on the New Years that Would've Been

This is to Jim, Katie, Jen, and any other dancers I may have forgotten:

The snow tonight is awesome. It's a gorgeous thing to go down Henderson's wooded area with the car's high beams on and watch everything fly by the windshield. However, the snow is also covering the road fairly well, and it's forecasted to rain tomorrow. I am taking the pessimist route and assuming the road will be frozen in places.

With that possible threat, and the Murphy's Bad Luck Law of plenty of drunk drivers on New Year's Eve at any hour of the morning, I decided to not go to Idaho Dave's dance in Tacoma. Sorry to all I offered a ride to, but I'm nixing it.

Shame really...and I spent this past week getting up around 1 or 2 in the afternoon. In! a, um, uh, "late-night conditioning" sense. Yes. That's it. "Conditioning..."

Chez Nelson--C'est la Fête!

Sorry for writing about a party that not too many people were invited to, if anyone feels left out. The party was a "Host a Murder Mystery," set for eight people total. Since it was my first time hosting anything, I was happy with the small group.

I thought costuming would be a bit hectic/absent with most people, since Katie and I gave, uh...yeah, pretty much everyone a day's notice. I mean, they all knew it was Sunday night; the character bios & costumes just didn't get out too early on. Ah, but the costumes were good anyway--Ali was a French axe murderer, so she wore a beret and...actually, that was it. But with her clothes at school, that's OK.

Damian wore my Freakazoid! Halloween outfit (sans F!), and a pink towel for a cape. With that loose interpretation of a devil costume, he was greatly fit to be the Prince of Dimness (Asthmadeus).

Jim played the role of the hip Mummy King Aldrinktothat, though he didn't show up in costume. He brought with him a tin of chocolates for general munching, and a roll of TP for...uh, emergencies? Mais non! With the assistance of Ali and painter's tape, the Mummy King Aldrinktothat was clothed once again! (Yes, he came with clothes on.)

Also, he and Ali are the only ones who had pictures taken all night, since I forgot about the camera after people arrived. I'm happy I at least got Ali looking like a little lemur behind Jim--I guess next time I'll ask them if I can take a picture instead of just snapping it off at random. Oh well; The Mummy struck again.

Everyone else was dressed really well for their parts. Madame Garlique (Katie) the "Clairvoyant" even brought a Magic 8-Ball. (That reminds me; Katie, I have yon 8-ball. Cassie, I have yon pleathery skirt.)

I'm glad there was plenty of sex. In the plot. (I thought that would fit well after mentioning Cassie left her skirt...but no, she took that skirt off in my room after the murder mystery. (It was her second skirt. (Oh my, I'm good at making things reek of scandal. (Aaron was there. (So was Katie. (So was Damian. (I'm going to lose count of these parentheses soon. (Retroactively, there are 8.))))))))

My character, Hannibal Schecter, was a werewolf, with humanly failing health. So every full moon, he felt like a million bucks (different "bucks," as you'll see in a minute), and got energy in certain...ahem, places. Leah's character, Angela Death, had a late-night...uh, bedroom encounter, shall we say?...and Hannibal left her immensely satisfied in the morning.

At least, that was what the book said. Leah said she forgot all about me; slept through it, even.

So, [Hannibal] calmly crossed his legs and with a loving motherly tone said "Well, I'm glad that as your first lay in months after your lover was eaten alive," and I rested my hands on my lap in as disarming a manner as possible, "I was able to please you without you knowing it you thankless bitch." Leah's so cute when her blood's boiling.

Ah, yes, much fun was had at characters' expenses. I made many bawdy jokes at [Angela's] expense. Aaron (Balihi, the Rogersandhammerstein Monster) made fun of Damian (Asthmadeus) for Asthamadeus's inability to pronounce his best friend's name ("Valley High", but with a b). And we all had fun with the newly discovered vampire. "Can you change into a bat?" "Can you change a bat into you?" "Can you change a bit into Neville?" "So...can you change into a bat?" When she couldn't read her information to us from laughing at all of these interjections, there was but one phrase that popped out of Jim's mouth: "Say it!!"

I loved having people over; I'm still on for hosting Lord of the Rest of Risk, once we find the game. I scoured the West Side Saturday for the Trilogy Edition, and Cassie & Aaron braved the Tacoma Mall; still it eludes us. 'Til we find The One Ri[sk] to Rule Them All (read: The One Ri[sk] to Rule the Other One)...

