I have all four of my classes today.

In three of them, we were supposed to do some kind of group assignment. Thank GOD that the one in English was about brainstorming ideas for the paper that I have already written. I miss my winter quarter classes. A lot. Especially my English class. If I could just switch my Sosh class from last quarter with my Sosh from this quarter, I would have had a really good schedule. Fml.

I never thought I would miss Shaina.

And for those of you who don't know who Shaina is, she was the grad student who taught my Intro to Judaism class last quarter... Not my favorite person. Or Rachel's. Or anyone's. I don't know, going to class is just a drag this quarter. I don't know if it's the weather, or the fact that I'm not really learning much in either Psych or English. More bad news: I'm sick, or something. My throat is burning like a motherfucker, and it's making me cough a lot. Of course, it doesn't help that the wind is blowing like crazy, and for some reason, every time I breathe in, I swallow to keep my throat from drying in- and in that one inhalation, my throat has already dried out so much that it burns to swallow. Not fun. Not fun at all.

Okay, so English gets out in an hour (all we've been doing is learning the same "how to write an essay" crap that's been drummed into us since the sixth grade) and after that, I have Sosh section, which isn't that bad. I'm pretty sure the TA likes me, because I made a few contributions last time and every time I raise my hand, she smiles at me. She didn't smile at many other people. It's high time I had one of my TAs like me. The PolySci TA seems okay; I've only had one section, so I don't know him that well, but he's got a kind of quiet, nerdy thing going on. Not my usual, but nice.

Picnic Day is coming up on Saturday- it's the biggest holiday here, and I'm really excited. Hannah, who is one of my best friends, is coming up to Davis and spending the weekend with me! I have a whole list of stuff to do on Picnic Day- we can watch the parade, and then I have to head across campus to sing, and then we're free to go to the student activities faire, look at the exhibits, watch the Doxie Derby, go downtown, walk through the Arboretum, watch the Battle of the Bands over by Spafford Lake, and so on. I'm so excited, it's really going to be a lot of fun.

I'm still having a love/hate relationship with "General Hospital" right now, so I'm sinking deeper and deeper into my obsession with "Spring Awakening." You know, it's like drugs- if you're on cocaine and heroin, and the cocaine's just not cutting it for you, double up the dose of heroin. If you don't die first, that is. But you get my point. I really had no idea how insanely talented these people are. And what makes me love it so much, what gives me hope, is that someday I could be one of them.

Oh my god, oh my god, my foot is asleep right now, but it is so far from your usual pins and needles. It's straight-up pain, the kind that immobilizes your foot and goes all the way up your leg and ends just below your knee. Dear God, it's excruciating in the extreme.

And now that I can think about something besides the ebbing pain in my foot, and my professor is saying a bunch of stuff about Mark Twain and Huck Finn that I pretty much already knew, and I still have forty minutes to go- fml- there isn't much left to do besides try to listen for stuff I didn't know already and try to think of more stuff to write.

Half an hour to go.

I already read Huck Finn junior year of high school, and Great Gatsby too. I just don't get why we're reading them again. I mean, I know that there is no national standard curriculum for what should be read in high school or college, but I really think it's common knowledge that Huck Finn is a high school book. I wanted to read some more obscure, less well-known work in college- it was what I expected.

I think I'll read Song of Solomon again. I read it only last year, but in the space of a year you forget things so easily. I remember I particularly enjoyed it.

You know, I think it's just because my classes this quarter aren't really that stimulating, but I'm really missing high school right now. My AP English class was small, and we were able to have a lot of intellectual discussion that I really enjoyed. And I don't get to make that personal connection with my classmates, mostly because of the quarter system. I miss a lot of the people in my senior class- mainly because they were good, and smart, and happy.

