Tema (notorioustemo) wrote,
Tema
notorioustemo

Now here’s the sun, it’s alright! (Lies!)

Sleeping is giving in,
no matter what the time is.
Sleeping is giving in,
so lift those heavy eyelids.



So after not sleeping at all for three days, I realized that I have been asleep for several months.
Time to come out of this hole and stop hibernating. I only wish that I could take you with me.

So after all is said and done—I’m not sure which was more fun—college auditions or spring break?

New England Conservatory. Cold. Austere. Boston. Bitter. Thanks again, Harvard. The audition went fine and Mr. Weilerstein was quirky and curmudgeonly as always. I saw Gary, went to China Town and out for Pho and left rather abruptly. Gary has graduated from Jewish girls to Korean girls and I think he’s just a good guy. He’s growing up and completely legal now and I wish I felt a little younger. And that I were a little bit older. We always talk about how we shouldn’t drift so much, but despite the fact that we always do, things manage to feel the same. Maybe his paternal qualities (Gary is obviously my father) have rubbed off on me, explaining my disgusting maternal urges as of late.
Then I came home and drove to Jeremiah’s house at something ridiculous like 11 PM.
Since then, he has gotten his license. Mazel Tov and thank God.

I’ve been learning to drive.
My whole life,
I’ve been learning.
I like the peace
in the backseat,
I don’t have to drive,
I don’t have to speak.


Then off to Rice. Jeff was surprisingly pleasant before my audition. We had a moment. Hugged on the steps and despite the fact that he was a step below me, he felt tall. Why does he always feel tall after I haven’t seen him for a while? The next day, his friend asked who was in the crazy picture in my violin case and Jeff explained that it was “the asshole I had dumped him for.” Then things quickly deteriorated. Obviously because he used a preposition at the end of a sentence.
We went out for a moderately awkward lunch and then a very uncomfortable dinner. Then he talked about how pathetic and manipulative I am etc. etc. And how he doesn’t have to pander to me anymore. And I was impressed by his use of “pander.” Then we came back from dinner and I cried a little and blabla he is sorry and still loves me. Of course. They’re always just tired and making excuses and need a wakeup call because who really enjoys healthy introspection anymore? Then we listened to Beethoven and he tried to get a little bit cozy and I left. Then I came back to bitterness. Slept in Meta’s room. The next day—a final and overwhelmingly uncomfortable dinner, more cruelty (when cruelty was playful), then Jeff thought about kissing me but I didn’t give him that opportunity and then I left.

And I broke two e-strings in my audition. Two in one audition. Impressive, I know. And Kathleen Winkler was kind enough to meet with me and tell me just how exceptionally horrible my vibrato is and I feel as if I need to be reset completely and just hope that my psyche and left hand can manage to bear it. And I need to be relocated and re-everything-ed and I just hope I can make it and not be miserable. I just hope.

And the girl whom Jeff was ambiguously dating saw me and fled. She broke up with him and gave him forty dollars with a note telling him to “buy some liquor” with it. Then he dated her again. Because apparently all boys are just enormous pussies. Then she broke up with him again. Immediately thereafter, Jeff decided he needed a break—from me. So we’re not speaking and I feel fine about that. Everyone is entitled to a little space. And then I realized that I hadn’t talked to my boyfriend for a couple of months despite the fact that he has resigned himself to seeing me almost every day. But he’s also entitled to… something. Confusion? We’re all entitled to phrases now and then and always and forever.

Jeff can blame me for whatever he wants. He’s a good guy (kid? person?) and everyone is entitled to a little bitterness now and then. Maybe I’m just feeling generous. Dare I say apathetic?

And thus concluded the tour of ex-boyfriends.

