Updated Letter from Mrs. Rock

I put the old edited stuff back in the post about Mrs. Rock, so its title is partially inaccurate now. Some stuff I'm still leaving out. Maybe I'll put add it this fall or spring or something.

Peace out!

My Strongest Memory of Aston

When I was in 7th grade, my old cat, Pepper, started to get sick. I remember it was in 7th grade because the last time I saw her was when my mom picked me up from an Aston soccer practice, and I was only with Aston during 7th grade.

I remember the practices were held on some school campus that I thought was absolutely huge, and it was quite a drive for me, especially compared to BYC where I used to play (and could walk to if I asked). Our coach was Scottish, the father of Bill Randall, and the team was full of misfits but we were all friends. I remember there were two kids named Ed and Kevin who were rough around the edges, but best friends, and really easy to get along with. They're the kind of kids who would see a friend getting in a fight in a street and beat the crap out of the other kid even if they didn't know why anyone was fighting, because they would just assume their friend was right and that was all there was to it. There was also another kid named Ian who I remember pretty clearly because he was good at soccer, sort of strange, sort of pale, sort of small, pretty fast though. He had a little sister who looked way too much like him. There might have been a red-headed kid named Michael Conway on that team, too, but I can't remember. Pat MacCullough was also on the team. He was goofy, and got kicked in the kidney once and peed blood.

Anyway.

I remember practices were always really pretty. I don't know why, but I don't have any memories of practices at night or in storms. They're all at sunset in a large open field, and all very beautiful. I remember we had a practice on September 11th, 2001, and we saw a plane go across the sky and we were all worried. I think that's the only way I could figure out that I was actually on the team during 7th grade, not 6th.

Like I was saying, my cat Pepper was very sick at the time. I think she was just about as old at me, so probably 12 or 13 years old at that point. She had congestive heart failure, I think. She was on some medicines for it that my mom had to painfully force feed her or trick her into eating every day, but it didn't look like anything was helping.

Pepper started retaining fluid. She got really really bloated, and my dad would jokingly call her a basketball with ears (which didn't make sense because she was not orange). I remember that you could feel the liquid inside of her if you put a little pressure on her skin, and you could feel from her matte that she wasn't washing herself anymore. She looked sad, I remember thinking. I think one time my parents actually had the vet remove whatever fluid was building up in her, but it came back very quickly.

My parents inevitably had to deal with issue of euthenasia. My dad thought it was the right thing to do because he believed we were just making the cat suffer, and she wasn't enjoying life anymore, she was just in pain. My mom, I think, was too emotionally attached to Pepper, so she thought putting her to sleep was simply out of the picture. I remember they talked a couple times about some talk show in California that wanted to talk to couples that were having such issues, but I think they wanted them to bring Pepper to the filming of the show, and that was just ridiculous, so of course they would never do that.

One day, Tuesday or Thursday, after soccer practice in Aston - I think it was still light out, so it must have been pretty early in the season - my mom came to pick me up in whichever van we had at the time. I got in the back seat (couldn't ride passenger seat for some reason) and I saw Pepper next to me in the backseat, laying in a box. She wasn't moving much, and she was much bigger than any cat should be and way bigger than she had ever been when she was healthy. I didn't know what was going on, and I remember being kind of confused and worried. My mom told me we were taking her to the vet to put her to sleep, and she thought she would bring Pepper to practice so I could see her one more time and say goodbye. I can't remember if I cried right then or not. I loved that cat, and I still miss her.

We drove to the vet on the way home, and my mom asked me if I wanted to go in with her or not. I knew I would never be able to see something like that, so I waited in the car and my mom took the box with Pepper inside it into the building. I'm pretty positive I was crying by then, since that was the last time I would ever have seen Pepper alive. She came back out a little bit later. I can't remember if she had her body or not, because I know we had a funeral for Pepper but I think I would have been creeped out if she had brought the body back.

I asked Mom how Pepper looked when she was dying, and she said she just looked like she was going to sleep and that she looked happy. I believed her at the time, but I'm not so sure I can believe that anymore.

I don't remember the ride home. I remember that I cried a lot that night and I'm pretty sure my mom asked if I wanted to skip school the next day. I didn't skip, but I'm pretty sure I was a wreck the next night, too.

