Hmm.  I’m still undecided on what the subject matter of any posts I make should be.  What is too personal?  What is too silly or obnoxious?  Conversely, what is too serious?  The questions and the ideas keep flowing, and I’m too tired to think them through or censor any of them right now.  (And for the briefest of moments, my head was just convinced that the word “through” is actually spelled “thru.”  Here we are again, back at the -ough.)

I’m not sure of what a slug is, but apparently I could post one if I wanted to do so.  Interesting.  Anyway.

I feel a certain amount of information needs to be provided, since a lot of you don’t really know what I’ve been doing (and some of you don’t really know me much at all).  But I would feel silly going all “Life Update!” on your asses, so maybe if I’m unclear about anything someone will just ask about it.  I think for this post, all you need to really know is that I am in my second year of studying music at the University of Montevallo, but a few weeks away from applying for the Composition program (which is what I’ve wanted to do all along, you just have to wait to be accepted).

This school year has been a fairly tumultuous one for me, and how it’s going to turn out is still undecided.  There has been serious contemplation of changing majors or dropping out of school entirely lately, due to lack of confidence mixed with professors that seem hypocritical and fake mixed with confusion about the world in general.  Hailey once mentioned something about how funny it is that when we’re at our most confused point in life, when we’re just starting to become independent, we’re expected to choose a career path and figure out the rest of our lives.  How true, how true.  I’m just one big doubty-pants lately, and the idea of paying for this education that perhaps I don’t necessarily agree with is interesting.

And on a semi-related (to me, at least) note:  You know how if you repeat a word too many times, it just stops making sense?  I’m troubled by the fact that some music, especially modernist/postmodernist/contemporary music, has that same effect on me.  In fact, it downright pisses me off when I have to listen to it and I don’t understand it.  And then I’m supposed to compose it?  Let me compose what I want to, how I want to.  I fear restrictions, and they’re beginning to close in on me.  Banana banana banana nanab  anba an-bee boneena.  Everything should be obligated to make sense.  I could continue on this tangent (or go into several others), but it’s probably a boring one and it’s not one I’ve completely figured out yet.

The last Girl Scout cookie in the last box of Girl Scout cookies is a sad image indeed.  And I just ate it.  The image, obviously.  While I’m bitching, I’m pissed that Girl Scouts have a monopoly on the Girl Scout cookie industry.  I mean, what the hell.  What if I want some Tagalongs in September?  Why should I have to wait?  The world may never know.  Whoever said patience is a virtue never ate Girl Scout cookies.

We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, now I must go whore out my English integrity by writing a paper that I might not necessarily agree with, but fits the assignment.