Now, by the look of my recent-ish posts, one might think that I’ve become skilled in social interactions.
I haven’t. I really haven’t.
I spent the entire week recording myself on the piano for audition tapes, writing essays, and procrastinating. My only interactions were a random run on Saturday with MH and MB, a hike with WB, a lot of texting with KD before a failed stargazing attempt, shopping with MB, and a party at CP’s house last night, where I spent the entire night laughing about how inept at small talk I am.
On parties: I don’t know why I go. For some sort of confidence and reassurance, that I can get invited to parties and go instead of staying home? But then the parties themselves….I am so bad at parties.
Quite laughable, really.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you as well madam. I’m thankful for your endless stream of optimism that can always brighten my day :)” “Happy Thanksgiving! Thank you for being an awesome friend! ouo b” “Haha psht whatevs ;P haha jk same” “Awww, happy thanksgiving to you too! I’m thankful for you also! Don’t know how fat I’d be without our runs :)” “:DDD Im thankful for YOU ____” “Aww, you’re so sweet ____ :)” “Happy thanksgiving ____!” “I am too I love you so much ____ you’re an amazing person. I miss you!” “AWW I LOVE U HAPPY THANKSGIVING” “____ THANKSGIVING TO YOU TOO 🙂 hope you have a great day!” “Happy thanksgiving ____!! Love u tons” “Thanks ___ ! I’m thankful for you too :))” “Happy Thanksgiving! I’m thankful for you too ____” “Aww ____, I’m thankful for you too!” ____!!.:’) oh gosh I love you sooo much im so thankful we are friends!” “Thanks you too” “Happy thanksgiving too sweetheart! Have an amazing day!” “Aww happy thanks giving same to you!!” “I was just about to send you a text, you beat me to it! Happy Thanksgiving _____, I’m thankful to have you in m life! :)” “Haha you too. I’m thankful for you and your gorgeous playing”
From an article I read; not sure which one:
In the end, maybe going to a conservatory is like being a compulsive gambler: It is one big bet, but the drive to study music is so blinding, and doing anything else so inconceivable, that young players are oblivious to the risk. Sometimes it is hard to determine whether they are driven by single-mindedness or they live in self-denial.
Once at Juilliard, they discover the inherent paradox of being a classical musician. You call called on to be expressive, imaginative, creative, somehow in touch with the mystical reaches of art, an individual. But you are also called on to ply a craft with exceeding skill, meshing a complex of minute physical activities in the service f black markings on a page and the composers who wrote them, often submerging yourself in the crowd. And you do it all with the purpose of making a living.
Inevitably, many will be disillusioned; some, enough so to leave the profession. BUt every one of those graduates has an indelible stamp.
“Even if my instrument was destroyed,” said Nora McInerney Fuentes, a violinist who works in public relations for Time Warner, “the gifts that I was given and what I’ve done with them – no one can take them away from me.”
So I had another satisfying long chat with WB yesterday.
We pretty much talked about everything, but what stands out to me is that I finally asked if he had liked me. He gave a pretty confusing answer, but from what I gathered, he had. Or maybe he hadn’t. Anyway, I don’t know if he still does, but he did mention that he’s too busy to want a relationship right now.
And he does know now that I’m open to a relationship (not specifically with him, just in general – I don’t have the kind of guts to do a confession or anything).
But he also talked about having true friends and whatnot, and that I was one of them. Which was wonderful to hear.
I think a lot of my fantasizing about having a boyfriend is just that: long chats whenever I felt like it (which I sort of have already), but just that it would be guaranteed. I would never have to wonder if the other person was annoyed or whatever.
Because honestly, yes I kind of wanted a boyfriend right now, but no matter what I think I want right now, I don’t think WB is the guy. Not that I don’t want him as a boyfriend (because, trust me, I’m pretty sure I did. Fine, do, present tense), but because I don’t want him as an ex-boyfriend. I want him to always be there for our long chats. A serious relationship will never last as long as a friendship.
Ok, disclaimer, this one’s disturbing. But I must defend myself: I recently found out my friend was being used by a douche at our school. Booty calls and blow jobs from a girl who can’t say no. I worry for her.
But anyway, that’s probably the root of a gross dream like this.
So, dream, (I apologize, really): My guy friend (not sure who) and I walk into a white room. And right there, on a hospital bed-type-thing, is TG, head poking out of a blanket, with questionable writhing going on underneath.
I know, ok. Sick mind.
He sees us, but it’s no biggie, and from underneath the blanket out pops ZK, who just gets out and walks out past us without acknowledging us.