I finally understand the life of a musician + late essay woes

So after handing in late my first assignment yesterday, I can now move on to my second assignment that’s due this Wednesday…  So I logged onto Blackboard to look at the notification on what it is we’re supposed to do, some sort of essay which I am completely clueless about, with readings that I haven’t done.  I truly suck.

And saw on the corner an announcement from anthropology, “Late Short Essays.”  This is obviously relevant to me, so clicked on it and basically slowly began to shit bricks.  My body temperature actually rose.  It said we had to read the unit of study outline about late work.  And I thought, oh shit, was I supposed to hand in my essay to a separate place for late work?  And turns out I lose 2% of the raw mark, not 2 marks, everyday.  So if that were true, I’d have to go into uni again and hand it in, 3 DAYS LATE!!!!!!!  I don’t even know how much loss that is but it is a shit load more than what I have done!!!  Anyway, luckily after about seven minutes of panicking and clicking links and finding the words “late submission” I think I can almost firmly say that I think I’ve handed in my essay to the right place…  I’d actually misread one of the lines saying: any essay submitted after the return date will not be marked, as, that any late essay will not be marked.  I actually started to stress out less thinking that yes, I had actually failed this course, and that, I didn’t even really care.

Halfway through this I was considering emailing my tutor and asking him the actual protocol since the information provided was scattered every-fucking-where all over the internet and on pdf files…  But then I decided to just search harder since he didn’t reply to my first email I sent him.  So pretty much needless to say that there’s no point emailing my anthropology tutor.  I was going to generalise and say all tutors, but my philosophy tutor emailed, I think everyone he has, saying to email him an essay outline.  And I would, and it made me so happy to know he cared about us individually, but I haven’t started nor have I done my readings…  I feel really bad that I haven’t done any work because even though he doesn’t make jokes and things like my anthropology tutor, I think he might actually be better.  I don’t know if my anthropology tutor is my favourite anymore, my friend said that the girl sitting next to her found him obnoxious and annoying.  Also, my sociology tutor emailed my group assignment group on the process of the youtube video and I was planning to reply, but then didn’t because I actually hadn’t started editing our video.  But I got it done in a day, a week before it was due, so, diligent me…

Now I think maybe I really should have done media and communications at UTS, seeing as MeCo at USYD is apparently the shittest and all the other unis laugh at us.  I really had so much fun being interviewed by people at the Optus Rockcorps concert!  But also when I was watching the performers in the zone, and jumping around really enjoying themselves, I wish I could do that too.  It would be amazing.  I also realised that the stories many songs tell, of travelling around the world and living your dream yet being separated from the ones you love and the sadness that comes from that – basically the sadness and the happiness and how you’ve gotten everything you wanted but less of what you really need.  Holy shit, I’m pretty sure that’s a lyric to some song I don’t remember right now – you got what you want, but not what you need.  Well actually, that’s also a line applicable to the generic love song as well…  But basically, I felt as though, while watching The Script perform, was that they were living that exact life.  Their songs about love and loss, The Man Who Can’t Be Moved, the immensity of a musicians passion is limitless, they are like vampires and every emotion they feel is heightened and expressed in such a way that all human beings can relate and feel those same emotions relating to their own lives through melody and lyrics.  It’s truly amazing.  It made me feel sad and happy at the same time.  What’s even the word for that emotion.  I feel so juvenile talking about happy and sad.  Joy and melancholy?  I don’t even know.  The Script were amazing.

Anyway, I still am not completely sure if I handed in my assignment correctly and I feel sort of lost in a way that I can’t email my tutor because I won’t get a reply, but I’ve exhausted all the online resources for reliable information and still am not completely sure.

Also, I’m hungry and I don’t want to eat because it’s past 11 and I don’t want to gain weight, yet, I’m hungry.  Or maybe this is normal, and people feel slightly empty in their stomachs all the time.  The thing is when I was eating dinner, I actually ate until I was full, but now I’m just hungry again.  Is it because I’m bored?  I mean, I was watching YouTube videos, and new episodes of my favourite shows.  Well, actually for the past half hour I think I’ve just been scrolling through my social media news feeds reading uninteresting and un-stimulating articles…  Well, I hope I will have the will to restrain from going downstairs to the kitchen to eat junk.  I actually have a block of hazelnut Godiva chocolate in my draw…  Sigh pie 101.

Heading out tomorrow night, I have no clothes to wear.  Poo poo poo.

