Foot-in-mouth syndrome much?

I've been taking piano classes for two years now, but it wasn't until my practice piano recital today that I realized my teacher puts her foot in her mouth on occasion. When we had all played our pieces and my teacher critiqued us, she told us to bring as many people as we could to the REAL recital in two-and-a-half weeks. Then she turned to Leonka, the quietest person in class and said, "Leonka, do you have any...friends?" Here she waved her hands as if that helped explain the word "friends" to a girl who might not grasp its meaning. My other classmates and I just looked at each other and our jaws dropped in complete shock. I tried laughing to dispel a little of the awkwardness but even I was appalled by what she had said. I, for one, happen to know that Leonka DOES have friends. She's one of those people who are always quiet in class but social in real life. Poor Leonka. I hope she doesn't clam up even more because of that.

Then my teacher said, "You all should invite your mothers, brothers, sisters...whatever relatives you can find lying around." My classmates and I exchanged confused looks and raised eyebrows.

When my teacher said "whatever relatives you can find lying around", I had an image of walking out of class one day, running into someone, and, after a short talk, I would throw out my arms and exclaim, "Hey! You're my long-lost relative! Won't you come to my piano recital?" And they would gladly accept and we'd have this warm hug.

Or maybe one day, I'll be waiting at a cross-walk and see something shiny on the ground. "Hey!" I exclaim again, "It's a relative! Imma take you home, shine you up, and carry you in my pocket to my piano recital."

Tee-hee. It's great what kind of lemons life brings you sometimes. :)

Tres Content

I'm lying on my back, curved and impacted against memory foam and soft pillow. The rain just started a sudden burst outside. I wonder if it's angry. Or sullen. Maybe a release of energy somewhere in the world? Maybe in China, a man is yelling at his wife just to see her smiling at his own mistake. Maybe there are two people somewhere-one just proposed and the other said yes. They both breathe again. Maybe in the Galapagos Islands, a mother turtle has just given birth to her last batch of eggs. Exhausted and happy, she pats sand over them and waddles back to the sea. Maybe a sailor somewhere is waving goodbye to a storm, glad to have lived through it.

Or maybe I'm just imagining things.

I'm lying on my back, after hours of serving people at the cafe and then more hours of homework. What relevance does any of this have to do with my life? I wonder. What does it have to do with my future? Then I suddenly see a flash of an image. Job interview. Important. Professional. "Do you know how to make a cup of coffee?" the interviewer asks me. It's a strange question, but, then again, it's supposed to be strange. It's supposed to test me.

"Yes, I do know how to make a cup of coffee. I know how to make a latte, and a capuccino and how to work an espresso machine."
"Good," the interviewer says, grinning. "I read over your resume and you know how to type, communicate effectively, write up reports, and perform basic computer functions. The only deal-breaker was if you know how to make a cup of coffee. Good coffee, that is," he jokes.
I nod and smile. I got the job.

The rain is sullen now, splattering down the gutters and sides of buildings in sloppy gobs. Maybe I should go to sleep. School's tomorrow.

I'm lying on my back, curving and impacted against memory foam and soft pillow, after hours of coffee and textbooks and articles and dreams. Dreams of a happier tomorrow. Let's make that happen. The happy tomorrow. But. Let's do it tomorrow. Right now, I'm just happy. Or as the French would say, "Tres content."

Good night, rain. Maybe I'll see you the next time I'm happy. And maybe next time, you won't be so sullen.

Gyrating Churchgoer

I was in church this morning and something...unique happened. There was this young boy (no more than ten years old) standing three pews in front of me and halfway through the mass, he started gyrating his hips. I was dumbfounded, thunderstruck, flabbergasted, shocked, and amazed. I watched as his hips swam in figure eights and pow-wowed every which way. He eventually stopped, of course, but what was most surprising was that it seemed as if no one else noticed. The man standing next to him (I assume it was his father) did not notice. No one sitting behind him noticed or they would have been laughing, giggling, chortling, chuckling, or guffawing. Everyone just stared ahead stone-faced and reciting the Apostles' Creed. I glanced around to check. "Did anyone else see that?!" I wanted to shout. Nothing. Then I thought, "Man, what is wrong with you people? We have a male stripper in the making (in a Catholic church, mind you) and all you can do is act like brainwashed churchgoers reciting the Apostles's Creed."

