salience

Really, where would I be without my family? Someone is always ready to make me smile, even when I can't seem to find anything to smile about.

::observe, tonight::

Vespera800: carmita!!
KatzRock400: hola
KatzRock400: :-)
Vespera800: que tal mi hermana?
KatzRock400: mmm.......regular
KatzRock400: jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj
KatzRock400: j's look so coool
KatzRock400: ner
KatzRock400: this is my word
Vespera800: but what does it mean?
KatzRock400: it is a universal word
KatzRock400: it can mean anything
KatzRock400: nernernernernernernenernernernernernerner
KatzRock400: nernernernenernernenenenernernernernerner
KatzRock400: a college person like you can't understand
KatzRock400: :-D
Vespera800: doooorrrrrkkkkkkk
KatzRock400: ttthhhhaaaaannnnxxx
KatzRock400: you were once one too
KatzRock400: Oh wait, YOU STILL ARE
KatzRock400: ha!
Vespera800: you know what, I would say "YOUR MOM!!"
Vespera800: but...
KatzRock400: yeah
KatzRock400: that wouldn't go too well
Vespera800: sure, leave me out
Vespera800: way to go
Vespera800: and be a chipmunk
KatzRock400: eh, its what I do
KatzRock400: I haff to unload the dishwasher
KatzRock400: I love you
KatzRock400: See you FRIDAY!!!!!!!!
KatzRock400: I can't wait!!!!!!!!
Vespera800: okay dear. have fun. I love you too
KatzRock400: *muah*
KatzRock400: byes

1. Well, la mama is back in Georgia. It was a good visit. Trying at times, to be sure, but that is to be expected. All in all, the weekend was great. ::new pictures, yes::

2. It's funny, still--la mama leaving just in time for me to leave. I'm going home on Friday to see my baby play against Woodstock, I think. And then on Saturday, I get to see my two other babies in a competition at Lassiter. It's going to be weird, being back at Milton, back in the places I don't really care to remember. The haze is nice. The memories are enough. The clarity of this weekend will be blinding. At least Christie will be home too, which will be fun, for sure. :) At some point I'm supposed to work with the parentals and Boones at a golf tournament deal for the twins spa accounts--Coleman is going to London again it seems. Oh yeah, and that little buzzing behind him is the marching band. Yeah, they're going too.

3. BCMB stuff is finally taking a break. We have three weeks off until the Notre Dame game. It's the first pause we've had since August 19th, and we need it. We've had more people quit since Penn St. than we anticipated. But it makes sense, not everyone can handle the overload. BCCB is well under way. The Campouse pieces (Watchman and Rosa) we're playing for the Social Justice concert sound amazing. Seb spends at least an hour on them each rehearsal, mainly just to enjoy the goosebumps, I think. Classes are classes. The fury of midterms and papers has ensued, so things are pretty crazy around here. But, I like to remember something that was written in my 2001 yearbook, forever ago, "One could do worse than be a college student in Boston. ~Ross Friedman, T.G.M.F." Precisely.

I can see now, from this side of my glass wall. It's back, after all. Indeed it took quite some time to piece all of those shards back together. And I've finally figured out how to keep the glass clean, that's important. No more smeared blood from where my trembling hands kept faltering with your cruel edges. You'd be surprised at how much it's all like a predictable, after-school special. And I must confess, I am mystified by my indifference, a gaping void of habitual concern. Really, I am Jack's complete lack of surprise.

1. The monsoon of the year was today. It was pure insanity. I had decided to make a run to cvs right before the first downpour, thinking I could beat: Mother. Nature. Was I ever wrong. I got caught in the inundation, but I was able to watch the plex parking lot flood (they never hooked up the draining system after renovations apparently), as well as many a scantily clad BC girl run for cover. Entertaining, yes.

2. On the way to marching band rehearsal tonight I saw Captain Tashiro. He hailed me from across the draining plex parking lot, his Jeep a casualty of the flooding. We caught up--he wanted to know all about marching band, how Sara Hathaway (former assistant director of bands) had run off and gotten married to a Navy bloke, my summer at GE, classes and life in general; I got to hear all about his huge family gathering for Thanksgiving, his mother being diagnosed and dying of cancer, him deciding to stay with the rotc program, all of the new cadets, the changes in the program at BC and Sgt. Carter's retirement (he's now a manager at Wal-Mart-it suits him, oddly enough). It was nice, going back in time a little.

