2001-05-18 - 12:17 a.m. - defessus1

Hi.

There's no grunt today, but instead I offer: "Dum nos fata sinunt, oculos satiemus amore; nox tibi longa venit, nec reditura dies." -Propertius. You'll have to excuse me - I'm feeling a bit down, so I'm clutching at the nice standby adolescent ideals (Love! Companionship!) while trying to do my Latin homework at the same time.

Some things that I forgot to mention: MTT came into our rehearsal... last Saturday, I guess. I kept meaning to put something in, but- in the 4th movement of Mahler 2, which has an alto solo, he sang the alto's part. My only comment will be that Alasdair has a much better voice... but most of this means nothing to you, so... yeah. Hello, by the way, to the people who have been visiting my site. My site-meter device thing tells me that people are coming from Taiwan, UTC -11, -10, -9, -5, -4, -6, and of course -8. Greetings, and if you haven't switched your computer to daylight savings time, please make sure you do so lest I get delusions of grandeur (look! people from the Yukon are visiting me... oh wait. they must be San Franciscans without daylight savings time. silly me.)

My translations of what I'm reading make no sense. And I'm somehow managing to pull out eyebrow-hairs. (Honest, sir, I'm not stressed at all!)

Courtney, if you see this... I'll misssss yooouuu...

I actually had a pretty good day today, thanks in no small part to Tiff, who endured my rants and went out for lunch with me (and even spent time on the swings and stuff - talented girl, she did cool stuff on some bars at the playground), and Courtney, who made orchestra liveable. Umm... there was a point to what I was saying. Ah yes. I wish I could get this with more male friends. That of course means that I have to make more male friends, which isn't very easy to do for some reason. I just don't have much to talk about with them - the guys I talk to, I mean - it seems, and.. well, yeah. My friends are great. More power to them.

My god, it's past midnight and my mother has nothing better to do than lecture me about how bad my HANDWRITING is!? Couldn't she do something like, oh, I don't know, sleep?

Is there any organization to what I'm doing? Probably not. I think I'll call it quits, but not before I ask a few more rhetorical questions (feel free to answer, though...)

Why am I here?

Why are any of us here?

Is there a God?

Is any of the crap I'm writing making sense to anyone else? Is it eliciting any "yes, I know what he's talking about"?

My brain is fried, both from having boys on the brain (orchestra, I've found, is bad for that problem... not quite as bad as Christina, Courtney, about showing it, but I have to say I find myself a similar type) and from lack of sleep. One of those I can correct, and I'm going to go do that now. Have patience with me; perhaps in a million years I will write something of import.

*flies off*

J the mad penguin (:>

(A bit of explanation: not mad-angry but rather mad-insane. Have a good night.)