WELL. I, for one, did enjoy the unexpected spectacle. Little gyrating boy, you are going places.

P.S. I put in all those synonyms for fun. I like to think of myself as a living thesaurus, even if that's a pretentious way of living.

Fetching Profile Picture

I just changed my profile picture to fit with the new name of my blog (worrier princess). When I was saving the changes, words at the bottom of the page said, "Fetching profile picture..." I thought that blogger.com was complimenting my profile picture for being "fetching" and I almost did that girly thing where I turned away modestly, blushed, and said, "Aw, shucks." Then I realized two things. First of all, blogger.com probably meant that it was retrieving my profile picture, not complimenting it. Secondly, why would a website compliment a profile picture? It's not even a real person! Besides, the picture doesn't look like me at all. I only chose the picture because, like I said earlier, it fit the title of the blog. In reality, I'm a diminutive Asian girl with glasses and frizzy hair. Not quite the definition of "fetching..."

Tattoing

After music practice today, I was about to start my research project (the second out of three) when my friend Mandi called and told me that she was getting a tattoo. She asked me to go with her (for emotional support) and, being the doormat I am, I said yes. We drove to Anderson and she got a tattoo at a place called the Painted Pony.

The inside of the tattoo parlor was actually very bright (they had fluorescent lights hung everywhere). It was stereotypical, but I had always thought tattoo parlors were dimly lit and full of haze. The people were friendly and polite too. And tattooed, of course. Something I've always noticed about people in their professions--they always are the prime example of their craft. Hairstylists always have the most modern, highlighted hair. Tattoo artists are usually tattooed just about everywhere. Well, except the female tattoo artists I saw today. There were two and only one woman had a tattoo. The man who drew Mandi's tattoo, Greg, had tattoos from his neck down to his arms. I wouldn't be surprised if he had full-bodied tattoos. Like I told Mandi later, I have high respect for anyone who has a full body tattoo. That MUST hurt. Greg even told us that tattoos on the side of your body or on your stomach would really, really hurt. "It depends on how bad you want it," he warned.

As for Mandi's tattoo, she got the number 11 with all these swirls and twists around it. I thought it looked cool. Eleven is her lucky number, she told me, and it also connected her to her father. They used to be close when she was younger but not so much anymore. "This is tribute to him," she said proudly.

Mandi also played with the idea of getting a fairy tattoo as a tribute to her mom. She tried to persuade me to get a tattoo but I brushed it off. "I'm kind of against the idea of having permanent markings on my body. I'm pain-aversive too," I told her. That's why I was fairly impressed by the pain she endured for her tattoo--I saw blood coming out of the needle as Greg was grafting it onto her skin.

More pain than I can handle, my friend. At least...more pain than I'm willing to handle. To all those people who bear tattooing...I tip my hat to you.

My Own Images

I love foggy mornings. Well, except when I'm driving. Then, foggy mornings are just dangerous. I was walking to school today and there was so much fog that I could only see fifty meters in front of me. I felt like I was on Skull Island with the green treetops floating disembodied in the fog. Cars driving by disappeared into this thick mist...and looked like they were never going to be seen again. It felt like some mysterious fantasy world. Like some exotic island meets a dream realm.

Anyway, a voice called from behind me and it turned out to be this Chinese graduate student that came to Java City once. She struck up a conversation with me and we ended up talking the entire 15 minute walk to campus. She was speaking to me in a foreign language at first because she thought I was Chinese. I had to explain to her that sadly, I did not know how to speak her native language. We continued the conversation anyway and she managed in slightly broken English. Needless to say, I did not have time to wax poetic about the fog anymore, but it had lifted by the time I reached campus anyway.