3. La mama gets into town tomorrow. I'm running off to the airport after classes. Contrary to the generic post-teen reaction, I am looking forward to her visit. She'll get to see BC as it really is, before and after the Parents' Weekend hoopla, the BC that I know.

I find you in my things randomly: the stuffed animals, pictures, scribbled notes from your visits, smells, all pieces of someone whom I never knew. The jokes and memories were a part of a persona, a persona I wanted in my life. I've been coping with a loss, something I was never able to understand. But see, I can't lose something that was never mine in the first place. I can only lose what I have given, what I believed. Now all I can do is thank you. Thank you for the laughs, thank you for the lessons. It's time to move on.

And it's Sunday, once again. It still amazes me how much better the unity within the band is--this is how things were my freshman year, before the frigid seniors of last year, who drove everyone away. A recap, if you will:

Friday night was the activity for the bandnicks. You see, every night before a performance we all get together for some sub free deal, a way to make the 24 hour rule fun. We watched Gladiator in the band room, everyone with their blankets and pillows. I had never seen the movie before, and it was cool to hear all of our parts from the show throughout the scenes. Plus, the random food fights and Steve and Alex escapades were a blast as well.

Saturday was the Miami game. We had a 4:45pm report, which is wicked late compared to normal games. Even though we lost, we still had a great time. (We really hadn't expected to win, if you know what I mean.) That night was T R Guest's party (aka Jump of Jump N Salmon aka a1 steak sauce). The last time we were there was at the end of band camp, for a sax sectional night, before they had even moved in. Things look even better now, for sure. It was a great time, although things really didn't get started until 1 in the morning because we had gotten out from the game so late. There was tons of fun rooting for Team Ireland and listening to Alex's stories of going to Weight Watchers since he can't handle the Atkins deal anymore, plus the elusive stories of him battling alcoholism, confessing to wanting Michelle and trying to make out with me. But that is just the way he is. We left a little after 3:30 and walking back was entertaining as always. I am happy to say that it still doesn't bug me, being the only sober one in the bunch. :)

::make sure to check for new pictures::

And today, today is do-work-day. I have many things to take care of before la mama gets here on Wednesday, for sure.

This shouldn't haunt me.
It's your life.
Go ahead.
Return to everything I never knew about.
Really, I understand.
That's how trivial it all was to you.
Pardon me for believing I was worth something.

Sleep hasn't been a comfort to me in some time, dreams like these are the only thing to fill my eyes when they close:

We're in a room, everything is dark, the curtains are closed tight against the sunny world outside. All he and I can see are her eyes from where she lay, sad, pleading. She refuses to tell us what happened, but we can infer from the pregnancy test results staring at us from the ravaged package. Her father and mother have nothing to say, although both leave to mourn the life their daughter will never have. They are both barely 50, she is 14. This isn't the way it's supposed to be. The months pass. Her life is different, she is different. None of her friends, or even that junior who got her here, talk to her. She can't help but notice that the love in her parents eyes has been replaced with disgust. All she wants is to be alone, to hide from the life inside her. Her mind races through the different ways she could get rid of it. But what if she is hurt and the baby is fine? What then? No, no she will have the baby.

It happens on a cold spring morning. Her mother is by her side before she can yell the alarm. In a haze of anxiety, medication, and pain, suddenly she has a child in her arms. The faces pass over her, the colors change, and she is back in her room, the baby sleeping in what she recognizes to be her old crib by her bed. Her parents are happier, they can't get enough of the innocence. The daughter manages a smile for them every now and again. Maybe, just maybe, they will allow her some freedom now. The weeks turn into months and the baby is crawling. Her mother whispered this morning that she too will be bringing life into this world, and is eerily happy that her daughter will grow up with her granddaughter.

The months pass and her mother is well into her third trimester. They trust her again. She is able to run errands with us, the baby always joyful company. Old friends always offer help now, and she might just go back to school.

He and I, along with the father, decide it would be a good idea for us to change the spare bedroom into a nursery--the babies would be good comfort for each other. We get the mother and daughter out of the house long enough for us to put it all together: the new crib and the old one, the new curtains for that little window in the corner, the changing table your friend gave us, it will all look great once it's put together. Time passes all too quickly, and soon we hear the garage door opening. Run now, finish it all up real quick. I run downstairs to greet them. We have a surprise. Please, come upstairs. Come see what we've done for you.