We didn't have very many good pictures of Pepper. The best one I think we could find, I think, is the one my mom framed and gave to me. It's a picture of Pepper sitting on two paws in front of the glass sliding door in the kitchen at our Brookside house, looking towards the camera with her green eyes. You can see that she doesn't have a tail, and you can see from her mix of brown and black fur that she was very much a mutt. There was still some sort of construction in our backyard at the time, so you could see hunter's orange wirefence in the background. My mom also gave me the last collar Pepper ever wore - it's old and yellow and beaten up and it's hanging on the frame of that picture in my room on my bedstand. I remember the first time I touched it, I just lost it. I've gotten a little better since then, but not much.

And of all the things I remember about my year with Aston, this is the strongest.

Peace out.

That was NOT a Safe Ride

This Saturday, Nupur and I went to see a Tom Stoppard play called "The Real Inspector Hound" being performed by a student group in Brown's T. F. Green building, which I'd say is about three-fourths of a mile away from either of our dorms. We got out of the play, I think, very shortly after 12:00AM (so by the it was technically Sunday morning). We started walking back towards our dorms, but we were both freezing the entire time we were watching the play and we were even more freezing now that we were walking outside. We really, really wanted a way to be not-freezing-our-faces-off.

The obvious answer, of course, is SafeRide, the free shuttle that goes around the Brown and RISD campuses. For the past couple days, Nupur and I kept seeing SafeRide vans with drivers just parked in the lot outside of B & H, and since that was essentially on our way back anyway, we figured we would go there. For the first time we could remember, there were no SafeRide vans in the parking lot of B & H. I don't think we saw any at all, not even any parked without drivers.

So we kept walking on, past B & H. We could see into the lounge (where I am right now) and see that no one was there, so we knew there was no way in. We kept walking around to the sliding-door entrance and I tried all three of the doors there - the central sliding doors and the two doors on either side - because I really wanted a break from the freezing (B & H usually has a good climate). None of the doors opened. We could see people in the computer lab - some people have cards that will let them swipe in - but we figured it wasn't even worth waiting to get the attention of the nearest person and ask to be let in, so we just went on and figured we would look for SafeRide on Thayer St.

So we made The Walk from B & H, down the brick pathway lined with trees, across Brook St., across the cement sidewalk between the Sci Li and MacMillan, and turned right onto Thayer St. Nupur thought she saw a SafeRide van parked, so we ran towards it screaming, but then we saw that it wasn't a SafeRide van. Then, thank god, a SafeRide van came driving right towards us from further up Thayer St., so we flagged it down, ran to the nearest stop, and got in.

Now, when you get into SafeRide, you're supposed to show them your Brown or RISD ID card so they know they're not just giving rides to crazy people who want free, safe rides in white vans with heaters on. Oh, yes, the heater was on and it was glorious. Anyway, the point is, the driver didn't check our IDs. We just got right in and he left as soon as we closed the door. That didn't make me feel very safe...?

We got in the van at 12:17AM.

As we were driving down Thayer St., the driver kept talking on his cell phone (but in walkie-talkie mode) in Spanish(?) to someone else. Just about all I could figure out was that it was also a guy. The only time our driver stopped talking on his cell phone was when he wasn't driving the van, which seemed completely backwards, but what was I going to do? So I just went with it, feeling once again, not very safe.

Our ride wasn't the most direct path. We went down Thayer St. some more, and I forget exactly where we went from there, but I remember we drove through the center of The Walk and I was upset that we hadn't just caught the SafeRide van crossing when we were there. Later on in the ride, the van actually stopped right outside the T. F. Green building, where Nupur and I had left the play. We could have just stayed inside and waiting and we would have been exactly as well off as we were before. We felt a little cheated, I think.

When we stopped at the T. F. Green, three more people got in - Peter Drinan, a really nice guy from New York in my Education class; Taylor, a very proud singer; and another girl whose name I unfortunately forgot as soon as she said it. Peter and Taylor were in a competition that night to see who knew more people - they were in that competition before the play, too, and Peter called my name just so he could prove to Taylor that he knew me.

When we got in the van, Peter said hello to me again to show again to Taylor that he knew more people than her. She introduced herself to me, and I said, "Hey, yeah, I'm Jeff, I've met you before!" She looked really confused. I'm pretty sure it was because I met her when she was drunk and she didn't have any memory of it. I guess she was a little worried of what I knew of her if she couldn't remember meeting me. I thought that was kind of interesting.

Nupur and I talked for the rest of the ride home. The other three got out at Keeney before the van went North to Pembroke so Nupur and I could get out.

It was 12:35AM when we got out of the van.

IT WAS NOT A SAFE RIDE.

Peace out!

