Experts from Email

The following was an email I sent to Jeff that I have edited to remove the emotional content, and direct statements to him changed to about him:

The daily schedule is 8:30 downbeat (for legit this time) until at least 9:30, but will probably be longer. There are rumors that tomorrow is going to be until midnight because we only have our hard ass instructor until Tuesday night.

Because we have a hard ass instructor, I don't even know the names of all the drummers yet. The important and loud ones, yes, but not the two quiet tenors or most of the basses. Our lead cymbal is really nice and reminds me of my cousin Laura. She's also really pretty. There's an even prettier girl on the cymbal line, but she, in all serious, said, "Wait, is Portuguese really a language?" When everyone was absolutely dumbstruck to silence, she asked, "Is that a stupid question?" Luckily, someone managed to get out, "There are no such things as stupid questions," but my lord.

There are three freshmen on the line and none of us have ever played. One of the kids tried for snare I think, and got bumped. The other girl was homeschooled, but plays on a set. She actually, you know, reads percussion rhythms and counts, so she helps me out a lot when I don't need it. It's irritating, but I try to be nice. Also, she was homeschooled.

One of the sophomore cymbals who creeped me on Facebook is actually a total creeper. It was announced on the first day that he slept around a lot. I think the girl who announced it was one of them.

The other guy on the line reminds me of Wizpig because he's balding. He's next to me during all of my sets in "Bad Romance." Oh, yeah. The first show is Lady Gaga.

I think I go crazy when I'm alone, 'cuz I keep making all these weird noises when I have things to do in a rush. I'm glad I don't have roommates yet.

I had to learn how to shave my legs while standing up. Eventually, I went with a back press against one wall to support my leg on the other. There's all sorts of gross things growing in the shower, so I'll try to scrub it before my roomies get here, but I doubt I'll have time.

Kira moved in today. Sadly, we couldn't get dinner together or hang out after band because it ended so late and I was beat.

It's really weird to have A/C, because everything is cold even though I'm sweatin' balls outside.

I got locked out and my room key has still not turned up, so I may have to get a permanent replacement tomorrow. *sigh*

During the first all band practice together, they mostly played around as a warm up. One of the songs they played last year and will be playing again this year is "Fat Lip" by Sum 41. It was surreally awesome to be nearly exhausted, but still watching all these guys singing together "Don't count on me, I'll do it again..." During some songs, I got to groovin'.

I haven't made any real friends yet, but I'm working on it. I'm getting more comfortable with everyone. During the first meeting as cymbals, she told us to all get in a circle and we'd just talk. That made me a little sad/happy there's more circle time.

The snare captain reminds me of a young and more modern Bishop Bishop.

I'm not entirely sure if it's the college experience or picking up cymbals that has made me feel so refreshed to completely learn something new. Admittedly, I had the slightest background information, but still... I feel like such a weeny freshman, possibly aggravated by my lack of experience in this musical format.

On the first full day of lunch, I went to get orange juice from the little dispenser. Rather than going from the nozzle into my cup, it shot out at 90 degree angels parallel to the ground and got me slimed. One of the upperclassmen made fun of me with sympathy, and demonstrated again what had just happened to his friend. However, he was safely backed away from the jets.

My mom wrote me a letter that I was to read once they were gone and I was all settled in at night. It was super cute. Definitely not as relevant or meaningful as I would've liked as far as content, but it was very "my mom," which was more important. She spelled a couple words wrong, including my nickname "Punky." It's very obviously Pucky in all of the spellings.

I have all the hottest bruises this season. The ones are my stomach are totally ridic, but my hips and left arm are also taking a beating. There are no open sores on my hands yet though, like one of the sophomore boys.

The first full night I was gone, my mom called me, and when we said goodbye, I cried immediately afterward. I think it would've made her feel a lot better to know that, but I wanted her to think I was alright. She called me something like three times today and texted twice. Her second message was a little frantic, so when I finally called her, I joked that I hear police sirens all the time. I was joking, but it's also true.

After eating dinner at the cafeteria (hot dogs and french fries because I couldn't find the rice), my stomach hurt a lot during set reps. I knew that if I didn't focus on it, it wouldn't matter so much, so I tried thinking about Jeff. It worked super well! Until I almost got to the point of tears for a whole little rush of memories. Then I had to stop and think of something else.

Our hard ass instructor used his cell phone tonight, and we made fun of him from the field about his statement that cell phone usage at drumline is an automatic 256 laps. His musician friend going way back had a heart attack and is in a coma. He told us to appreciate life because you don't know when it will be gone.

I haven't managed to crack the drumline humor yet (because it's non sequitor pop culture references or inside jokes), but I have had some independent moments appreciated. Plus, I'm still enthusiastic as ever.

It's weird having super fast internet, but I don't know what our data usage rate is.

The difference between a competent band director working with kids who want to be in band vs. D and our band is astounding.




Today, I definitely made up my mind to make this blog private. It's not to keep the past out of my new life, but to keep the new people I meet from discovering my past without me knowing about it. Then tonight, I was wishy-washy on it. I'll figure it out.