Both are shocked and smile. The mother clutches her swollen belly, running her hands along the changing table edge. Go, go get the baby, let's see what she thinks. The daughter runs into her room to fetch her child. We made sure she was able to get her rest while we worked as quietly as possible. And there we are, all four, soon to be five of us, waiting for the daughter and child to return. The minutes are passing too quickly, and the joy has begun to fade. I run into the hall so that she won't miss it, so she can be a part of something good. But as I raise my eyes to her bedroom door, I stop. I can't breathe. There she is, holding her sleeping baby. Does she see me? Look at how peaceful they are. I see something shimmering in her right hand. Oh God. I know. No. I'm screaming and crying, I can't, I just can't let her finish this. I run towards her but he stops me. He tells her it's no good, that she doesn't really want to do it, but she slowly steps away from us, towards the stairs in the entryway. Her father comes screaming, like he's been waiting for this. The baby isn't crying anymore, it can't. She is holding its throat in her hand. And then she is gone, in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Her parents can't move, he tries to hold me back. I break free and rush past all of the blood she left behind her, hoping that someone is still alive. But they are lifeless, lying there, the daughter's left hand still holding the knife she had plunged into her chest, the knife she had killed the baby with. The baby is no longer recognizable, just scattered pieces of red purity.

::breathes in deeply::
a change, my friends.

Out of the 23 scars, I've realized I don't know what the one that isn't from an auto accident is. This hurts much more than I can explain. But then again, I never really knew much anyhow...

1:12 AM. After hours of work and many more to go...
Ever think there's a fine line between genius and insanity?

1. La mama is coming up for Parents' Weekend, although it will be more like Parent Week. She is using a free ticket to fly up here, except the latest she can get a flight up is the preceding Wednesday afternoon and the earliest she can leave is the following Tuesday afternoon. She has asked that our common room be her lodging for the six days. And at first, I'll admit, I was shocked. What we had discussed being a three day, not even, venture, had multiplied considerably. And having your mother live with you, amongst your friends, especially for that long, is odd. I've talked to the girls and they are cool with it, as am I. Really she is coming up for the Boston Pops and BC Chorale performance that Friday night and to see our show on Saturday. The rest of the time she will be in one of the libraries with my laptop, working on el papa's business stuff. It will be an interesting time, for sure.

2. We played at a funeral today. Was that ever weird. The former Director of Bands at BC passed away this past Saturday and his daughter requested a small ensemble to play outside the church after the service. Dave got us all together, a few from each section, this morning and we went through Anchors Aweigh ('cause apparently this guy was in the Navy for a time) and For Boston. A little before 10am we made our way to St. Ignatius and the awkwardness ensued. Not only had we just met this guy once, but here we are outside the church with our marching instruments. Not kosher. Dave explained that he was going to join in the service and that we were welcome, but not obligated to, as well. Watching Dave walk through those doors, there was a collective hesitation. Finally Dave Faleris said what we had all been thinking, we all knew we should be in there out of respect. We left our instruments and music in the chapel and headed in. Many of the university clergy were there, along with former students, family and friends. The service itself was respectable, although rather surreal. All of us bandnicks sat together, observing. In under an hour, the priests had finished the non-demoninational mass and suddenly we were outside, instruments in hand, waiting for the casket. And all through our two songs, the appreciative applause, the smiles and the tears from these people who had known Peter Siragusa so well, I kept wondering, how can I not feel a thing?

Ah, satisfaction...

I have work to do, oh yes. But see you must understand: I cannot concentrate. Classes are over for the day, I have three hours before band rehearsal, and the work will be here when I get back--I'm off to get the new APC disc. :) x 4 million x infinity squared!!

It seems I've struggled with this exact question for some time lately. No, I'm not looking to unlock enigmas anymore--the focus has shifted back to myself. Who am I anyway? And how do I know that I am this person? Following the suite-wide Descartes tirades of last week, I could have just manifested this image of me to represent myself to myself. And if this is so, is this how others see me, just because this is who I believe I am, what I portray?

When I look in the mirror I see family, friends, aspirations all enclosed by:
-my father's eyes
-my mother's smile
-the watch I can't wear right side up
-the ever-present chapstick in my hand
-my worn-in, comfortable style

And I have to wonder, is it all lost somewhere in translation?

