The Ghibli Manuscripts

Recently I went on a trip to Japan (yay)!  Being a fan of anime and Japanese culture in general, I quite enjoyed myself.  I experienced a whole bunch of stuff like different food, tea ceremony, ryokans (and their public baths!), shrines, and even taiko drumming!  I had a lot of fun with drumming :3

A robot soldier from Laputa Castle in the Sky.

While we were in Tokyo, I went to the Ghibli animation museum.  You're not allowed to take pictures inside, but you're allowed to photograph the robot soldier statue on the roof of the museum.  It was a little overcast and I didn't have time to get a good photo, but if you click the link above, they have better photos.

On the second floor of the museum, it's full of desks with work scattered across the rooms.  It looks the like filmmakers just left their desks for a break when we walked in.  But my favorite room... was a small room that people frequently walked in and out of.  Compared to the other rooms, there was barely anything in there.  It was just a table with some books (with abnormally large pages), and a small wooden chair tucked in the corner of the room.  Seeing this room unusually plain in comparison to the others, I decided to look around a little more carefully (not that I wasn't already).  I picked up one of the eight thick, large books sitting on the table.  I looked at the title... When Marnie Was There.   I opened up the book.
It was a manuscript of the animated drawings.  Like a framework of what the movie should look like.  The reason the pages where so large was because each page had about five drawings in it... each showing the next shot in the movie, yet to be brought to life.  To the right of each drawing was room for notes.  Surprisingly, there was enough English for me to guess what they were saying.
I began reading.  It was a little like a manga, but a lot more open ended for plot.  After a half hour, I realized I was enjoying myself.  A lot.  Which was a little strange for me.

The frustrating thing for me with books is that I can't read them through once.  For every sentence I read, I need to pay attention and process it to understand what's happening.  However, my brain can't do that while keeping up with my reading speed. So I end up reading a page or even a paragraph, stop, and realize I need to read it again since I had no idea what just happened in the last 5 lines or so.
Books with tonnes of detail are hard for me to read leisurely.  I need study every sentence hard to comprehend everything.  My mind kind of blanks and then I keep thinking: "Okay, what's happening here? Maybe this? and this and this?".  And then I realize I'm still reading and I have no idea what just happened in the plot.
However, being a visual learner, manuscripts give a general idea of what I'm supposed to be looking at, but still leave a lot of freedom for me to imagine whatever I like.  And in a way, it's more fun that way.  It might not be the actual story that the writer might have wanted to tell but it makes me feel creative...

I haven't seen When Marnie Was There yet.  But in a way, I have seen it.  I may not know the actual story that is told in the movie, but I do know that I had a lot of fun imagining my own story without having to worry if I've comprehended the provided image.
If I had a library of manuscripts, I could spend forever there.

Austin's Tea Preference Criteria

I was recently asked the question if I preferred hot tea or cold tea.  I never actually thought about it, but I'm a little picky as to what I prefer depending on the circumstance.  So just to see how conditional my criteria of choosing hot or cold tea is, I decided to write it all out.

Hot tea: If it's a cold day, or I'm just feeling down or philosophical, I have hot tea.  Usually green or chrysanthemum if it's available.  When I feel sick I usually like peppermint with honey.  Also, I like hot Chinese or Japanese teas when eating (good) Asian food.  The exception is dim sum places... 

Chinese dim sum like to put all the leaves and flowers in one pot and leave it in there, so the tea gets stronger as the meal goes on.  Personally I like it a little lighter, so I usually immediately pour myself two cups, then ask for water later.  

Cold tea: I live in Canada, and here we have sweetened iced tea.  Pre-sweetened.  Popular brands include Brisk, Nestea (both owned by Nestle), Lipton, Snapple for more hipster people, and Arizona for frugal, addicted high schoolers.  The thing with the sweetened iced tea is that it's really sweet for people not used to it.  I've seen a handful of Americans try sweetened iced tea for the first time... they really didn't like it.  Sometimes, flavoring and sweeteners actually exceed the amount of tea in the drink, which is actually a little gross once I think about it.  