Midnight Organ Concert

On October 31st at 11:59PM, the University was sponsoring a midnight organ concert. I think they put on three midnight concerts every year - once the day before class starts, once on Halloween, and once on Day on College Hill when all the prospective freshmen come to look at the campus. I went to the one the day before classes started, and last night I went to the one on Halloween.

The name of the first piece was "The World Awaiting a Savior," by some French composer with a name close to Durcel. I read it in the program long before the organ started playing, and I was really excited for it - what could this song sound like? Imagine how intense and powerful it must be to be worthy of fame with a title like The World Awaiting a Savior...! I expected it to be one of those pieces that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck and made you shiver a little bit and then wonder if anyone else saw you shaking or could possibly feel the same way listening to it as you do.

Sadly, I was very disappointed by the piece. I remember thinking through it that it sounded like something written by a five-year-old. I mean, of course it was written by a famous composer in his adulthood, but it sounded really disorganized and unstructured... and not even that the disorganization and lack of structure were for effect, it just sounded like the composer was too lazy to make anything better so he just threw some notes on a paper and hoped someone would be able to play it.

So I didn't concentrate on the piee. Instead I looked around at everyone else in Sayles Hall watching. Most people were laying down. Max was right near me with his friend, Sunshine, who said that he had no first name. At one point Max laid his head down on the crossed legs of the girl behind him and tried to move his arms to make himself comfortable, and ended up laying his elbow across Sunshine's neck. He just turned his head smiled at Max, and eventually Max moved his elbow. He also ended up putting his foot on a crinkled piece of paper in an attempt to make himself comfortable. I saw that he was upset that he was making noise, so I said to him, "Lift up your foot" (I forget if it was left or right), then held up the paper, said "Put your foot down," and then let the paper drop on top of his shoes instead (the paper was underneath someone else, so I couldn't just move the paper).

I liked looking out in the audience... like I said, most people were laying down, but a select few were sitting against the wall or sitting cross-legged among the rest. There was one kid who particularly caught my attention. He was sitting about twenty feet from me, in the center of the width of the room but only about a quarter of the way back. He was staring very intently upward, but I didn't know why - the organ is up a floor, and there was no was he could possibly see the organ, so I don't really know what he was looking at. In either case, he didn't look down through the entire piece. He had both of his feet on the ground, but still sitting, with his arms around his knees, and he was holding the program in his right hand. He had glasses on, and a buzz cut, and I couldn't tell what ethnicity he was, probably Middle Eastern. I don't know why I was so struck by him - I guess it was because I couldn't believe how into the music he seemed to be.

The first piece ended on a major chord, which I didn't expect. Everyone was clapping, and Nathan said to me, "I love how you can feel the low notes!" And then I realized that I spent so much time looking at the crowd that I missed my favorite part of the organ itself.

Peace out!

Waffle Troubles

One of my favorite parts of Food@Brown is the Carbon waffle irons at the VDub. Generally, a Belgian Waffle with some syrup is my special 'dessert' breakfast for the week every Friday - since the VDub is closed on Saturday and Sunday. For the first month of school, it all went well as far as the waffles were concerned.

However, recently, it's taken a turn for the worst.

I can't remember when, but at one point last week, I was trying to make a Belgian waffle - maybe it was one for dinner since I stupidly went to the VDub even though they never have anything I like for dinner. In either case, when I lifted up the top half of the waffle machine, half of the waffle went with it. It took me so long to pry that waffle out of there. I'm not sure if I tried for another one after that or not.

I remember this Friday - my big day, going home! - I was so excited for my Belgian waffle. What a great way to start such a great weekend, right? So I put on the Pam and the batter, waiting 2m15s, and came back for my waffle. Once again, ripped right in half. Had to spend like five minutes tearing it out, then had to try again. I'm pretty sure that one was ripped in half, too. I remember that it looked inedible, but I'll be damned if I didn't have a Belgian waffle for breakfast on my big day, so I ate it anyway. [I was so excited I didn't really care, honestly!]

So Monday - "today" - I decided I wanted to try again to make up for lost waffles last week. When I showed up, BOTH irons had torn-in-half waffles in them, left by some very-entitled-feeling jerkbags who thought it wasn't their responsibility to clean up after stupid things they did. Myself and one other guy spent 5-10 minutes scraping out their mistake. He beat me to the punch, and put his waffle batter in. I then cleaned mine off and - damnit! - THERE WAS NO BATTER LEFT! But, again, I'll be damned if I didn't have a waffle to make up for the one on my big day. So I took what little batter there was left and put it in the iron, waited 2m15s, and opened it up. It wasn't quite done, and it certainly wasn't as big as a real waffle should be, but it was edible, so I ate it.

