I'll be home for Christmas

So, I AM home for Christmas, and it's very good to be back.

I think, over all, this semester was a success. So, what have I learned so far?

I do not like having classes after four in the afternoon. I do not like having classes back to back when they are located across campus from each other. Lunches with friends are fun, but they take more time. Studying in my dorm room allows for many distractions. Studying in the Student Center leads to buying food I don't need. Studying in the library always ends early. Make time for God, for friends, and for morning coffee. Call home often, just to chat. Make to-do lists, but be flexible.

And never, for one second, think you've got it under control, because that's exactly when everything falls apart.

I made it out alive. Actually, relatively unscathed. Classes haven't gone straight over my head yet, and time management hasn't failed. So, that's that. I'm one/eighth of the way there.

Shifting Paradigms

Just as I'm getting used to everything ... it's over.

This is finals week. I've found myself with an abundance of free time, a long to-do list, and a short attention span. Our piano juries were on Monday, and I still haven't gotten feedback from it. I took my first final last night: Spanish. I think I did okay, but I remembered this morning that I forgot to add in some stuff on my essay. Oh well.

At my core, I feel the same. But I also sense that I've changed a lot this semester.

What defines a friend? How often do you see them? How much do you actually know about them? Is time a factor at all, or can friends be instant?

And best friends. How do you define those? Are best friends relative to the other friends you have? Or is there just some special factor about a person that grants them such a status, regardless of how long you've known them or how much time you spend together?

Some days, I feel like an actress in a play. The people around me are only surface-level characters. We speak our scripted lines, and take our cues. We act as friends, because that is what we're supposed to do. Every now and then, someone slips up and says something out of character. That's when I remember that I do not really know these people. I only know their characters. That's when I suddenly remember the stage, the costumes and masks.

But we smooth it over, and continue. The play must go on.

On a less symbolic and more literal level, Auburn won the SEC championship! I watched the game in the Auburn Arena with a few other freshman girls. [Friends? Potential best friends?]

Turkey and Dressing

So, this past week was Thanksgiving Break. I had over a week off from school, and it was amazing to be back home. I saw all of my friends and family in the span of five days during my time off. At times, it did feel mildly rushed, but there is the promise of Christmas break right around the corner, when I will hopefully be seeing all these wonderfully familiar faces again.

So, confession: I did not spend much time being thankful or reflective over Thanksgiving. Instead, I spent much more time living moment by moment, and sometimes being quite selfish.

Speaking of confessions, I've been trying very hard this semester to be honest. Over time, I have discovered that I value the truth a lot more than I thought I did. I still don't like to hear it sometimes, and I still tried to hide from it often, but I do not want to be surrounded by dishonest people. There is so much value in sincerity. So, accordingly, I have been attempting to be more honest in my representation of myself. It's easy to put a spin on my words or actions, to cover faults and extol pretend virtues. But I don't want to do that anymore. You cannot claim to be loved if you are not known.

That said, I think you should know:

I am not always honest. I fight with a very compelling desire to be seen as an angel, and it is very difficult for me to confront faults or failures. (So be warned, if you address me about this topic in person, I will most likely become very defensive). I am also hypocritical. Arrogant people irritate me, yet I know that I am prideful. Ironically, I dislike hypocrites. I am fully capable of thinking and saying cruel, judgmental things. I am not innocent or anywhere near perfect. I keep secrets, I spill secrets, I envy, I ignore. I fail.

I'm not anything like an angel. I'm just human.

How to Eat Fried Worms

Pop it in, crunch, and swallow!!!

Yes, that's right, I ate a fried worm. It's all the rage in Thailand, I hear. These actually smelled a lot like peanuts, and they were so fried they reminded me of pork rinds.

A missionary who has lived in Thailand for 13 years actually spoke last Tuesday at the BCM. His message basically dealt with the idea that sometimes what God calls us to do is going to be unfamiliar and uncomfortable. And he also emphasized how God has called us to love people. Which is where the fried worms came in. Loving people means respecting their culture, and sometimes that can mean eating the food they offer you. When he offered a sample of the worms to all of the students at the BCM, almost everyone surged forward to try a worm.

Now, normally, I don't think I would have eaten one. I figure, I can wait to eat worms until I'm actually in a country where that's a common practice. However, I remembered a guy I've met from Thailand and decided, you know what? I'll eat a worm. I'll be brave and try something new and then I can tell him!

Well, I did tell him, and come to find out, he's never eaten a worm before. He said as far as bugs go, all he's ever eaten were ants.

Last night, I had a grand adventure: I went to a frat formal. (It was on a boat!!!) Apparently, 'formal' actually meant formal and not semi-formal so I was one of two girls not wearing a floor-length dress (mine only went just below my knee), but the two of us ended up sitting at the same table for dinner. And coincidentally, our dresses were the same color. Also, I don't have any elegant jackets so...I just didn't bring one. Luckily, dinner was inside, but dancing was not. I didn't dance much.

Even after eating a worm last Tuesday, I found I gagged on a large clump of fat in a bite of meat. I couldn't convince myself to swallow it. I had to leave and chunk it in a trash can in the restroom. So that was that. Awkward girl in a not-formal-enough dress with a mouthful of fatty meat. So classy.

If I were more of a lady, this may have bothered me. However, I am not a lady. I am a girl, so it serves as an entertaining story.

I definitely enjoyed myself.

I wish you out of the woods...

And into a picture with me!!

So, I've gotta admit, I'm homesick. Terribly homesick. I can make it through most of the day cheerfully. Until I stop to think, and then I'm suddenly overwhelmed by how far away from home I am, how scattered my friends are, how little I know anyone here. It's scary. No family, no church home, no friends. No one.

And then on top of the sheer loneliness, I feel guilty. I am a horrible person. I don't get nearly as much work done when I'm emotionally drained like this. I also tend to be snippy with people who don't deserve my bad attitude. But if anyone dares to confront my faults, I deny everything. Vehemently.

So that's this week so far, but it's only Monday. Maybe it'll get better?

By the way, my family was here this past weekend! I had so much fun with them, and I was glad they took the time to come see me, but it really stunk getting left behind Sunday afternoon. I wanted to beg them to take me with them.


(Title is a quote from the song "Out of the Woods" by Nickel Creek, btw).

Absence?

So I forgot to blog about this, but I went to my first football game two Saturdays ago. I guess that was October 16th? We played Arkansas, and won. :) It was apparently the highest scoring game in SEC history that didn't go into overtime. At least, that's what I've heard but don't quote me on that. 65 to 43.

Today, I ate shrimp. This is not an unusual occurrence; I love shrimp! However, I've never been served shrimp that actually still looked like shrimp. These even had heads and antennae and eye sockets. I had to rip the heads off. It was terrible. I only ate two.

Classes aren't difficult for me this semester. They merely require a lot of work. It's manageable but I get worn down easily. If I get behind, it's very difficult to recover.

One last thought: my birthday is approaching. :)

Down for the Count

I'm sick. I caught a cold, apparently, and it was threatening to become a sinus infection so I swallowed my pride and resigned to visiting the medical clinic. It's on the outskirts of what could be considered campus, so I rode the transit for the first time this past Thursday. First time on the transit, first time in the clinic. I'm currently on the mend, though, and should be better in a day or two. If not...

I broke a nail while practicing yesterday. Granted, it was a little bit longer than the rest of my nails, and it was my fault because I played a chord wrong. My pinky was supposed to land on a black key, but it slipped off. It's not like it hurt or anything. But I feel legit now, like I've been initiated into the ranks of hardcore pianists around the world. I've got battle scars!

Our resident ROTC pianist one-upped me, though. His song made him bleed.

Self-Proclaimed

Since coming to Auburn, I've become involved in an organization that meets once a week to interact with some of the international students in the Intensive English Program here in order to practice day-to-day conversational English. Of the students I've met, a large portion are from South Korea. I'm now meeting with two Korean girls for about on hour once a week for more personal attention and practice communicating effectively. This has unexpectedly become one of my ministries here, and I love it!

