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Tuesday, November 27, 2012

More Procrastination

It's been a while. And it's been pretty surprising how many ways you can think of a "while." I mean, there's the technical definition off of Oxford's dictionary (which is really the official guide to English, not Merriam Webster's as many of us die-hard Webster fans have been led to believe.) A period of time. Then there's the connotation and whatnot, which pretty much tell you that there has to be some time that has passed, a lot longer than a jiffy, but not as long as forever might feel.

Here was a really good guide to the
whole Zen/Ch'an idealism
Anyway, getting back to the topic, it's been a while since I've been able to blog. Between NaNoWriMo -- didn't think I cheaped out this year did you? -- school work -- lots and lots of reports and essays that I pretty much spend oogling delicious new recipes from Crockpot and Yahoo! Shine -- flute -- because I have more music-stuff to work on before disappearing from the scene forevermore (more on that at another time) -- and my new passion for travel literature, I've hardly had enough time to even get the shuteye I need. Which doesn't exactly help my newfound love for coffee. And along with that, my newfound passion for coffee creamer and Belgian waffle makers.

It's surprising how old you can feel at times. Now, I know I'm a hypocrite to even call myself old when there's barely any life lived yet, but it's just the sentiment that, "Wow, I've been up to a lot." I'd recently been catching up on my Ch'an reading (that's Chinese Zen -- the original zen -- for all you Oriental noobs out there) and one of the exercises involves detaching yourself from the moment and letting the reality of the moment flow over your mind, so that you see things not from the hectic viewpoint, but from the window of an observer. It can get really philosophical at times, which is why I usually refrain from doing it until late night cram sessions like these when I really need a reality check.

At any rate, no doubt you're wondering how life's going. Why, thank you for asking because it's coming along quite fine. Of course, I'm in the middle of a dilemma right now that no degree of family or acquaintance intervention can solve. High school applications have been coming up and there's this really great vocational school that I've been meaning to apply to for a pretty long time. I mean, they've got the all-inclusive nerd community, awesome technology courses, a whole research lab, mentorship, and loads of other stuff that make overachievers drool in their sleep. The catch? They've got a sever lack of humanities -- literally, they've got one English and one History sequence, no APs (not that I mind too much, but I've been looking forward to taking APUSH some time, especially with the quality of the course material around these areas.) Plus, they've recently lost funding for their newspaper, the most important club of any school in my opinion. Where else can students of completely opposite personalities and interests meet for a lively debate? How else are wallflowers supposed to keep up with the news?

I suppose I've been rambling, though. I'm just a bit depressed, because the whole music thing's been catching up with my life. After a hefty argument that got no where, my old piano teacher (who had actually given an astounding amount of help) decided to leave our center for new employment elsewhere. Which means that, rather than taking our lessons at the local music center, we (my family) will be switching over to a private teacher, who happens to be a member of a statewide music association that's known for producing "fine young musicians," or in other words national award winning Chinese kids who bring tears to their parents' eyes. I've seen them before. They're pretty salty.

That's not the worst part, though. About three years ago, I discovered a strange little object. It made a metallic noise when I rapped my nails against it, and it felt cool to the touch. When I picked it up for the first time, my fingers felt electrofied -- possibly because it was really cold in the air-conditioned lobby of the music center. When I brought it up to my lips, I knew a connection had been forged. I'm a proud flautist, and I'm even a bit sad to be (possibly) leaving this behind in the coming years. I mean, sure I'll still play and everything, take lessons and whatnot, but I had this stupid little dream a while ago -- back when I was still doing competitions and stuff -- of performing as the principal flute in an orchestra. Stupid, I know, especially for a student of two years. But it was a dream, and I was a bit sensitive to criticism whenever it was around. Time came that my family decided competitions were too hectic to track over. And in the sweep of a finely inked ballpoint, my stupid little shrill was drawn closed.

But what of the title? That's true, even as I type these words I'm procrastinating. There's apparently a flash fiction piece due tomorrow, some new essays to write, and loads of stories to study. What am I doing in place of my well awaited work? Staring at the menus of Taco Bell and Au Bon Pain, deciding tomorrow's lunch. And yet, as they say, the worst has yet to come. Well, au revoir!


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