I am a senior. I am a senior. I am a senior. I am a senior. I am a… fuck!

I had so much fun on Hey Day – tho the getting trashed and then mad dirty and then J-Ro’s LAST heyday sendoff and then losing my hat and floury seniors pelting ketchup and mustard and all kinds of foulness and laundry and seeing everybody and I mean everybody having the best time of their lives. These few weeks (I refer to it in the last blog entry…) have been amazing and I’m getting sentimental again.

Kanye West, man. Had dinner with the Mayer gang at Lemon Grass and then off to Electric Factory with Assad and Casey. Lemme tell you, that was hell. The cabbie dropped us off 7 blocks from the Electric Factory and we walked the wrong way in the rain looking for the place. We only found this union hall where they were having some weird 30-plus event. I mean, some hot girls and then old geezers, a DJ and people eating ham sandwiches? Whatever, we got directions and wandered some more, until we were soaked enough to get a cab again. So finally there… and the best time. Dilated Peoples were pretty good, Young Gunz ehhhhh (tho they got some hot songs), and Kanye West finally heating up the place. It was kind of funny, because he played his ENTIRE album through. His violinist (Mary?) was pretty good, and they gave her this HUGE solo to do. I had a rockin time. Makes violinage all cool and shit. Kanye looked so college-y, which obviously he’s meant to be (College Dropout, duh), but it seemed funny after Young Gunz. I got to chill with Rachel and her friend (tho Assad and Casey were lost far out in the crowd somewhere, and I had a terrible time dealing with this one guy, who was being an ass to everyone else too…well whatever). Then, later I had reason to be whooooo – jealous. Yeah. But then very very happy. In any case, the view is great from up top.

Yesterday? Lazy afternoon just chillin with good friends. Cabaret. Pulled off a couple great performances, and then finally the cute duo with Meagan… “I don’t know any slow songs.” “What feeling would that be?” “sigh…” It was Stardust. And then watching and learning how to deal with drama. Man, these people, geez. Go to one party, and there’s all these crosscurrents, and I’m like, sheeit, I’m out. Lea’s 21st! And then Singers! And walking Emily (drunk off ONE triple black…. hehehe) back to Lea’s, and then stopping over at Mayer. That was a short trip. And then back out, going down to Eugene’s, and then Tracy’s, and then back to Lea’s. Weird party – but fun nonetheless. Crazy ska dancing with Lisa! High school all over again! Oh yeah, and so was the dance machine stuff at Mark’s. Old skool… sigh.

I said, are you gonna be my girl?

Momentous discussions. I’m suddenly feeling so relaxed? I wonder why. Not usually like this. Usually, I’m a nervous wreck (for many different reasons), but somehow the shoe fits right now. It’s comfy. There’s some giddiness (tho I don’t expect to pass orgo by giddiness alone, or what’s been on my mind lately…)

I’m gonna miss all those people moving away. Really. I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with all of you, and I want you to know that. I feel so human now – I’m desperately missing all those good times. There will be more, but I feel like I’ve wasted all this good time. Arggh, please stop me whining!

Saw Saved! tonight. Sweet movie. Not quite the anti-Passion, but good… There was an endless hour of incompetent people giving out the jury awards before that. I didn’t mind. I had good company. Cute girl from down the hall – yep.

Just thought I’d ask an important question before I went back to orgo. Is it really better to have loved and lost? Yeah, it is.

I actually meant to write about my ability to continuously fall in love with ideas. It’s ideas that’s the killer. Because girls can say yes, or no – but ideas… they mingle out of reach and when they’re in your grasp, it’s only there for a little while, and it’s gone if the moment passes. Like humor. Fleeting. I want to be a novelist some time. It’s so hard, though, because I’ve tried. I write one wonderful chapter, and the fire’s gone. For one, I have to transfer all my ideas into a workable plan to write. And then I have to find the inspiration, the time, the imagination (that’s too often under the influence… too much work, of course). However, I keep lots of stuff locked away in my head, where they tend to fade away into the miasma. The problem is with ambition: I want to do everything, I want to write the great American epic (and I have some great ideas to contend for that spot!). Having no time, I end up with short stories. I am invariably disappointed with the short story, because there is an essence to the novel that cannot be explained within a short story. The sadness I get from reading and finishing a good book extends much farther in the realm of memory than even the most poignant short story. But that’s me. I will ponder.

