I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.
I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.
I am Jack’s inflamed sense of rejection.
My kite (mentioned in 8002, below) has landed with a jarring thud. It snapped down the middle, held together only with Scotch tape and the small bit of luck that remains. Hope was the kite string and it came untied.
I figured it was about time I let my non-existent readers know what the hell I got up to this summer.
Or perhaps the real question is what DIDN’T I get up to this summer?
I mean, it depends what you define as summer. Maybe it started the day school ended; that’s fine. Skinny-dipping in starlit lakes, climbing up mountains only to find ourselves caught in a forest fire, gallavanting off to Vancouver to see Coldplay – all part of a regular school week. Maybe it started on the longest day of the year, in which case it started with the song “Life in Technicolour” echoing throughout the stadium. Or maybe it started at the end, three days before my boyfriend’s exchange year came to a close and he flew home, on the night where the showerhead washed the remainders of my virginity down the drain.
Not the best photo, but the point is, it's Coldplay.
Either way, this summer, I did everything I hadn’t done yet.
Remember that post I did, ages ago, about my table group in one of my classes laughing uncontrollably and hysterically? Remember the guy who was kicking the girl across from him under the table? That’s my boyfriend. I liked him ever since I first saw him. He liked me about two weeks before we started dating. Either way, ever since he first leaned down to kiss me on that snowy Boxing Day our relationship has just gotten exponentially better. Our theory is that it’s because we always knew we were on a time limit, ever since day one.
that's him...
His flight back home to Germany left Canada on July 2nd, ironically enough being the same day that my family arrived here when we moved in 2001. However, it wasn’t a time for total heartbreak because, back in March, I had booked a flight to England, and another from there to Germany, and another back home. My trip would start on July 14th, and end on September 3rd.
Until then, I worked for two weeks…in between our collective deflowering (and my friend’s a day before, but that’s not really relevant…just weird…), a surprise birthday party on an island accessible only by boat, and a goodbye get-together with my craziest friend that consisted of home-grown weed (my first time with it), a glass pipe, and a metal feed box usually reserved for horse food, but that had been cleaned out and now comfortably fit two people and a lot of smoke. I wish someone could have filmed us. We came up with the most amazing inventions…and packed away more food than you could ever imagine fitting into a human. (Please don’t judge me, I am but a misguided 17-year-old.) Soon after that, I went with three other friends to a nearby folk music festival, where I met Stephen Page (lead singer of the Bare Naked Ladies) and where Edgar Meyer (best double bass player in the world, pretty much) wrote me a poem instead of an autograph. Needless to say, July 14th came pretty quickly.
EDGAR!
(To be continued…sometime…)
My grad year starts tomorrow.
I mean, what the hell?
When did this happen?
How the fuck did I get so OLD?
I become a legal adult in 4 months.
God help me.
Holy crap.
And also, HOLY CRAP.
HOLY FUCKING CRAP.
I never thought it would be possible to have so many musical orgasms in the space of 36 hours or however many it was. Who needs sex? I’m exhausted.
OK, so on Thursday morning, I got up at freaking 4 AM to see this grand announcement of Mika’s. Tour dates in Europe, yay. Exciting. Not. I went back to bed, only to get up two hours later for the most fantastic choir practice I think we’ve ever had. We are singing the epic song from the beginning of The Lion King and it’s fricking awesome. It’s in Swahili, clicks and all. Singing that song with the collective over-the-top energy from the choir was the musigasm.
The second was in acting class. A scene in our end-of-year play is written in verse, so the teacher asked my friend and I, both musicians, to put a melody behind it. We ended up writing a 3-part harmony, but we were still short one singer. That was when we called…for the sake of privacy, let us name him Pete, over. His speaking voice is really deep and resonant, so we figured he would rock a bass line. My friend — I’ll call her Anna — sang a snippet of our melody, and asked him to sing it back to her. Being a girl, she can’t sing very low, so she did it up high to fit her range and just assumed he’d take it down an octave.
Well. You cannot imagine how intense our simultaneous musigasm was when he sang it back, with immaculate pitch, in the same octave…and wasn’t even in falsetto. (Wow, I just realised that I’m totally talking music speak here…for those of you who have no clue what I’m talking about, what “Pete” did was sing higher than should be possible for a guy to sing so naturally. And when guys sing up high, it’s just…orgasmic.)
So after school, I got home and checked for updates in MFC-land, and discovered the two brand-new songs on Mikasounds. I needn’t say more. The very mention of Mika’s name gets me excited. I went to bed early, because I had to get up early this morning.
