07 XII 2002 - 21:23 - quinta die scripsit

I've one week until my orchestra's holiday concert, and I'm already sick of the Christmas carols we're playing.

Today was a busy day. I probably passed my Writing SAT-II and probably failed my Math IIC SAT-II (who actually remembers plane inequalities, anyway? There are so many better things for that brain space). I had a rehearsal which gave me a chance to get sick of the Christmas carols. I had a rehearsal I didn't want to go to with a violinist who can't play loudly enough for me to be able to play at a reasonable volume. I decided to complain a lot.

Before this, my school's orchestra had its winter concert, for which concert I was asked to provide a little help. Overall, the concert went fine; I think it was one of the shortest winter concerts the school has ever put on. The orchestra is sounding better this year, which is to say that one may take the earmuffs off but must leave the earplugs in. You think I'm being unkind? I'm not. For the pieces I played, my stand partner (the only cellist for some of the pieces) mimed playing.

My favorite photographer (because I am not biased by hormones, no) had another interesting series up this year -- he's in AP Studio Art, so there is a good deal of freedom for him, I think. The analysis posted by his photographs (each member of the class had to write an analysis for another member's piece) didn't help me make much sense of it, although at least I knew what the general subject matter had been.

Moving back farther in time, there was Thursday. I've started looking at the rules for third-species counterpoint, which should be fun because suddenly I have many more intervals to work with (almost anything goes on the second and fourth beats). I heard my teacher's theory of how the state system of higher education should be funded and was so engrossed in the details of its workings that I forgot to pay him. Oops. When I realized this, I made a phone call and he laughed the whole situation off. "Just pay me next time."

On Wednesday there was a series of enlightening conversations. Or perhaps it was Tuesday -- the two have sort of collapsed themselves for me. I asked my Latin teacher what I should do this summer, giving her my two options, and in talking to her she allowed me to see that essentially I had already chosen the Ancient Greek program and was just wondering how to express it. She also offered me the possibility of an independent study with her next year, when there will be no more Latin classes for me -- I'm excited about this. I think I'll ask her about doing Juvenal or Seneca. I then talked to my English teacher about my paper and discovered that I actually did have a thesis after all (always a good discovery, especially when sometimes one discovers he doesn't have a thesis). Finally I talked to the tall kid who occasionally comes to class and found out that we both had a similarly bad work schedule for the next week. He's nice, when approached.

So I suppose the moral of Tuesday was that talking to other people does sometimes bring clarity and that if you should decide to talk to them (er, if I should decide to talk to them, rather), they can be quite nice.

I don't mind this: if I know that some of the beautiful people I know will quite simply remain beyond my reach, I am happy simply to be able to talk to them. I'll take nicely what I can get. Any connection is a caring of a sort.

I'm not sure I want to believe how desperate that sounds to even me, but I know it's the truth behind what I feel, so I'll leave it. Sometimes the hardest thing is to see ourselves honestly...