and the computer is turning off to pack into the car in: 5...4...3...2...  ¶ 16:16

  no joke. i just realized, for the first time, that my birthday is in less than a month. ive been so busy with everything, that the private life ceased to exist. and now, as i wade through my clothes (how the hell i ended up with so much shit in my closet, i do not know... i must say though, that all of my bball equipment is taking up at least half of this space, so im not necessarily a clotheshorse), my home life is returning to me, suddenly i have parents again, i have a brother. i have a pet dog, a bed that is not bunked with my desk, a bathroom where sandals are not required. i have homecooked meals. i have privacy.
oh, my.  ¶ 19:03

  guys, im done. no more schoolwork! woo!

...its kinda weird when you actually think about it.  ¶ 05:01

  for the record: 9 EMAILS. beginning at 11 pm, extending until 3:51 am.

we'll see whats in the mailbox tomorrow morning.  ¶ 06:53

  i would just like to say that it is 3:32 am, and the coach just replied to my email... again. (!!!!)  ¶ 06:34

  ah!
ok. im in the library. bored. out of nowhere, i decide to email the claremont mckenna basketball coach to say hi... we were friends, she still tries to talk to me... to be more specific, she still tries to recruit me... cmc was my first choice school, my first choice team for bball, and i was going there until i *didnt* get any financial aid.
this year, when she saw my parents at one of my games, she started talking to my dad about how she would always be glad to have me on her team... how i would get more minutes playing for her, how she would treat me the best she could. how i would be the star of her program.
i realize, now, that she was saying this because she knew my coach was an ass, and knew that he wasnt going to offer any of these things.
this year, playing ball at occidental, killed my love for the sport. i was afraid of basketball, it made me paranoid. i would wake up in the middle of the night hyperventilating, in the middle of an anxiety attack, because of this paranoia. it was the worst months of my life as far as feeling threatened by circumstance.
i know that music is my first passion. but, i must say, basketball was my first love. my dad introduced me to it with a hoop in the backyard and a ball my 5 year old hand could palm. there wasnt a year of my life after that where i wasnt playing ball. it was my connection with my father, with some friends, and with the entire monterey peninsula. if you read any of the county papers, you knew who i was. and i liked that.
maybe i was more enamored by the glam of being an athlete, than having a true passion for the hardwood. to an extent, i know that is true.
my passions are vested somewhere else. in music.
BUT, heres the kicker:
i emailed jodie. i told her my year was crappy. i told her i wasnt playing next year if i was still at oxy.
AND, her assistant coach had emailed me back by 12:10 am tonight.
they want me. they want me to play. theyll give me a chance to apply. they "would love to have me, and have wanted [me] from the beginning."
i know its a twist. and probably a turn i shouldnt take. but here is how i feel:
say i end up at oxy because i dont get in anywhere else for transfer. im here next year, not playing ball, nor playing music other than some private piano and vocal lessons. not my idea of fulfillment.
if i go to cmc, i can play ball. i dont know about music... i will at least take private lessons.
the fact is, i would be doing something. i know i NEED to do something.
and, i do miss basketball. i will admit it. how could i not? its been just as much of a part of my life as anything else ive done.
so i emailed back the coach... and she replied again, at 2:09 (sheezus!! theyre anxious to talk to me, lol) about application processes and ncaa release forms. after sitting at my computer for about 10 minutes, i replied, "ill give it a shot."
i can always say no, right?  ¶ 06:03

  somebody please tell me why i would decide, mid-final, that shakespeare's sonnets are not written in iambic pentameter, but rather in a form of tetrameter, and then proceed to mark up the provided sonnet according to my own conveluded logic, and NOT with the correct notation?

and if there is no answer to that question, i pose instead: why cant i just go on through life, ignorant of my mistake, rather than realize and then agonize over my stupidity for serveral hours after test-taking has come to a close?

i HATE lightbulbs sometimes. blaugh.

  ¶ 19:36

  to be a diva...

my roommate was out of town this weekend, so i had the room all to myself to go through scales and arpeggios, practice with my abersold, and sing along with the fabulous jane monheit... and because of this sudden freedom from having to be a considerate roomie, i decided it would be fun to have a mini-recording session.
i closed the door, set up the mic, got the balance right, and belted out autumn leaves.
later that evening, i was playing back the clip (i had an extended one where i scatted through the whole piece, but i decided to just cut it off after the first head for time and size's sake), and people were asking me who i was listening to. i told them it was me.
pretty soon, there were 14 girls from my floor in my room listening to it over and over, shrieking (i know thats not a flattering word, but hey, this is my first year really being friends with girls, and im still getting used to it!) about how amazing it was. all the while i sat on the floor next to my desk, knees hugged to my chest, crimson-cheeked.
i think i might actually cut that album this summer after all.  ¶ 17:04