So today we had dinner together and they asked me what American name might fit them. So I started brainstorming and I mentioned the names Hannah (they thought it was really cool that it's spelled the same backwards) and Jenny (which was similar to one girl's given name). I'm not sure what they really thought of these options, but I think that's what I'll call them on my blog.

In any case, I then asked them what a good Korean name for me might be! So they started brainstorming, very seriously. They came up with a couple ideas and debated with each other, finally settling on Yuri. They showed me how to write it with Korean characters and then set about choosing Chinese characters to write it with. Now, I'm not entirely certain how this works, but from their explanation it seems to me that there are many different Chinese characters that represent the same sound but have different meanings, so when choosing a name a parent would also have to choose how to spell it. I think each character represents a syllable, so they could puzzle out which combination of meanings was their favorite. The girls decided the characters for 'flower' and 'beautiful and bright' would be best for me. I think I like that combination.

While we enjoyed searching for names for each other, the origin of this conversation unsettled me a little. The girls were saying they wanted to find American names because no one could remember their Korean names, their given names. I understand that it's difficult for many people to pronounce Korean names, and they're harder to remember if we've never heard of them before. But at the same time, I think it shows a person that you value them when you make an effort to learn their name, their given name. And I think it sends the opposite message if you never try.

Mark 10:27

Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God."


:)

Wear and Tear

I think it's getting to me: being totally isolated in a piano practice room for hours every day. Maybe that's why I can't get the embellishments in my Haydn Sonata right. Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe that's why it's so hard to motivate myself, to focus, to practice.

The weather these past two days has been amazing. I love it when the temperature starts to change. It will still be a while until the season settles in and remains, but I love the hints that winter is coming. Still, it has been harder to enjoy it for some reason. I feel somewhat apathetic about...everything. The weather, piano, homework...

I also have yet to find those life-long friends everyone promises you before you get to college. "Oh, the friends you make in the next four years are the best friends you'll ever have! They're the frinds you'll keep for the rest of your life." It takes time. I know it does. The upper classmen say so. My high school friends say so. It's just mildly frustrating, waiting around. I know they're there somewhere, and I want to find them now! I feel like I'm wasting time that I could be spending with important people that I haven't met yet. Or maybe I've met them and just didn't recognize them yet.

Also, much of the exploration is over now. Auburn is becoming familiar. I'm finding a routine, and therefore I'm losing much of the passion. I've fallen into a rut, a muddy rut, and I'm getting bogged down.

I'll make it. But today everything feels impossible.

Pros and Cons

So this week has been mildly stressful. I had my first real college test today (two more to come before the week ends). I've been studying a lot and practicing piano a lot. My arms feel wimpy and noodley. I'm going to ask my piano professor about that tomorrow. I'm not sure if it's a sign that I'm building muscle or if I'm doing something wrong...

However, one of the other piano students decided to decorate the practice room. We discovered two lamps and some Christmas lights wrapping around the wall. According to rumor, a rug and window treatments are on their way. I like to think of the nice pianos as self-esteem pianos. For some reason, it's very hard to feel good about yourself while playing in a cramped room on a twangy set of keys. However, it's very easy to feel artistic when doodling on a polished baby grand, the reflection of your hands and the Christmas lights dancing across it's smooth, midnight black surface. It's easy to forgot about tests and stress and homesickness and mild loneliness. It's easy to lose yourself in the music.

The past two nights, I have run into a family of three relaxing on Auburn's campus in the twilight of the day. Their little girl dances freely around while the parents sit on a park bench and watch. She is fascinated by her shadow. She twirls and leaps and laughs. When she finishes, they say "bravo!" and "again!" She complies every time.

I think sometimes people get so caught up in deadlines, in rush hour, in to-do-lists and responsibilities, that they forget to find joy in life. To sit down and rest. To dedicate a moment to reverence and awe, to beauty and hope. We forget to let little girls dance.

So, in the midst of the chaos and worries, I want to remember to dance.

Shades of Fantastic

So guess where I am blogging from? My dining room table, back home!

That's right, I returned to good ole sunny Florida for my three-day weekend. I'm leaving early this afternoon to venture back to Auburn, but for the time being I'm home. It's good to be back.

I thought I had adjusted to the twin bed in my dorm room, but now that I've slept in my queen-sized bed three nights in a row, I've realized how much I missed it. I think I made up for the three weeks of limited sleeping space by rolling over constantly. I kept waking up to realize I'd traveled significantly.

So how does it feel to be back? It feels as though I never left. That's one amazing thing about family. No matter where I go, or how long I'm gone, there will always be a place for me.

So my mom and I are currently making M$M cookies. Half of them are coming with me, because nothing says home like freshly baked cookies. And nothing makes fast friends like a huge batch of cookies and a generous hand. (We're strategic bakers.)

Grand Adventures

Along with a new atmosphere and new studies, I've been pursuing new experiences as well. I church hopped the past three weeks in search of a church home. I've been unusually outgoing. Well, outgoing relative to my normal introverted self. I've become involved in a weekly gathering where international students mingle and practice their English with other Auburn students. I've misunderstood many words and butchered many names, but...I try.

I have a thing for sushi. When I used to work in a grocery store, sushi would come through the line a lot and I always thought it smelled so good! It took me a while to muster the courage to try it for myself but since then, I've been a fan of sushi. I'm not hardcore enough to use chopsticks, though. So the other day, I treated myself to some sushi. I convinced myself to ignore the world 'eel' written across the package and bought it anyway. However, I have determined that eel is not my favorite. It's a little too chewy for me. I ate it all, though, and I'd probably eat it again if it was available to me. However, I definitely won't be buying it for myself any time soon.

I also discovered a design flaw in the baby grand piano I was practicing on this week. The lid that covers the keys when the piano is not in use is curved. So if, say, you dropped a pencil while the lid was open, and it happened to get caught between the lid and the piano, it would slide down quite out of reach. And if, hypothetically, you were to close the lid the slightest in the hopes that your hand would be able to fit, the pencil would continue to slide, always out of reach, until it rolled right into the piano. My hand is not small enough to fit there, I have discovered. Coat hangers will not coax the pencil out. As hard as you strike a key, it will not catapult the pencil out into your waiting grasp. However, if you happen upon another piano major who is a lot stronger than you, he might know how to remove the lid entirely so you may retrieve your pencil. And if you ask him how he did that, he might tell you it was magic. And then confess that he's dropped pencils before.

What are the odds?

Have I told you that I love it here?

I don't think I've been blogging enough, so I have a list of firsts to catch you up on. I used an ATM for the first time last Tuesday. It was extremely gratifying to press a few buttons and receive cash. Before I had a checking account, every time I wanted cash, I'd have to load up in the car and go to the bank to withdraw money.

I also did my laundry for the first time a little over a week ago. Now, I've helped my mom with laundry before, but I was never solely in charge of the entire undertaking. So I've never really sorted clothes all on my own, and I've definitely never used a laundromat before. So, my first mistake was loading my clothes into a dryer before I washed them. My second mistake was not bringing quarters. And finally, this Saturday when I did my laundry, I forgot the key to my residence hall and was therefore locked outside with a basket of clean clothes.

Maybe I'll have all the kinks worked out the next time?

I also went to a Presbyterian church for the first time yesterday. It reminded me of my grandmother's church. The building was a tiny brick castle, and there wasn't an empty seat in sight. Ushers kept fetching folding chairs for those who couldn't find a seat in the pews. I'm glad I went, but I don't think it's the right place for me. I've only visited three churches so far, but I think I'm going to return to the second church.

Also, I found this amusing. Of the entire music department, only 10 performance majors are in the piano studio. Only three of those ten are freshmen. One of them has the same name as me, my real name, spelled the exact same way. And today she said she could go by the name her family calls her if that would keep things from getting too confusing. Care to guess what that name was?

