lines and dots
I don't have time to blog, so clearly I'm blogging. I'm sitting in my piano room, a place that I'm in more than any other place besides my bed (sometimes). And I won't sugarcoat it all. I'm spent. My recital is in two weeks and I'd just like to say that if you enjoy crying at least once a week, having no time to hang out with anyone, and don't care much about personal care issues, like eating or showering regularly, then preparing a senior piano recital is the path for you! Everyone's complaining about the snow, and I'm stuck complaining about this. This room with puke-colored carpet and depressingly blank walls that I'm sure will give me nightmares once I'm out of it for good. Part of me likes the depressing weather; at least mother Earth is on the same page as me. I've missed blogging. Writing. Words. If I didn't have a boyfriend that called me regularly, words would be almost as rare as free time. I anxiously await the da...