I'm twitching in anticipation of the next APC album--Wednesday, must wait until I can get to the store on Wednesday.

Woohoo!! Finally got the majority of my pictures uploaded to my machine. You can check them out through the link on the sidebar. Now if I could just get my videos to work...

I blinked and suddenly it's Sunday. All in all it has been a great weekend, I must say.

First of all I must explain that Natalie is in Miami for the weekend, and she left Flora the use of her car. Friday was a fun time. We had a poetry reading at Paul's for concert band and then I went to Avaland with Michelle and Flora (you better believe we drove to Landsdowne!!).

Saturday was wicked productive. We got the tv to Best Buy, finally. (Hopefully after they send it out, they'll realize it is beyond repair and give me a new one.) Plus, Kirstin, Michelle, and Flora were able to run their errands at Fenway. We ate lunch at Mickey D's around 4 and then headed to Target for some much needed connection to the outside world. Flora and I decided to be as Mexican as possible with the living room, and we bought turqouise sheets to cover the couches and chairs and what have you. We also found this awesome, fuzzy, lined throw, also turqouise. Much with the fun-ness. Unfortunately Michelle and I had to be back on campus to meet our sections to head downtown. We ended up going candle pin bowling, and a great time was had by all. (I have so many good pictures for the Big Event slideshow!!) We got back to the room before 12 only to find that Flora, Kirstin and Diane had sought out the elusive Krispy Kreme. For the past two years it had been rumoured that there was one amongst the plethera of Dunkin Donuts, and the girls decided they had to find it, especially this weekend with having Natalie's car. Three hours and many stories later, they did indeed find it and brought home two boxes of warm, glazed goodness. We all sat in our now turqouise living room and ate and talked and laughed until three in the morning.

Michelle and I decided to head to bed since we had to be up for the Allston-Brighton parade today. We had all planned on it being canceled, the weather channel had said it would rain. Yet, we woke up, and to our dismay the sun was out and the sky was blue. So, with heavy feet, we all got into our uniforms and headed down to Allston. After and hour of warming up and whatnot the clouds came. One parade formation and two cadences later the drops came, heavy. So there we all were, ready to step off, getting soaked. It wasn't too bad really, a party in the street to be sure. By the time the officials decided to continue on with the show, the rain had let up and eventually stopped. At the end of the 4 mile route the sun was out, and we were drenched--not only from the downpour, but from being in the wool/polyster unforms in 80% humidity.

Now it is time to get ready for the week. My classes are great, in that educational-I'm-getting-what-I'm-paying-for sense, but sometimes it feels like they are just a way to kill time before the weekend. Flora wants to go to a latina sorority meeting at NEU Thursday night after our rehearsal, Steve has already dubbed Nicole in charge of cooking for all 19 saxes at his place on Friday night (eggplant parm and various other goodies) followed by line dancing, and there are whispers of heading down to the Roxy as well. So you could say yes, unity is leaps and bounds better this year than it was last year...

Life in 617:

Michelle: I should shower.
Me: What time do you have class?
Her: 12.
Me: Yeah, it's 10:30, you should shower.
Her: Yeah.

(many stories and memories later)
(Michelle goes in the bathroom singing Blue Moon)
(Michelle returns to the room to contemplate what she's going to wear)

Her: What's the weather like?
Me: Like it was yesterday.
Her: Nice!! (pensive pause) Imagine how badly Aragorn would smell.
Me: But everyone smells when they don't shower everyday, so really, they would just cancel each other out.
Her: Do you think Legolas smells?
Me: Probably not, he's an elf. Right?
Her: Yeah...
Me: But he is a fairy.
Her: (pause) Okay, shower.

(marches to the bathroom, imitating a scene from Drumline, complete with her own theme song)

Oh my friends are such nerds. And I love them all the more for it.
Observe: Kirstin's away message, after pondering Descartes and the philosophy behind The Matrix:

So it turns out that I can't really know anything to be really true except the fact that I can't know anything to be really true. I probably exist because I believe in myself but I may not. We could all just be deceiving ourselves into thinking that the world is real. Me especially. After all, all of you may not even exist. This is my brain on philosophy. In better news, no tutoring today. I hardly know what to do with myself.

I read something today that prompted the entire epiphany. It was along the lines of we, as humans, complicate the simple all of the time--it's human tendency. But the real challenge is to simplify the obtuse, for that is creativity.

