salience

There's a running joke (and it indeed does run folks, no walking here) in our circle of friends: latinas are suspicious of anything with a uterus when it comes to their boyfriends. And just like everything, there is a degree of truth to it. In my case, an obtuse angle of truth is more like it. Because you see, not only is my boyfriend beautiful, charasmatic and intelligent, he is also a huge flirt. Not that he can help it--after all, his papa is the same way. Yet, it can get to me at times. Especially when the number of exes he has on campus, or more specifically, in the band, is rather large. And it makes for interesting away trips and bus rides. And he will argue that I am the same way, but you must remember, my first bc kiss was only last year, not two seconds after I first stepped off a plane freshman year. :)

I wrote this while watching him "visit" on the bus going to Wake Forest. I like to think there is a line of decency where girls remember I am watching. They can smile all they want, but if they're not careful...

...Mostly I hate the drama. Yes we're all of us into gossip, but drama is unnecessary stress. There are so many examples, thankfully I'm exempt. But why date one person and then spend hours in another's lap while the dated watch? No respect. Nothing's sacred. It's every plot of a Jane Austen novel on repeat.

This is college.

You know who you love and you know where you've been. Why confuse it with "remember when's?" When I dated someone, it was intense. When it was over, it was over. There's a line. Emotionally and physically. And of course, geographical distance helps. So see I'm not used to these gray areas. "I will always love you." Nevermind change. Obviously every girlfriend is a newer version of "the companion." You are the same person, you're just trying on names. Ugh.

Yes, I am close-minded.
I am territorial.

My boyfriend is not a communal playplace. Nor is he a timeshare. If you have a problem, go call your mom. Cry to your cat. Don't put him in an awkward position just because you were too stupid to see how amazing he is all those months, years ago.

I know you know what you're doing. He can't say no. He's loyal, but he will always remember you fondly. That is the kind of person he is. And you can smile at me as you open your arms to hug him. I'll smile back. And even when you're lonely and you call him, know he's with me. He'll answer his phone and tell you so, again. And you know it, so why call? But I understand. His voice is that gorgeous. His laugh is even better. So, call away.

Go ahead, laugh your disgusting grin. Talk about absolutely nothing for the two remaining seconds he will spend near you. Squeal when he tickles you, give him the reaction you've been holding in your throat since you first saw him here.

But listen, if I even hear of you messing around with the idea of messing around with him, I will find you. And I'll smile first this time, 'cause we both know you won't recognize your greasy face when I'm done with it. Cross my line, you know you want to. And excuse me. I know it's rude to wash my hands in front of you while you recover. Yet you must understand. Your blood is so thin. And there are so many of your kind left in line behind you.

Update:

1. Familia stuff is familia stuff. And there is a lot of it. Everyday is a new adventure.

2. Classes are in full swing: Financial Policy; Investments; Philosophy of Tolkien (!!); Native American Folk Song; The Hero's Other Half (Spanish).

3. Band Band Band. Concert Band has started. I have 17 people, 17 clarinets!! We have our own row in the ensemble!! It is intense ya'll. Our first concert is Music of Faith, which translates into a long list of lyrical demands. Marching Band is still insane. It has been nonstop since band camp, we're half way through the season and busy getting the second show (Gershwin/Sinatra) ready for halftime for Parents Weekend, aka this weekend. Even with the monsoon hitting the northeast, the bcmb was still on the field, catching the plague and setting Sinatra. Craziness.

4. Wake Forest Trip. I got to see the familia, which was nice. The bus trip was not so cool, 20 hours there, 17 hours getting back. We had the worst bus drivers and a broken vcr after only one movie on the way down. In the words of a fellow bandnick, our bus evolved into "Lord of the Flies" by the end. The game itself was disappointing, and the entire process was enlightening. The WFUMB had three drum majors, which translated into one conductor for every 25 winds. To top it off, the director conducted most of the literature they played. Some highlights:

--The script WFU Athletics handed us, highlighting the eight times we were allowed to play during the game. Clancy (My AssCon) and I decided we were just going to play. Forget taking cues from the WFUMB director from across the stadium.

--The set up in the WFU stands was crazy. We were not in the end zone, but along the sideline, as there are no stands in either end zone of the WFU stadium. And we weren't compressed into our normal set, but spread all along the seats. I conducted on two chairs, in the midst of the cymbals and drumline to a band who could barely see me.

--Flora left our stands book (with all of the signals so we can communicate what we are going to play to the band/visual teams/cheerleaders) on the bus. We realized this, asked the bus drivers, who were sitting in the front row watching the game, if we could run and get it. It is vital to our stands performance, after all. They declined, saying they were off duty. What is that?!

