Where to Go when there's Nowhere To Go

Where do you go when there's nowhere to go?

I was sitting in my apartment measuring longitudal waves with my physics slinky when my roommate and her two friends burst into the room talking very loudly the first night of marriage. My roommate's (let's call her miss wheat-she has celiac's disease) best friend is getting married in a few weeks, and I suppose in the euphoria of the whole experience they decided to have a party in my room, laughing and talking loudly while discussing very intimate and girlish things amongst their endless giggling. One of the girls decided to take and use some of my things, and after dodging around three excited girls and two pizzas scattered on the floor of my bedroom, I decided that perhaps the best place for me at this point in time would be very, very far away from them. Their euphoria and general sound level was making my brain confused and disoriented, and I was not eager for a night of listening to girl talk and jests about my "relationship" with Mr. Piano.

So I left. I had to drop off my homework in the science building, so I headed on campus. The problem with being on campus, however, is that everything closes down at 11:00 and it's not the best idea to be alone at night in a university setting. I had options for the next four hours, but none of them involved what I would consider to be an ideal Friday night. And I didn't grab my Oreos either, so that was even more of a bummer.

What am I supposed to do? I felt as though I was practically shoved out of my apartment. I didn't belong there anymore and staying there would be pure torture. On the other hand, there is not a way to really be comfortable anywhere on campus. I'm stuck in a position where I have nowhere to belong. More than anything I want to have a quiet night in where I can watch a TV show and read a book and eat apples and peanut butter. I've been waiting for the weekend for so long, feeling as though I don't belong anywhere feels more tragic than it should. (heeey-watch for a post on entitlement comin' soon!)

Where do I go?


UPDATE: (not really, since I'm writing this in conjunction with the rest of the post) While I was writing this I was sitting in the science center and Mr. Piano came by to drop off his homework. What a coincidence that I just happened to be sitting in the exact right area to run into Mr. Piano at just the right time before his work started so that we could run into each other! It's like it was planned or something (hem hem)

Date Night

I asked Mr. Piano on a date.

HOLY CARP DANG IT IM GOING ON A DATE IN 30 MINUTES

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

okay here's the thing- my roommates decided they wanted to have a big "roommate date night" and we're all going to a movie. They pretty much made me ask Mr. Piano out, not that I put up much of an objection.

This guy is a total nerd. He listens to video game soundtracks while he studies and he brings legend of zelda to class. He knows every nerdy reference and was thrilled that I brought the one ring to school today.

He's so adorable!

I'm pretty much on the same level, although not nearly as much of a gamer.

I've already discussed my daily clothing choices and my casual wear, and style is not my thing. I never get fancy for anything. I choose comfort over looks.

I'm a nerd. Mr. Piano is a nerd. And yet, I chose to wear the fanciest shirt I own, the nicest jeans (which I washed specially so they would be perfect tonight), a necklace, bangle bracelets, boots (which I NEVER wear outside of church), and I had my roommate straighten my hair. I fretted about when to shower. I worried about my teeth. I kept glancing nervously in the mirror to make sure my hair falls just right.

I have tried so hard to look incredible and be clean and fashionable not because my roommates made me, because society dictates that I do, or because I'm trying to "earn" the admiring looks of a guy. I've already won them. I'm dressing up because I enjoy it.

Nowadays, with so much political correctness flying about and neighbors ripping each others throats out about how girls and teenagers have impossible standards they feel they have to live up to, and how looks define a girl, I feel that we're loosing a grip on one fundamental truth.

Dressing up feels nice.

It makes us feel dignified and clean and whole. Taking off the drudgery of work or school clothes and putting on something clean and flattering cheers us up more than it should. We look in the mirror and see someone beautiful, someone happy and lively and cheerful. We see that image and our posture, our minds, and our attitudes reflect our reflection.

And that change of attitude can make any day incredible.

...
....
.......

I'M GOING ON A DATE!!!!!!

Worthy

I have made a huge mistake.

I haven't touched a piano in two months.

I spent over 10 years of my life hating every minute of practicing the piano. For years I only looked at my music when I had my weekly 30-minute piano lesson. I avoided any repetition or development of basic skills. I cursed the metronome and I spat on theory. Despite my attempts to NOT learn piano, I was envious of the talent my friends had and I wanted to be so much like them.

I just wasn't willing to put in the work.

Time passed, and as I began to appreciate the few songs I could play well over and over again, I used the piano as a way to overcome stress, anxiety, energy, and sheer boredom. However, I never took practicing seriously. If I couldn't play it well, I didn't play it.

You can see the flaw in my logic, of course.

The last thing that I was learning how to play before I went off to college was Clair de Lune by Debussy. I loved that piece. For me, it was a culmination of my years of piano. I got pretty far in it, too-I could play the whole song moderately well, and I was beginning to memorize it.

Then I moved to Utah.

I got distracted. I put away my music and I didn't touch it. I learned, I laughed, I cried, and I watched a whole bunch of Netflix. I thought about practicing, but I kept putting it off. I could come back to it later.

I met a guy. He was in my physics class. We talked a lot, and he told me he was considering majoring in piano performance for a while. I was thrilled, of course. We both had spent our lives submersed in music! He practiced every morning when the piano at his apartment complex was free.

The more I thought about it however, the worse I felt. I was the exact opposite of him. He loved piano, and had pursued with the passion and determination it deserved. I had rebelled against it my entire life. And now, I had gone two whole months without even attempting to practice. How could I think that I shared the same love as him? I had not worked hours on end, nor had I regarded my talent as a precious treasure to be preserved and nurtured.

Now, more than ever, I miss playing the piano. I truly do. I want so badly to be allowed to sit down on the bench and feel the ivory keys submit beneath my touch. I want to feel the music flow from my fingers to my heart and hear the hours of practice and devotion magnify in the most glorious way.

I want to be worthy....

4:15

It's 4:15 in the morning. I haven't slept.

I need to say something, but I don't know how.

I think I'll just go to bed and try to sleep again.