Today - Tuesday - I am on a mission. For a perfect Belgian waffle. It will not be ripped in half or half the size of what a Belgian waffle should be. I will not stop until I have acheived my goal. Wish me luck.

Peace out!

P.S. Happy birthday to Gina!!! If you're reading this you should tell her happy birthday. If you're a Brown person and don't know how to contact her, just ask me =)

A Letter to Mrs. Rock, Omitting 1.75 Paragraphs, Personal Info, and a Post Script

Dear Mrs. Rock, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10/29/07

I meant to write you this letter during the first month of school, but it somehow slipped my schedule so I'm writing it now - during class. Heh.

The first thing I wnated to tell you is just something fun I thought you could do: I'm going out with Gina Mattei, and if you said something about that in class, she'd probably melt, so you should! She tells me about your AP Gov class all the time - she thinks it's a ton of fun and that you're hilarious, like when you tried to get Dave Seiler in ^extra trouble for his counterfeit ID! And something about writing crazy things on the board when you were on the phone, but I forget exactly all the details of that story...

The QuizBowl team here is C R A Z Y. It's SO hard. I don't know how these kids know these things. I didn't really like the whole deal, though, so I decided not to do it. I really miss GV Hi-Q. I'm glad I devoted myself to it as much as I did now. Last year was really special, I thought - 3 freshman on-stage, we pretty much had 3 advisors (w/ Mrs. Law's help), and everyone was really close and we were always so excited to be there or at QuizBowl or bake cookies for a reception or anything...! I suppose that could still happen this/future years at GV, but it doesn't seem possible here. QuizBowl here is too huge & bulky & loose. So I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks for making last year happen. I really appreciated it.

Also, I don't know how to say/explain this without being awkward, but thanks for being such a good teacher. I liked you when I had you, but now that I can put you up against college professors... there is no comparison. They don't care as much as you did. They don't run class as well. They don't learn names or passions or interests. They don't have Gwen Stefani ringtones or stories about beach houses or speeches about annexing Mexico or candy bowls or college magnets. You did. You also taught - I find myself teaching myself out of books here a lot. It's just... there's no comparison between my classes here & my classes with you. Yours were superior in every way and I miss them very much.

I think Julie is applying to college this year, right? I hope that's going well. I'm sure she'll get in pretty much anywhere she wants to go. [Other omitted paragraph]

As for classes, I'm taking four different calculus classes right now. None of them are too hard, but the lectures are 50% useless and I use textbooks to learn a lot. Only have 3 tests per year really sucks. I'm doing fine, though, but some wiggle room would be a comfort right now. I'm in my education seminar right now - we talk about issues like standardizes testing, black-white gaps, teacher pay, NCLB Act...

Speaking of which, I'm becoming increasingly interesting in being a teacher. If that becomes the case, I'd be forced to leave Brown - they have no Math teacher training program. Plus no one would pay for me to go to Brown to be a teacher...

I'm trying to take a "City Politics" course next semester with this professor named Morone. Apparently his lectures are usually ended by a standing ovations, and he sometimes makes audience members cry with his passion. I'm pretty excited.

You should write me back/tell me how it's going! I'll probably see you on Thanksgiving weekend Wednesday, but that's still 3 weeks away and you should talk to me before then! How's Hi-Q looking this year? How are your AP US classes? How's your Cadillac convertible and beach house and everything else?

Email: Jeff_C@brown.edu
. . . . . mailto:.mCJE@gmail.com
Address: Jeff C
. . . . . . . . Brown University
. . . . . . . . 75 Waterman St., Box #5226
. . . . . . . . Providence, RI, 02912

Hope to see you soon!

Jeff

P.S. Say something to Gina for me!! =)

Plane ride

I've been using planes a lot more frequently than in the past. Each one is kind of like an emotional rollercoaster, but, there are some interesting things about plane rides. On the way back home the first time, when I was talking to Gina about it, I remember saying that I had done my math homework on the way back and I felt like I had missed out on something, and I wouldn't do that again. So now I make a point of looking out the window as much as possible on flights.

First off, when you just take off - maybe two minutes after - have you ever looked outside and just noticed huuuge, huge tracts of land that looks like farmland? Especially for those of us reading this that have taken off from Philadelphia. And have you wondered where the hell those huge tracts of land came from? When's the last time you were driving around and you just saw enormous tracts of unmolested land surrounding Philadelphia? I don't know what's going on with those... I'd like to get in the air, plot on out, and then see what was inside it.

