How in the HELL??? or alternately: JEZISE MARIA

Does anyone else ever look back on the parade of events that leads you to the places you presently find yourself? Or maybe that much narcissistic introspection is my own particular brand of paranoia... How suddenly, you're buried in hellacious amounts of projects and work and activities and heaven forbid fun stuff, though none of which you voluntarily (or just consciously) sought out. Like, holy fuck, although I've embraced the fact that I am a wholehearted freak of nature when it comes to, well, doing EVERYTHING, I swear to Christ most of this stuff magically appears. Really. Drug induced Disney magic.

Exhibit A: Polyglot
Polyglot is our foreign language annual journal here on campus. Note to self: don't comment on what a great tradition something is, unless you FULLY intend to be involved in it. I unwittingly stumbled 800 feet face down into that pit last week during Russian. Apparently, Polyglot has had less then its normal dearth of submissions this year, so they are desperate. Cue Donna, my happy rotund (I dunno, Donna and rotund just go together in my mind) professor, deciding to link giving me a recommendation for my Study Abroad application, to me submitting something by Friday. Bloody hell. Me being the super brilliant debutante that I am, decided that I could pull something out of my ass easier in Czech, rather than Russian. Or at the very least, fewer important people would have half a chance of understanding my piece. So today after the hell that is my Logic class, I decided to go down to Fir Acres Theater, and try to make contact with the elusive Stepan Simek. Stepan is a theater professor here at L&C, and was off jetsetting last semester through the Czech Republic, in between studying at the Narodni Divadlo in Prague. Or at least in my mind he was jetsetting. Jealous, hell yes. I actually did find him, we talked quite awkwardly for a few minutes, and he told me to email him to set up a get together next week. Insert me blathering idiot quote here. Mind you, this entire exchange was in ENGLISH. I have no idea what I'm going to do in Czech. Knowing me, it'll come out as this laughable conglomeration of Russian and Spanish. Oh, right, and the whole you know, writing part. About that...

Exhibit B: International Fair
Not much to kvetch about here, really, but more so just because I have yet to be exposed to the full fury of the project. Again though, me opening my big mouth in Russian. I happened to mention how much of a shame it is that no one is representing anything remotely Slavic-ish at the International Fair. 'Lo and behold, I am now a co-chair of the Russian group at the International Fair. You'd think I'd learn, right? Christ, Peggy. Sit down, and shut up.

Exhibit C: Scholarships
Ok, this one at least is totally on me, both the stress and the benefits. Next weekend I go in front of the Music Department faculty, and get to play two pieces. Just peachy, minus me and my tremendous inhibiting fear of solo performing. Yea, after oh, 16 years being involved with music, I definitely should have figured out a way to control myself in audition situations and such, but no. My hands get sweaty and start to shake, my breathing speeds up, oh and the kicker, I always have to pee. The worst thing is rushing my tempos, and speeding through hard passages that I really shouldn't, just because my heart is racing so fast. In general, in all areas of my life, I abhor doing worse than I should have, or than I could have, for stupid reasons. There is nothing in the world worse then knowing something, knowing all the kinks and weirdnesses, knowing all the minute colorings and shades, truly having mastered something, and not being able to express that. Be it music, or organic chemistry, I mean, what a huge disappointment. It's funny though, I have absolutely no qualms about performing in groups, or small ensembles, and piano recitals never bothered me, either. Something about all eyes being focused on you.

Some days I wish I hadn't sold my soul to the Music Department. The rewards are always greater then the penalties, but still. Eleven hours in two days, is almost too much to bear.

G'night my chickabees. I'm off to Evans until hell freezes over.