I had a rehearsal at 9 am — for the show that the PAPs (see blog #…whatever. The one about my wallet.) are putting up on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Having written, designed, choreographed, composed and compiled the show all by ourselves, we had only had our first full run-through two days prior and we were all still pretty scared shitless as to how the hell we were going to be ready in time. Plus, our teachers couldn’t be there for most of the rehearsal today, wo we were going to be self-directed. But as soon as we started the run-through today, the theatre fairies came and did some magic. We were wicked. The entire show came together into a tightly-knit sweater of pure unadulterated AWESOME in about 2 hours. I did the best acting I have ever done. I didn’t mess up when I sang. And everyone else was just wonderful. For the first time in creating this show, I am excited for what the audience is going to see. And very, very proud. So I guess it wasn’t a musigasm but just as good.
AND THEN. Oh my God. Performing tonight at a local restaurant, there was this jazz quintet. They say that jazz is a more sophisticated form of music than everything else, and I’m pretty sure they’re right. I find it hard to get into recorded jazz because I’m usually not smart enough to appreciate it fully. However, if it’s live, I love it. I could spend my life listening to live jazz, if it’d good. There’s something about seeing the solos performed in front of you, spontaneous, improvised, in the moment, that makes it so much more real…and makes you feel like you can be included in it too, IQ level aside.
I’ve seen some good live jazz. I’ve seen some really good live jazz.
I have never seen anything like this.
The saxophonist was supposedly the best in the world under the age of 21. They were all the best in the world. The world just hasn’t seen them yet. And the trumpet/composer…he went to MY SCHOOL. I even know him. But I’d never seen him perform…they were just…oh my fucking God. The guitarist SANG ALONG TO HIS SOLOS. And his solos were fricking insane. They all were, but I’m pretty sure the guitarist was my favourite. The five of them were seriously in eachother’s heads or something, they were so exquisitely tuned in to one another…
AND THEN I GOT UP AND SANG WITH THEM.
It was so sudden… “Anna” said that she’d overheard someone saying that the band wanted me to sing, so I went up during their break and asked them…they seemed as surprised as I was but were totally cool with me doing something. I went back to the table I’d reserved for my friends (a table for six; there were ten of us) to go and spaz at them/ask what I should sing. I almost didn’t. But in the end, I got up and I did it. I sang the Black Orpheus theme — God, my hands were shaking, I nearly dropped the mic…I sang the first verse OK. I was more concentrating on how incredible they sounded behind me. Then they took some solos…I was standing two feet away from the guitarist, and I could HEAR him singing along. He hit every single note, with the right syllables and everything. How, I will never know. I nearly fell over and died right there…but I didn’t. I managed to stay upright for when I came back in. When I did, I was suddenly waaay more confident…and started to sing more freely and move along with the band. I bent the melody a little, and they responded. I got louder, and they got louder. I slowed down to really milk the closing line and they followed me exactly. It was amazing.
A suitable metaphor would be jumping off a skyscraper and landing in the softest, safest, warmest, most comfortable bed you have ever experienced.
The whole night was the ultimate musigasm.
I fricking love the bass in our stereo. The house is vibrating.
It’s one of those big, bulky, and really rather unattractive old-fashioned ones with seperate components, i.e the record player is its own little black box, as is the CD player, the tuner, the cassette player, etc, and they’re all stacked on top of one another. We’ve had it for as long as I can remember and most likely longer. My first memories of it include asking my mum to put the one Kinks CD we had (we still have it but it’s mine now) on to track 14, which was Days. Despite being over 16 years old and having traveled across the globe from England to Canada in a box in a boat, it still works as well as ever…*pats stereo fondly*
I should probably name it or something. I do that with inanimate objects that I am attached to. Or even with inanimate objects that I am not attached to…I have this unfounded belief that all objects have feelings.
Hence why I talk to them a lot more than can be considered sane.
I sleep in a cave. It hosts no light. In the centre is a circular pool of pristine water, naturally heated by the chaos beneath the Earth’s crust.
As I fall into bed at the end of each day, in a parallel universe that is not so very far away from this one, I sink slowly and gratefully into the water and let its warmth surround me. I relax. As far as I can tell, the pool is bottomless. I let all the air in my lungs escape through my nostrils as my head slips under the surface.
Slowly, my arms float away from my sides, and I hang there suspended. My mind is still awake, but not quite conscious — thoughts race through my head at a hundred miles an hour. Time loses its meaning.
It still passes, however, and as it does, through the mêlée of my mind an awareness builds: I am no longer sinking. With this awareness comes a goal; a need to continue my journey downwards in to the inky blackness that contains my dreams. However, I feel helpless, for I am in such a fragile state of suspension that one single muscle movement will propel me up and out of my liquid sanctuary. I need to relax, in body and in mind, to weight my bones with the lead of unconsciousness, before I descend any further.
