Colliding Neurons

The unthinkable happened, actually. The... unexpected thing I guess. So you know how I would always complain about the changing perspectives and all that? And how I just wanted to stay with one or whatever, probably the Ann Arbor one?

Yeah well guess what.

Well I sort of figured out my strategy, which was sort of to avoid the computer during the week, so as not to allow a "conflicting" perspective to sneak in. But then when I go back on to the computer and find out about all the wonderful happenings all of my wonderful happenings are experiencing, formerly and sort of still without my knowledge, I feel like screaming again, because yesterday I felt like I didn't want to go to back to Ann Arbor. Then I decided I actually did rather want to go home, because that would solve pretty much everything. Quick and painless. But nah, I just have to wait 5 in a half months to solve this thing. Which, for some reason, is somewhat okay with me.

In a way.

I just feel like, if there's no energy back there, and I have energy over here, it's almost not worth it. It's like.. why do I even bother feeling like this if my friends don't? But yeah I mean... whatever.

I almost hate the weekends now. I went to the French band practice. It actually wasn't too bad, but lasted from 8:30-10:30. I was zoning out. The conductor was actually pretty awesome. There were 6 trumpets, one sort of middle-aged guy that was really good that talked with my dad and I, two French teens, the American dude, me and Mary. The American dude had curly black hair and I noticed iPod headphones peaking out under his dark sweatshirt. He played the same part as me and Mary, and spoke fluent French. "So where were you before you came over here?" he asked conversationally while the conductor focused on a different section. "Uh... USA... Michigan," I replied, subconsciencely frittering with my second valve. "Michigan?" he cleared up, and I nodded. I nearly laughed when he pronounced it like "Mitchigan".

The pieces were not too bad; there were maybe 10 or so. We photo-copied them, and later I noticed they had a little box at the top saying Photo-copying is illegal! Woops. Most of them were English titles, like "Cutie Honey", "Robin Hood", "The Rock", "Music", "Sing, Sing, Sing", and maybe a few others. I played third part, which was actually somewhat hard. Well, this was only my first time playing them so I think I did alright. The conductor, a thin, tall French man with black hair, the kind that's short but sticks up sort of like a ledge on the forehead. He would periodically course his hand through it, singing the rhythm for the mistaken sections.

The band was moslty teens, and I was probably the youngest. But it also had quite... aged.. members. Two trombones to the right, then one French Horn on the end of the 3rd row. The first row had maybe about 5-10 flutes, and then the second row with clarinets. A young woman on the drums, who absoutely rocked. Bass section was mostly the older citizens.

So yeah it was ok I guess. The French, as I have mentioned, use "do re mi... etc" instead of the note names, so maybe I should work on that. Thank goodness music is written the same in every country, though.

This year's winter was pretty much the most unmemorable, at least on this side of the world. I envy you people with sub-freezing temperatures. No seriously. Even sub-zero.

I'm trying to read more. I was disappointed with The Lake House by James Patterson, which I just finished. It was...ugh. I definitely saw the improvement comparing it to Maximum Ride. Hockey was alright, and yeah and yeah.

This song.