Seriously?

I'm having a really hard time believing that Heath Ledger is dead. Seriously. Dead? Crap. I really liked him. Not only was he nice to look at, but I really liked his movies too. Fuck. Dead?

The sad thing is that when I go and try to rent my number 1 guilty pleasure movie, 10 Things I Hate About You it will be out of stock for weeks because millions of girls, worldwide will have the same desire. Part of me really hopes that it was a suicide because that will just make him more appealing. People will say, "We had no idea he was suffering so much," and a new layer of depth will be added to the already interesting actor. Do you realize that Brokeback Mountain will reach astronomical popularity because Heath is now dead? It will become monumental. It's sad, but death really is an artist's greatest achievement, especially when they go young.

Dammit Heath, WHY?!?!? I could accept that you had a fiance and a two-year-old kid, but why death? I hope you're happy, you son of a bitch. You had YEARS of movie-making left. I was excited to see you grow older and develop as an actor. Now you're dead and I'm supposed to watch Jake Gyllenhaal? Is that what you wanted? I really thought the movie Candy sucked, but that didn't keep me from watching it, or watching your subsequent films. Oh, wait, there won't be an subsequent films! (I realize the Batman film will come out this summer and there's another film in production, whatevs!) I thought you were the best actor of my generation, and now you're gone. Ass!

My date with The FIBs

Last night, I went to my boyfriend's band's concert. They are known as the FIBs. I've been avoiding this for a long time now. The FIBs are all about punk, irresponsibility, under-age drinking, pot smoking, yelling, moshing, bleeding, and making their own T-shirts... In other words, things I'm not really fond of. And yet, I found myself at their concert last night.

Most things associated with punk concerts: dancing, beer-spilling, and deafening music, I expected. I did not expect fearing for my safety, although perhaps I should have. The FIBs started playing, and the mosh pit began. Really, there was just this one guy (who had the craziest look in his eye and the WORST dance moves I have ever seen!!!) that started smashing into people and getting violent. Honestly, he was trying to start fights with people because he was ready to cause some serious damage, but he masked most of his sadistic desires by violently gyrating.

Then the cops showed up. I wasn't worried because I was 21 and wasn't even drinking, but all the underage kids (and there were many) slipped out the back or hid in a bedroom. Surprisingly enough, crazy dancing guy was no where to be seen either. I would have liked to see him get clubbed. Anyway... One of my boyfriend's buddies got handcuffed because he was mouthing off to the cops, but they didn't arrest him, or anyone else. Cops just like to put on a show, like the FIBs.

The boys did put on a good show, though. They're energetic and like having a good time playing music. But I just don't like punk. In fact, I can't stand it, and it's all that my boyfriend listens to. But for one night, and one night only, I pretended to... care. I didn't grimace, and I tried to not plug my ears. Perhaps I should have done some last minute cramming and learned a song or two to sing along with, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Punk rockers can always spot out a phony anyway. Now, I've done my time, and I don't ever have to go to one of their shows again.

Breaking up with your (gay) boyfriend is hard to do

You know your relationship status has changed when your gay boyfriend, husband, whatever moves out, and you can't help but feel cheap and used.

Alex, my long time gay lover and companion is moving out. I'm mad at him for doing this, even though his reasons are completely reasonable and he has no intention to hurt me. It's not really my place to say what's going on in Alex's life, but I just wish things could have happened differently. I wish things didn't have to happen so soon. I wish I weren't mad at him and could enjoy the time we still have together. I think Alex knows I'm mad at him because he hardly comes out of his room (a new phenomenon that's been happening since last summer).

Not only am I mad, but resentful too. A few days ago I was cursing about him for not getting his shit packed up so the new guy can move in. Part of me can't wait until he's gone to spare me from the awkwardness. Part of me doesn't want the 14th of this month to come so I don't have to say goodbye to him, and say, "See you around," and not really know when I'll see him again, or if I'll even to see him.


A new guy moves in on the 15th. He's nice, responsible, and makes a lot of money. But he won't be my Alex. He won't stay up with me until 4 a.m. watching Queer as Folk and then decide to go jogging on the Lake Shore path just because we can. We won't burn shit in the fire place or play Boggle, and he certainly can't make grape leaves.