Nina.

Point Blank

There are some things you can't afford to be unclear about. So here is my creed, as open and obvious as I know how to make it.

I believe in God, one sovereign God who created everything. I believe the Bible is the Word of God, truth given from Him to the hands of men to record. I believe that God is a perfect and a just God, but a loving God as well. I believe His desire is that each and every one of His children be with Him in heaven some day, but we're imperfect. We can't make it there on our own. We are fragile and we fail. But God knows this, of course. That's how He made us, so He sent His son Jesus Christ to pay the debt of all our mistakes once and for all.

Because Jesus was fully God and fully man at the same time, He lived a perfect life and became a spotless sacrificial lamb. But not only did He die for us. He was resurrected on the third day, conquering the grave. That is the God I serve. The almighty creator of the universe who holds my life in His powerful, loving hands.

But Jesus' gift of salvation must be received. You have to realize you need Him, believe in Him and all that He did, and ask Him for His forgiveness. Without that, you can't make it to God's arms when you die. Without that, there's only one place for your soul, and you don't want to go there.



I think I forgot. I forgot how real death is, how important truth is. I forgot that there are people who still need God.

I forgot to pray for you, to cry for you.

"Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin. But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement, through faith in his blood." Romans 3: 20 - 25a

Transitional Phrases

So, guess where I am right now? I'm at Auburn, in my new dorm room, blogging! I moved in this past Saturday, actually, and I kept meaning to blog but I never did. Oops. :)

Classes start on Wednesday and I don't know what to do with myself before then. Most of my housekeeping issues have been taken care of. I've figured out most of my money issues and computer issues. I've hunted down all my necessary textbooks, or decided to wait until the first day of class to get them, haha. I visited a church on Sunday and I think I'm going to the BCM tomorrow night.

So today I ate skittles and thought of Maria. I discussed Furuba with a girl who lives in my dorm, and thought of Pinta. The discussion led to the mention of an anime that reminded me of WonderBoy. The back of one boy's head resembled Mito's. Slightly. (Is that a creepy thing to say?) I met a girl with the same name as Chero's, and I met a boy with a Mac that reminded me of Mateo. The building named Funchess also reminded me of Mateo, haha.

My new dorm room feels like home already. I've adjusted pretty well, I think, which was kind of a surprise. One thing I would like the note is that we jacked my bed up as high as it will go, so I have to use my desk chair as a step stool to climb up. My little sister asked me in her email if I'd fallen out of the bed yet.

And in case you're wondering, no, I have not.

*Fanfare*

So tonight is the last night I will be sleeping in my own bedroom, with my wonderfully large queen-sized bed, and my deep spacious closet, and my bookshelf with two rows of books on every shelf. And it still hasn't sunk in yet.

I keep having to say goodbye, but I don't think it's really hit me yet that I'm leaving, that I won't be able to call WonderBoy and ask for rides, that Chero won't be five minutes around the corner, that Maria and Pinta and I can't spontaneously go shopping, that Mito will never sit behind me in another math class (I never have to take another!!!), that I won't be running in to Mateo in between classes. If I'm lucky, I'll run in to all of my friends between semesters.

Anyway...

I'm excited. I want a clean slate, to start fresh. I want to refocus my life, to have purpose and to know I'm right where I'm meant to be. I have high ideals and many goals for this new and grand adventure! I'll keep you posted on the results.

And, funny thing...

I am often kidded by my friends for wearing my sister's clothes. We borrow each other's clothes all the time, and I'm constantly getting compliments on blouses that don't belong to me. But by tomorrow, her wardrobe will no longer be available for ransacking. So I made an effort this summer to buy some of my own clothes, and have been very careful to wear only my own, especially this past week.

Well, I wasn't paying attention, and packed all my clothes, and therefore have nothing to sleep in. So, for tonight at least, I'm borrowing her clothes one last time. :)

Countdown

I feel...strange. As if I am only half living. As if I am a stranger to myself. As if the life I am about to step into in a week doesn't belong to me at all. As if I will cease to exist and another person will take my place.

Anyway, I leave for Auburn in a little less than a week, and reality is not setting in yet. In fact, I've been doing a grand job of avoiding reality, reading and watching movies and wasting time on the computer. So now reality feels almost like a dream, and that dream is getting darker and darker.

I'm letting it get to me. I know the unknown isn't necessarily unfriendly, but right now, I really don't want to face it. It's like I've entered a mourning period, but I'm not sure what I'm grieving over. What died?

Before long, I'll shed this sadness and remember all the reasons I have to celebrate, all that is exciting and thrilling about life. But for now, I think I'm going to cry just a little bit longer.

Limbo

So I'm currently blogging from my brand new laptop! YAY! I finally got it! It is a Toshiba Portege R705. Or something like that. It has 4 GB of something and 500 GB of something else. My space bar is squeaky. But most importantly, it's blue.

So I have registered for my classes for the fall. I changed my schedule a little bit because I was in need of an honors class. So now I'm taking something about our American government and the influence of all the cultures in our nation on our politics. Or something like that.

So I'm leaving two weeks from tomorrow, and that kinda freaks me out. I'm super excited, but I'm also seriously not ready. So much to do between now and then, and so little time! I feel like I should be doing something right now, packing or preparing or cramming in memories. Instead, I'm just wasting my time playing Solitaire.

I did finish my scrapbook, though: my summer project. My mommy helped me a LOT, but it is finished now! So, that's something I accomplished this summer, if nothing else.

Two weeks...two weeks from tomorrow.

A Rose By Any Other Name

I love my name. I love that it's mine, mostly. I do happen to think I have a pretty name, but I love it most when I hear it.

Have you ever noticed that every person says your name differently? People who don't know you well have a certain hesitation. There is distance. But those who know you, when they say your name, it's as if they are claiming you somehow. "Yup, I know her. That's Nina." And I'm normally not a fan of people claiming ownership, but this is the one instance when I like to hear that degree of familiarity.

I also love nicknames. Some of my friends actually call me by my adopted pen name, Nina. It's a little bit different because that is a nickname I gave to myself, but those who use this nickname still made it their own. And some of my friends never picked it up because they came up with other nicknames for me. Some of my friends don't have any nicknames for me, and neither do most of my family members. I guess it's not really the specific name that matters, whether it is the name on my birth certificate or some variation or a nickname that I earned somehow. Those are all my name, my identity.

And when someone I know calls my name, for a split second I feel very certain that I belong.

Nina Update

Okay, so, I know who my roommate is! We will be living on campus in the fall, and I have received one email from her. She seems very nice and I'm excited to get to know her! I think we'll get along very well, and one point of interest: Maria's roommate has the same first name as mine, though they spell their names differently.

I also just had orientation at Auburn, also known as Camp War Eagle. It was a bit of a reality check for me. I leave for school in a little less than a month. I will be taking a total of 17 credit hours. I'm incredibly excited but also really nervous, mostly about having enough time to practice piano and study, and about making new friends. I absolutely have to keep my grades up, in order to maintain my scholarship. This summer has just been so free of responsibility that I think it's going to be really hard to settle into a routine again.

In Sunday School today, we talked about war. The Bible definitely teaches that we should submit to authority. I think that means respecting and honoring our president, even if we don't necessarily agree with him. I think that means following our leaders into war sometimes. Some wars are necessary, but I couldn't tell you which ones. I know that the freedoms we have in this country didn't come freely, and I'm grateful for them, but I want nothing to do with war. It terrifies me.

There's a boy from my church who graduated early and enlisted. I ran into him at Starbucks the other day, in uniform, paperwork spread out on the table before him. He casually shifted the cigarette pack and lighter away when I approached. He was only in town for a week. It was so strange to me to see him like that. He is the same age as I am. I remember him in sixth grade, when I met him, and he still seems like such a little boy to me. I pray that God will protect that little boy.