And I miss choir. God, I miss the rigorous process of learning a song until I get it down pat. I miss going to competitions and getting first place or Unanimous Superior. I miss the challenge of sight-reading and the thrill I get when I get it right. I miss having a piano at my disposal seven hours out of the day. I miss my big black folder- Chamber Singers, number 28. I miss my green skirt, trying like mad to smooth it out over my legs, slipping into my black spandex shorts just in case- god forbid- I trip over an errant mike cord or a riser or something. I miss the days before a concert, going up in rows 1, 3, 2 and making sure to be in a window if you're in the second row. I miss singing the songs we all loved- especially "Water Night", "The Awakening", "Ubi Caritas." Hell, I even miss "Shadrack"- the crazy song that I think only one person liked. I miss all the warm-ups, as opposed to the two that we do in the Lizards. I miss the practice rooms, especially my practice room, where Alisa and Elana and Julia and I had so many good times. Countless people have been in that room and left it, but that was our room. I miss the pictures from every single year since the school opened tacked up on the upper walls and the countless trophies circling our heads as we got ready to earn another. I miss the big smile I would give the audience during a concert. I miss walking over to the piano and giving the pitches if I was the one standing closest during an a'cappella song. I miss the Fourte girls. I miss being the power alto in Women's Choir, along with Michaeli. I miss being one of the people on top, and knowing it. I miss helping Mrs. Bowers out in her office, putting music back, putting in grades, sorting paperwork while I listened to Women's Choir learning, learning, learning. I miss the "fairy dust" that got tracked in there during Peter Pan junior year- and I miss that feeling of finding a piece if you looked hard enough. I miss making the poster of all the seniors at the end of the year, and taping all the pictures together. I miss that feeling of accomplishment when I put a picture of Fourte right over the door to our practice room, and knowing it was ours. I miss going to gigs and picking up Julia on the way. I miss my black dress that I wore as part of the quartet, even though it was too tight for me and I couldn't wear a bra with it unless I wanted my boobs to make five million autonomous attempts to pop out. I miss taking out the Christmas decorations for the winter concert, arranging them in the theater, putting them back. I miss being in the music library and looking at the boxes full of music, touching them reverently, because I knew they were full of what I loved the most. I miss the feeling of authority I had holding the set of keys- the keys to the proverbial performing arts kingdom- and being able to tell the assistant principals when they told me to go back to class, that it was okay, I was Mrs. Bowers' TA and I was running an errand for her. I miss being able to pick out the people who had talent, the people younger than me who would go far, and I miss picking out the people who I knew would drop out of choir after the first year. I miss taking my favorites under my wing and giving them the advice, the tools they would need to survive in that place. I miss the security of knowing that in the hierarchy of high school, choir was an autonomous being, obedient unto itself. I miss the abject joy I felt at the moment in junior year when, the teacher told me, I had only missed one interval out of eight and that she wasn't going to tell any of the other girls yet, but since I had done the best, I was definitely in the quartet for next year. I miss sitting in the big plush chairs. I miss being on choir council and helping make important decisions. I miss everybody. Oh my god, I miss everybody so much. So, so much.

And I think I'm about to start crying, right now, with eight minutes left of English.

Current mood: horribly, horribly sad
Current song: If I were listening to "The Awakening" right now, I would be bawling.

So, I bought "Milk" on DVD Friday night. There's an earlier blog entry explaining just how much I loved it. I just saw the scene in which the supporters of the gay rights movement triumph over John Briggs and Anita Bryant and the abject hatred of 1978's Proposition 6. I was simultaneously so happy and so unhappy- just because of Proposition 8. I just know it's so unfair. That was supposed to be our victory- that was what it would have looked like, what it would have sounded like, what it would have felt like. It was so beautiful and so terrible, that we in California couldn't overcome the terrible forces of hatred and bigotry and shame. I am so incredibly happy that Iowa's courts were able to overcome this terrible hatred- with a Constitutional justification- and also that any opposition won't be on the ballot for another three years. But what happened in California? We were supposed to be one of the most progressive, forward-thinking states. It's so sad- it's so terribly, terribly sad. It kills me that I can fall in love tonight, get married tomorrow, get a divorce by next Friday, and do it all over again, but two people who have loved each other all their lives can't get married and stay married until death separates them forever, just because their genitals look the same.

Looking at the upper right-hand corner of my computer screen, I'm about to see Josh Brolin pump lead into Sean Penn's skull- and it's like the death of something greater than myself.

I love this movie. And when this battle comes again to California- and I know it will- I'm going to be fighting as hard as I can, damn it. It's going to be a triumph. I know we're going to win someday.

Current mood: sad
Current song: the score, by Danny Elfman (one of his best, in my opinion.)