I know it's not really breaking up, but it is. We're going our separate ways. Other friends who I've told this story to tell me to not take it personally, but I am. Even though I knew Alex would move out someday, part of me really did want our arrangement to last forever. But like a lot of relationships, we've grown apart the last year or so, and now he's moving on to something else. Eventually, I'll be happy for him and see his new place and hang out more than we did while living together...Eventually.

We'll see what happens on the 14th.

Lllangollen

If you guys still read this, and if you are interested in the DePaul Acappella choir.
We're the shit.

DePaul A Cappella on Llangollen TV

Last wish

I know the Make a Wish Foundation is for kids, but if I'm ever terminally ill and have one last wish, I seriously want to see SRK.

I will put this in my living will.

PS. I need someone to be a witness to sign my living will. Any volunteers?

schizo

I have the voice of a small Irish man yelling in my head, and I am terrified.

No, I'm not schizophrenic. The small Irish man is the Maestro for Grant Park Chorus. He uses terms like "crotchets" (quarter notes) "minims" (eighth notes) and "semidemihemiquavers." (actually, I'm not sure if that's a correct term) The tip of his index finger on his right hand is missing, and I have never met a man more intimidating than he. I literally have anxiety attacks before going to rehearsals. It doesn't help that I have finals and juries on top of everything else. Poor Dan. I barked at him for doing nothing, only because I was so stressed out, and I will feel like this until Monday.

Deep breath. Take a bath. (Advice from my voice teacher.) I can't wait 'til Mikey, the new kitty, gets here. We purposefully put off his arrival until this craziness settles down.

PS. I've been thinking about turning this blog around a little bit and limiting my posts to music based topics. That's pretty much what I do already because I'm living, breathing, and pissing music. Though, not as much as I could be. Any thoughts? Someday, when I'm rich maybe I'll get my own domain and have beautiful pictures of my masterful performances at the Met. HA!!!

a good one

my mom picked up for me this really old hymnal copyright 1917. originally, i asked her to look for something with shape notes in it. this hymnal has no shape notes, unfortunately, but it does have some treasures.

No. 312 "The Walls of Jericho" The chorus speaks for itself.

"Old whiskey's walls have got to go/Just like the walls of Jericho!/The rummies won't know where they're at;/Their walls must tumble down, down flat."

Or the next hymn, "A Thousand Years of Prohibition": "A thousand years of prohibition,/Lift up your eyes, behold the dawn!/The nations hope shall find fruition,/When from our land the curse has gone."

I find that this really puts a perspective to everything, especially after watching Jesus Camp. These Evangelicals have a real history of fucking shit up in this country, at least prohibition was repealed. They are gaining strength again, and I'm half considering dropping this music business and work to protect this nation's right to drink, have abortions, not go to church, think freely, be gay, and believe in EVOLUTION!!!

What pissed me off most about Jesus Camp was the lack of scriptures from the Evangelical party. They may as well have been making half that shit up. And the brainwash on those poor, poor kids. THEY'RE GOING DOWN!!!

silent night

all is quiet in the chicago residence. i think my roommates know that they inadvertently spoiled a very big evening for me.

my old voice teacher is in town, visiting from albuquerque. tonight, we were supposed to see a show of one of her old students in palatine, il. you may snicker at the fact that i was to see a community theatre production of pirates of penzance in palatine, but it was important to me. i haven't seen this very important woman in a year. now that she lives in new mexico, chances of me seeing her again soon are unlikey.

so how did this all come about? i won't name names, because it doesn't really matter. when the planning of going to palatine all came about, i had to do some creative thinking because i have church in the morning, and could not go back to the suburbs where the rest of the party was headed after the performance. so, at the beginning of this week, i asked roommate A to borrow their car for the night to get myself there and back, and i got the ok-go. last night, roommate B borrowed the car to go to a party, came back all in one piece. this morning, i was told that the car was dead because roommate B failed to turn off the headlights last night. roommate A jumped the car, but deemed it too unreliable for me to drive tonight.

"sorry di."

so, while they go out tonight and have fun. i am at home, sulking, wondering what i should do to my roommates for pay-back.

Myspace...

I had to! I created a MySpace page for DePaul A Cappella. But you can listen to selected tracks from our concert last March.

If you're into the whole MySpace craze, friend us, but most importantly, listen to the music and tell me what you think.

DePaul A Cappella

iGoogle?

My personalized google page is now iGoogle.