Read more on the wonderful, trustworthy, default resource Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iced_tea#Canada

I like iced tea practically any time I'm not drinking hot tea.  It's my default drink when I'm thirsty and want something sweet at the same time.  However, when I leave the country, I usually don't order it.

Being a Canadian used to over-sweetened iced tea, I always have to remind myself when travelling to America, the iced tea is not sweetened.  And when I forget... I take a big first sip and am met with the taste of cold tea (Duh. Why did I think it was going to taste like something else?).  

The exception to cool tea outside of Canada is Japan.  Most places (even some fast food restaurants) serve cool Japanese tea.  It's usually very light, with a nice subtle taste of green.  And it goes with almost anything.  And the best part: they serve it like water at restaurants; it's free.  You don't even have to ask.  

To Lose Sight

The world is very loud.  Noisy.  Voluminous in thick waves of sound.  But we barely notice it.  The humming of the lights, people passing by, air conditioners, traffic, even our own breathing.  We've all grown up in an environment where we are used to at least a little sound, somewhere, all the time. 

I used to find sound fascinating.  The drastic change in sound as soon as three people started conversing rather than two was something that always amazed me.  The thin air of one voice all of a sudden gained an overlap of another.  It was thickening like layers of honey collecting at the bottom of a cup of tea.  Indeed, the reception of sound is a fantastic thing. 

I recently went to a tourist attraction called "Dialogue in the Dark".  You are given a blind man's stick and put in a series of rooms in pitch black darkness with a guide (all guides are visually impaired).  The whole point is to experience being blind, relying on only touch, smell, and hearing to navigate in the darkness. To be honest, it's not for everyone.  Kids sometimes aren't mature enough for it, or are scared of the dark.  I don't blame them.  However, for me, my problem was the sudden barrage of information to my ears.  I discovered that I relied heavily on my eyes to process auditory information.  If a car honked, I turned to look at it.  If someone spoke, I could confirm it with my sight.  However, as I stood in a lightless room with the sounds of a busy intersection simulated, I couldn't help but be extremely overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed by the seemingly large quantity of information I would have confirmed with vision, but couldn't.  All the sounds I had overlooked with my eyes.  I was a tiny being facing a tsunami of sound stimuli. It was disorientating.  Belittling.  Daunting. My body produced a headache in no time.  I didn't want to process so much noise at once.  It was too much without eyesight. 
Then on top of that... I had to move around.  Navigate using a wooden apparatus that had loose connection to my body.  My headache became worse.  Why was the world so loud?  Why couldn't it just shut up for a while? 
And to think that it was all simulation. 

Afterwards, sound was a lot different.  It was no longer a fascinating concept that I could think to observe attentively.  It was a vast, endless swamp of information, one that I could never hope to process and understand should I lose my vision.  I had developed two things after that experience:
1. A newfound deep respect for visually impaired people.  Especially those who lost their sight after adolescence.
2. A new fear.  Fear of losing sight. I didn't think it would be something I would be afraid of, but after having a taste of the world with only ears...

Side note: I'm not saying Dialogue in the Dark is a bad attraction.  In fact, it's very well done and is unique for a tourist attraction.  It just isn't for everyone.  I'm just a wierdo who is hypersensitive to things concerning sound... So don't think that as soon as you come out you will develop a phobia for blindness.  If you have a chance to go there, it's a good experience!

The Prince and His Unwanted World

Yet another rant.

Don't get confused, it's not that the prince's world is unwanted by others.  It's that he doesn't want to be the prince.

I'm the son of an influential person of the medical world.  It's not so high of status that my father can change the country's healthcare system like a politician, but it is high enough for a lot of people to view me as the spoiled child of the boss.  My father has quite a few employees, more than just a normal sized clinic.  And being the boss' kid, it's easy to get benefits... a good childhood pastime was stealing goodies from the staff room, usually cookies or donuts.  And there was raiding the fridge for the stash of soda that anyone was welcome to take... if they worked there.  But when you're the boss' kid, who's going to stop you?

