everything is un- everything is unfi- everything is unfinished

Despite the cold that rattled me out of alto range and cornered me in a basement range that any bass would be proud to have, I managed to get the alto part in the trio that sings one of the Russian prayers for the Chamber Choir. I then went to meet with my Folk and Urban Music professor who stood me up. Apparently she hadn't been in all day. Bloody frustrating.
Around 4 I met up with my composer counterpart for my Advance Classical Performance class, a student named Tim who is supposed so compose a piece I'll then perform at my juries. In what I think was an attempt to get out of doing the brunt of the work, he suggested writing a Troubador song. You know, an a capella melody with no accompaniment? (This would mean that he has only to write a single melody line, no piano...hell, I could make it up in the shower.) Needless to say I hope I talked him out of it. I'm half expecting that he'll show up with a piece of paper with a single line drawn on it and tell me "Okay, the line demonstrated the melody's arc. Just pick a note and follow the arc. It's new age."
Soccer tonight was ridiculous. Or at least the first half of it was. Both the guy's soccer team and the guy's rugby team were on the pitch next to us and with their attention, the girls became complete middle-schoolers. Whining, flirting, pretending to fall down, noticing broken nails, applying mascara in the backfield...I just yelled at them more than usual. Now that I think about it though, I don't know that that was necessarily a reaction to their unusual behavior. Could very well have been my middle school reaction to the guys. My mascara.

Now I'm back in the flat, post-udon, and pre-teeth brushing. And very very sleepy.