The second image happened when I was walking to my apartment. There was a maintenance man on the roof of the apartment complex who was using a leaf blower to clear the leaves out of the gutters. (I don't know how he does that! I'd be so afraid of falling.) When the leaves came out of the gutters, they fluttered in glittering splendor to the ground. It was amazing to watch the air sparkle around them, like the space they inhabited was teeming with magic and the secrets of life.

The last image is not really an image but something that made Craig laugh. It began with this list. You see, I made a list of my personality flaws because I'm on a quest to correct them. Well, I showed Craig the list today and he cracked up when he read a few of them. For example, I wrote "forgetfulness" as one of my personality flaws and for the fix, I wrote: "(Get a Remembrall?)" However, the thing that made Craig crack up was the fact that I had written "worrier" as one of my flaws. He had misread it as "warrior" so he immediately thought of Xena: Warriior Princess. Possessing the creative mind he does, he made up the nickname "Worrier Princess" for me. And then proceeded to laugh about it for the next ten minutes.

I think I'll use that as my alias from now on.

Signing out,

Jumira the Worrier Princess

Baking

I have an urge to bake something. Maybe I should squash it like I keep saying I would. Maybe I should just go ahead and bake something. I have one of two options if I do: Cheese danishes or New York style cheesecake. Lots of dairy, but then again, my roommate and I like it that way. Well, my roommate probably gets enough cheese danishes at work so I'll try the cheesecake for now. We'll see. I'll go to the grocery store sometime this week and shop around for ingredients.

I just spoke to my roommate. He voted cheesecake. "It'll probably be easier, too," he points out. That guy is so smart.

To cheesecake baking!

Wedding day

I looked up Asian kimono dresses today after I did homework. Or rather, after I stopped doing homework. I was reading about sociology of marriage and intimacy and it made me think of weddings.

Here's what I want my wedding to be like:

Very few people. My husband can invite whomever he wants (the only exception being my parents). I'm inviting only my brother because he'd be fun and he could "give me away."

I want a simple, short ceremony, possibly not done by a Catholic priest because Catholic ceremonies take a long time and always turn in a mass. I might opt for a secular person to marry us, but I'll see how I feel about that in the future.

I don't want a reception. The most I want after the ceremony is my husband and I to dance together as a married couple for the first time. I would like to dance to Merry-Go-Round of Life...or A Little Less Conversation (if I feel more exciting that day), but I'm flexible.

No giant wedding cake either. Don't get me wrong. I like cake and there should be SOME there at least, but I'm not going all-out, seven tier, floral frosting wedding cake. A one or two layer cake would be nice (depending on how many people we have attending).

I'm still undecided about the vows. At first I wanted us to write our own, but then reciting traditional vows would be less stressful and besides...I might not like what I end up writing. Plus, if my husband isn't good at writing (or doesn't like it), it would be unfair to make him write wedding vows.

And lastly...the dress. This is by no means the most important part to me, but I do need to pay special attention to my wedding dress because...I'm flat-chested. No regular wedding dress is going to fit me because I don't have "ample endowment" to hold it up. Besides, it's just going to sag and accentuate the fact that I have nothing in that department. So. This leads to one of two options--either I look long and hard for a wedding dress designed for flat-chested people or...I tailor my own. I'm actually leaning towards the second option. I've always wanted to pick out the design of my own wedding dress (I used to draw dress designs all the time when I was young) and this would be the best opportunity. Most of all, I would like it to be simple. I also would like to wear either white sneakers with my wedding dress or a pair of flats. No high heels. Those things are killer and if I have to go to the (allegedly) happiest day of life in high heels, I'm going to hate it. Plus, I'm clumsy so tripping down the aisle is not an attractive scene.

