Waiter Waiter Percolator

firstly, i would like to thank you in advance for pardoning all typos, because i'm tired and am not feeling my best. cindale needs to update her fanfic. oh, and please excuse all random statements. in my head, they're not as random as they seem, but i'm a bit out there right now. i haven't been in the best of moods since show choir. its actually not the fault of anyone at practice, its more a mad at myself type deal, for my innate quietness. a bunch of thoughts are going through my head right now, and im trying to figure out what the best order would be to write them down in that would make sense without sounding any crazier than the whole thing actually is. the best thig to start explaining, i guess, would be that i've always been an extremely quiet person (i must have said this a thousand times during my life, but i always feel the need to repeat it. it explains something, somehow, although i can't explain it in itself). as i got older, i thought i outgrew it, but recently i've been finding that i've hidden it rather than actually eliminating it. it manifests itself in a variety of places, but its almost always in the form of a wall of some sort. i feel like theres a wall stopping me or separating me or both or more at times. so to apply this to today's practice, ...oh wait, i left out an important part i just realized was very connected to this. as long as i can remember being around outher peopel, i've felt very wathced and judged and critiqued. and being the perfectionist that i am, i don't like to make mistakes, and i hate it when people know i make mistakes. maybe some of you see where this is going when applied to show choir? once again lets pause while i explain this in my head first......alright, i might have it. today, as one of the last practices before our first concert, there is sudden panic over the fact that we aren't singing loudly enough for the mikes to pick us up. now when i sing by myself, completely...i won't say that i'm really loud, but i'm not whispering the way i am on stage. and i feel really guilty about the fact that i seen quietly whenever other people are around, especially when we're performing, and i really do try to sing out. but first the innately quiet part of me puts up its wall, which in my experience can be as bad as the Berlin Wall, but then the perfectionist part of me pops up with the part of me that constantly feels everyone's judging me and reinforces that and its like mounting the Great Wall of CHina. all on top of the fact that singing is physically hard for anyone because we're dancing. it doesn't stop there, though. the people that can and do sing out always get so frustrated with the people who arent singing out, not that i blame them , i get frustrated enough with myself, as i think i said. especially poor jamie, she breaks down in tears every year. and i want to go over and give her a hug like april and maggie, but along with my quitness comes innate shyness, hand and hand. i have enough trouble giving my best friends hugs when they're upset and need them, i can't do it with people i don't know as well, even though i've known jamie since fourth grade (it's harder, actually, with people i used to know better than i do now. but thats anotuher topic). it one of those cases where i can sense a wall separating me from other people so much i can practically see it. its as though i can actually feel that wall or some force associated with it holding me in my seat. then, as always, the judgement voice chimes in saying that i can't help anyway because i'm not singing out and i'm one of the people frustrating her. and i just can't shake those voices from my head, they've always been there. and here cindale comes in a bit, even though she is in no way related to show choir by any stretch of the imagination that i know of. when i came home i should have worked on my research paper thats do friday. or notes for algebra or philosophy, or my speech. especially my paper though, as thats due soonest. but as i have explained, i wasn't feeling great physically (headache) or mentally (the trials explained above) and any attempt at working would have made it worse and been poorly done anyway. so i moped for a few minutes getting a snack, then i turned to a source of comfort that i had thought of- hp. laugh if you will (and don't deny it, i know you all are), but i have been rereading the potter series and had recently begun the third one. when i began rereading them, i rediscovered just how magical they really were and how the potter world lingered in my brain even after i'd put down the books and left me in a better, more magical mood. i'd either never quite noticed that or forgotten that every other time i'd read them. so instead of working on my paper, i spent the three hours following practice finishing the prisoner of azkaban. and it is remarkable that the book did soothe my nerves and put me in a better mood, remarkable because the third book is full of last minute twists for the worst at the end, and when you read it knowing what lies ahead, its nerve wracking, for me anyway, but it still helped me, because i know that world inside and out, and even though horrible things happen in that universe, and the last book ended with the worst thing of all and things are incredibly uncertain and honestly no one is sure whether harry even will live or die at the end- even with all that, in the harry potter world, i know everything will be okay, and everything is safe. i dn't know where on earth that assurance comes from, but its there, and it helps me. i find it in other books too, actually, like the circle of magic. its a simialr situation- horrible thins happen (rosethourn at the end of briars book, anyone?) but i know that there is no safer place than that book. sometimes i'd like to live in fairy tale land. other times, i think so much reading can be an unhealthy addiction. and times like now, when i actually am thinking about my research paper at least in part, i remember that the fairy tale world is actually a very violent place, and is one that i need to go research.


Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.