TW for suicide and self harm below.
Spotify has DECIEVED me. For the past couple of months ive been obsessed with blackout. I forgot I got rid of the last.fm link from my page but if it was still there you would see that i've been listening to it non-stop for the past month ish? Blah blah its such a good album ANYWAYS back to the alleged deception: I thought blackout was a super tinny album. As it turns out: the spotify version of it just sucks. Today I had some time between my singing and my dictation finals so I went to the library and picked up a physical copy of the album (Along with some disco goodies; A 2 disc donna summer compilation which has the most comprehensive tracklisting ive seen, and one of those cheesy compilations called MONSTER DISCO!!!!! It has a few cheesy songs on it but the selection is actually pretty decent. Personally I just wanted something with thelma houston on it. I've yet to listen to them so I can't comment on the quality, but tbh most digital versions of music from that era are poorly done so I'm not holding out hope. UPDATE: the monster disco its pretty good? Hal Davis production is just muah) In reality, blackout is super bassy. Listening to a version of break the ice that actually vibrates my headphones is a healing experience. What does suck however is the CD version doesn't have one of my favorite tracks from the album: Get Back. I think I looked into it a while ago and I think there's a japanese edition that has Get Back on physical copy, but who knows the availability of that copy.
Little update on my work situation, my "lovely coworker who I respect as my peer" finally picked up a shift, and she made this massive list of comments on the work log that basically translate to "I've done 2 concerts". And me being the petty bitch I am, on my last shift from last week instead of listing the 5 concerts I did that shift, I just wrote "Everything, because I'm the only one who does anything anymore." She saw it, and put a big question mark over it. She must have a brain tumor with her lack of critical thinking. She knows damn well what I'm talking about. That's cute, you've done 2 concerts? I've done 27. About 30 concerts this semester, split between 3 people and yet I've done over 90% of them. And it's not like I havent given either of them the chance. I took my sweet time with the work, and they had ample opportunity to pitch in. Yet nothing is done. But question mark I guess. Its whatever anyways, I'm applying for band staff next year so honestly, I'm gonna stay next semester for the money. After that? Good luck getting anything done around here with that lovely work ethic of yours. Also like I said im a petty bitch so katy im telephathically sending you this message: your a flop cello player. Sad!
Another post along the lines of "im going to have a fucking cow in a few minutes" etc. etc. im just gonna bullet point because i need to rapid fire this and i dont feel like writing out some uneccesarily florid shit about how stressed i am. its 2:30 am and im halfway through one out of four cans of bang i just bought because yes, its an all nighter kind of night
• It's the last week before finals. Because last week was concert hell, I have to spend this week cosplaying as a piano player to get all my shit ready for the final playing tests for piano lab. Except, oh wait: concert hell doesn't stop for me. Tonight I play advent at a church, and tomorrow is the orchestra concert, and I have a jury next tuesday that I've barely looked at. Speaking of orchestra, the director keeps making some really questionable decisions and its always up to someone in the orchestra to wind him down. today that was my problem. the problem was solved, but still it's another piece of hay on my back.
• Work. See below. I'm at a crossroads. There's a side of me that doesn't want to rock the boat and just keep my head down and deal with it. The other side of me is frusterated to literal tears because of how much I'm being taken advantage of. I want to say something to my boss, but I don't. I don't know what to do. Everyone says to tell my boss, but I don't want to be a snitch. And as much as I say I do, I don't want anything bad to happen to my coweorkers, at least not caused by me ratting them out.
• My living situation is reaching my limit. I live with my mom, and she has her bad qualities, but I'm losing my patience. Unfortunetaly being a music major means I have no time, so working a job that'll let me even fathom renting a place is impossible. Recently, my mom has been acting like a child. Maybe that's unfair for me to say, but really the last thing I need is for her to become undependable. Every time life requires her to do something hard, something that she doesn't want to do, she just runs away from it. I know what needs to be done, I try to do the right thing, but she just refuses to let me on her own laziness.
Like for example, a couple of months ago one of our cats that she lets go outdoors came home with a big gaping wound on his hind leg. Of course, my initial reaction was to take him to the vet, but she decided we were going to let this big bloody wound wait a day before we took him to the vet. I was at school all day with no breaks, so the only one who could have done it was her. Anyways, we take him to the vet and he get stitches, no big deal. The vet does two things: gives the cat a colar so he won't pick at the stitches, and tells my mom to keep him inside the house for a few days so the stitches can heal. The amount of arguing I had to have with this woman to get her to understand that when a veterenarian, a person with a doctorate in animal care, gives you advice on how to care for an animal, you follow it. This cat is fairly smart, he knows how to open doors via their handles, so keeping him inside was a challenge. I had to literally block off doors to prevent him from opening them. Meanwhile, my mom was actively going behind my back and letting the cat outside because "hes so sad when hes inside, I just can't force him to stay inside". Fact of the matter is, its a cat. You are plenty capable of keeping him inside. She made this huge deal about not being able to take him being upset so that she could take of his colar and let him run around days after he got stitches, when the reality was that she was just too lazy to deal with it. Yeah, it sucks. It was really fucking annoying trying to keep that cat inside. But guess what? That's life. Sometimes you have to do things to don't want to. You learn this when you're like 4 and you get your first shot. It's completely ridiculous that she's pushing 50 and I have a better understanding of this concept than her.