Such benefits continue into teenage years, with more added... one being the job benefit.  For example, this summer I'm not in town for the month of August; my family is going on a three week long trip.  And for the last week, I'm going to an all day camp (an intensive music camp).  Who is going to hire a fresh-out-of-highschool student for only a month?  Why waste your time on a kid that will only work for half the time and 1.4x the price compared to the eager teenagers starting to explore the workforce?

These questions can be ignored when you are the boss' kid.  It's uncommon for someone to challenge it. 

But being on top of the the small world in front of me is not something I enjoy.  With it comes everyone's judgement.  No one learns who you are as a stranger... you are already seen as a royalty that needs to be protected and attended to.  And should you somehow wrong them, you will get a good talking to, or even lose your job.  Your junior co-worker has more benefits than you, could potentially get paid more, and has flexible hours than you do.  It makes sense that they would judge me off the bat. 

It is very agreeable by everyone who meets him: the manager is naturally abrasive.  Very naturally abrasive.  He is good at what he does because of his personality, but a lot of people don't like dealing with him.  One time, my father couldn't take me to school after work, and asked the manager to do it as a favor.  Then for every person that asked him of his next whereabouts, he told them that he was leaving briefly to chauffeur the little prince.  

...That's uncalled for.  And not what I want to be remembered as.

 If you are the son or daughter of an employer, or of an influential person of society, you might know what I experience.  Whether you be a son of a doctor, a daughter of a high school principal, or the president's kid, you know that you have potential power.  It can be abused very easily.  And many people under you fear it.

But as for me and many others, we do not want this power.  We don't want to be feared as kids that could potentially make someone lose their job or get them in trouble.  We don't want jealous sighs of senior employees heard behind our backs.  We just want to be recognized as ourselves, just like anyone else.  

I have a terrible remember

At school, we have a class in which I lead a band.  Two guitars, a drummer, one keys player, two vocalists, and me, on bass.  A while ago, I was telling a story... Until two out of the six of them said that I told them the story already.  I made sure: "Really?  All of you have heard it?"  Everyone nodded or said yes.  "Well then... I have a terrible remember..."

I instantly got weird looks and a restatement of my last sentence.

From this little anecdote, two things are revealed about me:

1.) I get tongue tied a lot.

Technically, English isn't my first language.  It's Chinese (Cantonese, in case you were wondering about the dialect). But when I went to an English speaking school, I lost all my Chinese.  Now I'm trying to re-learn it.  

Even though I've spoken English most of my life and have no accent, I still have the cursed talent of mixing up words, or even reversing syllables and individual letters between adjacent words (I think I picked this up from my mother).  For example, instead of saying "pots and pans", I would say "pats and pons".  Or I would replace the word "memory" with "remember", hence "I have a terrible remember".  Sometimes I would (somehow) insert a syllable of a (loosely) related word from the next sentence into the one I'm currently saying.  I have no idea how my brain does this.  For example:  "The food smelled good. So I ate it" would turn into "The food smate good... *pause and weird looks from people* smate... *laughter at the terrible abomination of a word I've created*".   I didn't even say "So I ate it" yet.  I somehow extracted the word "ate" before I said it and fused it with "smelled"...

One speech problem that I don't have and my parents do is the difference between "him" and "her".  In Chinese, there is no difference in gender when referring to someone.  They just always use "they" (that's the English equivalent).  Just imagine using "they" in place of "him" or "her" all the time.  That's why my parents mix up "he" and "she" all the time.  

2.) I have a rerrible temember.

This seems to happen with peoples names, faces, stories I've told, and important items and events that I tell myself not to forget.  In the last three days I have been out at public places (mall, church, etc.) around 4-5 people said "Hi Austin" and I just awkwardly said hi back having no idea who they were. My memory for these type of things are simply terrible (or timply serrible).  What was really embarrassing was when one of my friend's mom said hi to me and then continued walking in the direction she was going.  I turned to my friend and said, "I have no idea who that lady is."  My friend looked at me with an "are you serious" face and said, "that's my mom..." 

