I'm sick.
My throat hurts - I can hardly swallow without tearing up.
I'm getting piercing headaches.
My entire body is sore.
My hearing is shot.
I'm absolutely exhausted.

I am meeting at 2 to work on a performance.
The dress rehearsal is at 4.
Jubilee starts at 8.
We go on at around 10, I think.

So, so screwed...  ¶ 11:37

  And then today was one of those days where I was so happy to be a pianist, and so proud of my Government major.

Took a nap from 8:30 to 9:00 AM after having had enough of my income distribution tables after 12 straight hours of researching and computer-screen-staring. Couldn't find Brazil's national poverty line statistics. Couldn't find international poverty statistics for Argentina. Had searched every well-regarded scholarly database for these facts. They simply didn't exist, according to all reports.

Went to Stat from 10-11 am, tried to get my mind off the incomplete tables, but just stressed out more. Sprinted out of the Science Center and over to the computer lab to get onto the World Bank's World Development Index reports. Found nothing that would help. I did find some of my classmates at the lab, however. A few of them had camped overnight.

Turns out that no one's tables were anywhere near complete. We found out during class that this was what McGuire had intended, in order to make a point about data collection, reliability, and the importance of primary sources. Good job, McGuire. We all learned.

I had to laugh when he told the 8 of us that we could go to sleep right there if we wanted; he always fell asleep at other people's lectures, so he wasn't going to peg himself as a hypocrite. Just no NY Times crossword puzzles allowed, please.

But we all stayed awake, loyal dorks that we are, huddling over cups of coffee acquired during our mid-class break (it's a 3 hour seminar). Sixteen puffy eyes struggled to stay open as we looked at human development indicator derivations.

So then McGuire called on a few people to present their findings. I was one of them. Maybe it was the caffeine, or lack of sleep, or maybe just my sheer brilliance; I made excellent point after point, I coherently analyzed my data findings and their implications in the context of education, democratization, and poverty. I remembered Brazil's economic policy history straight through 4 decades. I made sense. And I referenced Zappa. Haha.

I talked for 15 minutes. 15 minutes! Sure, my delivery wasn't perfect, and I had to backtrack a couple of times. But I did well. I felt smart. My points were not refuted. Yay smartness. And I aced last week's paper, I found out. Yay ace.

Then, I had to rush over to the music studios for a quick rehearsal; saw Tony in passing. Said hello, kept walking, but then he turned around and called me out.

His senior pianist graduated over break. Did I want to take his place? Could I stop by tomorrow to get the music?

Huzzah for being invited in really cool little ensemble.

This does, however, push my credits up to 7. I'm only getting transcript credit for 5, but if I join Tony, I will be breaking all previous records held for Most Insane Schedule Ever as far as what I'm actually participating in since add/drop ended.

But right now I don't care. I'll go see Tony tomorrow. Which means: 1 hour Voice lessons Monday, 1.5 hours Jazz Orchestra Tuesday, 2-2.5 hours Evening Ensemble Tuesday, 3 hours Jazz Ensemble Wednesday, 1.5 hours Jazz Orchestra Thursday. On top of that don't forget various rehearsals for a show I'm quasi-helping with, etc. And practicing. And writing more during the week for Evening Ensemble (I'd love to really put significant hours into developing some original material).

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

And then classes.
And escorting.
And tutoring.

Ok. I'm dizzy. Sleep time.   ¶ 17:48

  One moment of gaiety in today's rush: In Russian Politics, one of the smirking jockish men who sit in the back asked our stout Russian professor whether he had seen the movie Miracle yet. I was a little put-off by the query and considered it to be a wise-ass comment, but what ensued was a roudy class-wide debate of Russian vs. American athletic achievements. Then we all laughed together. It felt good. Okay.  ¶ 23:17

  Today was one of those days where I wished I had never become a pianist.

Tonight's one of those nights where I wish I wasn't a Government major.

Had 7 straight hours of different rehearsals, broken only by a brief stint in Russian Politics. I talked my way out of a possible 6th or 7th hour on top of all that. Now I have to finish this project in which I chart human development indicators from 1960-1995 for Brazil. And then make an inter-regional comparison. And then write a couple of brief papers on it. It's due tomorrow at 1. I also have to present a fact sheet to the class with similar economic indicators. I have to do all of this in a coherent manner. I want to do well, because I care about this class a lot, and I want to do amazing research for it. It's 11 pm.

I am so totally screwed.

LVGM has been calling me, and I haven't returned the favor. I signed up for three clinic escorting dates for the semester, all on Saturday mornings (yay dawn). I forgot my ID card today, but the mailgirl was nice enough to give me my mommy's valentine without positive identification.

I ate all of the chocolate already. Within an hour of opening the envelope. And new underwear=clean underwear=postponement of laundry for at least another week. Yesss. Luckily she didn't give me edible underwear, otherwise that would be gone by now too. Thanks Mom!

I have to do my taxes? I have to work on my summer curriculum? I have deadlines? I have more rehearsals this week? I have to pick up tutoring again? I have a performance this Friday, suddenly? I have to do some more writing for the evening ensemble? By Thursday? And buy my Russian Politics reader? And study for the first of my two Stat midterms? And do nearly two hours of vocal exercises every day? And practice piano and breathe and eat and maintain friendships and figure out what I'm doing for spring break and keep my nose clean and shower regularly and and and and and and Jesus Christ I thought this was the semester when I was going to "take it easy"? I can't believe I felt guilty for "easing up" on myself? Maybe I should go to my work now?

Meph.   ¶ 23:09

  why? because i felt like going on a picnic, but weather will not permit.  ¶ 19:41

  So, Spring Break is coming in approximately one month.
My mom called me earlier this week to ask me what my plans are.
Meaning: I don't have to go home?

Mum's funny. She was the one who imposed 10 pm curfews through my 18th birthday, but would say "see you tomorrow!" for notable holidays and school events; essentially, I never saw the last 25 minutes of Gladiator, but the nights where the ratio of drunk to sober drivers increased exponentially, I didn't even have to divulge exactly where I would be.

Then college happened, I went away. I was, however, required to go home every break. When I was home, Mom once again tried to give me a curfew of midnight. My brother, at 16 years of age, was concurrently staying out later than I was. But I was the problem.
AUGH.

Last spring break, I was all for couch-hopping in New York for two weeks. I could always hostel it if I felt like I was imposing too much on any one friend, after all. But that was shot down, I had to come home, and spent my time blowing my money at Borders and Turtle Bay, bumming car rides off of friends, and walking aimlessly around Farmer's Market, cringing every time Someone From My Past approached.

This past week, I casually mentioned London or Someplace Else.
She said, "just let me know, because the time to get a deal for California is running out."

And that was that.

London, anyone?

Nika, do you read this still?

(And Alex, I would love to go to Cameroon, but I think that's a bit much in so little time.)
  ¶ 17:19