I'm leaning towards making a dress I saw from this anime show. The dress itself is simple--short-sleeved, long skirt, no frills. And the girl was wearing the cutest flats, too. It wasn't too revealing and it wasn't too conservative. The best part was that the girl in the anime was flat-chested too so the dress suited her. I should show a picture of the girl to a wedding dressmaker and say, "I want that dress and those shoes." I don't know though. Dresses in animes don't always translate well in real life. At least the flats might be a reality. Well, white sneakers would be awesome, too. I got that idea from watching the remake of The Father of the Bride. In the movie, the titular father owned a shoe manufacturing factory and for his daughter's wedding, he had someone make her "wedding sneakers". These were basically white sneakers, classic style, with ribbon and tiny flowers attached to it. I thought it was adorable AND practical. I want to wear sneakers on my wedding day, I thought. Good thing I remembered.

Herbal Essences Orgasm?

Have you ever seen those shampoo commercials where someone, usually a woman, is washing her hair and she's moaning and groaning like she's having an orgasm in the shower? Well, I was washing my hair today and I thought I would try it...just for funsies. I closed my eyes, tilted my head back, and pretended like the shampoo was instant-orgasm-in-a-bottle. I only got through three seconds before I started laughing at myself and thereby ruining the whole effect. It was still fun though. Try it sometime. It will either make for a good laugh or good practice in case anyone decides to go into the shampoo commercial industry some day.

Do the Windshield Wiper!

Today I was driving home and while stopped at a red light, I noticed something humourous going on behind me. The two girls in the car behind mine were dancing to some music. Or at least I assume they had music; they could just be going through some choreography in the car. They were more or less synchronized as they waved their arms about (I call this move the "windshield wiper" because that's what it looks like--windshield wipers.) They were both holding their forearms stiff and waving them back and forth in parallel motion. They ALMOST had it in rhythm. I laughed out loud as I saw this and smiled the rest of the way home.

Little things like that make life worthwhile.

Con Sentimento

I went to the Brooks Center today after work and, on a whim, decided to check if the recital hall was open. It was. Andrew was in it.

Andrew is this guy who's taking applied piano lessons. I've heard him play a song from the famous French composer Debussy before and I instantly liked it. With this in mind, I immediately sat down on the steps of the audience chamber and asked Andrew if I could listen to him play. He said yes. Tentatively. He probably thought I was weird...And he would be correct.

Anyway, so I sat and listened to him for forty minutes. He started with a pensive, sad song that I initially thought was from the soundtrack of the French movie Amelie. It wasn't. Apparently, the entire time he was playing, he was just "messing around." He told me that the music he was performing was something he wrote himself and a little bit of what his dad wrote.

Let me tell ya, the guy plays like a genius. He says that he plays by ear so he's not very good at reading music. Nonetheless, he plays spectacularly. I would give up all my music reading ability to play like that. He's so expressive with the piano. It's like the instrument is his old friend and he's taking it by the hand and saying, "Let's go on an adventure."

Aside from the Yann Tiersen music, his performance reminded me of a lot of things. Sad, spiritual songs. The Trail of Tears. Savagery and dehumanization. I closed my eyes for most of the performance and images flashed through my mind: people riding bikes down rain-slicked streets, old friends meeting each other again after years apart, best friends who suddenly look at each other and realize they've found someone they want to spend the rest of their life with...Then he stopped and asked the audience (me) what kind of music they played. The audience (me again) said that they were assigned to play a song called Sonatina. What I should have said was that I liked to play waltzes...romantic pieces...slow, pensive music. But I wanted to hear him play more so I just said "sonatina" and then shut up. He stopped after a while and he seemed to be struggling to think of something to play. I knew this instinctually so I rose, gathered my stuff, and thanked him before I left.

What a night! What a musician. What I wouldn't give to play like him. With feeling. Or, as the Italians say, "con sentimento."