I'm also incredibly grateful that even in this time of war, we have not yet instituted the draft. I can't imagine any of my friends getting plucked from their lives, full of so much promise and potential, to go fight. I don't think I could ever understand the sacrifice it requires. I don't want to have to understand.

Point being, I really appreciate our soldiers.

Dinner Conversation

My family and I have some of the strangest dinner conversations. My dad enjoys making cheesy puns or speaking in rhyme. My mom tries to 'make funnies', but her laughter at her own jokes is much more amusing than the punchlines.

My eight-year-old sister tries to make jokes but most of the time, we don't get them. (We laugh anyway.)

My dad also likes to dissect my grammar. I got in the habit a while ago of using the word 'personally', so of course my dad had to ask, when was I not speaking personally? And just tonight, I used the word 'honestly' as a preface to a sentence, which brought a similar question from my dad.

Honestly, my use of the word 'personally' is meant to assure you that what I am about to say is merely an opinion, and I am aware of the fact that you may legitimately disagree. Personally, when I use the word honestly, I'm about to make a confession of sorts, and I expect you to feel privileged to witness this moment of frankness.

So now you know.

If you would like a sample of my family's lame sense of humor, here is a joke that I participated in creating. It's not very original, but I don't think we've heard it before. I think we can claim to have come up with this on our own. Anyway, curtesy of myself, my youngest sister, and my mother:

What did the pirate say to the Cashew Delivery Man?

(Wait for it...)

"You drive me nuts!"

A Thousand Words

So, I've been thinking lately about the sheer power of words. I talked a little bit in my last post about how words need to be backed up by actions, but really that's just the positive words. If those words are going to be believed, they need to be repeated, emphasized, pressed into minds and hearts.

But that isn't true for negative comments, especially with children. All it takes is one insult, and they'll believe it. Maybe even for the rest of their lives. I still remember things kids said to me in elementary school. Not cruel, damaging words. Just small slights that lodged in my head, that still crop up once in a while.

I remember things that I've said, comments I didn't stop to think through, rebuttals that were too sharp.

The thing is, I'm not the only one. I may be slightly over-sensitive, I don't know for sure, but I know everybody has been stung by words, and everybody has made their own verbal blunders. Why are we so careless? Why don't we teach caution in schools? We're so bent on securing our civil rights, our freedom of speech. What about our responsibility for our words?

People pepper their conversations with curses until they're completely illogical. If you drop your pencil, it's perfectly acceptable to drop the f-bomb along with it. Really? You couldn't say "oops" or "my bad" or just laugh? Why not be creative, or resurrect some little-used saying? "Crud." "Fiddlesticks." "Aw, crumbs."

And what about words that are just nasty? For instance, the term pissed off. There are a million other ways to communicate that sentiment. You could be angry, upset, miffed, ticked off, going nuts, driven crazy, driven bananas, driven bonkers, driven up the wall (you can be driven lots of places), furious, seething, sick of it, dealing with a pain in the neck, disgruntled, seeing red, about to blow a gasket, worked up, frustrated, wrathful, indignant, steaming, fed up, had enough, had it up here. You could just be plain mad. There are so many terms, so many options.

Choose wisely.

Miscellaneous

So I haven't blogged in a while. I couldn't decide whether I should start an entirely new blog for my upcoming college experiences or whether I should continue with this same old blog. Then I couldn't decide at what point I should switch.

The transition is graudual, so...I'm not going to acknoweldge it. I'm going to keep on blogging here, I think.

This summer has been...interesting. I've been enjoying myself, but there's also a little bit of guilt because I feel like I haven't accomplished much of anything. I feel wasteful and lazy and self-indulgent. So yesterday, I helped my mother prepare dinner and clean up afterwards. I also met up with my employer-of-sorts and former choir director to discuss what hymns I'll be playing at his church when I sub for him later this summer. And then my youngest sister and I dressed up as princesses, with princess hair and princess make-up and princess dresses, and watched a princess movie while eating princess ice cream.

I don't always know how to relate to my little sister. She's ten years younger than me. There's so many things I want to tell her, but I don't think words are sufficient. If those words are going to mean anything to her, they need to be accompanied by action, backed up by tangible proof. I need to show her. So that's partly what last night was. Last night was supposed to say, "You're beautiful and incredibly important. I love you."

When I read and comment on the multitude of stories she is constantly on the computer typing out, that is meant to say, "You're talented and I'm proud of you."

When I am out of town and I make sure to wear the bracelet she gave me every day, wondering if she'll notice when I show her the pictures, that says, "I missed you!"

I hope it translates.

Now what?

So, I graduated a week ago. :) By the time it actually came down to it, it didn't feel like I needed some silly ceremony to graduate from high school. The pomp and circumstance felt unnecessary.

I enjoyed the endless celebrating, though. Multiple parties the day before, dinner with the family afterwards, spending the rest of the night with friends. It's been fun.

Actually, blogging about the whole affair seems so much more official than the commencement ceremony felt.

I also had my senior recital of sorts on Tuesday. It went fairly well, although I definitely played better the other four times I played the songs that morning. Having been involved with musical activities the majority of my life, I have developed a general guide to preparing for a performance. And so, I present to you Nina's Successful Performance Strategy:

Beforehand:

1. Practice practice practice! Know your stuff backwards and forwards. And don't practice all at the last minute. It needs to be over time.
2. Don't say the 'n' word: nervous. It makes things worse.
3. Don't goof off or giggle. Stay serious and focused. No fears or tears, either.

During the Performance

4. Think hard about what you're doing. Focus on the technical aspects of your performance.
5. Don't think. Don't watch to see who's watching you. Don't think about the fact that you're actually performing. In a way, go on autopilot and let all that preparation you've done guide you.
6. Never let 'em see you sweat. Don't fidget, don't make faces. Pretend you know exactly what you're doing, even if you don't.
7. Smile and bow.

When I am Standing on the Edge

So today wasn't the best of days. Monday was great. It was my last Monday of school ever, and that prospect was just sooo exciting. Tuesday wasn't as good. Wednesday was better (Maria was back, and we went to the park and threw a frisbee at Mateo and company who doesn't have a codename...he can be Bama Boy), but today was teary. Part of the overflow of emotions might be due to my sleepiness. I stayed up a little later than usual the night before. And then there was a bunch of other random stuff and so I was pretty much Debbie Downer all day.

It didn't help at all that as I was coming home, I stopped to fill my dad's borrowed van up with gas. As I was pulling out, there was this nice thump and accompanying crunch: I hit something. And now there's this gorgeous red paint and scratches all on the driver's side of the vehicle. My parents are seriously unhappy with me right now. I got lectured on watching the mirrors and being aware of my surroundings (and the size of my vehicle). My mom said "What if that had been a little kid?"

And now I am going to subject myself to the second part of the math placement test for Auburn, even though I don't intend to take a math class (keep your fingers crossed!) and I already failed the algebra portion (I got a 68%....oops).

After the math test, I might play with my little sister or watch a movie or something. One redeeming factor about today: Chero signed my yearbook, and if Mateo followed through like he told me he would, then he signed it too. I also had my piano lesson and my teacher complimented the musicality of one of my pieces. :) YAY! I have a recital coming up and I'm excited. So there's some good news to counterbalance the less-pleasant aspects of today.

We graduate a week from today.


*The title of this post is a line from a song, "Breathe into Me" by Red. Good song. :) I also like their song "Already Over", if you wanna check it out.

(psst...this is my 50th post)

So last night was our school choir banquet. I was voted Teacher's Pet. Yay. Santa Maria was voted Helping Hands. My sister won Miss Sophomore and wasn't there to accept the award.

Anyway, so I think the banquet invaded my dreams. At least, memories of All-State with Santa Maria did. But instead of choir, we were in an All-State band (which doesn't make any sense because I can't play any band-like instruments).

I was late to rehearsal and didn't know the songs or what instrument I was expected to play. At first, no one that I knew was there. I was handed this large, white funnel with a motor at the base and ushered to the back row where a handful of other kids were wielding like devices. The band director began the song and I watched the other kids in my row out of the corner of my eye to see what I was supposed to be doing.