I'm not a fan. Everything has to have an "i" in front of it. And when it relates to non-iPod products, it's unnecessary.

What's wrong with Personalized Google Homepage?

GASP!!! Am I missing some giant merger between Mac and Google? Tell me no such thing has happened!

Address

To those who think Alex and I are coming home this weekend:

You are sadly mistaken. We are never coming home. It's not that we don't love you. But it's a lot more fun up here, and this is where we live now. Chicago is our home. Besides, you are all ending school now, and we still have four weeks to go. Whatever.

We're still not coming home.

And check out these pictures of me from The Beggar's Opera.





Check out those gams!!!

Notorious

Yet another one of those things that I find incredibly funny, but only because my boyfriend Dan is Chinese. I wouldn't have just heard about these guys if it weren't for him, and now, I can't stop listening to the catchy tune "Dim Sum Girl."

Their website is pretty cool. Check it out if you want to waste away your free time.

PS. For those of you who care, Dan and I celebrated our two-year about a month ago. Woo!

Beggar's Opera

Come see the show.

Friday, May 4 at 7:30 and Sunday, May 6 at 2:00 pm.

Pretty Polly say...

Singer...

I made my entire German class turn around and look at me today because I nearly did the Banshee screech. Actually, it was a loud GASP!!!

The nature of the conversation went as such:

Me: Shaun, do you have a pen? I only have a pencil and I don't like to write in pencil.

Shaun: Well, I only have this pen, and I normally only write in pencil because I'm a musician, and all musicians write in pencil.

Me: I don't.

Shaun: Like I said. All musicians write in pencil.

Me: Explosion!!! [Which was really just a very large gasp.] WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? I hate you. Shove your splintery clarinet up your ASS! FICH DICH, du Sheissekopf!!!

The most offensive thing you can call a singer is a singer, and strip them of their musician status. I can understand that we come off as really dumb sometimes, but we have so many other thoughts in our head than measure 31 there's an accent on the and of 3 plus a diminuendo. Ok...well, how about you memorize the text in French and remember that you have to pucker your lips on "vaincouer" and make it look like you really know what you're singing. Do you speak fluent German, French, Italian, Spanish, Russian, Greek, Latin, Klingon, Tagalog, Swahili, and English?

Yeah, ok. That's what I thought. And don't be hatin' on us because we don't have to spend 6 hours in a practice room. That's your problem. Not. Mine. Thank. You!

MILF

I'll admit, I wore a relatively provocative dress today. I haven't worn it in ages. Fortunately, it still fit, too. That made me feel better about myself. I guess I haven't gotten that fat over the years. Anyway...I figured that I would catch some glances, but to my dismay, only older men seemed to notice. One man even said "Nice Legs" as I passed him. Granted, I have always caught the elders' eyes, it really should have been no surprise to me. But then I thought, do they think I'm a MILF? That's when I became disturbed. I know I look a little older than 20, but I don't look like I'm almost 30, do I? Do I look like I've had children? What is it that turns older men's heads rather than the younger ones? Junk in the trunk? Thick thighs? Child-birthing hips? It's my hair cut, isn't it? I have Posh Spice's (Mrs. Beckham) hair style these days. She's a MILF, technically...

Crap. What should I do?
PS. I love this picture of the Beckhams. They are totally sloshed, and I think there's nothing better in this shallow world than pictures of drunk celebrities. I even bought US weekly the other day because I just needed a fix. I blame Jessa for this problem of mine. She'll occasionally buy the trash mag, but she hasn't done it in a while, so I had to take matters into my own hands. Oh yeah, yesterday was Jessa's last day at Saks Fifth Ave. I never took advantage of her sweet discounts. Oh well. Even with her discounts I still probably wouldn't be able to afford those clothes. It's a thrift store life for me.

ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

Something VERY bad happened in our apartment last night. Jessa's money was stolen. STOLEN!!! And to make matters worse, whoever took the money, didn't take it all. No, they had to rip a $100 bill in TWO!!! Who does that? I pray to god that it was the jack-ass kids that one of my friends brought over, and was not indeed one of my friends. But I guess I'll never really know, because the money was not returned, even though people were offering up their own money left and right. Clearly, they were too fucked up to realize that Jessa did not want their money, but just wanted her own back, and whoever took it would just be asked to just get the fuck out of our place.

Apparently, nobody is to be trusted in this world, so I am not having people over for a while.