Ever have one of those moments, just as you go about your day, when a thought flashes across the mind? When you have to stop everything to take in the full realization? Sure, the initial shock wears off, and you go about your day. But then, you have to stop again. Why did I feel the need to complicate things so much? Did I really want another challenge desperately enough to create one? Repeatedly? And really, where's the value in that? Isn't the game itself enough complication for a lifetime?

It's happening again. I'm feeling a little out of place, focused against a hazy background. It's not one thing in particular, really. More like a combination of events, conversations, epiphanies.

Reality is coinciding with those Saved By The Bell: The College Years illusions of intellectual grandeur:
I am living up suite life.
I'm studying subjects which interest me under the guidance of respectable, accomplished individuals.
Yeah, that's me arguing politics with friends in Starbucks.

It's all very new and comfortable at the same time.

Tonight was our first concert band rehearsal. We are up to almost 70 members now, which is quite a change from freshman year. It's exciting, holding influence in a group that is evolving, improving. Even though the majority of us were sight reading, the Ticheli and Camphouse pieces gave us all chills. I came out of rehearsal wondering what I would do without music in my life. I really don't think I could live without organized sound to comfort and inspire me.

Seb and I talked for almost an hour after rehearsal. He wanted to know all about life: what has changed, where I've been, and where I want to go. We talked about my sections this year (altos in marching band, clarinets in concert band), where I want to take everyone, who I'm having difficulties with, general gossip and what have you. We talked about the concert band reportoire, including the Arts Festival pieces for May, and I was able to bring up the idea of me studying at the NEC. Concert band has been incredibly rewarding in the opportunities I have been given to evolve as a musician and performer. Yet, I can't help feeling stuck, stagnant even, when it comes to my musicianship. Now that I am soley involved in the bands program, I have time to study privately. And with Seb's help and recommendations, I am going to. To be honest, I am not too worried about paying for it or anything semantical right now. The sunrise is enough to sustain me.

Straight from the source, ya’ll. A letter we got from one of our combat engineers in Iraq:

Its been about 2 months since I sat down and wrote a long letter. A lot has happened.

In early July, our company was tasked with facilitating the payment of former members of the Iraqi Army. They gave us a location and they gave us the people with the money and we made it happen. It was a company mission that lasted about 4 weeks. My platoon was tasked with night security on site to guard the money. My guys said there were firefights (Iraqi on Iraqi) every night out there. That mission really didn't involve much on my part aside from ensuring the guard force was prepared and properly rested up. It was a nice break from the usual running around town.

The night that Uday and Qusay were killed was a pretty exciting evening. All of the sudden, at 10:30 PM, gunfire erupted all over the city. My whole Platoon and I hopped up on the roof of our building with our rifles and watched the night sky, tracer fire coming up 360 degrees around us in the distance. At first we thought it was some kind of coordinated attack, but we figured after about 5 minutes of was just celebratory fire. Apparently falling bullets killed a lot of Iraqis that night.

Once the pay site mission ended, we received a new Battalion Commander. He brought to the table a whole new concept for Combat Engineers in a peacekeeping role.

Since early August, I have been doing Project Management (pretty close to what my major was in college). I am working with an Infantry Task Force in their sector. We work with the local Iraqi Neighborhood Advisory Counsels (NACs), which were set up in each neighborhood by the Army to let the people get a first taste of democracy. The NACs vote on, prioritize, and submit to us schools, public utilities, parks, infrastructure and general messes that need serious repairs, renovations and clean up. Of the 20 schools they've asked us to fix, most were built in the 30s and 40s, and haven't seen any major repairs since. We are using confiscated Ba'ath Party funds to pay civilian contractors to come in and renovate these schools completely. Right now I have 10 schools lined up and waiting for funding approval, all of which went through a bidding process with three local contractors. I work with an Iraqi named Jassim who's a mechanical engineer. Real nice guy. He and I spend our days driving around town together in an HMMWV. He assesses the scope of work and writes the tender for each project, solicits bids from local contractors, and then I handle the bidding process, the paperwork, the funding requests through the Army and the management of the project. Together, he and I will QC the construction and ensure that the work done is quality. Money is no object. Saddam's paying for all of this. These schools are going to be done right. Its pretty amazing what we are about to do. We just had the first two projects approved. Once the contracts are signed, construction will begin. Both projects are worth about $45,000 each. The most expensive one I have lined up is $118,000, which had to be broken down into multiple, smaller projects in order to get the funding approved. I work about 19 hours a day doing this stuff, but it's a worthwhile mission. During the day I drive around the sector with Jassim and soldiers from my platoon as a security element, looking at schools, sewage stations, parks and even broken traffic lights. There's a lot of broken stuff here, let me tell you. And just for the record, none of my projects involve any war damage, aside from the school that the Republican Guard decided to live in, fight from and trash before ditching their uniforms and running away. We didn't break one tenth of this stuff. This is how Iraqis lived under Saddam.

