It Begins; and, Human Roadkill

Well, children, the proverbial ball is rolling, and I am a college student once again. Thanks to unhappy chance I have Music Theory at eight A.M. sharp five days a week—not my choice, really, but I’m a wind player and my schedule can only be so flexible. I had my first ensemble audition this morning as well, which perhaps did not go quite as horribly as it might have, but I’d be lying if I said I was happy with it. But, considering it was my second audition in four years—to the day, almost, for that matter—my nerves weren’t so awful that I fainted upon entering the room. (And I mean, come on, I was actually, physically vomiting from nerves on Saturday, so all in all I should be quite satisfied with the way things turned out, no matter what the seating ends up being like.) I met both of my fellow oboe compatriots for the second time, as well, and I still like them, so another bonus! It always sucks to have assholes in your studio.

I’m feeling myself get busy again. I’m not all the way there yet, but I feel that I will soon be inundated by too much activity to string two thoughts together, which can only be a good thing. I have ordered a therapeutic full-spectrum lamp, at my doctor’s insistence, in anticipation of my seasonal mood swings trying to pull everything towards the shitter once again; hopefully it will serve the dual purpose of making me feel I’m in a sunny Caribbean isle, and waking me the fuck up from the deep sleep that I tend to fall into after a long and busy day.

One thing that is getting my goat, however (and something I should have anticipated but didn’t), is the exponential upswing in the sheer volume of traffic that goes in and around the campus. This is one of those things that, perhaps if the school were situated in even a marginally larger city, would not be a problem. However, as it is, there is a two-lane but very busy highway separating my apartment complex from the main campus, and my choices for crossing it are limited to a) walking along the highway until I get to an actual red light, which literally doubles the time it takes me to get to class and is still quite dangerous, but maybe not as dangerous as b) waiting for what looks like an acceptably large gap in the traffic to cross the highway and take the back roads to campus (which, once you get past the actual highway, are in fact less dangerous and much faster than option “a”). At least I now know how I will meet my end. I’ll be sure to carry identification at all times, so don’t worry—they’ll know those guts and crushed bones that vaguely resemble something that once might possibly have been a human used to belong to me (once they sufficiently clean my driver’s license, of course).

It doesn’t help that the drivers here are total fucking assholes.

With that thought in mind, I guess it’s time I thought about heading home. I’m feeling a little rumbly in my tumbly.