We didn't get very far in the song before the director stopped us. I quickly turned to the other kids for advice. "You have to flip the switch to turn it on," they said.

"Which switch? It's not labeled. Which way is on?"

"And you have to sway back and forth. That's how you get the vibrato."

I felt like a total idiot, pretending to play an instrument I didn't know the name of.

At some point, I became aware that Maria was there, and she knew what she was doing. I resolved to ask her for help later. Then Mito showed up and informed me that I wasn't wearing the proper garb. I had to buy one of the uniforms or I wouldn't be allowed to perform with the orchestra. So I looked around and everybody was wearing these muddy orange tunics. I asked where I could get one, and they told me to follow Mateo, who apparently had just left to buy his. But he wouldn't wait for me when I shouted to him, and then I lost him in the crowd. Then I couldn't find Maria or Mito to ask for directions.

Anyway, that was my dream! It wasn't quite a nightmare, but it was definitely an anxiety dream. I hate the idea of an unprepared performance, but I have lived this fear many times.

Choir concerts. Taking AP Tests. My Auburn music audition.

I hate feeling like a fraud.

So I'm going to go study for biology now, so hopefully I won't have yet another failed performance.

Ooh, by the way, I got my yearbook! I'm on the bottom corner of the back cover! I look all stoney-faced and serious, haha.

Ambitions

An Eclectic List of the things I want to accomplish in life:

1. Learn to play the guitar.
2. Compose a Sonata.
3. Perform a piano concerto (specifically Ravel's Piano Concerto in G Major).
4. Actually finish a story. Doesn't have to be long or published, just has to be finished.
5. Adopt.
6. Learn all of Schumann's "Scenes from Childhood".
7. Go on a mission trip to El Salvador.
8. Pay for a complete stranger's college.
9. Own a grand piano. Must be black and shiny.
10. Own a log cabin by a lake.
11. Watch snow fall from the warmth and comfort of a cafe in Canada.
12. Read a Spanish novel and comprehend most of it.
13. Learn to play the violin.
14. Temporarily dye my hair black, with dark dark purple streaks, and feathers woven in. :) But only temporarily!
15. Revisit this list one day and be able to check some items off.

For the Record

We got our caps and gowns. We already had Senior Recognition this past week. It was an incredibly long ceremony.

Tomorrow is my last real day of school before our exams start in earnest. This week is English and Math. I'm not too worried about either one. I'm doomed to fail math anyway, so...

I have contacted two girls who will attend Auburn with me and both plan on studying music as well. They are very nice and we're currently sending messages back and forth on Facebook with random facts about ourselves. I'm sincerely hoping they'll become good friends. It's going to be incredibly hard going from being surrounded by a few, very close-knit friends to being engulfed in a swarm of strangers. It usually takes me a while to really consider someone a friend, anyway, so I'm trying to get a head start. We'll see if anything comes of it.

And, Winston, my beloved car, died. I forgot to blog about it. I miss him, yes, but it was his time. He lived a full and happy life of 15 years and is now out of his misery. You see, he'd been battling an oil leak for a long time now. Poor fellow. He died on the 21st of April, I believe.

I think I need to stop naming and personifying inanimate objects. My mother was relaying the tragedy over the phone to the mother of a friend of mine, who exclaimed in horror, "What? Who died?"

"Miss Nina"

I haven't honestly had too much experience babysitting, but I have tested Murphy's Law time and again: if anything can go wrong, it will. So, here are some of my babysitting horror stories.

I was watching four little boys. Two of them, I'd babysat before and they were very well-behaved children. The other two...not so much. The mother had barely left when all four of them charged into the master bedroom and began jumping up and down on the bed. I rushed in and shooed them off. I was replacing pillows when I heard the crash. They'd broken a vase. Her grandmother had given it to her.

On another day, the same four boys decided to play in the backyard. I'd been with them up until I offered to fetch Popsicles for everyone. I didn't make it to the fridge before they burst in the door after me, the youngest boy screaming. All four of them were yelling hysterically and I had no idea what had happened until I looked out the window and saw the swing set on it's side. His brother had been pushing him in the swing and had somehow managed to tip it, dumping the youngest into a thorny rosebush. The poor little boy had thorns all in his arm. Eventually, we patched him up and I placated them with the previously promised Popsicles. I still had to explain to the parents why his Green Goblin suit was mangled and torn.

Once, my sister and I offered to babysit four children for free, to give their parents a night off. They were adorable and we had so much fun watching them. However, as we were reading a bedtime story, Will tugged on my sleeve and pointed to the fireplace, whispering, "Can I go get a baggie to put that in?" "That" was a hairy juicy spider clinging to the bricks at about eye level. My sister and I armed ourself with a tennis shoe and a broom, debating who should take the first swing. Just as I summoned my courage, let out a war cry, and whacked at the beast, their parents walked in. What they saw were their four children rooting us on from the couch as the babysitters they had hired attacked their fireplace. It turns out, they do not kill bugs found in their house. They calmly and humanely catch them to be returned to their natural habitat outside.

My co-pastor hired me once. His wife was singing in a concert that night, and he'd been called on last minute to preach and so was preparing his sermon. Their children were fun and well behaved. The older sister helped me out a lot. After bath time, though, the three-year-old little boy ventured on down the hall while I drained the tub and put the bath toys away. I had forgotten to dry his feet; the hall was tile. A wail filled the house. His sister and I were by his side in seconds. He'd slipped and hit his chin on the corner of the baseboard. I told his sister to go call their dad. While I mopped his chin, I kept telling the whimpering little boy "You're doing so great. Look at you! You're so brave." I didn't know what else to say. He had to get 6 stitches. His mom was alerted that her son was in the emergency room during intermission; her solo was next. The following Sunday, the whole ordeal found it's way into the sermon. Our co-pastor started tearing up. Kindly, the family omitted my name from any public accounts of the accident.

Finally, while I was babysitting for another family, I was bored. The two little girls were asleep already and I hadn't brought anything to do. Since I couldn't figure out how to shut the tv off anyway, I decided to channel surf. I happened across a movie we'd watched in my English class, Shakespeare's "Love's Labour's Lost". And what is on the tv when their mother gets home? Steamy music while the camera pans up a fishnet-clad leg, red skirt swirling. "Uh...hi... How do you turn this off?"

It really was Shakespeare, I promise!

Ah, rainy days...

Well, I decided to be lazy today. I haven't done any homework. I slept in. I sort've worked on some musical stuff and piddled around on the piano but I didn't get much done.

I did, however, read this morning.

That is right, I read a book! For fun! It was wonderful! My mom had the back door open even though it was raining, and so I had the wonderful soundtrack of a storm to accompany the moment. I was able to completely eliminate reality for a few hours. Absolutely blissful feeling.

I want to write now, but I'm uninspired, so I comprised and blogged instead. This is writing, right? It doesn't require the same degree of creativity, but it counts.

Ooh, and I saw my great-grandmother this past weekend. She is settled in the nursing home. I'm not sure she knows where she is. I'm not sure she's aware of much of anything. She seems to spend most of her time babbling happily. My grandma brought her chocolate. I played some hymns for her, but I don't think she really noticed. She claps her hands when she's happy and chants "sweet sweet sweet!"

Sweet sweet sweet.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Well, it is spring break. I am swamped with homework. Blegh.

Right now it looks like I will not be able to sing in what would have been my last concert with my church choir. Some relatives from afar are going to be in Florida, so I think we're going to congregate with the rest of the family in Orlando to see them. This troubles me slightly, because our exams pick up the next week, but the first few exams are not as intimidating as later exams.

I would rather be selfish and demand we stay home so I can study. And sing.

I also want to be selfish and say, forget homework. Forget responsibilities and promises. Why should I keep my end of the bargain if the vast majority of the rest of the world hasn't kept theirs? My teacher was supposed to help me with this paper.