Chez Nelson--Maintenant

("Trimming the Hedges" is coming soon--postponed because Cassie inspired some memorable photographing, and because the Hedges pertain unluckily to Cassie, anyway.)

Cassie had the right idea when she said she couldn't picture my house clean. I still can't, and I've lived in it for the past couple days. Cass, that was excellent word choice you had in your request, too--I think it's safe to award our mess the title of "Spatially-Grand Informationally Symbiotic Life-Form." Since we cleaned out the family and living rooms, I haven't been able to find a goddamn thing.

The living room is now pretty well devoid of "Life." Though there's a good space available, I didn't muck with the computers--just picked up some of the random cables lying on the floor. I don't know how, but there was a television coax cable next to the VAIO...

Behold the living room: Devoid of "Life."

The family room was even better-scoured than the living room, but I didn't take a picture of it until after the Christmas party was over. My mom's office table has moved back into the corner, and some of the "Life" was already growing back. From this next shot, you can tell where the cleaning stopped: We didn't bother tackling the kitchen. It would've been a nice effect, but those counters remain the "Liveliest" of the bunch.

Old mess aside...holy crap. There's space in my house now. I could probably host something! ...We must attain the Lord of the Rest of the Risk soon. If we can do it soon enough, I'll host the war myself. We can use the coffee table in my living room...holy crap. I think I'm going to buy the board tomorrow--swamped mall and overflowing traffic be Damned, I shall get that board! [If someone else has already said 'be Damned' and gotten the board, let me know before I do something silly.]

'Crastinator's Credo

It's house-cleaning season chez Nelson. Christmas is at our house this year (as opposed to my uncle's), so my mom has to move her office into the back room (read: Pack the left half of the family room into one ginormous box and have Damian and I lug it back), and we've gotta clean the living room out to make room for the tree. I can not say how much easier that would be if we would just get rid of that dust-laden Nordic Track, that Old Testament to my dad's desire to lose weight (his current one being the Atkin's Diet).

I asked my dad Saturday night if I had any plans for Sunday, and he simply waved his hands to the family room and living room. Since Jen had asked me if I had a free evening, I knew I had to think of something and fast:

"Dad, after well over a decade of procrastination, I can tell you that it won't matter how early we "start" on this project, we will actually get our butts in gear the day before--which is Tuesday this year--and still manage to get the job done barely breaking a sweat. Heck, two years ago mom threw the tree up the day of. We can wait 'til Tuesday to get this done--so, do I have any plans for [Sunday] night?"

I don't know how, but I was suddenly free. So Sunday night, I got to go to the Century Ballroom and dance with...well, not too many people. After a dance-hiatus of about 2-3 weeks, I don't dance much with with people I don't know; seeing how this was my second time at the Century, I didn't circulate much. I did a jig with a girl from San Fran, and managed to remember her name (Elyse)--must be because I hadn't learned any new names for those 2-3 weeks--and one or two other girls. Besides that, I watched some of the Rain City Rugcutters and Zah Zu Zay team members dance with themselves--and that's what pretty much everyone did. They formed a rather...exclusive corner of the ballroom.

Ah, but on the plus side, Jen taught me a little tango, raising my spirits [ahem. Spirits. Yes. I'll just make the snarky comments now before you all beat me to it ;) ], and I enjoyed the last two songs of the night partially with my eyes closed--the population sorta diminished by midnight, leaving a free-range floor--so I got to feel the dance like I was a responsibility-free summertime guy again. Yes, by feel, I mean one of those kinda-transcendentalist moments that simply shouldn't be written about by nature of being transcendentalist. Becoming the dance, or somesuch.

I'm glad those last two songs came when they did: I left the dance with happy thoughts, disillusioning any ideas that my experience at the dance sucked; and the last song, Bugle Call Rag is in my car. Yay! Familiarity!

Life went on after that dance, and caught up with me Christmas Eve morning. Monday I went to two parties, played Lord of the Risk and came home so charged that I roped Damian away from the computer and did some furniture moving. Kind of a random thing to do at 2 in the morning, yes, but it saved trouble for Wednesday.

Well, since I write long stories a lot, I'll cut it short: The 'Crastinator's Credo came through, and we finished all of the cleaning in the family and living rooms by dinner time--even with the tables set and everything. However, the Storage Room became the recipient of, in the words of my dad, many sins.