Favorite bus driver

I ran into my favorite bus driver today! He was a driver I had only seen once, about a year ago. He looks like a leaner version of Vin Diesel and he's just as cool because he wears these awesome reflective sunglasses! The reason he's my favorite, however, is because he's very polite (I love polite guys). The way I remembered him from a year ago, he always called every male "boss" and you could always tell when he was speaking to a woman because his voice would become softer and gentler.

Well, now that I think about it, he ties with this other bus driver as my favorite, but he's still pretty high up there. The other bus driver is the young man who was driving the bus the day Craig, Melissa, and I took it to Wal-Mart. We sat in the back singing "Part of Your World" and the guy came on over the intercom and said that he liked our singing. This guy is pretty cool too, but I see him more often so the Vin Diesel look-alike was more special. Also, I think the second bus driver was also a desk assistant at Lever Hall--my freshman dorm--so I saw him more frequently. I'm just glad I ran into Mr. Vin Diesel lookalike today.

Microsoft 2003

I was on my boss's computer today and I got to type on Microsoft 2003. Let me tell you, I love Microsoft 2003. That is to say, I LURVE it. It’s so much more intuitive than the 2007 version of Microsoft. Ugh. Just those words make me want to shove babies. Anyway, on a more positive note, I can now find my “replace” button as well as edit documents easier. Select all is right under “edit”, where it should be. My favorite feature, however, is the fact that the default font and type size is Times New Roman and 12, respectively. That’s what most of my college professors want to format my papers to so it’s more convenient when I don’t have to change it to these settings every time I open a word document. No more size 11 Calibri for me.

Also, I’m biased towards fonts like Times New Roman and Georgia because they have the “little feet” at the top and bottom of words. Ever since my seventh grade computer teacher told me that the “little feet” help people read faster, I have loved them more than I love cheese danishes. The other reason I love the font is because 90% of my major—psychology—requires reading and I’m a snail-speed reader, people, so anything that helps me get my homework done faster is a blessing from above.

Overhaul

Being the non-girly girl I am, I'd never thought I would say this but...my wardrobe needs an overhaul. I caught a glimpse of myself in a reflectionand my mouth turned down into a look of shock and distaste. I looked like a mousy bag lady!

I suppose the reason I have never been shopping for my own clothes is lack of money and the fact that I'm too sentimental to some articles of clothing to let them go. Well, now is the time to let them go. I need to pick my own fashion sense from now on.

Problem is...I still don't have the money for it. All of my earnings from my part-time job goes to paying bills and groceries so that's barely any left. The money that is left I want to save in case an emergency comes up or if I need to pay medical bills. Well...I suppose the new wardrobe will have to wait a few more years.

Cancelled Class

I showed up late for music class today just to find out that there WAS no music class. It had been canceled around 8 this morning but I had not checked my email so I didn't know. More free time. Sweet. Well, except for the fact that I climbed up all those stairs for nothing. Plus, I was panicking about being late for about fifteen minutes.

Relationship vs. Single

My sociology class was discussing the benefits of being single versus marriage. While I was taking down notes for my study guide, I looked up articles and opinions online about the advantages of being single vs. having a relationship. I chose relationship because it's more pertinent to people my age and also because marriage is a relationship of its own. Actually, it's the worst kind--the permanent one. Or so it says in wedding vows. We all know about divorce statistics these days...

Anyway, I found one woman's blog and how she wrote about the advantages of being single vs. relationship. She wrote about it in six domains. I left a comment on her blog saying that being single vs. relationship also depends partly on personality type. I've been single for a long time and I quite enjoy it. Other friends of mine seek relationships and revel in them. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose.

I used to think that I was odd for not wanting a relationship, but after speaking with a few of my friends, they told me that I was fine. There was nothing wrong with me. Personally, I don't want to date for AT LEAST the next three to five years. Too many things I want to do with my life...