Then Oberlin. Oh Oberlin. So I braved Ohio (Oh Ohio) on my own and that was lonely and odd. So after about sixty hours of Sufjan Stevens and some minimal sleep on the floor—severely impaired by drum circles and loud lesbians outside the door—I had a fine audition. And Mr. Vitek says hello (to you, of course) and feels that my vibrato could still use a lot of work and that I ought to be more less. And I saw a million people I knew and felt completely disoriented and trapped. And dat was dat?
And everyone was wearing burlap and eating turnips and other such indecipherable foods and showering together and I baked Vegan bread and I had a White Russian or two and decided to call it a day.
Then Tom Bandar, violist extraordinaire, was amazing and rescued me Sunday morning and gave me a tour of Cleveland and CIM. Which was nearly as depressing as Oberlin. He couldn’t seem to understand how or why Jeff and I aren’t dating anymore, but then again, he’s a violist. Tom, not Jeff.
Two crazy cab drivers (one of whom gave me an hour-long tour and asked for my number and practically abducted me, the other of whom couldn’t seem to comprehend how I don’t worship Jesus and made me recite Hebrew prayers for forty minutes) and one audition and several days of wondering why neither Jeremiah, nor, more importantly, my parents had managed to call me, I was home. Actually, my father called me around 2 AM the night before my audition. Along with a drunk Matt Mouradian.

Then I came home and it was spring break.
And now I’m just waiting. In the waiting line? Waiting room? Now I’d just like to lose a little weight?

So what did I do over break?

Well, I got a Brahms sonata from Matt (a little ironically?) and we bumped into his mother while walking through New Haven with pearl milk teas. And random:

notoriousTEM0: everyone has bad taste in girls
MATT8895: i don't
MATT8895: but, then again, someone who never eats can't really have a taste one way or another

notoriousTEM0:matt you are turning into a walking metaphor
MATT8895: no i'm not
notoriousTEM0: well you were talking about figurative eating?
MATT8895: i'm not really moving, i'm static
MATT8895: so i'm not a walking metaphor
MATT8895: i don't have a life
MATT8895: and i won't find one soon

MATT8895: if everyone spoke the way you wrote in your journal
MATT8895: it would be something like
MATT8895: [hello] [hey] i [mean] hi (tonal resolution[?]{!}]?) (haiku)

And I saw too much of Jeremiah (static time) and nothing of Jeremiah and chauffeured too many people around and made too many breakfasts. Annie and I went to White Plains and I had my fingerboard replaned and learned a little Brahms. Then Shane stayed with me for a few days and we went roller-blading. And that was nice.

Mainly I wish I had been brave enough to address certain issues earlier.
As Matt would quote Aldous Huxley, “Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”

And that I had practiced more and read more and gone out and done exciting things and seen ballet in New York and eaten French food and played chamber music. And yelled at Jeremiah about six weeks ago and that I were a year older. But I am just a baby taking care of other small creatures for no particularly rewarding reason and I cannot be mad at Jeremiah because why bother?

* * *


So has anyone else read anything by Carol Gilligan? Well, she revised Kohlberg’s scale of ethical self-actualization (I used that term in an English paper and the teacher wrote “jargon—disgusting” in the margin) just for women. And I hate women. And I hate feminists even more. But I think she is onto me.
So basically, stage one—women are overly devoted to caring for themselves, stage two—women are overly devoted to caring for others, and stage three—women manage to achieve a balance of caring.
And I am stuck stuck stuck in stage two.
I am overcome with the urge to do considerate things for not-necessarily-so-considerate (Mainly sweetly aloof? If there is such a thing? Where have you hidden the euphemism?) people and am constantly going out of my way. And it mainly seems as if no one believes in reciprocation anymore, but mainly mainly my problem is with myself. So it’s time to let someone else drive (someone who has had a license for longer than two months) and get out of this rut.
Apparently—according to Gilligan—women are the ones who are responsible for sustaining relationships maintaining and the virtues that society greatly needs. But I basically think that she’s just giving men an excuse to be lazy. And they are using it and someone needs to yell at them and bash their faces in and someone really needs to bring me breakfast even though I don’t eat breakfast. Or at least I need to stop doing the things I’m doing, because that seems like the most logical and rewarding place to start.
And apparently people aren’t like eggs and you can’t just hope to crack someone open because some people are hard-boiled.
Sunny. Side. Up. And I’m definitely soft-scrambled for the time being. And maybe I should stop dating people who aren't eggs at all. Sausage simply isn't Kosher.



And I’m just thrilled about impending college rejections and breakups and disappointments and such.
But at the same time I am excited excited excited about spring and actually being allowed a little academic apathy. And warmth and Brahms and maybe certain people will come back around and we can all come out of hiding together and take a little nap in the sun and practice some violin.
And after a big blow of disappointment last weekend, I’m trying not to set expectations too high.

But someone told me not to cry?
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