I remember last year a new girl joined our grade and was in my math class.  We sat close to each other, and introduced ourselves (let's call her Morgan).  That was the first class of the morning.  Six hours later, musical theatre started their after school rehearsals.  My mom was one of the vocal coaches and did one on one lessons with some of the students.  The lessons took place in the band room (practically my second house).  While my mom did the lessons in the practice room, I played piano in the main room, waiting for her to finish.  Morgan walked in for her lesson and when I looked up (no joke) I didn't recognize her.  At least, not as a person I just met.  My first thoughts were, "she looks familiar... where have I seen her?"  *sidenote: I am still giving myself a mental facepalm, even while typing this.*  Since I had no idea who she was, I just treated her like any other stranger: 

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here for the vocal lessons..."

"Right down that hall, the room to your right.  You can wait until the student ahead of you is done."

It wasn't until I looked at the time schedule that I learned where I had seen her before... *sigh*  

Being a jerk and not applauding.

If you have read enough posts or know me in person, you probably would know that the title of this post is sarcastic.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against the existence of applauses.  If a baby takes it's first steps, applause is appropriate. If an athlete scores a goal or wins a race, applause, whistling, and cheering often occurs. And if a Stormtrooper actually hits a target.... They deserve a standing ovation.  And a cookie.

But for me, whenever I see or hear a performance or message that is special, clapping just ruins it.  Usually the message/sound is powerful, profound, expressive, beautiful, meaningful, and/or produced from the bottom of the heart.  It means a lot to the performer, and their actions are not to be taken lightly.  Your reaction to them after speaking needs delicacy and respect.
When the speaker or performer is done... I feel that clapping disrupts the heavy, respect-demanding air that has been created.  It's just a noise... one tonal noise with a sharp attack and instant decay.  It pierces ears... and slashes the air like a blunt knife cutting through soft, damp wood.  So distracting.  And this noise has to be heard over and over again, until the gorgeous expression of one's soul is dismissed as pieces...
I can never enjoy the silence after a truly great and breathtaking performance.  I wish that I were the only human around to hear it.  I wish that I were the only being to hear it.

Clapping is something more of a celebratory gesture, with a "good job" mentality.  I never want to dismiss great works of depth with a simple "good job", I want to experience all of it; before, during, and after.  But, because of social norms, I'm always cheated the last part (and sometimes the whole thing).
I somehow need to find something else other than clapping to acknowledge performances such as these.  An action that shows my deep sincerity and acknowledgement without being distracting or noisy...  But what would that be?
Whenever I don't applaud, people give me death glares thinking I didn't appreciated the presented music/drama/whateveritmightbe.  I truly did enjoy... I just didn't want to participate in killing it.

My weird habit

Of course everyone has habits.  Some stranger than others.  I happen to have one that seems offensive to people.

When talking to some people, I don't make eye contact.  Obvious enough to make me seem rude.  The exception is when I meet someone new, or I'm talking to an authority figure that could easily influence me, like the principal, police officers, or anyone that I respect a lot who I'm having a serious conversation with. 

Why do I not look at people? Firstly, I think I require a bit more effort for me to pay attention to people than most people.  I'm not a very good audio learner, so listening to someone requires my full attention.  Otherwise I might not actually listen to everything they say.  And one thing that distracts me is actually their face.  The person that I talk to always has an emotion (considering that the "emotionless" face is an emotion) and how it may ever so slightly change is distracting sometimes.  I start to wonder what is going on in their head rather than register and process what they are saying to me.  As a result, I look around aimlessly, not at a specific object, and concentrate on what they are saying.  I saw a video of me doing it once, and it half looks like staring off into space and half actively looking for something (ironic, I know).

For the people who fall in the exception category, they are the people where I thought presenting myself with the best manners possible trumps my strange method of concentration.  Of course, this means that I have to ignore their face while still looking at their face, which is hard.  I usually end up staring at them really hard and completely lose them, or look at them with dead eyes.  If I can't aimlessly look around, I just need to aimlessly look in one place. 
Now the weird thing is that when I say "dead eyes", it doesn't look like it.  To me, I literally do as described above.  But to everyone else who doesn't know, it looks like I'm actively showing full attention and engagement of the conversation. 