What's really blown my mind is the reality of the NGO's that are working here. I've personally seen the work of three of them, and I have to say that these groups are nothing but self-serving, inefficient, crooked organizations. When you drop money in a UNICEF jar at a McDonalds somewhere, you think you're helping someone, right? Not really. I've seen first hand the work that UNICEF (UN Childrens's group, the one that used to con us into collecting money for them on Halloween when we were little kids), IRD (International Reconstruction and Development) and UNDP (Another useless UN organization) have done here. UNDP and UNICEF have succeeded in causing serious problems with the sewage system here because they quick fixed a major pumping station rather than paid for a quality job. I've driven out to this same neighborhood every week for a month now because a lake of sewage erupts every other day from this station that UNDP said they "fixed" 2 months ago. Another experience with a crooked NGO is the group IRD. They've been going around to schools, offering to paint and spackle and change light bulbs. Five of the schools I'm working on were IRD schools that the NACs wanted us to do. The NACs want nothing to do with these "humanitarian" organizations. They say they're crooks and won't have their names associated with the work that these people want to "do." These aid organizations just want to do the minimum, and then boast about how much they have done (and then ask for more donations). It seems like their mission is more to sustain their own existence and pay their overhead, rather than actually help people in a real, long term way.

Believe it or not, despite the constant negativity I know is being spewed from the media, the Army is doing really great humanitarian things out here, and very slowly conditions are starting to improve. My task force is planning a toy drive for the 5 orphanages in our sector for around Christmas time (or for those Politically Correct out there, as a late Ramadan gift-giving event). A Captain from my Task Force Staff walked through one of these orphanages this week and said it broke his heart. One of the little kids he talked to had nothing to play with but a pile of old soda cans that he would use like building blocks. If any one wants to contribute, please send me toys or whatever and I'll make sure they get to these orphanages by winter time. I'm looking forward to getting this construction started next week. By late October, every school in my sector should be with completely renovated or 85% there.

One thing I don't understand is all the confusion about this UN bombing. Why is everyone so surprised? The UN did all it could to keep Saddam in power. If I were a UN official, I'd stay as far away from Baghdad as possible. I'm not sure what kind of credibility these people think they have in this part of the world, but it's not much. Jassim even asked me rhetorically why they were even in Iraq at all. Iraqi's have satellite TV now. They know how hard the UN tried to prevent this war from happening.

This week I actually went out to a hotel that UN officials were staying in since vacating their former residence. They needed an engineer estimate on security and barricade construction. American Soldiers were standing guard outside this hotel. One euro-looking UN guy gave me a dirty look when I walked into the hotel lobby. I guess they got better service at hotels when Saddam was around. This past month has really been amazing. My unit is helping these people far more than I ever thought a combat engineer battalion could.

As much as I miss home and decent weather and decent food, I'm pretty motivated about our job out here. We have 8 months to go, and there's a lot of stuff to fix.

That's all I got. I'm taking a lot of pictures and trying to document this as much as possible. Looking forward to making the picture slide show when I get home. I haven't written a letter in almost 2 weeks, and I definitely have a lot of thank you's to write. I'll be in touch soon though, I promise. Talk to you all later.

Steve*

*Name changed.

_________________________________________

It still amazes me how ignorant the general public is. There are two sides to every coin. Please, put some sunglasses so you can see past the media glare.

Thanks for the quiz, Paul.


Protector


The ULTIMATE personality test
brought to you by Quizilla

1. About to start the second week of classes. This semester I am taking Finance, Law, OB (Orgazational Behavior), Math for Management (ugh!!), and a Spanish lit course. It's wonderful to finally be taking classes directly related to my major. Now I can look at my transcript and find comfort in the fact that I am progressing through the university requirements and: Will. Graduate. Light!! There is light at the end of this tunnel!!

