Oh my. 

I hope her underwear matches her dress.

Oh my. 

It doesn't. 

The rest of us look like nuns,

And there she sits,

With her bright green panties.

Cross you legs? 

Those heels are too high

Those toes are too red

As if that baby giraffe walk wasn't enough,

She's not even wearing panty hose. 

At least she shaved,

She's got that down.

But her hot pink bra 

Shows right through her shirt...

And doesn't even match her underwear. 

The good news is

She practiced her part 

The high notes are in tune 

The Fortes are loud

She plays the notes

But her clothes are lacking

And all the audiences sees

Are her bright green panties. 

O Glorious Saint Cecilia, 

May you watch over our week as we rehearse relentlessly. May you fill our hearts with camaraderie and our violas with sound. Allow us to learn from our mistakes, have patience, and take a just amount of smoke breaks. 

We pray to you, virgin, martyr, and patroness of music in our time of need. 

Amen. 

Rubber Ducky,

You're the one

Floating in my tub

Covered in lead paint

of the most brilliant yellow

Rubber Ducky,

You're the one

Killing me

Thursday, September 18th

Passed a cafe called the Boston Tea Party. 

Eike says Tony Blair is "Bush's poodle."

Friday, September 19th

The conservatoire had my email wrong, so I've been confused about what I'm supposed to be doing so far. Today is mandatory international orientation at the conservatoire, but I didn't know what time it would begin. Things seem to start later here, though. People go to work later, classes begin later, so I ventured out of the house at 9:30. I made it down Broad St to the library and Symphony Hall, but I couldn't find the conservatoire. In Victoria Square (which I thought I was in Paradise Circus at the time)  I saw a young guy with a guitar on his back and a cumbersome piece of luggage on each arm. He was stopping frequently trying to wrangle it all and I couldn't leave him there. I could feel for the kid trying to carry all of it plus an instrument. 

"Do you need some help? I can carry one." 

"What? Are you sure? They're really heavy." 

"Yeah I've got a free hand."

"Are you real? Can I touch you? My god, I thought I'd fainted." 

I picked up one of the bags and we headed to the New Street train station. He was headed to Wales for "Uni" and had been in Birmingham visiting his mom. 

He asked me where I was headed before I stopped to help him. 

"I'm not sure."

"Come to Wales, it's lovely" 

He asked me about Texas, what the people are like, "I've never met someone from Texas before, are they all as friendly as you?" "Do they all have mustaches?" And he wondered about California as well. "have you ever been to California? what's it like? Tell me about it." 

I told him I had not had much luck with friendly people in Birmingham. He agreed, "yeah they're all a bunch of dicks." 

"I just couldn't leave you there."

"My god, you're like a big ray of sunshine on a cloudy day!"

Probably the highest compliment I've ever been paid.