I'm supposed to be studying for my exams right now, not being consumed with other work. Grr.

I can't wait for the summer.

Uncertainty

August 18, 2010. My projected first day of classes at Auburn University.

Yup. I'm going to Auburn. At least, that's the plan.

I checked up on their recognition of credits from exam scores. I will never take another math class ever again, even if I fail this year's exam. You have no idea what a relief this is. I want to get as many credits as possible from our upcoming exams. We'll see how that goes.

I will be about two hours away from Santa Maria. Neither of us plan on having cars at first, so I'm not sure if we would actually be able to see each other, but the short distance is reassuring.

Everybody else will be forever and a day away from me, but that's where modern technology comes in handy.

That said, I refuse to think about college again for the next two months. I'm still a high school student right now. I think it's incredibly unfair of colleges to demand so much of us during our senior year. Very inconsiderate of them.

And now I'm off to do trivial homework. Good night. :)

Some Days...

You just have to smile. :)

WonderBoy made me a scarf. It is green and blue and yellow. It has fringe on the ends. I like it very very much.

Prom is coming up. I am determined to have fun, no matter what, and I hope all of my wonderful friends who are coming with me make the same determination. I think if we're all dead set on enjoying ourselves, we won't let little things bother us. There are already a few occasions this year that had potential to be very memorable, but they were slightly spoiled by outside circumstances. Well, not Prom night. Not happening. Prom night will be absolutely fantastic, and this year, all my friends will be there. I'm excited.

My great-grandmother has improved. They took her off some medication that was meant to relax and soothe her (she ended up somewhat mopey and depressed instead). My mother said she was absolutely thrilled when she came to visit. Nanny made some comment about my grandfather being a good man. And when my mom promised that we'd all come to visit her soon, my great-grandmother threw up her hands and exclaimed "Family joy!"

We're going to see her soon.

Just To Say

I don't have much time tonight, because I'm swamped in homework. But while reading a play for school, I discovered a new favorite quote:

"Men can be analyzed, women...merely adored."



An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde

Life More Abundantly

Despite the situation with my great-grandmother (who has not adjusted well to the nursing home and seems to be in a perpetually bad mood) and some other set-backs this past month, I feel like I've been showering in blessings.

I found an email today.

Dear Nina,

I would like to enthusiastically congratulate you on your acceptance
into the Auburn University Piano Studio. Your audition last Saturday
was one of my favorites, for several reasons.

First of all, I think you underestimate your skills as a pianist and
musician! Your technical apparatus is very natural, and your playing
is so musical. Your teacher has clearly done some excellent work with
you - please congratulate her for me.

Also, I was extremely impressed by your maturity and honesty in the
brief time that we had to talk during your audition. You brought up
some very valid points and we appreciated the fact that you had
obviously thought about this "next step" quite carefully. I am truly
confident that you would be a successful double-major candidate, and I
think you would fit in very well as a student within the music
department.

It was wonderful to meet and hear you. All the best,

Assistant Professor of Piano


Let me tell you guys a little story. It might sound strange, but here's the truth of the matter. Last fall, I prayed for humility, and God answered. I was in the car when I realized why I was suddenly struggling so much with this one song on the piano. My tears of frustration turned to laughter. So then I changed my prayer. I asked God to help me surrender this, my music, my piano, fully to Him. And to help me learn this song. And He came through. My piano teacher had suggested putting words to the melody so I could sing along in my head as I played. I chose this verse:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me and I will answer you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:11-13

Anyway, that worked and I learned it. And all this time I've been praying for guidance about college (isn't this verse so fitting?) . I had kind of planned to go to a Florida school, but neither of my options really impressed me. Well, God provided majorly. He pointed out a school I hadn't even considered and provided the financial means to get there. It just fell into my lap, neatly wrapped and labeled "To Nina, with love. From your Heavenly Father."

Meanwhile, I was excited about the opportunity, but despairing because this college does not accept music minors. And the idea of not continuing to study music seemed incredibly tragic to me. The piano professor emailed me, telling me if I wanted to audition anyway, I should show up March 6 at 1:15. I almost didn't go, but then I realized the only thing holding me back was fear. Fear of failure, of looking absolutely ridiculous. I wasn't prepared. I didn't know my minor scales, and my pieces weren't ready. The auditions committee even gave me a handicap and let me play songs that weren't on their list of accepted works. But I took a deep breath and said a long prayer and decided to go.

I'm sure that there's a reason I love music so much. There's a reason I studied piano for eight years. I'll find a place to use it. So I told God I'd trust him to show me where that place is, and that I'd audition, and watch for his lead.

Well, I don't know how good of a truster I am because I've spent plenty of time agonizing over stuff, biting my nails, yanking my hair out. (Not literally. Way too painful).

And this past week, as I was practicing until my fingers blistered, I kept stumbling through my second song. My choir director had told me it was meant to be over the top and frilly, written during the time of absolute monarchy, meant to display the power of the king. So I kept telling myself, "I am the state! I am in control of this piano!" Only that didn't work out so well, cos I totally wasn't in control. And then I had another epiphany. I would play this song to the glory of God, not myself. After all, what have I ever done to deserve any of this? And I survived the audition! The performance was flawed and my sight-reading was a tangled mess, but apparently the interview aspect went well, and it was enough to get me in!

Anyway, that's the long and short of it. (More long than short). I feel very loved.

An Update

My great-grandma did not sleep at all last night. Instead, she roamed the halls of the nursing home. They couldn't get her to be still.

She did not put up a fight like we expected her too. She was not completely informed (no one ever outright told her she wasn't going home. We're not sure whether she's figured it out or not). We'll have to see how she does, though. I'm afraid to get my hopes too high.

I have lost my iPod...I don't know where SoloMan went!!! I seem to be losing and misplacing and forgetting a lot of things these days.

We had cheesecake today. Cheesecake and fettucini. Num num. I exercised self-control and did not completely gorge myself. I only half-gorged myself.

I am swimming in homework.

It turns out both my parents will be able to come with me to the audition on Saturday. I'm still a little nervous. I don't feel prepared, but at this point, there's not much I can do about that. So, I will go and show them what I know. Maybe it will be enough. Maybe it won't. But that's not the point, is it? The point is that I did it. I took a chance. If I don't get into the music program, at least I'll know. I'll know that I tried.

And I'll know that I have an amazing support group who is way more faith in me than I deserve and loves me despite my shortcomings.

When I mentioned to my dad my fears of double-majoring (which is what I'm seriously considering right now, an English-Piano double major), he asked, "Well, can you major in music and minor in english?"

Usually, he's much more inclined to be the practical realist. He's told me on multiple occasions, 'You're no concert pianist.' I know. He's always been one to focus on what needs improvement. But recently, he has expressed an admiration for my determination (or stubbornness).

So, on his advice, on the insistence of my choir director, and with a nudge from Maria, I'm auditioning. As much as the idea of the audition terrifies me, the idea of a life without piano would be tragic. So I'll find somewhere to play, even if I don't end up double-majoring.

(Psst...you guys should listen to Unbreakable by Fireflight. Me gusta.)

Spring Cleaning

I was hoping to find something happy to post about...unfortunately, I didn't. Maybe next time.

My Nanny is moving to a nursing home tomorrow. No one has told her. But she doesn't have the mental capacity to take care of herself. She tried to eat hand lotion...three times. Directly after my mother reminded her it was lotion. She can't be left alone.

I have a music audition this Saturday. I am not ready. I already knew that, but I just played my pieces for my Great Aunt Rita, who happens to be visiting. I was lucky to finish the second piece. It was absolutely awful. You would think after 10 months with the same two pages I'd have more of a handle on it than I do. I don't know my minor scales. My goal is to not burst into tears during the audition. It's only 15 minutes. I can make it, right? And it'll be good experience. Totally worth the terror and humiliation. Right?