A new paragraph should have a new topic. So here it is: secrets. Secrets? What secrets? Here we go again, the introduction of mystery and importance to something that – in the long run – may not be so important. But to one person, it is of supreme importance, and the respect accorded to the secret by others is but a reflection of respect held for the person who actually holds this secret. Thus, the warm shoulder, the wise counselor, the loyal friend. To these men and women go the secrets that we cannot burden the rest of the human race with. To these silent faces, we open our hearts and reveal the shame or glee with which certain actions, feelings, whatever, affect the outcome of relationships in all their forms. At this point, I sound like I’m lecturing on such an obvious topic, but I’m not… I’m actually whining. Complaining. And yes, this is me telling the truth and admitting it. It’s hard to hold the secrets of others, and a secret of your own, all at the same time. It’s killing me – I achieve redemption by confession impersonally, online – and I guess that’s enough to help me keep this one under wraps. But that’s all. There’s the need-to-know, and there’s the no-need-to-know.

It’s spring – especially now that we’ve passed the barrier of drunkenness and temptations that we call Spring Fling. Everybody’s away message says “flingin!” or “OMG fling!” or “drunk off my ass” or “flashing those poor suckers down in lower quad without the galln of beer sitting in the tub in the middle of my room”. What actually disturbs me the most is the attempt to make some smart wordplay on the word fling. All these parties…Get Your Fling On, Flingin’ It Like A Polaroid Picture, Spling Fring, I Had A Fling With Your Mom Last Night. And all those police! Of course, no fling is complete without all those freshmen clogging up those Beige Block parties and creating the worst fire hazard this side of the Lint Dump. Especially Friday night, when they’re wandering around crashing everything because there’s nothing to do, ever, on lost Friday nights during Fling. And then, of course, there’s the actual sun, whom we have gathered to worship.. we roast in its blind rays and dream that the godawful Philadelphia rain (thank you Bruce for Streets) will go away, and go away, and come back another day. And as we sweat together, it all goes blurry and you pass out, and the orgy of color and sweat and love and sound and Apple Pie a la Mode ice cream and fried Oreos and hot sex and corporate sponsorship continues. As the cool breeze caresses me as I write this, I look forward to another orgiastic time. That’s right. Hey Day.

Oh, don’t let me forget to mention how good Bye Bye Birdie was. Yes, a shout out to myself (music director extraordinaire) but also to the awesome audience (yeah drunken asses) and to the awesome cast and crew (my Rosie, can walk all OVER a mother…, ahdc, hyperactive jess, Conrad’s 1+2+3+4+5). Most of all to my awesome pit. Though we spent barely a week together, I get so damn sentimental. To the seniors that are leaving, I shed a tear. To supreme violinista number one, I say rock your beautiful self to sleep with more of that wonderful hippity-hop music (and I do hope you apply to chi-town), don’t give yourself AIDS and for god’s sake, eat a hot meal! (Take the advice.). To conductatrice, play your piano like the love machine it is. I want to hear that beautiful music some time, when you’re all done. And don’t worry, next time we will use those paper cups. To everyone else, thank you, and we’ll see you next year, when you will play for me. Hahahahahahahahahaha… ahem.

I fall in love too often these days. With the incredible beauty of a sunny day, and the few particularly beautiful people that I see every day… fuck it, I’m being sappy. I mean, I could just go watch Eternal Sunshine a couple hundred more times, because god knows I could do it. Or guiltily watch…okay, not Something’s Gotta Give, that’s too creepy. Not When Harry Met Sally, cause that’s too girly old school. Not Down with Love, because that sucked. Too bad it had good music. Now I can’t entirely pan it. But who needs movies? Who needs movies when one look is all I need until I’m old and grey. Well, that and a candlelit dinner with a bittersweet latin band playing, a wonderful breeze, the salty ocean spray, and the slight musk of roses in the air, and…

Bye Bye Birdie

Quadramics 3Qth Anniversary Season 1973-2004

This Spring Fling, don’t go see Wyclef. Or if you do, then keep Thursday or Saturday clear.

Because:

YOU ARE INVITED TO: THE 3Qth ANNUAL SPRING FLING MUSICAL PRESENTED BY QUADRAMICS

“WHERE THE JET SET COMES TO FLING SINCE 1973.”

AN MJB & TK SPECTACULAR

BYE BYE BIRDIE

DIRECTED BY BRADFORD HODGSON AND JESSICA BRAND

MUSIC DIRECTION BY BYRON KHO