Over the years I've gotten better at balancing my attention and face studying. 

If you know me, sorry if I don't look at you when speaking.  I'm just trying to pay attention.

The Skill Room

Yesterday our Sr. Jazz band got up early like usual, and began rehearsal like any other day.  Only one thing... one of our trumpet players couldn't play for a strange reason.  He could barely make music let alone organized noise, and it was like he went back to clumsily playing trumpet for the first time like in grade 7.  Since he couldn't do it, he just sat down, and didn't play.  So while everyone else played, he decided to pass time on his iPad.  Whether what he was doing was important or not, I don't know.  The teacher called him out on it about halfway through the rehearsal.  I could see it took a toll on him.  After he silently put the tablet away, he stared down at the ground obviously frustrated.  And then he started holding back tears.  I could feel it... he was not just frustrated, but confused, mad at himself, and embarrassed.  It seemed to me that the iPad was a good distraction from his frustration and other emotions.  But once that was taken away, there was no hiding it.  And the fact that he was starting to shed tears was all the more humiliating.  As his friend, I whisper-yelled his name and threw my water bottle to him, motioning for him to drink.  After all, drinking water when you're crying helps you stop.  Seriously, it works well.

Why was he feeling all those emotions on a day like any other?  I believe he has hit something not a lot of musicians see or experience... I've asked musicians about this experience that are four (maybe five) times my age and they have never experienced something like the one I described above.
I call this experience the Skill Room (not the best title I know).  Why?  This experience feels like your skills as a musician has been blocked off for a strange reason... like you are locked in a room with no access to your skills.  You don't feel it until you actually try to play.  You just start, expecting to make music like usual.  Then you realize that your playing/practice is under par.  Very under par.  It feels like a few years of experience, skills, and motor memory have been sucked out just as you picked up/turned on/sat down to play your instrument.  You can't buzz, set a proper embouchure, get your fingers to move right, and your focus level seems normal, yet somehow harder to conjure.  It is the one of the most frustrating things I have so far experienced, knowing I could full well play grade 9 (ten grades in my country's system) piano songs with ease but for that day I was limited to a grade 5 level.  It's frustrating enough to draw tears, which was what happened to my friend.

The Skill Room is something I've only encountered twice for the thirteen years I have been learning/creating music.  Both experiences in the same year.  Both of those days started just fine, but after that it was pretty depressing.  When all your skill just seemed locked out of you, you kind of just want to stop for the day.  And that's what I did.
I don't really know how to break out.  It kind of goes away after a night's sleep.  The next day, everything is back to the usual.

I didn't get to talk to him after rehearsal, but it seemed rough.  I hope he's doing okay right now.

I then began to think if other musicians see this room everyday, and if the room would be the reason of why they quit music.  I can only wish that those stuck in this terrible place would somehow either break out, or have someone help them.

The Patience Limit

So I'm typing this is after re-reading what I've written.  This post you're going to read gets kinda dark at the end.

I've been told I'm a patient person.  I have the ability to wait while others can't just sit still.  But I must disagree.  I'm not the most patient person all the time.  In fact, I hate waiting for things I look forward to.  But if they are events that I can't control the time in which it occurs (such as a present promised on a certain date), I just hold my frustration in and just wait.  That is the patience I get noticed for.  But to me, I don't think it's the healthy type.  Patience to me has always been coming to terms with the circumstances, and accepting it peacefully with grace and wisdom.  Weird, somewhat irrational, and not applicable in most cases, I know.  When I picture Patience in a human form, I think of an aging Kung Fu master in the sitting lotus position, meditating calmly on the side of a green mountain waiting for his tea to boil while the sun lights his hair with brilliance....
woah, really weird moment right there.

Anyways, I should start writing stuff that relates to the title.  Recently, a friend promised me a present of some sort.  What form it takes, I have no idea (yet).  It was supposed to be for Christmas, but she got busy, and did not complete it on time.  So she decided to move it to a later time, as a grad present.  Grad is at the end of May.
Like I said, I can be seen as patient. I was told I would receive the gift in the middle of January, and as soon as she told me that it wasn't ready, I was frustrated.  Not in a "I hate you, you should be more responsible" way.  More like "ah.  That sucks.  I can't wait!"  But, I knew when I would have it by, so I suppressed my frustration.  And I can turn it to satisfaction in late May.