_

Coming soon, to prove I haven't been playing Neverwinter Nights, dancing or cleaning for all of the break: "Trimming the Hedges." Actually, it won't prove much, but I'll at least add Blogging back to the list of activities, since 11 days is enough of an accidental hiatus from writing.

Waking up...

I used to think I had engineered the perfect method to get myself to wake up in the morning: Set the alarm clock across the room, turn its CD player all the way up, and set it to play Primus's Anti-Pop at Wake-Up Hour. (Anti-Pop, while I don't like the actual disc much, has about sixteen seconds of organ grinding for the first track, then an obnoxious bass guitar blast to start track two.) If I don't want to piss off the house, I turn off the CD when it starts. Since I don't like pissing off anybody (but, uh, apparently I have no beef with putting their moods at risk, heh), I learned to get up and turn off the CD player before the CD actually started playing; then, I learned to get up and get over to it when I heard the CD start to spin; THEN, at the ultimate step I learned to get up and kill the operation when the speakers got a current. So I am now unconsciously trained to get out of bed in the morning.

Unfortunately, then I hit the snooze button one morning. I purposefully never learned what that button did; I knew of its intoxicating allure of but 10 more minutes of warmth, comfort, and a dark room for my eyes, but I never let my brain make the physical connection of hitting the button and getting the pleasurable result. I knew enough psychology [reinforcement theory] to know that I would then unconsciously get up as the speakers turn on and the CD's starting to spin, and then be back in bed before the CD finished spinning.

Well, I hit the snooze on accident one morning and the whole purpose of the alarm clock went to shit. Suddenly, mornings became 50 minutes less efficient (the Snooze turns off after 5 times). At the very least, though, I should've been thankful that in my unconscious stupor, I could turn around exactly 180 degrees to get back to bed. This morning, I learned a little lesson in what I can't take for granted.

The clock circuitry fed electricity to the speakers at 7:42, the time I tried to use to confuse my sleepy self from the night before into waking up (in vain). I heard the slight pop, and the circuitry in my legs kicked in. I raised the blanket up into a position that would be easy to revert to a sleeping state, and let my legs carry me to the blue-glowing clock. The CD motor fired up; that made noise too, before the CD started to spin. By the time the disc actually made that plastic-on-plastic whisp, my hand reached up to happily snap the snooze button--but, for the first time ever, missed. My hand hit the play button on the front, then stumbled about for the snooze button (on top...pretty distinct from in front). I was awake enough to have the thought, "Well, that was a first. Oh well, back to the warm comforting bed for Ten More Minutes..."

Since it's usually dark when I wake up, I thought I wouldn't need my eyes at all, so I closed them as I turned around to head back to bed. The next thing I can remember is stepping on a box which was never in the path to my bed. When I woke up, I was sitting on my dance shoes, in front of my nightstand; from the power of inference, I deduced:

I got lost on the way back to my bed from the alarm clock.

Also from the power of inference, and two fresh scars on my shoulder, my closet door was involved in this excursion to Not-Bed Land. Ouch.

I clambered back into bed, to awake at 7:52.

Math Systems--day The Last

This may sound perverse, but I've had a knack for perverse speech. Advanced Calculus had the easiest final--heck, easiest test--all quarter. I finished all of it except for one problem on Math History where I needed the formula for the latera surface area of a cone. I made the mistake of trying to derive it with calculus, and after an hour I realized how to do it with algebra.

Multvariable Calculus was a whole 'nother story...I forgot one of the four [new] Fundamental Theorems of Calculus we had "learned" (read: rushed through in lecture on the last day), and ended up toying with a question for about an hour trying to remember what the bloody integral was.

Now I know what it's like to take four hours to do a test. If it weren't for the really lax testing environment, I probably would've pulled out a good deal of hairs. What do I mean by lax, you may ask?

We have a little bar of food on the side of the room for every test--er, by little bar, I mean Don (the professor) brings in snack foods and lays them on the counter. Apparently it was a class trend last year; I would've liked someone to bring in a cookie besides Nillas. Nillas are kinda plain. I do like how there are snacks for munching during the tests; I theorized today that it's actually a "Comfort Food" thing.

We get as many breaks as we desire, too; it's quite nice to get up and walk around for a while, unwinding with every step away from the desk with that Blasted Test sitting at it. I think one guy in the class took his "break" a bit too laxly, though...he left the room after getting the test, with his test with him, and walked down the hall to a little couch area, where he promptly went to sleep.