But that's a couple of months ago. What's happening now? A raccoon. So aforementioned cat actually broke our back door trying to break out of the house, so it doesn't latch. (This backdoor leads from the kitchen to a garage, which has another back door that does lock, so don't worry about any safety threats larger than a cat door) Well, for the past week or so, a raccoon has discovered that if he pushes on the door, he can break into the house. So of course, that's whats been happening. A fucking raccoon has been breaking into the house to eat our cat food. And my mom has done nothing about it. Every time I suggest we do something, she just shoots it down saying it wont work. Yet she has made no grand ideas herself. She doesn't care. In fact, last night when I was talking to her about it, she said that she actually felt bad for the raccoon, and that she wanted to feed it. And I hate that I had to explain to my 50 year old mother why feeding a wild animal is not a good idea. This whole thing is a massive joke. I can't call animal control because I'm gone literally all day, from the moment their lines open to way past the moment they close. And I certainly can't trust my mom to call them if I told her to. And raccoons? They're obnoxiously stubborn. I've moved the cat food deeper into the house thinking he wouldn't be brave enough to go find it: I was wrong. He started digging around the pantry looking for cat food, so I wired the panty shut: This did not stop him. And I can't block any of the doors hes coming in through because my asshole cats like to go outside at night in the freezing Iowa winter, and if I block the raccoon out I block them out as well, and if I wound up being responsible for one of them freezing to death I think I'd actually go insane. He's come in twice tonight, which is why I'm writing this so late (3:00 am now) as one of my cats is outside, so my only solution is to just stay up and scare him off if he comes back. Not an elegant solution, but it's all I can think of right now.
I hate this. I'm so stressed right now, my mind is scattered in a million different places, people are stretching me in a million different directions...There's only so much I can do during the day. My facial twitch has come back from the stress of school, and now I don't even want to come home anymore because I know I'm just going back to raccoon land. I really just need my mom to act like an adult right now, and that's not happening. When it's morning I'm going to call animal control and at least get some advice on what to do, but it looks like the best option is to trap + relocate. What I'm stressed about with the trapping is that if we bait a trap with cat food, we might end up catching one of our own cats. The solution to this would be easy: keep our cats indoors one night and set up the trap outside in the garage. But as I've already established, trying this would not only mean fighting with a bunch of cats who don't know any better, but an adult who should know better but doesn't.
So much for not writing something super long, but fuck it. I've already ranted about work, and I could rant for a long time about music stuff but it's all old hat. I signed myself up for this life, I can't really complain about it. I can however complain about wild animals roaming my house. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to do something that'll just ease the pressure in my chest, but right now the best thing I can do is sit here with a broom in my hand and hope I can still make it through the very long day ahead while my mother snores in the other room.
I'm going to have a fucking cow in a few minutes if I don't get this off my chest, so here we go. I really really hate my fucking job. Yeah, I know everyone hates their jobs, but I really really hate my job right now. For context: I have two small jobs on campus: One is at night, where I record concerts that take place on campus, and the other is during the day, where I digitally archive them. The recording job is split between me and about 7-ish other people, and the archival job is split between me and two others. One of my coworkers who acts as my "superior" is this girl named katy. She pisses me off something extreme. For starters, our actual boss is the building cordinator for the fine arts center. He's a cool guy, and he actually knows what hes doing and talking about when it comes to the technology used in our job. Katy? She knows jack shit. Speaking of jack shit, thats also what she does. Both her and my other coworker constantly skip their shifts, only to claim they did them at a later date and still claim them on their timesheets, getting paid for work they didn't do. And normally I'd turn a blind eye but this work? Is incredibly easy. All you have to do from the archival standpoint is just take cut out the excess footage and download it to a hard drive. That's it. Before writing this, I just did a month's worth of concerts in about 2 minutes. What pisses me off is that I'm also the only one who does any of this. Not a single lick of work is done by either of them, yet Katy constantly barges in on my shifts and starts making a list of demands to finish this, do that, yadda yadda while meanwhile the last shift she's taken was on the 16th. Even if you ignore thanksgiving break I've still worked a weeks worth of shifts between then and now. And the other guy? I think I've seen him maybe once. And yet I'm sure-he getting paid. Getting paid for work I'm doing. Getting CREDIT for work THAT I AM DOING. When our boss asks me for my schedule next semester, I'm telling him straight up. I quit. It's an easy job but it's also not a well paying job, and the $200 or so i make a month off this barely makes it worth dealing with the bullshit I have to put up with. I'm taking the maximum credit hours next semester anyways so I really would rather not have anything extra on my plate that I don't have to deal with.
