jazz singers

I don't like Billie Holiday. I never thought her voice was something nice to listen to. I preferred the smooth voice of Ella Fitzgerald. However, I must concede that there is a rawness in the song Lover Man that Billie Holiday really pinned. Ella's version, though good and sad, doesn't beat the real pain Billie seems to get across.

A trumpeter friend of mine told me, in response to my negative opinion of Billie, that the reason why all the amazing jazz players wanted to play with her is because she didn't hold back, and she just put her all into the songs that she sang. Now, to me, sometimes that just comes across as sloppy, but then again, what the hell do I know?

Anyway, Lover Man, if you don't know, is the sad aching song about someone whose never experienced romantic love and is longing for it. The other day I showed this song to a friend in need of some wallowing, as it is often my wallowing song. I have a sort of inkling that I won't be singing Lover Man forever, but as it is, sometimes it's nice to sit and sigh.

in a world full of changes

So there's been this lull. At the time of my last post there were a hundred things to do and all of them were very important. Now, I've moved away from her, and all I have to do is clean, I finished the big paper, and now I just have 2 exams to do over the next 2 weeks.

When I took apart my bed on Tuesday, I suddenly got really sad. I had been in this bed for the last 3 years, and it become evident that this was the end of something, and maybe I didn't really leave my mark on people. I was really upset that there were people that I just won't see again - you know, those people who aren't really your friends, but you're friendly with - and I'm afraid that those people may be most of the people I know.

Everything's changing, and it's freaking me out huge. I don't really know where I'll be in September, but wherever it is, it'll be an unfamiliar place where I don't know anyone.

Like my bed frame, my life's coming apart. It'll come back together, but who knows what that'll look like.

exactly what i was talking about

i hate running

I mean, I really hate it. People say it's relaxing, that you can turn your mind off and just go. Well, for me, somehow, I can't stop thinking about how little breath I have.

People say that it's all mental and, honestly, I think that's why I hate it. I mean, if I was more fit, it would be less of a psychotic game. My internal running dialogue is a lot like this:
"Okay, I've just started, no big deal, I'm not even tired... Oh no, is that a leg cramp? No! Too late. I've already started. Oh man, I should have stretched better.... one lap... Okay, Esther, you have to at least do 10. You did 10 before. No big deal, you should be able to do that again, maybe even more. Should I do 11? Maybe I should do 11... I'm so tired... No. Keep on going, you can DO this. Press on. ... two laps"

Tiring, eh? Yeah, tell me about it. This is like my life. I always feel like I'm pushing myself, and I always want to do more. Don't get me wrong - I am very lazy, but when it comes to things set before me, like school, working out, it's always this mental game where I see how hard I can push myself.

I have so much school in front of me and I really want to do well. I'm staying in most nights so I can study and work on my essays, and when I don't get enough done, I berate myself, and try to use that push harder.

My sister, Gloria, said I should try and simplify my life now that school is ending. Maybe she's right. Or maybe I just have to work harder.

So the question is: Should I push my limits? Or should I try and realize them? I really like the sound of the first one - it's like one of those things that should be on a poster that they have in a guidance counsellor's office - and the second one scares me - this sounds like the people who don't believe in me. Plus, it sounds a lot less straightforward.

I once said that I thought a life of fear was one of mediocrity. I think I was wrong. Some people are afraid of mediocrity. (I'm afraid of mediocrity.) 2006: Year Without Fear is turning out to be more complicated than I thought. When I think I've conquered a fear, it now seems that I'm just more afraid of something else.

considering ravens

Consider the ravens.
They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn.
Yet God feeds them.

They do not write theses or research papers.
Yet God feeds them.

They do not find assignees for their apartments, they do not fight with their landlords.
Yet God feeds them.

They do not pick schools, choose places to live, decide whether to commute. They do not write cover letters or resumes or attend job interviews. They do not make money. They do not pay off their credit card bills or students loans.

They do not spend hours and hours on a problem set to get crappy marks on them. They do not find recursive algorithms in coding languages they haven't used in years. They do not study for exams. They do not go to auditions.