--The social event was fun and bbq at the WFU baseball field. We rented it out and hand fun planned for the bcmb. It was located next to the football stadium, yet our drivers insisted it wasn't and proceeded to waste another hour of our time, with all of us on the buses, "looking" for it. It was at this point when we all collectively remembered the cases of beer the drivers kept under each bus.

--Our bus experience (for bus #1 out of 4, anyway) was less than ideal. And what with the drivers having to stop every two seconds, as is their "policy," we found ways to entertain ourselves. The best moments were on the way back, when those of us in the back of the bus decided to shut up those in the front of the bus (mostly high brass and visual teamers, lead by none other than the illustrious Steve Ronan, of course) from yelling Disney songs by kidnapping one of the freshman who had joined in, obnoxiously, and dragging him and then locking him in the port a potty. It got everyone's attention, and that was the end of the Disney business. And really, what else are you supposed to do when the baseball of silence doesn't work??

--There is a 24 hour policy in the band where no one can consume altering substances prior to a performance. Well, on a trip, we are constantly performing. Yet, even of clear mind, we decided to do dollar bets. In case you haven't played, it starts with one dollar. Someone has to do a prank, dollar worthy of course, and if completed, that person gets a dollar. They then have to come up with a prank of equal or greater greatness for someone else to pass the dollar along. Dave, our director, was on our bus for the trip, along with his video camera. He sanctioned and taped the bets we came up with. My favorites were when Felt fit his entire sousa carrying person into the overhead storage and when Michelle cried about "losing" her wallet, engaging the entire bus, and then asked the driver if we could please please turn around and head back to our last stop when we only had an hour and a half left of the drive. The reactions were priceless.

But it's good to be back in Mass. Pictures are coming soon, yes ya'll. :)

What can you say, really?? You took on these responsibilities by choice: checklist after checklist of things you have to get done everyday. And then there are the details that every other "normal" person worries about, things that you don't even count. They are only important because they are what officially keep you here. So every now and again when you stop to take a breath, you step back. You look around. And you see just how much you contribute. Even with all of the games. Life is never fair and the only justice is that split second decision of whether or not you will live ethically for the next three seconds. In the end there is only one winner. Regardless of how much I have to deviate from your straight road, I'll be waiting for you at that finish line.

"I can't even begin to say anything that will prepare you," she said.

"How morbid and the complete antithesis of comforting," I thought.

But it's true. And in many respects, that one sentence describes my senior year so far. Liz graduated last year and was drum major of the bcmb her junior and senior year. Junior and senior year? you may be asking. And I was wondering too. Why on earth would you put yourself under so much stress, again, willingly??

The bandnicks kept asking, "Nervous?" And no, I wasn't. I hardly ever am, anymore, once I'm in front of people. It's 45,000 people in that stadium, plus everyone outside and around. But I've done everything before now, it's not a gray area. And it's weird, being the only one not watching the game in the stands. But I'm getting used to the constant tightness in my back, and I'm learning to depend on people. I can't control everything, even if I am responsible for it all.

We're making the long trek down to Wake Forest this coming Friday morning. True, we don't merge to the ACC officially until next year, but Athletics sees this game as a smooth transition. People talk about our team being 3-0, and it's neat, feeling like I had an impact for the two home games so far. Like when we play a SuperFan favorite and the entire student section is jumping to the music, shaking my podium and making the microphone behind me bounce. And sure, the politics of it all sucks. But even through the petty and stupid misconceptions, internal and external, I know it's true.

Whenever we get together and go out under the lights, it hits me. These 200 folks, this is my band. And you know what?? No one else could do what I do here, now. That's the confidence that sustains me everytime I climb that ladder or run up the podium. I stand above, I breathe, and I smile. "Here, let me share our music with you."

Can you picture it??
You're there, in the middle of his suite.
And even though it's his, it's yours too.
All those plants, they've created their own jungle in this dorm.

But it fits. It makes sense.
'Cause his people are your people and your people are his.

There's no line anymore.
It's your world and what you understand.

And they're laughing and play-wrestling, smiling. Amusing one another in the inside ways they've made habit and come to expect. And you're there, watching. Just like he was there last night for your suite's first home cooked dinner.

Smiling, watching.
They all were.
And they make you laugh.
And you wait for it.
That smile on his face, the real one.
When he's happy, and you know he wants to be here.
With these people. With you.

And even though it's been so long.
And camp was so much more challenging than you anticipated.
Physically, emotionally, psychologically.
Leading and being responsible for 193 of your closest friends.
And your shelves are full of books again.
And classes start tomorrow.
And BC neon is Brand Name!! illuminated again.

But it's the start of senior year. This is it. These people are your people. Those people at that rehearsal, and then those at that other rehearsal are yours too. And this place, it's yours because you made it yours. Your stuff is here and arranged again and yes, almost unpacked.

These streets,
These buildings,
They're yours.

This, it's you.
It's what you feel when he smiles.