I try to dispel the thoughts in my head, try to match my mind to the endless watery expanse beneath me, but the thoughts race ever faster, chasing eachothers’ tails ’round in circles and instilling in me a sense of panic. My yearning for the ultimate blackness intensifies, and as it does so, so does the pull from above. I resist, frantically trying to fend it off with my overcrowded mind while keeping my body still, fighting its efforts to shift my focus to the material world.
And then…I let go. I drift down, spinnung gently all the while, and am enveloped in the velvety dark. Dreams creep in through my mouth, my nostrils, my ears, my eyes…and I surrender to sleep.
We danced the other night. In the moonlight. Nothing was between us and the ocean but a layer of wooden planks that is the dock.
Just before we parted, he told me he loved me.
While walking home from the bus stop today, I had my iPod on shuffle, and the song ‘5 Years’ Time’ by Noah and the Whale came up. As I listened, my thoughts lazily started wandering, and then came back to tell me that in 5 years’ time, I will be 22. With them, they brought the realization that, holy crap, the best years of my life are lined up in front of me. I’m 17–just starting to find an equilibrium between how old I feel and how old people see me. I’m leaning towards a life of my own; no longer just a high school student but someone whose voice is starting to count.
Shortly afterwards, I was struck with such a clear image of what I could be like in the future that I actually stopped walking for a moment. I’m in a city in Europe somewhere, in what seems to be a wide street or a square or some sort, surrounded by beautiful old architechture. I’m in Converse and a pair of old jeans which have colourful paint over them in the form of my friends’ hand prints. My hair is up in a messy bun, and my shirt is a loose white blouse. It’s a gorgeous, sunny spring day, and I’m talking to an old friend who I haven’t seen in what might be years. We’re catching up on eachother, and I explain to her that I’m in university–I’ve totally gone for it and am studying music composition. Images come to mind of where I’m living: a 3rd floor flat in the inner city, a 15-minute walk from the uni. My roommate is an artist and her work covers the walls. I have a job in a small clothing boutique round the corner, which pays well and gets me excellent discounts, and I work it on the days when I don’t have classes. On the weekends, I’ve managed to snag a gig with a local jazz/funk band as their singer, and we play every Saturday in a nearby cafe-cum-jazz club. We attract a regular crowd which has been growing steadily.
The thing is, it doesn’t seem like a dream. It certainly sounds like one–but it isn’t. It’s a definite possibility, maybe even falling into the column of probability. All it takes to get me from here to there is a series of decisions, determination, and a sprinkling of magic power. These next few years are going to define the rest of my life…and I have all the resources to make them shine at my fingertips.
Here’s the song, 5 Years’ Time:
Enjoy.
was a very good year. A very, VERY good year. Hell, I’m gonna call it the best year of my life. I’m in the mood for a good reminisce, so bring on the recap…
JANUARY. 7th. My 16th birthday. It was a very quiet affair, except for when my classmates sang, but nevertheless lovely.
10th-12th. Performance of Urinetown, sold out on all 3 nights. Quite possibly the most epic musical in the world, and we rocked the socks off it. I made so many friends through that production. Yesterday was its one-year anniversary…and we all still miss it. No Friday will ever again feel complete, without the all-day rehearsals and mini mandarins at lunch time…Went to my first “real” party, the cast party, afterwards.
FEBRUARY. 15th. MIKA. Live in Vancouver. Danced on stage during Lollipop. Hugged him afterwards. He told me he liked my jeans. Enough said.
MARCH. 3rd-7th. Work experience week. I went with a good friend to a nearby university, and we spent the week in the theatre department. We met all the quirky theatre students, got to watch them practising, and learned a hell of a lot about the ways of the stage…it was awesome.
APRIL. Was just nice. Sunny days out on the field…
MAY. Same, pretty much.
JUNE. 11th. End-of-year music show. I sang a version of Summertime with a latin rhythm behind it–and it was fantastic. That was when I really started coming into my own as a singer–and when the music teacher started to like me. Finally.
JULY. (Hooooooly crap.) 7th-11th. Vocal solo jazz workshop in Victoria with quite possibly the most amazing woman in the world. Made a lovely new friend, and realised that singing makes my life.
11th-13th. Vancouver Island MusicFest. Got a ride up from Victoria with the bassist from the workshop, who just happened to be playing there. Met my friends, and had a blast. Got autographs from all the artists, walked around in swimsuits, drank overpriced lemonade…
26th-28th. Pemberton Festival. Aaahh! Saw Tom Petty, the Flaming Lips, Vampire Weekend, Death Cab for Cutie, Jay-Z, and Coldplay…got right up to the front, and Coldplay passed 2 feet away from me! Ahhh! Sooo amazing.