I prodded him awake two hours into the test on one of my breaks. He said he was done; I saw a blank front page. I really wonder about that guy...he slept during lectures, too. Yet, this is his third year with Don as a professor. Queer.

Oh, I figured out that my verbal directions to that church I'm playing in tomorrow are wrong. If you get on Franklin from Union road, you'll be able to see a church with First Christian Church written on the side of the building. Can't miss it. It's not adjacent to Sylvester Park, though. Hope to see you there.

Weekend Rapid Right-Arm Activities

(Zach, amusing as that eight-equalsigns-pair of m's-equalsigns-conspicuous d was in one of Jim's blogs, no, that ain't it here.) I'm heeding Aaron's shameless plug, after my third concert this weekend.

The SOGO string quartet managed to get another gig! Huzzah! We're playing out at Panorama City, which as far as I've seen is an old folks' village. I have no clue who we're playing for; neither does Mary Jo (ensemble coordinator). But it pays the same as last time...I won't get fed, as I will be there for a short time.

The Beethoven Birthday Bash is Saturday, as my sidebar (off the main page) shows. If you don't understand the directions, which I didn't either, that church is adjacent to Sylvester Park--at the corner opposite the Starbucks corner. Come on down, and see the Olympia Chamber Orchestra try to fit onto that pulpitt (or whatever it's called)--apparently, last year's orchestra lost a wee bit o' breathing room, and last year had fewer people on the roster. I expect slightly less than full bowstrokes...

With the gig Saturday, and the quartet thing Sunday, and concerts, I am playing the viola for: 7 hours this weekend. I'll be glad to be at the HoHo, where I can do my deserved-by-that-point fat lot o' nothin' and sit in the audience, singing along to the carols afterwards. Mm, that's been soundin' good since last Sunday...

Post-gig, sans jig

Saturday night was my first paid gig. MnyMnyMnyMny MON-NAAY. The tip wasn't too bad; but the food alone was WELL worth playing there. On our break, we got some melted brie with pecan toppings, beef, and horseradish that was so strong I cleared my nostrils for the rest of 2003 by merely coating the tips of my fork tongs. Allie got some skewed chicken/pork; I didn't dare touch it in my tuxedo.

Before the gig started, I had to eat a little something out of fear that I wouldn't get a dinner. My mom poured some blackeye-pea soup, but out of fear that I would get my tux dirty, she felt I had to have a bib. So, while I wasn't looking, she snuck up behind me with a garbage bag, and knotted it about my neck.

Here's one of those things you don't expect to say too often in life: "Mom. Could you please undo this knot. I'm wearing a garbage bag over my tuxedo."

But the dinner at the house didn't require a bib, thankfully. We didn't get any chocolate mousse cake, but that was alright. As for the performing area, it was in an upstairs open hallway that stood right over the living room. Our sound hit a slanted glass roof, projecting directly onto the party guests; it was really a nice place to play in. Too bad that we learned early on that sound carried a bit too well; the hostess asked us to quiet down just a bit--we sounded great, our volume was just too high. I think it was "Dueling Jingle Strings" that had too many decibels...shame, really. I liked that fiddle tune, because it was the first time in...five years?...that I was actually encouraged to use the obnoxious-sounding Open A. (If a string quartet was too loud, I wonder...Aaron, do your gigs involve party music, or actual performances for audiences? I can't imagine the words "quiet" and "group with trombone(s)" going in the same sentence.)

Our quartet may have another gig lined up already. After the Messiah dress rehearsal, we've gotten a little time to do some holiday (read: Christmas-heavy) tunes in the lobby of United Churches next Sunday. ...And then we'll play in the Messiah concert. Which comes to a grand total of 3.25 hours of straight playing.

I'm the lucky one of us; violas don't play for two and a half songs in the Messiah, so I actually have somewhat of a break. Yay.

During tonight's rehearsal, we went through two of those 2.5 songs. I managed to read the entire Segue, including my article which took up about half of the back page. I gave Mr. Welsh my copy of the Segue before I left; I'm guessing my neck will be slightly wrung by the beginning of tomorrow's board meeting. Slightly. He's a kind, jovial fellow; I'm sure he'll take the joke well.

on Welsh's Lack of Franck Love

I was quite happy to give the opening speech for the evening November concert. I didn't realize that by citing Maestro Welsh's speeches at the petting zoo that I was, "Stealing material" from a talk he was going to have with the audience. He did realize it, though, and of course, let the whole house know that I had over-foreshadowed on a speech he was to have. He also ensured that I didn't steal his Thunder once more by asserting "I'M going to tell the story, Alex," before he presented the tale of Der Freischütz. I was amazed that I struck a chord (pardon the pun) by nabbing a bit of the Franck away from Maestro Welsh. I was even more surprised at the board meeting on the 10th, eight days after the concert.