Status: Bitches are making money moves (I'm bitches)
Feeling: Religious (ʃƪ˘⌣˘)
So some church in my city needed an Oboe player for some of their christmas services, and they reached out to not only the principal oboeist of my city's symphony (who's also my teacher), but the second oboeist as well, and they both gave the guy my name. I told you guys I'm a fucking star.
But really, it just feels nice to be given the opportunity to put my name out there as like, an actual working musician who does gigs (I get to say gigs now too!), as this is the first time I've ever actually been paid to play oboe. Every other thing I've participated in outside of my uni has all been volenteer. I'm just really proud of myself, and it just makes me feel like all of the hard work I go through is finally paying off because I'm really being considered a serious player now who can actually be hired to do things. It'll be interesting too, I've never played in a church setting before. And honestly -- the last time I was in a church was for a lock-in when I was 13. I'll make sure to wear my hair extra conservatively and try to un-fruitify my voice. But if my hair sets on fire, it's all over. I asked my teacher about it (she's also christian--some kind of protestant I think? I dunno theres like hundreds of subsections of christianity and they're all really hard to keep track of but ANYWAY) she said that the guy's a hold over hippie and that he's very open-minded and cool. She could tell how unfamiliar I was with the entire thing and she gave me a little religious education after my lesson with her today. Apparently lutherans (which is what the church is) are much more open minded than other kinds of christianity. I don't remember what my teacher practices, but I know she's completely open-minded about a lot of things. She got her masters degree in san francisco, literally walking distance from the castro, so she HAD to be open minded to live there.
I guess to make a long story short: I had a good day today, and those don't come too often anymore. This past week however I've been taking things my way, and not letting other people push me harder than I want to be pushed, and so far it's really lifted my spirits. Whatever funk I've been in the past couple of months, it seems to have lifted. Let's hope it's not short lived.
Happy Halloweekend. Mine was boring. I was on the list for a party but I didn't go because I didn't have a costume. My first idea was to be a cowboy because im obsessed with them (aesthetically and... well you know) but then I decided that I instead wanted to be pete burns in the brand new lover music video because I already have the long hair and the tux and all I really needed was some safety pins, a box of manic panic in black and a pile of flour to dunk my face into. It would require that I shave though and i'm not really ready to say goodbye to my gross creepy facial hair yet. I like the costume idea though so i'm gonna save it for next year. I think the orchestra is planning to do another halloween themed concert where we all get to dress up in costume again so it'll be perfect. Plus if i'm at a party and anyone asks what I am I can just say vampire so they leave me alone. And if they ask where my teeth are I'll just gaslight them and tell them they're drunk. Easy!
Anyways if you can bear to read my last post that I kept removing and re-adding to this blog I haven't exactly been 'stable' the past month and I keep having these really bad relapses with my mental health. But i'm done with it like I genuinely don't have the patience anymore. For one, I'm out of those big band-aids and also it's getting hard to keep making excuses as to why I have these massive wraps on my arms and why they keep moving every week. It's not a total loss because I finally went down the street instead of across the road so when they heal and turn into scars, it'll be on top of the old scars from high school and theyll make a grid you can play tic tac toe on. I can't role play as a tiger anymore though which anyone who knows me personally knows how much of a blow that is for me.
But really I'm just sick of not treating myself for the fucking star that I am. I'm making that sentance immune to any future embarrassment, I don't care how much you hate yourself in a few weeks alec that still reigns true. I believe because I have to believe, but opportunity knocks, doesn't beg, so while I'm still figuring everything out for myself I'm not gonna let myself cry about the little stuff anymore. Because honestly it's literally just a repeat of the last time I was like this, and the truth is: none of this matters. What happened years go when I first went through this? Doesn't. Matter. In ten years I'll have no idea why I acted this way. Things will get better, I have to wait for them to get better, and in the mean time I'm going to carry myself how I see fit, and right now I'm a diva. Maybe tomorrow I'll go back to being boring and 'realistic' but tonight that bitch inside of me is coming out and I'm not going to begrudge her the opportunity to play.