AUGUST. Went to England/Ireland. Spent the whole time with my best friend, and terrorised the country in general. Met an old school friend who I hadn’t seen for 10 years beforehand. Saw parts of the country I hadn’t seen before…loved it…got drunk for the very first time…hehe.
Had my birthday card for Mika posted on his blog!
Saw Ingrid Michaelson at Bumbershoot Festival. I love her to bits.
SEPTEMBER. School. New exchange students, in my classes this time…meaning new friends. Tried out for the performing arts program…and got in!
OCTOBER. Went on field trips with said performing arts program…loved them all…got closer to the other students. Wrote my first song. Spent time with friends, and developed an actual social circle. Dressed up as Amy Winehouse for Halloween, and everyone loved it…
NOVEMBER. Obama got elected. Coldplay’s EP came out. More moments with friends…
DECEMBER. Ohh, fabulous month. Tried out for the “Think” solo…and got it!! I’ll be singing it in April, at a jazz festival…so, in front of adjudicators and everything.
Got buried under 2 feet of snow. Missed the last week of school before the hols because of it. Worked a lot, made loads of money…
Had a wonderful, white Christmas.
Recieved my very first kiss the next day.
Saw in the New Year with good music and people I love.
What a ride. I’m flying on a kite, it would seem, and heading into the stratosphere…here’s to another year of adventures and excitement. I have a feeling my kite won’t be landing too soon.
…Oh, how I love thee.
My little corner of the world got dumped with about a foot of snow last night. The result? Well, unless you’re the driver of a snowplough, you are pretty much guaranteed to be stuck. My mum is not the driver of a snowplough, so we’re stuck. Snowed in. We ain’t going nowhere…
And thank the bloody lord, I say. Seriously. The month or whatever it was without a proper blog hasn’t been without good reason–I actually have not had a spare second. First of all, my teachers all decided it would be a fantastic idea to all start giving me about 80 assignments a day…gotta love staying up ’til 2 am every night. Then, I’ve been working a recently-acquired job two days every weekend (I am totally spoiled in that some schools round these parts have a four-day school week–hence a three-day weekend–, and I go to one of them), which, although it’s earning me enough money to fly myself to Europe next summer, is pretty grueling. On top of that, I think I might have a social life. This is a pretty new thing for me. Up until a couple of months ago, I’d spend every weekend at home…but now I find myself getting invited to things, ’cause I’ve been making loads of friends of late. I’ve even been to the occasional party, but they’re really not what they’re cracked up to be. A little (OK, it’s pretty sizeable) group of us seem to have developed into what just might be the new Ace Gang. It’s become a tradition to terrorise the local cafe after school on Thursdays.
The January music show is coming up–this week is the start of “Red Week”, aka the reason why everyone is afraid of the music teacher. This is the week where he listens to everything that might go in the show and cuts anything that isn’t perfect. So, he’s been holding last-minute auditions and such…I tried out for a vocal solo over the jazz band; they’re playing “Think”, sung originally by Aretha Franklin. It’s a pretty awesome song. I think my tryout was pretty good, if I say so myself. I find out who got it on Tuesday…fingers crossed.
A few of us have quasi-casually started a band that may or may not continue to meet every Monday at lunch. I hope we keep it going, because we could take the world by storm.
Christmas is coming up. Hence, a mad dash for Christmas presents. I’ve got so much shopping to do, and no money in my account. I need my paycheck… :S BUT, our Christmas tree is up! It stands in verdant beauty in the living room, all glittery and flashing-light-y and wonderful.
So yeah. This is why I am grateful for the snow. It gives me a chance to collect the various pieces of myself that I’ve left in so many different places and not had the time to sit down and register that I’m missing them. My mum is letting me stay home from school tomorrow, despite the fact that I can walk to my bus stop…it’s easy enough, I do it every normal morning, but snow sort of makes it easy to pretend that things are otherwise. It’s funny–normally I’d have to be hacking up lungs for her to let me stay home, but it’s so easy to convince her when the weather’s like this. It’s so beautiful…it falls so evenly, everything looks smooth. It’s this thick white blanket that covers up all the world’s flaws, that makes them acceptable. It soothes and cools, gently orders everything to stand still. I went for a midnight walk down the road last night, it was so wonderful. The pure white made it seem nearly like daylight. I strolled down to the village and back and, in the assurance that there’d be no witnesses, I sang all the way.
The first inch