Down and out,
Just Another Woo Girl

Christmas, another year gone

It feels like so long since it was last Christmas!  I just opened my presents, yes at night, and I felt kind of nostalgic towards the Christmas wrapping.  It’s so classic, I love Christmas time!  In America, it was just amazing, all the streets were decorated with wreaths and baubles, every store was playing Christmas music, not just the cheesy stuff, but the smooth sounds of Buble, oh how he is so smooth.

Not sadly, but, I only got to unwrap two presents this year, one was chocolate and one was money.  The rest were in red envelopes or cards, not that that’s any problem…  I love unwrapping things, I might even start collecting the wrapping paper just for memories sake since it’s so sparse now.  We used to end up with heaps but now, just the two.

Anyway, I am going to try and save all the money I’ve received, and will receive for my birthday in a few weeks, and Chinese New Year in a few more.  I literally get so much money during this time of year it’s crazy.  I want to spend it on something special, like One Direction merchandise, or a chance to meet them, or something crazy fine.

It’s sad to see the Christmas season leave again for another year, I love Christmas music so much, it’s so full of cheer and feeling!  But I don’t want to be like the town of Post, it’s kind of creepy to play seasonal music when it’s not the season…

Just Another Woo Girl

P.s.  Best Christmas feast this year!  So much food, and also, we celebrated my Granda’s 82nd birthday which is happening in a few days with a delicious mango cake like no other I’ve ever tasted!  It was majority mango and cream!  It was sponge with the top edges covered in thick layers of cream, and cream at the bottom edges, and inside a massive crevice filled diced mango and cream, and the entire cake covered in slices of fresh mango!!  Best cake.

Stream of memories about singing

I just had a shower, and I always sing in the shower.  So loudly that my mum says that my neighbours can hear me.  I don’t think about that when I’m belting out my song, but if I think about it afterwards, it’s pretty embarrassing.

Anyway, so I was just remembering a time, a thought triggered by a multiplicity of experiences during the last few days.  I had my HSC music performance exam on Monday, and I was rehearsing in the hall with piano and my teacher the Friday before.  And my english teacher walks out of his computer room, and I see him in the hall.  Blah blah blah, basically he’s like, “I didn’t know you sang!”  And I just laughed.  It was pretty nice having Mr Thompsen and McDermot come in and listen as well.

More to the point, today in music class, since we’d finished our performance exams, we only have an aural exam left in the HSC exam period.  And my friend says, “Oh, Mr Michael said you’re amazing.”  And I was like, in my mind, oh yeah, cool, cool, cool…Yes!  And my music teacher goes, “Yeah, he came in while we were rehearsing and said he didn’t know she sang, and asked how long she’s been singing.  And I said, for as long as I’ve known her.”

And then I was thinking, I’ve been singing since ever, since I was three or four.  Which (not meaning to sound self-absorbed), I think is a really long time.  It’s like, I played the piano since I was five, until last year, which is, eleven years.  I don’t really have much to show for it though, since I pussied out before my practical exam even though I did the theory.  Let’s just say, piano is not something I have natural flair in.  Actually, my sister influenced me to learn piano too!  I remember when I was five, my sister was learning and I said, “I want to play too!”  So I did.

I also started learning to play the violin in year three, because I thought it was awesome, also my family friend played it.  But then I changed to the cello because I thought it was cool that you could sit down (lazy from a young age…).  And then I swapped back to violin because the cello was too heavy to carry.  And then we moved away and I didn’t play anymore.

It seems like I’m influenced by others around me.  Example, my first and foremost favourite colour when I was little was yellow.  But then, in year one, my best friend Cassie’s favourite colour was blue, so then I decided I liked blue more as well.  I was a happy child.

Anyway, so back to the shower.  I was singing in the shower, and thinking of how my music teacher had said I’d been singing ever since she’d known me.  And when she’d said that, I thought, I’ve been singing ever since I was four.  And then in the shower I was thinking of the time when I was nine years old…

Since I moved schools so much, every time I made new friends, they’d obviously have to learn new things about me.  And one of them, was that I liked to sing.  This may or may not have been the first time that any of my friends knew I could sing.  So, I was at my friend’s, let’s call her Kitty, and she was telling her mum that I could sing and had a really good voice.  But being the shy kid I was or am, I didn’t want to sing in front of her.  So Kitty whispered something to her mum and her mum left the room.  Then Kitty asked me to sing, and I sang some Britney Spears song, possibly Hit Me Baby One More Time.  And then Kitty’s mum comes out from the other room and is like, yay, or something.  And we’re all laughing.  Funny.

