to oddly familiar tactics usually reserved for winter: sleeping under comforters, wearing coats, wrapping myself in fleece, using lip balm [more often], thinking of Alaska, assigning verbal thrashings to heaters that are seasonally incapable, thinking of southern California. Yet, I still manage to obtain a noticeable redness on my face from attending Carnegie Mellon's swell outdoor commencement ceremony. And yes, I was freezing the entire time.
Today I wrote a song.
There are still many many things I need to do before I leave Pittsburgh - pack, meet with friends, finish the orchestra parts to the above song, defrost my fridge, hope and pray the professor for one of my classes actually gave me a final grade instead of choosing to secretly be annoyed by me. Regardless, none of that is on my mind anymore; not even the music always playing in the background. In fact, at the moment there doesn't seem to be much at all on my mind. Who to blame, whether it possibly be the time of day, or a lack of sleep, or simply mental exhaustion, I really have no idea. All I know is that I'm leaving a place which, for the past few weeks, I've been eager to escape. This spring semester has allowed me to enjoy virtually no extra-curriculum. It's time, I suppose, as cliché as it may sound, to reteach myself how to live.
1:50 am. A bag of mini pretzels faces me - an ironic reminder of the big things yet to happen.
Today I wrote a song.
Synopsis: A woman is followed onto a bus by another more elderly looking woman. About halfway through the younger woman's ride, the nice old lady falls asleep and lands on the younger woman's shoulder. Failing to wake her up, the awake lady soon discovers the shear reality that this woman was not sleeping, but dead.To say the least the song is pretty morbid - fucked up even. Nevertheless, it seems that I have strengths in composing works that are cognitively and situationally awkward. This will be part of Bus Stop Opera's show this weekend in New York City.
There are still many many things I need to do before I leave Pittsburgh - pack, meet with friends, finish the orchestra parts to the above song, defrost my fridge, hope and pray the professor for one of my classes actually gave me a final grade instead of choosing to secretly be annoyed by me. Regardless, none of that is on my mind anymore; not even the music always playing in the background. In fact, at the moment there doesn't seem to be much at all on my mind. Who to blame, whether it possibly be the time of day, or a lack of sleep, or simply mental exhaustion, I really have no idea. All I know is that I'm leaving a place which, for the past few weeks, I've been eager to escape. This spring semester has allowed me to enjoy virtually no extra-curriculum. It's time, I suppose, as cliché as it may sound, to reteach myself how to live.
1:50 am. A bag of mini pretzels faces me - an ironic reminder of the big things yet to happen.
