And again I ask...
How many tears is it going to take before I realize that I need to change my life?

I don't know if you've noticed it, but every time I cry, I say so in my journal. (Most recently at/after WBA Finals, when I lost it and stressed out a few weeks ago, when my bird bit me...) All things considered, I don't cry very often. And if you see me at school frequently, chances are you view me as a generally cheerful individual. (If you're a really good friend of mine, maybe you don't see me as being that way, but in general, I do consider myself a happy person.)

Mr. Shaull made me cry today.

First time I've cried in his class. I don't think it'll be the last...especially if I'm in MSS next year. Granted, I've come close MANY a time, and have forced back tears a few times this year already, but I haven't completely broken down.

I'll tell you the whole story in person, (in a very animated, nearly hysterical manner, seeing as that's the only way I can give the story justice) but it involves Chorale, Mr. Shaull stressed because we all sound like shit and the winter concert is coming up, and me trying to sightread a holiday piece for Chorale on oboe. Oh, and then there's the part where he insulted my musicality, even though he gave me next to no time to warm up, I'd never played the music before, (my fault, apparently I was supposed to read into the instruction to 'bring your oboe on Monday' even though he generally says things like that and then forgets) and I was (and am) EXTREMELY SICK AND NOT IN THE GREATEST OF CONDITION TO 'sing' THROUGH MY OBOE.

Props to me, though, for basically saying 'Fuck you' to Mr. Shaull in a VERY discreet and retaliatory manner. (Teehee.)

Also gotta love the reaction he gave me when, after breaking down in Debbie's arms, (she beckoned me over to hug me after class and I just lost it) I proceeded to tearfully pack up my stuff and leave. He gave me this 'holy crap, I'm really sorry!' look, put his arm around me, looked me in the eye (our heads must have been like 2 inches apart) and asked me how sick I was feeling, what I had, and said that it was a misunderstanding and that he didn't realize that I was sighreading. (*That still doesn't beat the 'Are you mad at me?' reaction that Katherine got once, though.)

So I leave Chorale in tears, and arrive all red-eyed and blotchy-faced, tears still streaming down my face, to Symphonic Band. (Yeah, the 5-step walk between sides of the music building doesn't really give you much time to compose yourself.) A few band people hug me, (I love compassionate freshman boys!) and I get A LOT of weird looks from people, especially the marching band flutes who know me. Yeah, so guess what we do in Symphonic band? We tune like CRAZY (an oboe player's HELL, especially since THERE'S NO CONSISTENT PITCH BETWEEN SECTIONS OF THE BAND AND YOU HAVE EXPOSED PARTS WITH TRUMPETS, FLUTES, AND A SOLO WITH CLARINET CHORDS IN THE BACKGROUND), play the tune with long, slow notes (aka breath control and torture of the mouth) and work through the oboe solo in El Camino. It actually isn't the solo that needs work, it's the chords coming in after the first few measures. So by the end of fourth period, I'M JUST FEELING GREAT.

Lunch. A break, you think. Oh no. Girls 21 is on Mondays at lunch. So I have to go BACK in there, where Mr. Shaull continues to be obnoxious by explaining to us the importance of his hands and how expressive they are.

Yeah, I had a shitty day.

Originally I was thinking of composing some really long entry about how humans create their own problems for themselves, and how people who don't have to worry about fundamental issues such as food, shelter, acceptance, and whatnot ultimately create other obsticals for themselves. (In my case, being involved in too many things and not accepting less than the best from myself in ALL areas.) After crying my eyes out in my room for about an hour and a half and doing another hour and a half's time of homework, it didn't turn out that way. Maybe later.

I'd like to end this by saying that my eyes, nose, and especially lips are burning. My lips are chapped (not around the lips, on TOP of the lips) and have something resembling large scabs on them, and are extremely red and swollen. I REALLY do not feel like practicing oboe right now.

17 *time been annoyed* | *annoy me here*