I thought that was a semi-cute story for my own reminiscence.

Also, that year, I sang at school for some singing talent contest loosely based around Australian Idol.  Note, this is primary school.  And I sang, When You Look At Me by Christina Millian.  I auditioned with My Happy Ending by Avril Lavigne, and my other friend, let’s call her Cube, did as well.  Although, she didn’t get through… Yeah.

Then Kitty said it’d be cool if she were my back up dancer.  So she became my single back up dancer.  I got time off to practise and things, so my back up dancer rehearsed too.  And we performed.  And no one was named the winner, because we were all winners…

Cube is now sings and does community theatre now according to Facebook.  Not sure whether that means she can actually sing now, or that the community theatre company just sucks…

Harsh?

Ciao,
Just Another Woo Girl

Best dream ever

Last night I had the best dream ever.  I wrote out bits of it when I woke up, and when I had woken, I was in an incredibly emotional state.  You know those dreams, where so much happens, and you feel so connected and it feels so real, you wake up and your chest is beating and your breath is short?  Well that’s what happened to me when I had dreamt I’d met One Direction and The Wanted.

Oh gosh, well I actually didn’t get to meet The Wanted in my dream.  Which may be because I have already met them in real life (oh my god).  And so it begins, well the parts that I remember, I am walking out of this building.  For some reason, the setting is similar to that of my local shopping centre, and where my tutoring building is, but I didn’t realise this in my dream, and a lot of things about it were different.  Anyway, so I’m walking down the stairs to leave the building, and I know, because I saw and heard them, that One Direction are walking down the stairs behind me.  And being the normal person I am, I play it cool, and continue to walk down.

I leave the building and turn my head back slightly, just to peek, and they are walking a different direction, possibly, so I turn and walk that way.  I turn around for some reason to meet them, maybe they’d said something.  But it was the most amazing moment in my dream history ever.  Harry walks up to me to have a hug, but instead of aiming his arms over my own, because that’s the friend hug, he aims them around my waist!  Yeah, best moment of my life.  Harry Styles.  And then I hug the rest of the boys, and they are so sweet.  It’s all a blur really.  I have this thing, and I suppose all fangirls do, is that I really like to take photos when I meet celebrities (not that I often meet them, sadly), just to have a memory and something tangible to look at, rather than a memory that becomes faded and moulded over time.  Though, the thing with taking pictures is that, I think, it’s so hard to do.  I mean, you have to meet them, say hi, and then ask for a picture, and the picture has to be good, and so on.  But I just love pictures because they truly capture memories and feelings, likewise with music.  I love the feeling of listening to a song, and having it take you on a journey back in time, feeling the same feelings that you had felt listening to that very same song four years ago.  It’s amazing.

Anyway, the great feeling that I had in this dream was, I didn’t need to take photos!  There were cameras all around us taking the pictures of this amazing moment for me!  Five boys, five hugs, amazing.  Though, it still was a dream.

Time past, somehow, somewhere, and I ended up in the car park.  I may or may not have ridden the elevator with One Direction, not sure.  And we were no longer in the setting of my current local Westfield, but back to Westfield Marion in Adelaide, where I had lived when I was young.  I’m in the car park, it’s dark, as usual, but the ceilings are high, which is kind of unusual for a car park, and there are sterile fluorescent lights above, but it wasn’t so bright that it was cold and bleak, it was slightly dim but I could still see everything clearly.

And then, I saw Jay in the car!  It was a four wheel drive kind of car, and he was sitting in the back, with maybe other people, like management, but I don’t remember the rest of the band in there.  I saw him, and he saw me, and then I got in the car and we drove down the sunset road.  Kidding.  This is the part where, I tell you what happened, instead.  I saw him, and he saw me, as I said, and being excited, I wanted to meet him!  But I had to walk around the car and other cars, for some off reason, to make it to his car door.  Even though, I was looking at him directly through the front window, so technically I could’ve just walked straight toward him…  Anyway, so I walk around, and he’s gone!  He’s not in the car anymore!  He is crouching just outside the car door, ducking.  Trying to run away.  (Wow, I really don’t like this image of Jay running away from me, but I suppose it’s funny, because I’m crazy – I’m actually not crazy.  I wasn’t even crazy when I met him.)  Yeah, so he was trying to hide so he wouldn’t have to hug me!  So sad, even though he has hugged me in real life (win).