Hidden Agenda

Remember when I said that I was going to lose weight because I wasn't in the Spring opera this year? Like in this post. Yeah, well, that changed as of Monday.

Basically, the lead female soprano dropped out (for relatively legitimate reasons) the director bumped up a deserving senior in the ensemble, and now I am filling in for her. The show is May 4 and 6. They've been working on this for a whole month now, and I get three weeks.

This is when I regret being known as a fast learner.

On another note, I dropped $60 on designer chocolate today, because I had the cash, and felt like doing something nice for my roommates and of course the beloved honorary fourth roommate, Evan. Vosges chocolate is truly orgasmic. Do not scold me until you yourself have tried the Exotic Caramel sampler box.

I highly recommend the top row right caramels and the middle row left caramels. Each of their names is far too long and senseless, and in no way describe how DELICIOUS!!! they are. Alex can vouch for me. I would say that Jessa can too, but we don't know where she is right now. Her new employers, the people who live DIRECTLY across the street from us, have offered her the ridiculously wonderful opportunity to become a full-time nanny for their two young children. She will be making more money working for them (I'm guessing on average 5 days a week) than a second or third year teacher's salary. PLUS!!!! Family vacations with them to places like... oh, I don't know. PARIS! I'm disgustingly jealous, but at the same time, very happy for her. She really deserves this.

Just weep on the inside, Di.

This is the killing time...

What a terrible, terrible tragedy in just a never-ending string of tragedies.
But there was another tragedy that I was just informed of on Saturday by a great documentary on PBS, Jonestown: The Life and Death of Peoples Temple. Also see Wikipedia about it if you are unfamiliar with the tragedy, like I was.

Anyway, when I saw the film, I just thought, why was I never told about this? Why is it not taught in school or talked about on television more?

What scared me most about the documentary was that people of all races and ages, intelligent people, people who only wanted to make the world a better place, were manipulated and killed. I could easily have been one of those people then. Basically, I have no hope left, because no matter what, someone's always going to fuck it up. And I really believe we won't see the Chicago Olympics because the world may as well end on December 21, 2012. My choir director gave me shit for saying that because he's all about making the world better through music blah blah blah. (An ironic non-sequitur that I discovered in my research about the Jonestown Massacre: The leader to the cult Heavens Gate was a music major.)And I wish I could do that too, save the world with music, that is, but the Jonestown Massacre just ruined everything for me.

And don't you even think about giving me shit for the band Brian Jonestown Massacre. Chops, I mean YOU!

So, watch the film. Get educated. Get scared. And just pretend that everything will be ok, like I have decided to do.

Bye Matt...

Tuesday morning. Matt killed himself. Matt was 17. The exact age of my younger brother. I'm sorry Ashely. I can't fathom your loss and pain. I can only imagine the death of my own brother. Your brother is my brother, just like how the kids in the car accident were my brothers and sisters. I cried today for Matt. I sang these lyrics and burst into tears while my choir was recording the piece. "Stretched out. Stretched out underground. A boy..." Your brother. His funeral is tomorrow. Will he still wear a suit? I'm sorry. I remember your brother because you said he looked like Harry Potter. And he did. I'm sorry that's all I knew about him.

Someone asked me a question today, which is why I write about Matt.

"Is high school really that hard?"

I couldn't really answer. I kinda liked high school. I found good friends. And I thought, is that all that got me through school? I did graduate early, but I don't think my motives were because I hated school or my life. I did things like music and drama inside and outside school. I was tired of getting up so goddamn early in the morning. But I did go through some very dark hours. My friends, love 'em or hate 'em, were always there. They would at least listen to every stupid thing I ever told them. They're still that way. With out them, I would have been a very different person. I suppose I'm still here because of them. But doesn't everyone feel that way? "What would I ever do without you guys?" Does everyone find their belonging through friendship? I don't know. Without my friends and my activities, school would have been very hard. So, in a sense, I was very privileged. I had it easy, and I can't answer for any other.

As much as I would like answers from Matt, I won't try to pretend to understand him. But he's gone forever. I understand that, and that's why I cry. I hate the infinite. I cry because Ashley and family will no longer physically have Matt in their lives. Forever.

missing carl...

the georgian concert cd is in! now i just have to figure out how to put the thing online. any suggestions?
dr. p and carl
[and me in the very corner]