Our music program at Cap is the shits, I hate to say. The entire thing is less than seventy, maybe not even breaking sixty right now. Taylor's band is eighty-seven. After Mika went home last night and everyone else was alseep, I was still awake, trying to finish my winter reading book. The storm was raging and the wind kinda freaked me out. But as I listened to Jupiter, I came to a conclusion. The words I was reading no longer made sense and I started crying. You know how you cry quietly, like when you're at school? Yeah, it was like that. But I was so upset. And listening to this beautiful piece made it worse. What was I crying about?
I left Taylor knowing that Cap would have a kick-ass band. I left in the security of my own realities. Once I compared our concerts, I had top leave that illusion. Marching music is easy, but with the simpletons in my band, we can't do ANYTHING. I cried after that. I was miserable. I haven't been able to talk to Mr. A. I've been ashamed. I've been sent away with my tail between my legs. My dream of being in the best band ever was shattered. We can't even take a coda without fucking up. So I switched songs to Hikari and thought out my options. This is what I came up with.
I am willing to risk my dream of being in IB to get the Capuchino Music Department back to my own standards. I am ready to do whatever it takes to save what I love. I need to. I can't be outshone by people I hate already. But now that I've been knocked down to a SIXTH-GRADE BELOW STANDARD LEVEL, I have to do this. If Taylor can play The Firebird Suite, we should be able to do the Finale from the New World Symphony without fucking blinking. Yet here we are, not knowing what the hell an accelerando is. Our goddamn trombone player gets lost, and what does he do? Oh, he just plays AS LOUD AS FUCKING POSSIBLE! I want to make things better. Part of the blame falls to Parkside...
But now I can see what I may be doing. I may go to another school because of music and music alone. It's my passion, my drug, my life. And if I can't have it, I'll shrivel up and die. I'll go mad. I'll have no reason to live. If I can't have the simple joy of making music with other people, there is no reason for me to be at Capuchino. It's making me miserable. I cry over it. Music is what I love.
Music is the worst drug to be addicted to.
So my resolution is this: make the Cap M.D. better. Make it shine. Make it glow. Make it kick everyone's ass. And if I can't do that, I may as well die.
Thanks, if you read this, for listening to me. I'll x-post it to 1sexybandgeek, band__proud, clarinetclique, 1truebandgeek, and _clarinet_.