So then he says, something along the lines of, “I didn’t want to hug you because I ate onions so my breath stinks.”

And then I went on to say, “I hate The Wanted!!  And I hate you!!!”

Yes, as you can see, I was extremely passionate in my retelling of the story, though in the dream, I was extremely passionate and extremely emotional.

I turned back and got into the elevator (I walked straight, yes straight to the elevator, meaning I didn’t even need to walk around).  And started ranting to someone in the elevator, and crying, not sure who it was though…  And that’s most evidently why I woke up in such a wretched, breathless state.  Crying in dreams makes you really emotional.  Actually, I ended up waking up, and crying in real life.  Pathetic.

So is it because I’d already met The Wanted in real life, that I didn’t get to meet them in my dream? In order to not be greedy?  Does that mean I won’t meet them ever again?  My dreams of befriending Jay, especially, may have been crushed…  Actually, Jay said in an interview that he would date a girl who used to be a big fan of The Wanted, so I guess that could be me, three years time…

What’s the point in that?
Just Another Woo Girl

P.s.  I wish I could be one of those people who could control their dreams.  Maybe I’ll try it tonight.  But I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to…

Poop-crastinating

They say the first step is always the hardest.  That’s exactly how I feel about studying right now.  It’s no exaggeration that I am obsessed with The Wanted right now.  It was the same with One Direction, it’s the most intense in the first few months, when you can’t think of anything else and just want to know everything there is to know about them.  Unlucky for me, this time period is occurring right now, in the middle of my trials.

It’s like an addiction.  I suppose I could say that I am quite an intense person, and when I like something, I like it, but when I love it, I loooooovvvvveeeee it.  It’s an infatuation.  An addiction.

For music, it’s happened to me (the most intensely) with Hannah Montana and Miley, the Jonas Brothers, One Direction, and now The Wanted.  Yes, the prior named are quite the generic eleven year old music tastes, but I will be I, and thou will be thou.

It’s also a reason why I don’t think I want to ever even try a cigarette, on the risk that I might become addicted to smoking.  I’ve been watching Mad Men a lot, I watched the first four seasons in less than two weeks, and every time a character is stressed on the show, oop, out pops the smokes.  They look rather classy whilst doing it as well, probably because the women who smoke are absolutely gorgeous, and the men (oh god Don Draper) are completely sexy as well.  And it made me think, wouldn’t everything be better if I could just do something like that on the side of everything I do?  What I mean to say is, what if I could do something like smoking, whilst reading, or doing work, or something extremely mundane.  I guess it’s like drinking alcohol while working, and those things are forbidden nowadays.

Because as I’m sitting here, I have wasted a whole day with no progress whatsoever on my studies, and I was thinking, maybe it would be more fun if I could smoke whilst doing it?  But the thing is, I don’t actually want to smoke, I just want to have that something to do that I can do when doing other things.  I mean, back in the fifties it was cool and everyone was all worried about nuclear war and the end of the world, so their stresses seemed to piled on top of an already unstable world.  But now, when I see people smoking, on the street or what not, I don’t really think much of it, it doesn’t make you cooler, it doesn’t make you less cool, well maybe it makes me think, “hmmm watch out for lung cancer…”.  What I mean to say is, nowadays smoking isn’t as normalised, maybe it’s because I don’t see it that often.

Wow, I’m touching my hair and it’s really clean because I washed it….

You know what, even this blog is a means of procrastination, and I really need help with procrastinating.  I really cannot will myself to take the first step, I can already envisage if I do, I will end up going backwards anyway.  I guess that’s a bad state of mind, I should think positively, and believe in my self control!  Oh what the hell, I can’t exactly pep talk myself.  People around try to pep talk me, and sometimes it even works, but usually I’m just like, okay, and continue with my self-harming-procratsination.  Well I guess I truly am stubborn, I mean I always knew I was, but I don’t really listen until I’ve experienced it myself.  And even when I do, I seem to just to do it again anyway…

I seriously need a comfy couch in my room.  I’ve moved my bed diagonally into the centre of my room to be closer to my desk and heater to initiate some sort of study.  It hasn’t work.

Though if I think positively, it hasn’t worked… As of yet.

Corn fields,
Just Another Woo Girl

P.s.  I wrote the title after this ramble, it really had nothing to do with poop.  Much to your disappointment I assume.