αστάθεια

and I’ll give you peace when peace is fragile

Looks like I may be able to double-major after all.

Geez I never called anyone “unwholesome.” I just said they don’t like me.

There are a lot of people who don’t like me, and some are very well-rounded individuals.

writing and writing about leaving. :(

I’m glad I can stay at Dickinson and all, but I feel kind of bad about quitting the group. I haven’t even told them yet because I don’t have the heart.

I mean, two people already know - the two people with whom I’ve already talked about not being re-elected and all. The two people who are really confused as to why I wasn’t and agree with me that I’m under-appreciated and whatnot.

Arranging the music and working at that and running rehearsals (however much I did) was like a fifth class. It was so much work, and it was so great to see it pay off. I’m glad I could help. I’m glad I could put my talents to work in a practical setting and get results.

But I’m disappointed and even a bit upset that they don’t want me to do that anymore. Perhaps they don’t appreciate me, or perhaps they just never realized how much time and effort I put in. Either way, it’s their loss.

I’m still really bothered by their views on music they can and can’t do. “But we can’t do this song because there’s no sheet music!” SHUT UP! Please! I arrange music without having the notes in front of me ALL THE TIME! It’s what I DO! If there’s no sheet music out there, I fucking make it. I play it until it sounds right (or rather, is right) and then I put it into the computer and tweak it some more, or I find a MIDI and match them up, or both, or one or the other, or whatever. I LOVE doing that. I do it anyway.

It just would have been really nice to put my talents to use in a practical setting where I can see results. Too bad for them. Their loss.

I’m glad I was at least able to do something. It was so nice to spend a lot of time and put a lot of effort into doing the arrangement of Animal, and ultimately get credited for it in front of the entire audience right before it all came to fruition wonderfully. That was fun. I really enjoyed that.

It hurts that I wasn’t appreciated as much as I could have been (or as some people have told me, should have been), but that’s life. It came to a popularity contest, after all.

Let’s see - two people don’t like me and one wasn’t there. One of those people didn’t get a vote, and the other obviously voted for her friend. So that’s 2 votes lost. They know I can’t work with one of them (hint - not the one who was elected unanimously)…so from what I understand, things got interesting fast. Apparently the swing vote was a complete surprise. I have to say, I’m a bit shocked. But I’m not enough of a jerk to care.

The vindictive side of me kind of wants to watch things fall apart, but the sensible side of me says to shut the fuck up and move on already.

Back to doing music just for me, then. The way it always has been. I’m okay with that. :)

1. Person I know at Dickinson
2. Person I know at Dickinson
3. Person I know at Dickinson
4. Person I know at Dickinson
5. Person I don’t know from North Carolina

grfl

I mean dinner is cool I guess.

I need to shave and shower and make this headache go away.

And the earache. What the fuck, haven’t had one of those since I was 7.

Achy boring day. And apparently it’s gonna rain. Fun.

Loud-ish drunk-ish people and a lot of empty bottles. Yay, I’m spending my night cleaning the house!

It dawned on me today that I’d be a lot happier if maybe I was 100% gay.

I just seem to have better luck with guys than with girls…especially this year.

Well I’m gonna go play doom metal and watch crime dramas.

So, you want to know why I’m so shitty at picking friends? Me too. I didn’t make a single good friend this year. In fact, I lost most of them.

You say what? It’s because people don’t know the “real me?” No, no, see…the problem is that they DO know! Or at least…they think they do.

They complain that I’m depressing. Dark. Sad. Lonely. Brooding. Anti-social. Stubborn. Bit of a dick.

Very well, then. I’ll take it.

I have clinical depression, generalized anxiety disorder, inattentive-type attention deficit hyperactive disorder, insomnia, stress-induced changes in speech, dyslexia, dyscalculia, dysgraphia, oh yeah and fucking autism. And I may be bipolar.

That is not the real Jaska.That might be the Jimmy you know and love to hate, but it’s not the real Jaska. Not by a long shot.

The real Jaska is confident and self-aware. He doesn’t care what people say about him because he knows he has real friends to whom he can turn at any time.

The real Jaska is prodigiously musically talented. He taught himself eight instruments. Only ever took lessons in guitar…now he teaches himself that, too. Taught himself how to use music composition programs on the computer - go ahead, name one, I dare you - and taught himself how to read music just so he could try and help this upstart group on campus.

The real Jaska recognizes that he has talent, and lots of it. He knows he’s great at what he does, because music is his passion. The self-deprecation is all an act. It’s a façade. He’s just afraid of his innate character traits - arrogance, egotism, a touch of self-righteousness - might shine through and must therefore be repressed.

The real Jaska knows he’s good at music. Also knows he’s good at photography, and doesn’t blame a “lack of subject material” for not taking more photos. He’s just a bit bored with it. I’m sure he’ll be back. Although, come to think of it, more subject material wouldn’t hurt. Carlisle is, well, Carlisle.

