Almost, But Not Quite

Try outs have came and gone and the verdict has been given. Fourth. Fourth out of sixteen saxophones. Ah ha! I didn't fail at life completely.

**polite applause** "Thank you, thank you."

The entire day of try outs was spent in queasy anticipation of my imminent downfall to completely worthless. I got absolutely no school work done and by the time three o'clock rolled around I was just about to burst into a fit of hysterical screaming complete with changing octaves.

All of the saxophones were in the band room waiting for their turn at self inflicted torture. Some were standing idly by and chatting and others --me-- were playing their prepared pieces over in over in hopes of last minute improvement. As the other players walked to the storage cabinet I slunk back into my chair, trying to avoid notice so that I could get those extra two minutes of practicing in. Finally, my turn was fast approaching. After the next person I was up...

You'll never guess what I did. I dropped my saxophone. Dropped it. On the floor. Oddly enough, this is the first time I've dropped the thing. It's the first time I've dropped any saxophone. Ah, but here's the highlight. Not only did I drop it, I bent several of the keys. This made it impossible for me to go any lower than a G. Shiva weeps.

Thankfully, one of the sophomores let me borrow their saxophone. Bless you benevolent sophomores! Just in time too, as I pushed my mouth piece on Mr.Denton walked out the door scythe in hand. Beckoning to his next victim. "Oh, me you say?"

I walked into the storage closet--You know how I feel about those.-- and was pleasantly surprised to realize that this one was larger than last years. Seconds later it dawned on me that there was no low lying fog or dim lighting. Thank goodness!

Even with the lack of fog etc. I was a nervous wreck playing on a foreign saxophone and did not do my best, but he didn't say anything--He usually takes out time to correct us during try outs. This is not a good idea considering how close I am to hysterical during these things.--and I didn't stay in there longer than I had too.

So, for now I must for fourth, but I will be challenging. Hopefully, by the time challenges roll around I'll have my saxophone fixed. Fifth chair has already said that he's challenging me. Well, I like my chair and he can't have it. Now let some more practicing ensue...

The Storage Closet of Doom

Oh holy nine gates of hell! I have try outs Tuesday. Tuesday. I have two days until try outs. I feel queasy just thinking about it.

Try outs are, without a doubt, the bain of my existence. You see, I have had many a try out and all of them were accompanied by a horrific nightmare-ish quality. It's like a really old detective movie where they're sitting in the interrogation room. Mr.Private Detective is sitting behind his desk cooly waiting for you to break under the pressure of his deductive skills. Meanwhile, you're sitting there using a slightly yellowed handkerchief to wipe away your perspiration. Exactly like that.

My first try out was held in the sixth grade. I had been playing the saxophone for a year and was no doubt behind the others that had been playing for two. Mr.C (Short man with red hair who has a tendency to look flushed) is sitting in his office. By office, I mean small closet that has been converted into a dimly lit extremely cramped room of torture. I don't remember much of it. What I do remember seems to be filled with flickering lights, shaking papers, and fog. Yes, fog. I think he brought in dried ice for the occasion. The sicko.

But, I'm not here to tell you about then. I'm here to tell you about now. The past two years I have had to try out for the high school band director, Mr.Denton. My extreme fear of Mr.C has obviously carried over to Mr.Denton with interest. Freshmen year try outs involved a darkly lit chorus room. Sophomore try outs were moved into small storage room. This years try outs...I fear they may be moved into a even smaller and dimly lit storage room. Oh blast.

Band directors and small dimly lit storage closets must be feared. Freud has something to say about early childhood traumas effecting you later in life. See. I'm not crazy. Ask Freud.

I should be frantically practicing, but if I practice then I'm forced to think about the you-know-what. So I'm going to safely avoid any type of thinking by reading. Yeah.

I wouldn't be worried so much, but this is the last year I have to get first chair. I don't want anyone else to have it, therefore I must get it. If this means using sabotage and unchivalrous poisonings...duty isn't always pleasant you know.

Wish me luck and safe sabotaging. I'm off to conquer a room of dusty band equipment.

A List and Some Books

Alright! *rubs hand together* There are many about to happen.

1. I go back to school Monday.
2. I have band tryouts on the 15th.
3. This is the second semester and as such I need to endeavor not to screw it up as badly as I did the first.
4. I'm going to tell you about some of the books that I read over break.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

A book set in Nazi Germany and narrated by a sentimental misunderstood Death. Death has been carting ( or carrying if you want to be picky) souls to heaven since the beginning of time and sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. He can't just let souls wander around wreaking havoc so he finds an outlet in distractions. His main distraction is the color of the sky. I found it slightly confusing at first, his mentioning random colors, but I finally realized what he was talking about. Most of you will probably pick up on it quicker than I did. Especially if you've read this first...Right. He is reluctantly drawn into the story of Liesel Meminger, The Book Thief.

The story centers around a young girl who is trying to survive in a world of hunger,suspicion, and the terrors of the Nazi Party. Thankfully, it doesn't get hung up on those things. :) The book does make nice political points just by being and showing what it was like, but it doesn't use the girl as an instrument of education by putting her through untold horrors and making her act twice her age.$ My horrible bit of reviewing aside...this was a book worth reading.


A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray

I've put off buying this book for about six months now. I pick it up,look at it, decide it's too cliche, and then put it down. I finally caved and bought the thing so I could get it over with. It's set in the quickly industrializing Victorian age$$. Gemma Doyle is sent to a finishing school in England after the brutal murder of her mother. The murder that she saw in a vision.

The fear of cliche-ness isn't as bad as I had feared, but you do have a group of girls sneaking out to do magic, a finishing school, and other things typical of almost cliched novels. I enjoyed it and plan on reading all three books in the trilogy, but if you can't stand overused plots then I would advise you to keep on browsing...I hate to condemn a book, but there it is. One of the main problems I have with it is how flat the Realms are. --Realms being the secret place they can access through the use of magic.-- You don't meet any interesting characters there that actually have feelings or visit any places that are going to stick out in your mind. Of course, this is a number one out three. The final verdict will be saved until the entire Trilogy has been read...

$This is with vague reference to a certain Nathaniel Hawthorne and The Scarlett Letter. I'm not a big Hawthorne fan and the fact that Pearl was used as a symbol of truth irks me to no end. She was a good thing to use for it to be sure, but she just as easily could have been used to add a little entertainment to it as well. Mayhap then I wouldn't have bored out of my mind reading it...

$$The Victorian Age. Just a random thought to share--Has anyone ever noticed the amount of weird and kinky things that went on with these people? All that sexual repression was probably starting to get to them...Lay back and think of England!