A little bit later on in the flight, I saw one of the most ridiculous and incredible and beautiful things I'd ever seen. I think by far the coolest thing I've ever seen on any flight. I think it was a couple cumulous clouds, though I can't say that for sure, that weren't too big... they were more like drops of clouds than anything else, but still substantial enough to cast huge shadows on the tracts of land below. Anyway, I was looking at one, and suddenly I noticed that it was rainbow colored. Throughout its entire body. I didn't figure out exactly what the pattern was - a stripe of rainbow, or a circle? - because I was too busy just admiring it and being in awe of it. I saw a few more after the first one, and tried to take a picture of it. I don't think rainbow clouds come out very well in my camera. In either case... I guess the best way to describe it is that it looks like something out of a children's show or video game, but it was very real.

Somewhere near the coastline on my flight, I started just looking at the shapes in the ground. Geography can actually be extremely beautiful and pleasing to look at. It made me want to consider taking a course in geology, but I doubt there's too much to be said or studied concerning the beauty of geology.

Around that coastline, when we went a little further out, I looked down at the water and I noticed a lot of points of white. I couldn't tell what the hell they were. They couldn't be whitecaps because they were too stable - I could see waves on the shore, but I could see them move and change. It could have been clouds, but they looked way too solid and too distant and too attached to the water. It might have been boats, but if that were the case, there must have been 50,000 boats in this part of the water. I guess that would be really cool, but sadly, I doubt that was the case.

Peace out.

Friends

As promised, before I left, I got a word-for-word copy of the friendship poem performed by Phil and Sarah kay at the Solemn and Sparrows Spoken Word Show. Here it is:

::

P [Phil Kaye]: Hey.

S [Sarah Kay]: Hey.

P: This is it.

S: I can't believe we're finally here.

P: It's taken lots of hours

S: Lot's of late nights.
But just so you know, When you're pulling an all nighter & studying at the Scili @ 2am, I'll make the Jo's run & bring you a spicy, with.

P: If you forget your card, you can always use one of my guest credits.

S: Even when you can't be there for super smash brothers, I promise I won't take Kirby.

P: I'll be the best man at your wedding.

S: I'll always save you a spot

P: I'll never break a promise

S: I'll never lie to you

P: I'll always tell you how you really look

S: I'll never rat you out

P: I'll never keep you waiting

S: Even when all you have is an egg-salad sandwich, I'll still let you trade me for one lunchables pizza.

P: Even if the cool kids ask me to sit with them, I'll only go if there's room for two.

S: I will be the spongebob to your patrick
P: harry to your ron
S: shaggy to your scooby
P: boo boo to your yogi
S: bert to your ernie
P: beavis to your butthead
S: wallace to your grommit
P: christopher robin to your winnie the pooh

S: When they make fun of your accent, I'll take you swimming, because we all sound the same under water.

P: When you're old and can no longer remember my name, I'll meet you again & again every day.

S: The night you come out to your parents, you can come sleep over at my house.

P: When everyone knows you as the kid who pissed his pants, I'll still play handball with you.

S: I'll come visit you every week of your sentence.

P: When your dreams get shattered, I'll stay up with you to find all the pieces and tape them back together.

S: I'll always see you for the alley-oop.

P: I'll let you be the Red Power Ranger.

S: I'll let you back-cut me in line.

P: When you audition for a hundred plays, and don't get called back to a single one, and say you're no good and should just give up... I’ll be there for audition one-hundred and one.

S: When you don't have a date to prom, I'll let you take my cousin.

P: When your harddrive crashes, I will lend you my porn.

S: lennon, I will be your mccartney
P: Archie your Jughead
S: watson your sherlock
P: rosencrantz your guildenstern
S: snoop your dre
P: snoopy your woodstock
S: ben affleck your matt damon
P: raphael your leonardo
S: and your donatello
P: and your michelangelo

S: when you forget the sequence of this poem, I will ad-lib until you remember what comes next.

P: When you have to be carried out of Sex power god wearing nothing but fishnets and a solo cup, I won't put that shit on facebook.

S: I will not make fun of you for liking grey's anatomy. Or the hills. Or wicked.

P: If you die a young, tragic death, I will get a tattoo of your name across my wrist.

S: I will remember every birthday.

P: I will save every letter.

S: I will keep every secret.