She told me to be patient.  I asked, "how patient?"  I was then asked if I had a patience limit.  I never realized it, but I have never really had my patience tested to my breaking point.  Knowing myself, I might have a violent rage if I am pushed enough.  But I've done a pretty good job of keeping that in, conscious that I've been trained in more effective ways to hurt people.  One time, my sister was being extremely arrogant, so I yelled at her with language that is not normally allowed in my house.  Of course, she cried afterwards and I got in trouble...
Other than that, I have not been pushed with my patience more.  That was my only "popping" point.  Just as verbal outcry of literally 3 seconds.  However, I have had some terrible thoughts.  There's no shortage of people that would be dead right now had I did not use my strange yet effective suppression.
So when asked about my patience limit... I wondered what it would look like.  I don't know myself well enough to know exactly what I would do.  My go-to thought was harm other people.  But after a while, I thought that it would also be possible that I would cave and implode on myself.  I was told that there are two types of people who deal with anger: those who explode, and those who seem fine and then one day silently shoot someone.  Well as for me... I'm thinking I would seem fine for a long time... then cut everyone to pieces disregarding any future consequences.  Literally.
I don't really want to find out how I would look there.  Or how I would look like to other people.

I have officially found a new fear of mine: my breaking point.

CHRISTMAS!! (Sorta)

Yay for more unbearable pessimism from me! (If you don't like pessimism, expression of disappointment, hate Christmas haters, or just hate hearing people whine and complain, don't keep reading.  Seriously, stahp.)

So today is the day that we've all been waiting for.  Presents, smiles, and fattening yourself up so you have less motivation to get in shape after New Years.  Honestly, I don't feel really excited about it.  It's here; just another day.  Like any other. This morning I woke up, and I didn't do anything much different. 
Most kids wake up like they just consumed one of those giant big gulps from 7-11. 
AH MAH GARSH ITS CHRISTMASPRESENTSCANDYSUGARCHOCOLATEPRESENTSPRESENTSFOODPRESENTS!!!!

I just woke up, checked what time it was, and tried to go back to sleep.  Like any other lazy weekend day.  Or day off for that matter. 
I obviously am/was not excited for Christmas.  However, I still looked forward to it.  I finally got free time to relax and spend it with my family.  It started out pretty good.  We woke up, and opened presents.  We all appreciated what we each got, and thanked our mother for getting us great gifts that not only we wanted, but needed as well.  After that, we had a great brunch, and...

Started working.  Now, I understand it's a good move.  Start now, get lots done so you can enjoy yourself in the last parts of the break. So I actually got quite a bit done. 
Although, I must say I was rather disappointed with my family's decision of what  to do for the afternoon besides work.  Of all thing to do after a decent amount of work was done... It had to be movie.  I don't think there's anything wrong with watching movies.  Its just that in movies you do not interact with each other.  You sit and watch a screen.  Unless you're talking with who you're watching with, you aren't actually interacting with them. 

I recently decided that I should value my family more.  I really took them for granted.  Someone asked me to think of the most depressing thought for Christmas, and I answered with the terrible Christmas' that kids with newly divorced parents will have.  I then realised how much I actually undervalued my family and decided that I should treasure this year's Christmas moments with them.  But I was disappointed when I didn't get to for very long. 
If I count up how much time my family spent together interacting on Christmas, it comes to about 2 hours.  3 and a half if you include the meals.  I find that just... Sad.  I was looking forward to Christmas to give the people I live with my smile and share joy.  But I didn't get very long to do it.  I'm not trying to be a complaining bratty kid who didn't get what he wanted for Christmas.  I just feel really... Disappointed. 

Sorry if I don't use your name.

So recently my parents have clamped down and pressured me to say their titles when I talk to them.  This is normal; understandable for most parents.  Its basic respect for a child to say the name of the person they are addressing.  However, there are some points where it's not necessarily... Necessary. 