Mr. Welsh started the meeting with a bit of discussion about the Franck, the concert, the rehearsal after the concert, la, dee, "I don't like the Franck," dah.

...What was that?

[BIG BOLD QUOTATION TEXT]
"I don't like the Franck." --John Welsh
[/end BIG BOLD QUOTATION TEXT]

You may be having one of those awkward moments of silence right now. The board had one, too.

He sure put up a fight with me before the concert. But now he doesn't even like the piece? This reminds one of last year's spring rehearsals and concert. He gave a fine speech at the last rehearsal, congratulating us on our hard work. It moved me to tears and I couldn't help but give him a huge hug then and there. Of course, amidst the orchestra's plentiful laughter, there was much grumbling from his general direction. Some of that grumbling + mumbling somewhat returned the sentiments--along the lines of "Yeah, love you too." After the concert, when he was overjoyed with the orchestra's work and gave congratulations through the principal strings, here was his order of operations: (1) Shake Ben's hand. (2) KISS Kyla on cheek. (3) Stare and look confused at Alex's offered cheek. (4) Shake hands with Lee. So much for returning sentiments.

I think the title of Maestro with John Welsh explains his contrary acts of varying compassion. "John Welsh" has no anagrams, but the letters of "Maestro John Welsh" can spell "Jolts hams nowhere." Is that the maestro in a nutshell? You decide.

--Alex Nelson, your debatably friendly neighborhood student representative

Week of the Penultimates

This is the last week of classes for me. Hard to believe, since I started in October and have gotten a week off too, but next week are the quarter's final exams. All three of them. I'm not scared by them at all, but the exams go for four hours each. To top that off, Saturday is the OCO concert and Sunday is the Messiah Sing-Along, and I may be playing in a quartet before that concert starts. (Note: Sidebar is now completely updated)

I expect to have barely enough brainpower remaining by the next Monday to be comfortable nestled into a new character in a little innefficient pasttime, assuming people will still be having their finals et cetera. If I'm not roleplaying my viola (the fat Dwarf-woman Bard, Rosebud Broadbottom), I shall have my Drow Druid swinging her mighty +2 Scimitar of Cold Things. ...which is essentially a knife that can't even cut butter. But enough on burning time; I'm not in Relaxation Land yet.

End of Thanksgiving Hiatus

It looks like I took quite the vacation last week. No math homework, no SOGO writing, no blog writing...I of course had all of the above to do, but just couldn't bring myself to. That's what procrastinating's for.

I got to see Jen three days last week! Seeing her, hugging her, kissing her...those made me feel lifted in ways mathematics couldn't raise me for the past four months. (If ANYONE fields that pun...*shakes fist*) I was sad that I couldn't see her for longer on those days...I guess time with her would never be enough. Spring break is my second exercise in patience at the moment. As for my first...

I said goodbye to Jen Saturday night, behind Jon's car. Besides the sheer romanticism of the moment, I'm sure to remember it by a.) my amazingly luckless ability to embrace her right behind Jon's tailpipe and b.) the Hawaiian tie I had around my head as a bandana; currently my head's ring of happy spots rests below my long-hair line. I was a little listless at Katie's afterwards, but I reminded myself to quit being a heartfelt wussy and wait out the two, three weeks before finals would be over and I could see Jen again. That's my current exercise in patience.

I'm glad to have gotten another picture with her, though; this time, without the antiparallelness of a mid-dip shot.

I also got plenty of photos Friday night, at a get-together at Katie's house. I've sworn that none of them would see the light of day on the internet--but there were a few that I just had to let slip by.

___

And the girls should be done sweating bullets...nnnnnow.

There's one shot that I'm going to put up here just to guarantee that I never have a career in politics. Don't worry, it only pertains to me. Katie and Margot stuck the cat ears in my hair, and thought I looked so girly, there simply had to be a follow-through. Katie supplied the dress; I thought I looked quite good in it, myself.

And now, for something completely different. Good night.