Well, here we are again. It's been about a month now, and I've settled into a groove. I think I'll always hold on to the sentiment that fall semester is always worse than spring semester, and it's because I've never seen myself proven wrong. Although, I'm not having a terrible time like you'd gather from the way I speak about it. I've mostly just spent the month readjusting to a new balance in my life. Some things get better, some things get worse. The truth is, things are getting worse. My moods have come completely unstable, and I find myself hating myself more and more as time goes on. Sometimes, I get these little reminders for why I do what I do, but I also wonder if its worth it half the time. I have never felt like the oboe was more distant to me than it is now. It doesn't matter that I play it every day, I only have the time and the chops to play it for five minutes each before I get too tired or too frusterated. I don't understand how, but it's like I'm getting worse at the instrument as time goes on. I hate it. And I hate how other people look at me when I do play it. I don't want to be good enough. I hate myself more thinking of why I even bother. Good enough isn't good enough not because I have some valoric need to better myself, but because without constant improvement, no one is ever going to look at me. If I was smart, or any bit self aware, I would have just come to college playing the absolute worst I could just so I could have a pretty woman moment after everyone was conditioned to believe I was shit. Maybe that would garner more of what I wanted. I hate myself more when I get it anyways. I never know how to react. How can I sit and announce myself in a joking manner that I have no desire but attention when whenever I get it I bow my head and run away. I do have a side of me whos strictly business, who thinks and does what he believes needs to get done. That business side of me hates attention because its patronizing. Did you expect any less? It's insulting. Did they believe I would show up to whatever obligation and not perform to the best of my ability. But the broken side of me can't live like that. I must struggle to see the forest for the trees. I'd blame seasonal depression but I know better. I can just hold my hopes over some cop-out excuse towards my own ability to save myself, say it'll get better soon, but I know better. I hate myself for hating myself. It's a vice. I'm just a child, as much as I wish and pretend I wasn't. I know nothing, and I hate knowing nothing. I can at least tell myself that I don't bother other people with my problems, and I take a sick pride in being capable of bottling myself up, but to even feel this way in the first place is childish. And beyond that point, I don't care how other people look at me, as long as they don't look at me for what I really am, which is just a child. I take pride in my ability to bottle, but I do a poor job of it anyways. Not by any sort of accident. In perfect opposition to eachother, I'm completely aware of myself when I chose to let too much out. I want people to look at me. I want to be ashammed with no shame. I want people to look at me like I've ruined my life. Like I don't deserve to live anyways. Like I'm a mess.
Wow! That's a whole lot of time between blog posts. There used to be posts here, but in one of my lovely mania moments I deleted them all. I remember there being more, but apparently I only saved one and just commented out of the page. So they're pretty thin words when I say them, but I think it's worth another try with this blog, I suppose. I think my biggest problem is I'm not used to reading my own voice when I write, my second being that a certain microblogging website you may or may not know has me grown acustomed to smaller disposable posts that get pushed down a never ending feed, whereas anything I write here is not only in a format I'm not used to using, but must sit here to age like milk from my perspective. But, past mistakes can only be mended by trying again. Why even bother? Other than the subliminals of myself trying to unlearn poor self-esteem, I try because I keep seeing posts on aformentioned micro blogging website about how 90's internet was full of spaces made by people for themselves, created with the intention of pleasing no one but themselves. I see these posts and think to myself, "Oh hey, I have one of those websites. I should use it to curate my own space." And here I am, giving it the college try.
My game plan for making this last? Baby steps. Just now, I began another long winded paragraph to start talking about my day, but deleted it. I think that's a bad way to go about things. For starters, I hate talking about my day. The only thing more exhausting that actually living through a day is then having to relive it with the added stress of making it interesting. In reality? My life isn't that interesting. All I did today was go to what is basically a freshmen orientation before semester starts tomorrow. Which would be interesting. If I was one of the freshmen. Instead, my day consisted of introducing myself to a bunch of new people that I'll probably never end up talking to anyways, and catching up with some friends after not seeing them all summer. The last bit was nice, but not particularly interesting. Other than that, I had my audition for orchestra, which would sound like a big deal, if it wasn't just a big technicallity. I'm the only Oboist who signed up. I'm also the only major on campus. I can guess without a shadow of doubt my placement. And technicallities aren't very interesting.
What is interesting is that in an attempt to explain why I didn't want to describe how my day was, I would up doing just that. I guess this is healing.
Blog created! I have no plan so far for this section of the site, but i think it'd be fun to have some place to put up whatever blob of text i need that doesn't belong in the update section.
I made the mistake of making this site my spring break project, not knowing how busy i would be immediately afterwards. I made some concepts for the site, but wound up unhappy with the first results of the site and after about 100 different url changes i scrapped everything I had to far and the idea for the site just fell out of my mind as my days became filled with constant rehearsals.
Recently though, things have cleared up and i finally have some free time to sit down and start hammering some of this stuff out. I'm not AMAZING with code, but i have to admit the feeling of getting something to work reminds me of being a kid and making games with RPG maker. Hopefully nobody actually inspects the website though because my formatting is a mess and i'm allergic to using a css.
For now though, i'm going to try to get as much progress as i can this weekend. i'm back to late nights once again now that opera has started, so next week progress will slow. Until then. -ALEC