You should address the person:
You see a friend at the mall, but they don't see you.  So you call out to them.  Using their name.  Not just "hey you!".  At least that's what's expected.  Some people insult them to get attention, or some other creative way that I'm not ready to think of right now...

You don't have to address the person:
Teacher: did you finish your homework?
You: yes/no... (Depending what type of student you are)
It was not absolutely necessary to say "Yes, Mrs. Johnson, I finished.  The last episode of Bleach.  Finally." You can just say yes or no.  But my parents think that should an situation such as greetings occur, I must address them. It has become a rule in the house:
"Hi Austin."
"Hi."
"WHATS MY NAME WHY DIDNT YOU SAY IT AM I JUST A PIECE OF MATTER EXISTING HERE AND THATS IT ARRGGFHAHCJRNSPEJEBEE"

...Well that's definitely a hyperbole but you get the point. 

Actually, if I don't use your name in unnecessary name addressing situations, I think its a sign of familiarity.  It means I'm comfortable with you and that I don't need to be so formal and have my guard up.  Guarding what, I'm not entirely sure. Still have to figure that out. 

I address people I'm not so familiar with, but still know their names.  Like... Classmates.  A couple days back before class: "Morning Janelle." If it was any of my friends, I would have simply grogged out a "morning" or "hi", because I'm usually not awake yet.  Sometimes, if I'm really not ready for human daytime function yet, I don't even say anything. 

So to my parents, please don't be offended if I don't say your name when not necessary.  I'm not trying to insult or disrespect you.

Then there's a last group of people who I actually address with their name, when unnecessary.  However, its different than the acquaintances mentioned above.  These people are special, precious.  They mean a lot to me.  I may not use this all the time with them, but when I use it, I'm a little conscious of who I say it to. 

My brain sometimes likes to exclude important people.

So I was chatting with a good friend when she asked a question: "have I ever been in any of your dreams?"
I immediately was going to say no.  Despite being important to me, she has never shown up in any of the dream I can remember.  As I thought about it more, other people I considered important didn't show up in my dreams either.  All the people I thought were crucial to me have never (if not rarely) shown up in my dreams.  I'll be honest, the majority of my friends have shown up in my dreams, because most of them are not confidants.  My subconscious puts them a little lower on the importance scale.  My parents are an exception, maybe its because they are my parents.  However, they have rarely been in my dreams.  So this person I was talking with who went from good friend to super important person to me in a couple months has never shown up I'm my dreams before.  I don't think time gave space for my head to make one (probably could have happened, just exaggerating). 

I also noticed that the closer the friend that's not a confidant, the stranger the dream.  All the dreams with majority of my friends have been really weird.  One time my friend took my clothes somehow while I was talking to a man and his daughter who was my age (quite pretty to be frank, so it was pretty embarrassing when my clothes suddenly disappeared).  Found out my stolen clothes had been put in the public toilet...
On time there was a lethal paintball war between humans and an alien alliance of races called the Covenant... And the most important thing I had to do was deliver cake to a customer's house.  After avoiding dying a couple times, I arrived at the house to find my friends sitting around the living room, and the cake eaten.  Turns out their mouths teleported into the box and ate while I was making the delivery...
Oh dear my head needs fixing. 

Why being important is nice but sometimes sucks

Just from reading the title, I sound really arrogant.  And the rest of the post is going to also sound like I'm really arrogant.  Just to let you know before you read further, I'm not trying to be a stuck up, world-revolves-around-me type of person.  If I call myself important, it's because other people have told me so, and I know my role among the student body of my school.

So if you don't know, I'm a musician.  Music is not only something I love creating as art and recreation, it's my passion, and my language.  So being a music geek, it's only natural that I spend (literally) most of my time at school in the band room.  Seriously, if you add up how many hours I am in the band room compared to how many hours in any other classroom collectively, I spend more time in the band room.
Because I'm there so much, the teacher I see the most obviously would be the band teacher.  Just yesterday, he asked me a question that made me think quite a bit about my role in the school.  He asked, "Who are you going to teach all the stuff you learned in jazz?"  To understand his question, a little background info is needed.