Now I'm not saying that a relationship is going to hinder living out my dreams and ambitions. On the contrary, many people enjoy having someone to share their life experiences and adventures. I suppose it's because I'm highly emotionally independent. Or strive to be. Or maybe because I'm highly avoidant? Eh, I'm not too worried about it.

Anyway, dear reader(s), what are your thoughts on the subject? Is it better to be single or to be in a relationship? Does personality factor in? How about age or life circumstances? How about bad luck? Good luck? Timing? Fate? Destiny? I'd welcome comments.

Chesire Cat

I woke up at 7 a.m. to go to church today, and then slept for another three hours after I got back. Hmmm...good sleep, even if it's difficult to fall asleep while in pain. Anyway, I was supposed to spend time with some friends today but I still felt exhausted. I called one of my friends to see what I should do about this problem. He said that I sounded tired and suggested that I go back to sleep.

"But a promise's a promise," I whined.
"Um, I think he'll understand if you're tired and need to not...physically die."

I almost died laughing from that. I love my friends. They're good cheerer-uppers.

Anyway, I delayed hanging out with friends until later. ERRANDS FIRST! My roommate and I went to do laundry and to buy groceries. While waiting for our clothes to finish washing, we sat in a nearby fast-food restaurant and played Magic: The Gathering. Yeah...we're nerds. And then something happened.

The restaurant is set up with two rows of booths separated by this barrier. This one guy who sat in the booth across from us popped his head over the barricade and said something to me. I thought he said "magic", but after deliberating for a while, we realized that he must have said "nice hat." (I was wearing my birthday fedora today). I'm glad someone liked it.

Grocery shopping was fun. As a matter of fact, grocery shopping is probably my favorite kind of shopping. Unlike most girls, I don't get as excited about buying clothes or shoes as I do about buying food. Thinking with my stomach again, I believe.

Anyway, I was excited because I found these little pint-size jars of frozen yogurt that looked like ice cream. This way I can pig out and not feel guilty.

My roommate and I are also very efficient about shopping. We got all one dozen things on our list and checked out within thirty minutes. Now that's what I call speedy shopping.

I spent some time with Ryan (since it's probably the last time I'll see him for a month) and we went to talk to Johnathon. Johnathon told us about his trip to Atlanta, GA and how he got to tour Emory University with his new friend Will. He sounds so happy.

Ryan and I watched The Big Bang Theory before he took me home. I miss that show. I do miss watching TV sometimes, but...eh. I'd rather spend time taking walks or reading or spending time with friends. Maybe one day when I'm old and gray, I'll re-watch all the episodes I missed out on while I was younger.

Lastly, I tried to sleep earlier today but I just kept drifting in and out of sleep for a while. I finally got up and was about to do something when I heard my roommate come home.

I almost ran downstairs when I heard someone else there, too. Must be George, I thought. I had heard his voice outside. Better not interrupt, I thought as I seated myself at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop. That...did not work out. Apparently, my roommate was about to go up the stairs or something because he saw me.

"Come down here," he commanded.
Me? I asked wordlessly, pointing to myself.
"Come down here, woman!"
I proceeded the rest of the way down the stairs. George raised a hand and greeted me.

"You have a really big smile on your face," he commented. I said nothing, just grinned. Ben and Melissa arrived shortly afterwards and everyone commenced to talk about Magic: The Gathering. I seated myself on the living room end table and listened. That's what I'm best at doing--listening.

"So how are you?" George asked, starting a conversation with me. When I didn't answer right away, he said that I looked dazed.
"Are you tired?" Melissa asked.
"I just woke up from a two-hour nap," I replied.
"Ohmigawd, I'm going to slug you in the face," Ben said to me. "With a horn," he added. "Then they'll call me Slughorn."

I grinned again. I felt like the Cheshire Cat tonight. Little speaking, lots of smiling.

Also, there's the annual poetry recital coming up this year and I need to pick out a few good poems. Wonder if I'm brave enough to do the race one...

Be Right Back...tomorrow

My roommate told me to go to sleep so I'll write tomorrow.