I cleaned my room this weekend (my mom made me). We had company coming (great aunt and uncle). People have been in and out of my house the past two weeks, and I feel like I've gotten nothing done. I haven't practiced piano nearly as much as I meant to. I didn't touch it at all yesterday. I was sick last weekend. I'm behind in my art history class (horribly behind...). And on top of all my spring cleaning, I've been doing a little last minute emotional and mental cleaning. And here is the result of that:

I have to amend my statements from an earlier post. (see Extended Metaphor (kinda))

So what? So what if you want to use me or manipulate me or play with me? So what if you bait me and toy with me and lie to me? What else am I here for? I don't understand why you would treat me that way, but I don't always treat my friends well either. So whatever. Have at it. I'm not going to change. I'm not going to stand in your way.

Because I cannot function if I can't believe that the people I love and care about have good intentions. I cannot comprehend that. And I can't find a middle ground. If there are people who aren't sincere and kind, then nobody is sincere and kind. I so desperately need to believe that people are good. I tried to see the middle ground, and I lost my balance. I broke down completely, an emotional vertigo. The world was full of strangers. I didn't even recognize myself.

So do what you want. I do not care. I'll probably forgive you again, and again, and again. It will be my gift, my sacrifice. This is what I offer the world: my persistently high opinion, just to spite reality. You cannot break me. I don't play the way you do, with twisted words and hidden agendas. You think you're getting away with it. You think you've won this game, and you might have, but it's not the one that matters. You think I'm a fool, and I wouldn't disagree with you. But here's a secret for you to mull over while you fill the gas tank of your get-away car:

I win.

Golly Moses

Well, a lot has happened since my last post.

My great-grandmother is in a rehabilitation center. I think by now I've mentioned it to most of you loyal readers (all five of you!) But Nanny had a stroke last week. My grandad found her unable to talk, unable to write, to communicate at all.

We've been visiting her a lot. She's improved. She can murmur "I love you. God bless..." and she can repeat almost anything you say. My mommy made a scrapbook for her with pictures of all our family. She can read the names, but when she comes to words like 'on' or 'at' or 'the' she gets stuck. She keeps randomly counting. "One, two, three, four, five..." My grandma bought her a teddy bear and a donut on Valentine's Day.

I know strokes are serious, and it's sad to see her so helpless, but honestly, I think I might be glad this happened. It sounds horrible. But if nothing had changed, she would have lived the rest of her life alone and bitter in her cold and empty house. Now, she is surrounded by people who love her.

We've always loved her. Of course we have. But she never received it well. My mother quit buying her real presents because she would always find something wrong with it and return it. It was a chore to visit her, but it was our duty. We would stay for a half hour, no more, and listen to her pessimism.

Her doctor said the stroke took the meanness out of her.

She kept stroking the purple pajamas my grandma bought for her and muttering 'whoowee!" She keeps giving everyone hugs, over and over and over, and telling us she loves us. She smiled when my grandma caught her sneaking dessert before she'd eaten her beans. I've never seen her smile like that before. She's like a child in so many ways. She poured over the scrapbook my mama gave her, read it twice. She was waiting for me by the front door when I came yesterday. Some days I hardly recognize her, she's so pleasant.

I don't know how much she will recover. I don't know if she'll be able to live on her own. I don't know if she will turn bitter again. I hope that part is never recovered. But if it is, at least she was able to show my grandma for once that she appreciates all she does. At least my mom will have given her one gift she truly loved. At least we will have legitimately enjoyed her company for a little while. At least we will have these memories of her.

It's not ideal. But I'm thankful God let us meet this side of her.

A Rough Translation

"Hi, it's nice to meet you."
So you're the one she's been talking about.

"I'm Big Sister."
You answer to me.

"Yeah, so I just wanted to come say hey."
I've got my eye on you, boy.

"Anyway, you guys have fun!"
Treat her right.

"Drive safely!"
Behave.

--------

"He seems like a nice guy."
If he hurts her, he's dead.

Linger Longer

So, Mateo requested that I hurry up and post something happy cos every time he checked my blog, he'd run into the last post, and shudder. (I'm not that scary in person, I promise.)

I think I'm going to get on my soapbox again today. I don't have any recent fun stories to tell, so I'm going to harp back on one of my favorite topics of discussion: dreams. I have some of the craziest, detailed dreams. It's not necessarily a happy topic, but it's fun! So I'm going to recap a few of my favorites. :)

I once had a dream that Bill Nye the Science Guy was filming a show in my kitchen. He asked for a volunteer from the live audience crowded around my living room (which had conveniently sunk so the kitchen was more of a stage). I was so enthusiastic that I immediately caught his eye and he picked me as his volunteer. I was told to stand on a stool and gaze down the sink. Suddenly, and to my immense dismay, he flicked the disposal on and shoved my head toward it. I scrambled off the stool, ducked out from under his hold, and stomped on his foot. Being 8 or so, I was just big enough to knock him off balance. He fell down the sink and swirled away in the water, screaming "NOOO!!!" I dove off the stage into the safety of my mother's arms. (It was all very dramatic).

When I was younger, I used to have recurring dreams that one of my teeth would suddenly be loose. I would wiggle it around and play with it and all my teeth would fall out and start pouring into my hands. Not a pleasant sensation. Until a couple years ago, I believed everyone always had this dream. Apparently, I was wrong. It's not nearly as common as I thought. I also used to have recurring dreams that I would be stuck in a moving car without an adult and have to steer it all on my own. And multiple times I dreamed that a giant tidal wave would sweep over our backyard while my sister and I were playing in it.

I had a dream once that my youth group and I met this famous runner named Marshall (completely fictional guy, by the way). He was one of the fastest track runners in history, but he couldn't run straight. So we all ran with him in the middle of the desert, as awkward and uncoordinated as we could be.

Any time I ever dreamed about flying, I would be stuck inside, typically in my living room, flapping my arms as hard as I could. I had to keep flapping them or I would fall, but I couldn't go any higher because the ceiling was in the way.

I attempted to keep a dream log once. Rather than type out all of them, I made some notes and assumed they'd trigger memories and I could journal about them later. Well, they didn't trigger memories. But here are some of the notes for your enjoyment:

Evil Oops, German movies, Ms. Holman’s room, Kevin and cookies. House on fire, evil witch, dead goldfish. Mom cheats with Kenny Chesney. Blind sand surfers. Italian family, plot to kill grandkids, sister injured, my deformed toe, Gregory cutting up shower curtains. Musical hippies, Lola. Hell-swamp, four kids. Daddy Czar.

If you can make sense of any of that...then you're one step ahead of me.

Extended Metaphor (kinda)

Disclaimer: the following is a rant. It may be somewhat forceful and heated. Please take into account that once I have ranted, all extreme emotions expressed will have been expended and no longer apply.


I am not a toy. Do not play with me.

I am not a puppet. You cannot manipulate me, or put words in my mouth.

I am not a renewable resource, so don't expect to use me twice. You won't get that chance.

I am not mass-produced, born of an assembly line. I am not an interchangeable part, meant to be replaced over time. I am not disposable. I can't be bought or sold. Don't try to stamp your name on me, as if I am yours. Don't try to label me, as if I'm that simple. Don't try to control me, as if I am a pawn in your game. And don't you dare put a price on me.

I am a person, not a product.



That said, you readers may disregard this post. It most likely wasn't written for you. But heed my warning...

Is it just me...?

There are certain things that just bother me a little, unnerve me. I do not like gore, or crudeness. It's just not funny to me.

We recently killed the Romanov's in my history class. Right before that, we killed Rasputin. And there was a day in history class last year that I don't think I will ever forget: we killed William Jennings Bryan. It's not like I was particularly attached to any of these people. I knew very little about them until they showed up in our lectures.

Rasputin's death was just brutal. Cyanide, guns, and an icy river. We saw a picture of his body, after he had thawed out. It cycled the classroom as if it were a comic strip, trivial and entertaining.