The real Jaska knows he’s a computer genius. He’s so talented. He learns really fast, you know. He teaches himself everything. Never had one class. Not in computer studies, science, design, nothing. Also never taken a formal music or art education course.

The real Jaska has taught himself everything he knows. That’s why he’s so bored in class. That’s why he doesn’t want to take introductory-level courses. Ever. Not again. The real Jaska has a thirst for knowledge that he quenches in his own way. He marches along his own road to his own drummer, and he’s got a double bass pedal.

The real Jaska doesn’t depend on his friends, they depend on him. He makes them and keeps them effortlessly, with them knowing he’s always there for them. For anything. Nothing out of the question. Seriously, nothing. He’s the most open-minded person I know.

The real Jaska doesn’t drink because he’s depressed, he drinks because he likes the taste of wine and whiskey and bourbon. The real Jaska doesn’t need to drink to have fun, and stands around at parties with a red cup of water pretending to be a bit tipsy for comedic effect.

The real Jaska doesn’t have piercings because mutilating himself numbs the pain of reality. He has piercings because he fucking likes them, dammit, and doesn’t care what you or your generation have to say about it. The real Jaska doesn’t smoke because he’s a helpless addict. He smokes because he likes the flavour, the sensation, the thrill of something new and dangerous every time. And the real Jaska doesn’t do drugs, because he doesn’t need a crutch. He can stand up just fine, because the real Jaska is not too terribly crippled after all.

The real Jaska is kind, loving, caring, and utterly selfless. He knows he has his shit figured out, but just doesn’t let it on. That’s why he’s always helping other people. Always there for them. He only cares about how his words and actions will affect others and their feelings. He wants nothing but for others to be happy. And, on the off chance he and someone else find something about which they are both happy, then they may as well be good friends.

The real Jaska doesn’t mind new situations, doesn’t mind being on the spot, and doesn’t mind being the center of attention. Sometimes, he recognizes that he deserves it. Maybe it’s nice, in his eyes, to be praised for doing what you love and doing it well. The real Jaska gladly accepts a thank-you note from the girl whose computer he fixed, a round of applause from the audience of a song he arranged, an award here and a certificate there. The real Jaska knows how to take a compliment - with a smile and a “thank you,” because he is well aware of the reason.

-

But you see, the real Jaska has no friends, because he lives in a bottle. He’s bottled up. There’s a cork in that bottle. If you think you know Jimmy “the way he is,” or not, well…you can remove that cork, at your own risk.

Now that things are settled and sinking into perspective, I’ve realized how under-appreciated I really am.

It’s not entirely a bad thing. But mostly, yes.

All I do in my spare time is music and music. I compose and arrange and mix and remix and write and record and even fucking sing. I learned guitar for twelve years and have taught myself seven other instruments.

I have spent hours and hours working on music solely for myself, for the feeling of accomplishment it gives me, and because I fucking like it. I’ve spent even more hours meticulously ensuring that the music I arrange for the a capella group was the best it could be.

Drafting, writing, re-writing, cutting, adding, re-drafting, adding more, cutting more, listening to the same thing over and over.

Importing my arrangements to GarageBand and Logic to ensure the parts meld like they should.

Tweaking little bits here and there.

Writing in a whole separate fucking part for someone because she thought a harmony would be a nice touch.

And our MC actually credited me. To the whole audience.

Is that enough? Maybe for now. But if my talents aren’t wanted as badly as the others’ are, then too bad.

Sure, they were “torn” between me and the girl who pretends I don’t exist. The one I tried to work with but “never got my texts.”

Sure, the one who replaced me was a unanimous vote. Okay, fine, she deserves it. I have nothing against her.

But geez. I didn’t get elected because I didn’t run rehearsals? But…I did all the rest of the work…while my co-director ran through an iTunes playlist of possible songs for the distant future.

If I ran rehearsals, it’d have been a bit lopsided.

And no, I don’t want to continue helping the group. It’s too much of a time commitment. If they aren’t willing to vote for me, I’m not willing to help them any more than I already have.

I’m sure someone else can learn to use Sibelius and Finale Pro in under a day. LIKE I DID.

And I’m sure they’ll be able to arrange a song for which no sheet music exists. LIKE I HAVE DONE.

Oh, and I’m positive they’ll be able to take a song with sheet music that isn’t too great, write it into a program, add extra parts, modify the existing parts, add lyrics, add harmony lyrics in an ossia, export it as MIDI, tweak note timings for tempo, export as PDF, print out 50 pages of music using their own money, and distribute it at rehearsal.

And all they’ll get is “Why isn’t there a copy for everyone?”

I’ve realized that choosing classes is hopeless.

I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life.

It’d be a lot easier to figure out if I could be multiple places at once. Then I could actually, you know, take the classes I need to graduate eventually.

ooh I could take a class called “Religions in China”

yeah, nope.