They do not graduate with honours. They do not have degrees.

They do not console their friends. They do not call their friends in tears. They do not ignore their friends.

They do not have boyfriends.

They do not have self-esteem.

They do not read the Bible. They do not pray.

They do not blog.

Yet God feeds them.

i feel like billy elliot

There's a very poignant scene at the end of Billy Elliot where he gets a letter from the ballet school and takes it into his room, reads it and then cries. It's wonderful. It's still real, yet we're left in suspense. Today, I totally relate. I got into Sheridan's musical theatre program. I know this might be the tackiest way of finding out.

I'm scared. I'm excited. What the hell is going to happen next year?

Billy: I think I'm scared, Dad.
Jackie Elliot: That's okay, son. We're all scared.
Billy: Well... if I don't like it, can I still come back?
Jackie Elliot: Are you kidding? We've let out your room.
[straight face then laughter]

i wish my life was like a 1950s musical

Then the answer to most of my problems would be to dance and sing.

mr sun!

I love the sun. Not like the California beach sun, but I love the sun when it makes the difference between being able to wear a coat or not. I love closing my eyes and feeling the warmth on my face. It's this time of year, when you're still caught up in your normal routine, but the new weather seems to put everything in a different context.

Sometimes when I write on this blog, I'm just venting about how sad I am. Sadness is a complex thing. Not to say that happy people don't think as much, but when you're sad and you're not sure why, there is certainly a lot to sift through in search for the reason.

I'd just like to let everyone know that I'm okay. All the reasons I bitch about still apply, but there are bigger things that beat them out. Like the sun.

I just have to keep that in mind while I deal with people I don't understand, life decisions, school work, and boys.

Thought of the day: I wish I was a poet so people would listen to me.

how to hurt me

I've found that there is a certain way that people always can get me. Just follow the following steps:
1. Disagree with me.
2. By seeming completely logical and in control:
- Make me feel stupid and unreasonable for offering a differing opinion.
- Make me feel stupid and unreasonable for having a differing opinion.
If you succeed, I'll walk away thinking I did something wrong and that I'm a bad person.

You probably need to be a certain type of person - the type of person who I could probably respect, with good opinions. This horrible thing about this is that these people don't seem like assholes and bitches! In fact, they seem like friends! If you're able to be my friend, first - if you're able to be someone I trust - these steps become 550% more effective!

Maybe if I was a little less proud, these steps wouldn't be as effective. Maybe if I wasn't as insecure as I am, this wouldn't bother me.

I hate that I let people get to me. It's funny - while I do have the longings of a young girl to be loved, sometimes I feel like it would be easier if I was a rock.

"And a rock feels no pain,
And an island never cries."
- Simon and Garfunkel

slaying green-eyed monsters

Skule Nite is over. I worked hard and long with so many other people, and now I find that there's going to be this large gap in my life for a bit. This year, I found that Skule Nite has revealed my lowest parts to myself. I've been so tired and so annoyed and, most regrettably, I've found that I've been so jealous.

I once heard a preacher say that being jealous was a sin because you are refusing to rejoice with others in their blessings. Sounds pretty bad, eh? But what if you can't help it?!

I tried for a long time to just ignore my feelings, but it didn't work. They bubbled to the surface in ways that I couldn't imagine. So what's left? - Accept your feelings. But then I feel like such a horrible person because of these incredibly petty responses and the even pettier ways they bubbled to the surface.

A friend told me that it is ridiculous to be upset with the way you feel - emotions are usually completely reasonable. I suppose the trick is to not let your jealousy get in the way of loving people. (I'd rather learn to juggle.)

Shouldn't I be changing, though? Shouldn't I be beyond these grade five emotions? I thought the deal was transformation, but in many ways, I still feel like a child.

When getting communion today, I prayed that I would change, but, in the meanwhile, be okay with who I am. It's hard to deal with a broken world, especially when that broken world is inside of you.

Good night, my friends. Tomorrow, everything will be new again.