The Romanov family was next. Our teacher had done her research. She knew that Alexandra had time to cross herself before the shooting began, and Nicholas died trying to protect his son. Moaning, piled bodies, acid and fire to eat away their bullet-riddled skin. Prior to their death, while they were being held captives, their hemophiliac son Alexi attempted to commit suicide. "What, did he trip himself?"

And poor William Jennings Bryan. He campaigned again and again for presidency, always losing, always on the same platform: free silver. We learned about the "Monkey Trial", his self-proclaimed expertise on the Bible, and how he was completely humiliated in court. And then he died a week after the trial. Our class cheered.

I know we're far removed from all these happenings, safe in our little classroom. But I don't understand. That was somebody's life. And our class cheered because he wouldn't show up on another test? Our class laughed because a fourteen-year-old boy tried to commit suicide?

And yes, it was absolutely ridiculous how long it took to actually kill Rasputin. Yes, we were tired of hearing about free silver. And yes, it all seems fantastic, like a story rather than someone's reality. But it was. It was someone's reality. And we find it so entertaining, so amusing. It just seems so sick to me. Our modern day Colosseum: history class.

And there are so many atrocities being committed in our world right now. People missing, kidnapped, brutally murdered. People tortured, abused, raped. I don't understand why there is such an industry for horror movies when there is so much real horror. It scares me that we can remove ourselves so far from it that it's funny. It scares me that we're that calloused.

Tutti

There is something magical about singing with a choir.

Last week, Santa Maria and I traveled to Tampa for All-State choir. It was amazing. We sang in different choirs, so we were each able to see the other's concert.

I love the symbolism of it. Each individual is significant and valuable. They are responsible for knowing their own part. They must be able to stand on their own two feet. And yet...singing in a choir is so different from solo singing. There should never be any ego in a choir. You must listen and blend. Each voice part supports the others. Sopranos, Altos, Tenors, and Basses. You need all four parts or there is something hollow about the song, something empty and barren.

A week ago, I stood on the stage at Tampa Performing Arts Center and stared at a sound-proof wall that hid us. As it rose, the cheers of the crowd seeped under it to reach the ears of the other 314 vocalists who made up this choir. We saw the empty orchestra first, then the first rows of the audience that were filled with FVA members. A forest of faces on the floor. A balcony that hovered above them. Then another. And another. It was dizzying. The lights that focused on the stage created a haze then, and it seemed as if the ceiling disappeared into the clouds. Brick and red and faces and light. And music.

Life is like singing in a choir. Each person is vital. You have your notes, your entrances and exits. You have phrases that rise and fall. You play your role. You influence others, and they influence you. You have no control over anyone but yourself, and so you must let go of them. Watch the director. Watch the music. Breathe.

But you are only a part of something much greater, something that is absolutely beautiful.

While we were there, I asked for permission to doodle on the piano we were rehearsing with. It was a Steinway piano. If I ever have enough money to own a grand piano, it must be well-polished and as dark as night. My Black Beauty.

The Plans of Mice and Men

And high school girls.

I received an email today from the music department of one of the other colleges I applied to, which also happens to be in my Top Two.


Dear Nina,

As the piano professor at the department of music ...blah blah blah...Unfortunately, due to the growth of the piano program and the music department in general, we are not accepting any piano minors at this time.

...

All the best and happy new year!

Assistant Professor of Piano


I think it's a sign. I am not meant to minor in piano. Maybe I'm just not meant to go away for college. It'd sure be a whole lot easier to stay here. I could go back to working at the grocery store, make a career out of that. I could get my associates degree at the community college here, maybe find a slot in management. The hours are brutal, but the pay is good, I hear.

I'm disappointed. I still want to pursue piano, to learn and progress and improve. I am not finished! So I still don't know what I'm going to do, but I guess nothing much has changed then, has it?

Divenire

So today I woke up at 5:45 and dragged myself out from under the four layers of blankets I was huddled beneath. I washed my face and fought with my hair to get it under control. I made some coffee and ate a little breakfast. I slapped some makeup on my face and gathered all my books and papers and walked out the door to go to the dreaded School.

The first five minutes or so were fun, greeting everyone I hadn't seen in two weeks or so. The day wasn't as bad as it could have been, not as monotonous or boring, stressful or draining as many others have been. So all in all, I count it as a successful day. I found the exhaustion set in once I sat down to do my homework. I battled through a little bit of it and then gave up. I wrote after that.

So this is the week where Maria and I will journey to Tampa for our grand All-State Choir adventure! I am very excited about the trip. We will miss three days of school, to sing. What better trade-off can you get? A long drive with one of your best friends, and music music music. I can't wait until the concerts, though. We are singing in separate choirs and so, if all goes well, I should be able to see her concert and she mine.

Speaking of music, I have a confession to make. I am absolutely mortified and appalled at my own lack of preparation, my failure to execute, my oversight. I think I have settled on a major (English) but for a while now, I've also been saying I would like to minor in music performance on the piano. Well, I missed the music department's deadline to apply and schedule an audition at one of my top colleges. It was December 31. And I feel like such a fool because I didn't even check when the date was until I got back from my New Years trip. As Maria and my mother pointed out, it isn't the end of the world because I don't necessarily have to minor my first year. I can always apply second semester or jump in the next year. I don't have to minor in anything at all. I don't even know which college I want to go to! (By the way, the other two choices have upcoming deadlines this month and next month. This one college is just much more demanding). I still feel awful.

I'm really nervous about auditions, actually. I will be asked to play all major and minor scales, two octaves, hands together. I can easily do two octaves hands together on most of the major scales, but I really need to polish quite a few of them, and my minor scales are atrocious. I don't like minor scales. It thrills me to play in minor keys, but I do not like the scales. I also have to sight-read, which is not something I have ever practiced on the piano. Anyway, it's yet another point of worry that is currently camping out in the back of my mind, crowding in with the need for scholarships, with the hazy future, with the guilt of things left undone. But I guess, again, it isn't that big of a deal. I don't have to minor my first year. I can reapply if I don't get in the first time. Right?

Dawn

I welcomed the New Year at my grandparents' house with my mother's two brothers, with my grandparents and my great-grandmother, with one uncle's family and the other uncle's dog. It was a lot of fun, but it was incredibly crowded, which seems to stress me out a touch.

We discovered that my dog has an affinity for champagne. She stole the cork when my uncle opened the bottle. I found her gnawing on it in one of the bedroom's and she was viciously protective of her little treasure. Then my grandfather got a little over-enthusiastic in a card game and happened to knock his champagne completely over. It was a total mess, but the puddle on the floor was hastily lapped up by my puppy, much to our amusement.

I really hate champagne. It tastes awful. It smells awful. It's so vigorously bubbly that it's painful to drink. I've only ever sampled it a couple times. Once at a wedding. And then a couple new year's eves with my parents. I keep trying it, thinking it's an acquired taste, and I keep regretting that I tried it. Blegh.

So my uncles have a rather interesting taste in movies and they were about to sit down and watch one just as all the grandchildren were being herded into beds. There was a big fuss because my cousins and my sister were interested in watching this movie, which happened to be rated R and was therefore forbidden. They were all in the living room arguing but I had already settled in my sleeping bag in the room where we were staying. For about ten minutes, I stared at the ceiling and listened to the debate.

The language in the movie was horrible, but the language in schools is surely just as bad.
There were some inappropriate topics, but the kids had all been exposed to jokes of that nature at school.
It was really late (past midnight) but we were on break and could sleep in the next day.
But the language was just really bad. The moms wouldn't want them to watch the movie.

It was at this point I decided to add my two cents by pointing out we could hear everything anyway in our doorless room right by the living room. To further emphasize my statement, I yelled it from my warm sleeping bag rather than get up.

Of course, the adults won the argument, as adults tend to do. The children were issued ear plugs for the night.

School starts back up tomorrow. I am not looking forward to it. But we're halfway there now. It's 2010, our graduating year. It still hasn't sunk in yet.