2. Finally, I was able to get my essential, everything-that-didn't-fit-in-my-two-suitcases-but-I-can't-live-without box. You see, I had been putting it off, and putting it off. And putting it off some more. It was wicked heavy when I packed it, and trucking it all the way from McElroy down to 90--aye!! Things were so much easier when we lived right across the street!! So Thursday of last week rolls around and I still haven't made the trip. Of course, I had to get a few things from that box for the Penn St. trip, like one camera charger, one much-loved BC hoodie, among other things, so finally I sucked it up and went up to campus mail. As expected, my box was insanely heavy and about to burst. Really, it was amazing the box was even still intact. The tape had stretched out and there were holes here and there. In those first moments, I could see myself walking home, having a hard enough time just lugging it across campus to lower, only to have the box wimp out on me. I panicked for a few moments and then decided to use the I'm-a-weak-girl-please-help-me face on the nearest campus mail guy. He let me borrow one of the mail carts and I was able to roll my box down Beacon St., across Conte and lower to 90. True, I did get asked if I worked for campus mail many times, as well as quite a few stares from drivers, but it was well worth it.

3. The trip to Penn St. was awesome. First, there was the thrill of being in the second largest collegiate stadium in the US of 107,000 people. Then, there was the upset of beating the Littany Lions. Add to that a great game day performance by the BCMB and a trip to Hershey Park, and you'd have some irreplaceable memories: from the jokes, to the music, to the heart-to-hearts. How many people can say they spent the weekend in chocolate, Amish country with 179 of their closet friends??

Eons, friends. It has been eons since I have updated... Much has accumulated, and naturally, I have much to say.

Band camp is finally over. Although, I am not sure if finally is the right word to use. It's not like camp was a burden. Mostly I think we all just wanted to see the finished product, to feel like our hard work was paying off. Our show this year has a Lord of the Rings opener, followed by the Robin Hood theme, and then the Gladiator ballad and theme. In summary, our music is awesome. What's great is Dave hired a young kid to write the drill. It's all very DCI, and with the group being student funded and run, things are fantastic. Being a section leader has helped me to value the BCMB even more, 'cause I have been able to see just how strongly students impact the band. The season has taken off. This past weekend we gave two performances, one at a pep rally for the Wake Forest game, and then the game itself. Although we lost unexpectedly, it was hard to feel down about the game. It was so marvelous to see everyone having such a great time. Our away trip is this weekend to Penn St, and I can't wait. I had to miss the trip last year 'cause of a ROTC FTX, but this year, there is nothing holding me back.

Tonight we had our first concert band student leader and scholarship meetings. I am psyched for the season to start. Our first rehearsal is next Monday and I think I just might pass out from the adrenaline. Our first concert centers around social justice--we're playing many things played at All State those many years ago: some Camphouse, Ticheli and others. It will be gorgeous!! Seb warned us that we will be playing Rhapsody in Blue for our Arts Festival deal, and I am seriously thinking about arranging lessons at the NEC (Conservatory), if I can get Seb and the Bands Program to pay for it.

Michelle and I are all moved into our suite in 90. We're living with Kirstin, Flora (our girls from last year), Diane and her friend Jenn, Kelly and another Maria. So far, things have been pretty segregated. Anna is staying with us for awhile before she leaves to go to Italy for a year, which is wonderful. The bad thing is, we don't really include the other girls. I do feel guilty, but at the same time, it would take many hours to explain all of the jokes and memories. Today we went to go see American Splendor at Coolidge Corner and then headed to Anna's for some greasy Tex-Mex. The more we all get back into the BC groove and catch up, the happier I am to be back. It's so comforting getting reacquainted with faces and places I hadn't seen in months. It's good to be back home.

I suppose you could say I am moving on, improving, strengthening. There have been a few rough days/nights, but thanks to Michelle and fun times with the girls I am making it through. The most painful thing has been to let go of all and any expectations I had clung to for so long. I haven't been single in a really long time. Figuring out who I am as an individual has been a rockier road than I could have ever imagined or anticipated.

The first day of classes is tomorrow, and I am psyched to start my junior year. After working my finance internship at GE, I understand what I'm studying which makes it that much more intriguing.

I know this is all very abrupt and the antithesis of elegant. There are just too many thoughts right now to coherently express anything...