You are currently browsing the monthly archive for February, 2007.
is to be happy.
Now, that’s sounds more depressing than it actually is, but I can’t stand Birthdays.
This comes after several days of my mother reminding me, “Oh, your Birthday is coming up soon!” Now, normally I ignore this and just move on with what I was doing. Woe is me that I actually stopped to see how far away it was. Twelve days.
March is a miserable month, usually, which in years past has done nothing to make the events that occur in it any more enjoyable. Skipping your Birthday doesn’t seem to help either. But this year I want to have a Birthday where I can be happy. Not even keeled, not pleased with the way events are going. I want to have a Happy Birthday, much like the ridiculous cards I assume I shall receive in saying this. I’ve also realized that this might be my last chance to celebrate in close quarters with all the people I’ve know for quite a while. Friends if you will.
The other part is that I want to have my Birthday on my Birthday. It’s been years since I haven’t had a rehearsal or a concert conflicting with it. So here’s my deal; I’m having a Birthday Party.
A letter is coming. You have been warned.
Nothing is as dire as you make it out to be. That’s still no reason for you not to make it out to be more dire than it actually is, but you know, just throwing that out there.
Life, otherwise, is pretty tame. My college auditions are finally complete, along with the incredible amounts of paperwork that went along with them. Break is pretty unfulfilling. I’ve decided that I need a new hobby besides pure speculation and waiting, else I might slowly go insane to ‘Sweeney Todd.’
Recent events and occurances have led me to believe that I need to ‘get out a bit more.’ My box is rather comfortable, but nothing is going to happen unless I take the initiative.
Correction; nothing good is going to happen.
It would be really awesome if I had that initiative.
A date would be really awesome too. Just throwing that out there.
Today I came home to find my good friend, Mr. Mouse, was dead.
I’d only known him less than a year, but we came to be close friends in that short time. It seems like yesterday that I’d be up late, enjoying summer nights in front of the computer when he’d scamper out across my feet; at first to my horror, but later to my delight. And the one time when survived an encounter with the cat and I fed him back to health.
He loved bread. He hated crusts.
There where always be a place for you Mr. Mouse, in both my heart and the mouse-hole in the back of our pantry. You shall be missed.
It’s been quite a while since an actual-real-honest to goodness update about my life. There’s not to much to complain about here, which is more of a lie because there is always something to complain about. The trouble I seem to be facing most is figuring out who are the Matt’s of the world and who are the Bandits. Best be careful there.
Something that I’ve recently noticed that frustrates me is how much I seem to enjoy being a wallflower. Now, my post on royalty would say otherwise, but sometimes it would be nice to not feel like the outsider, or the new kid.
I say this because as fantastick as Fantasticks rehearsals are (I wouldn’t trade them for all the leads in Brockport), it’s distressing being out of the loop. I still don’t know most of the cast, and they’re all so nice that it seems a shame that they don’t even know where I go to school, much less who I am. I’m frequently not called to rehearsals as often as the rest of them, and haven’t been able to attend the social outings, so it puts me a bit behind the socialization curve.
But then other times I think, “You wouldn’t have fun there anyways. You’d just do what you always do.” and sit off to the side, listening to bits of peoples lives that don’t involve me at all, but finding them fascinating all the same. It’s a shame. It also leads me to worry about other things, but I’ll save that for another day.
I’m going to go thaw out that other cheesecake. And probably eat the whole thing.
I’m making lists in my sleep
trying to figure what
on earth
you could want from me
I had trouble
figuring out the first time around
why you would choose me
And now I’m having trouble
this second time around
figuring out what
on earth
would bring you back