There are currently no jazz pianists in Sr. High.  I am the only one.  Next year I graduate, which means that someone (currently) between grades nine and eleven really needs to step up their learning in that area.  And of course the best way is to have the person who does it best in the school teach them... and that would be me.
I would be more than happy to teach someone how to play jazz piano, but the problem comes in with my crazy and evil schedule.  Even though I have a lot of spares during the day, it's usually taken by either practice or homework.  Or sleep, because I don't get enough of it during the night.  If I could fit another student in jazz piano, I think it would be a lot of fun, since jazz is right up my alley.
That wasn't the only problem though.  After the question was asked, me and my teacher spent about ten minutes discussing who would be a good candidate to, in simplest terms, (not trying to brag here) be my successor.  We both definitely agreed that people are not simply replaceable. Each new band every year develops a new style and approach to music, even if it is very subtle.  However, if we don't find someone to learn the basics of a vital role quickly, then the whole band suffers.

Then I realized, that a lot of people are going to miss me, and I'm going to terribly miss everyone in the program as well.  They say that the people you should know the best are the people in your grade (since you're with them for 13 years), but the people I consider my family at school are people in the band programs.  Especially the Jr. Highs, it's fun to help them learn and watch them grow as musicians, and I find a lot of joy in doing that.  Jeez, it sounds like I have kids or something...
My teacher's question made me think of all the people I would simply see a lot less next year.  The bassoon player in grade 7 that would always asked if I lived in the band room (I kind of do), the twins that I know that play way more instruments than me, the whole grade 9 band that I loved working with last year, all the people who complimented me that one time I directed the band, and many more people who rely on me for help.  I'm going to really miss everyone.  And from what I've been told, they're going to miss me too.

...aaaaand I'm crying.  Great.

So in a way, I don't want to graduate.  Because I don't want to leave this environment that I love being in so much, and helping other people in whatever they need for the sake of their smile and "thank you".

I think I'm going to visit a lot next year.

My wonderful and irritating brain

I was recently asked what is the hardest part of composing music.  My first response was "finding a title".  Seriously, for me, it takes waaaaay too much effort.  More than it should, at least.  If I spend 4 days working on a song, I usually spend the same amount of time looking for a title.  My brain just lacks creativity with words.  I suck at poetry.  It usually seems too casual, or awkward in some way.  I rarely have been satisfied at my work titles. 

The other really frustrating thing about composing is getting ideas on paper (or some other way of remembering ideas). I have actually thought of hundreds of musical ideas that would create pieces that last at least 3 minutes long.  They all sound so good on my head!  But as soon as I get to the piano to plunk it out, *poof* it's gone.  I can't retrieve it.  Most of my good ideas go down the drain in less than 30 seconds, and I have no idea how. 

Aaauuurrgh so frustrating!!

A reflective contest

So my CALM teacher made my class sign up for a website where you can search and earn scholarships from.  I entered a contest on it, so I could get the chance of $250.  The question was: "What was your best/worst summer job experience?" or "What would be the best/worst summer job?"

Here's my answer.  

I've only ever had one summer job, and that was working in a medical clinic.  I sat in a room in the back and did electronic paperwork and scanning.  I must admit, it was the most boring work I have ever done.  Period.  I spent countless hours doing the same thing over and over again. However, the pay was good and everyone apparently loved me by the end of the summer, because I had caught them up on 2 month's worth of work that no one wanted to do.  

I don't think that it was the worst job ever.  Why?  Because I was proud of myself for lifting other people in the area up.  Sure, I was bored to death from it, but I still had become a hero without being seen.  That was what made me appreciate my position.

I think the worst jov ever would be a job where you can't appreciate yourself, or yo hate what your doing with no gain.  It's a little pointless to be there if your attitude is in the wrong place!  Your performance (and pay) depends on your work morale!

I you can, go for the best job: a job that you love.  In my case, it would be working at a music store, or a recording studio.  Whatever your passion is, you should pursue it!