P: I will march with you from Selma to Montgomery and back again, however many times it takes.

S: And I will take the hoses and the dogs standing by your side.

P: When Ellis Island tries to erase your past, I'll still always call you by your real name.

S: When you lose everything in the fire, my home will be your home.

P: When your kids are little and think you're incredible, I'll be there to remind them how lame you are.
S: When your kids are teenagers and think you're lame, I'll be there to remind them how incredible you are.

(both): Because I have seen the best of you and the worst of you and I choose both.
P: I want to share every one of your sunshines and save some for later.
S: I will tuck them in my pocket so I can give them back to you when the rains fall hard.
(both): Friend,
P: I want to be the mirror that reminds you to love yourself.
S: I wand to be the air in your lungs that reminds you to breathe easy.
P: when the walls come down,
S: when the thunder rumbles,
P: when nobody else is home.

(both): Hold my hand
P: and I promise
S: I wont let go.

::

=)

Peace out!

Home!

I'm going home! TODAY! I'm so, so very excited.

Peace out!

Your Interests Will Change!

I guess I should explain how I'm feeling about that e-mail a little more. Basically, the one thing that I love to do more than anything else just got removed from my life. I don't know what to do. Other than going home occasionally, there is nothing at Brown that I look forward to. I've been miserable about it all day, and last night I felt like crying. I honestly just don't know what the hell to do. I want to slam my fist through a wall or scream or harm small woodland animals or kick my cat or go to Waterfire and sit alone for a long time, I don't know.

I've been talking to some people recently about how I was upset that Brown didn't have the things that I really loved and really cared about - percussion, drumline, drum corps, roller hockey, competition math, anything with music at all, and then some other like home/family/friends/etc... It made me really upset, because people kept saying, "Your interest will change!" Then they laugh or smile and pat you on the back, as if you should be happy of the fact that all the beauty in life is gone.

And I was really angry at them. Who are you to tell me that my interests are fleeting? Or that my passion is so shallow and transitory?

How would you like it if I was at your wedding I stood up during the ceremony and said, "You won't love her in two years"? It's only the light of your life, relax.

I need to talk to my dad.

Peace out.

Difficult

I just recieved perhaps the most crushing e-mail of my life.

::

Hi, I hope everyone is well!

This email is being sent to those that expressed interest in the BU Winter Percussion Ensemble through the on-line interest form. If you have changed your mind since filling out the form, let me know and I can take your name off of our list. I would also ask that you pass this email along to your friends that may be interested in joining!

Staff Changes:
Last season a number of new faces were introduced to the staff. I've asked some of those new faces to take on more active roles in the ensemble.

Gabe Cobas worked great with the front ensemble last year. I'm pleased to announce that Gabe will be returning this season as the Artistic Director and Front Ensemble Arranger / Technician.

Ian Flint designed an excellent visual program for the group last year, and we hope to expand on those successes. Ian will be returning as the Visual Program Designer.

Phil Perry developed the Battery into a great marching ensemble. Phil will be returning as the ensemble's lead Visual Technician.

Chris Dufault will bring his years of marching percussion experience back to this year's ensemble as a program consultant.

Mike Barsano will continue as the ensemble administrator.

A few new faces will also be added to the team!

Matt Ramey has worked with the percussion section of the BU Marching Band for the past 2 seasons as well as many other Drum Corps and indoor percussion ensembles. As an Alumni of the Santa Clara Vanguard, and a Contemporary Writing and Production student at the Berklee College of Music, Matt will surely bring a number of fresh ideas to the ensemble as the Battery Arranger and Technician.

Many more new faces will be announced over the next few weeks! Check out the group's web page for staff bio's.

Schedule:

The Friday night, Saturday, Sunday schedule that the ensemble has used in the past has made progress difficult at times. To overcome this difficulty, the ensemble will rehearse on Tuesday night from 7:30 to 9:30, Thursday night from 7:00 to 9:00, and Saturday from 10:00 to 7:00. I know this will make it difficult or infeasible for some of you to participate, but we feel it is in the best interest of the ensemble to implement this new schedule.

Workshops:

The 2008 season will kick off on Tuesday, November 6, 2007! Attendance at these pre-audition workshops is required. The audition rehearsal will be held on Saturday, December 1, 2007. Check out the ensemble's web site for the November, December, and January schedules. The exercise packets for the Battery and Pit will be added to the web site within the next few days!

Show:

The design team has been working very hard over the past 2 months to assemble a successful show. We are currently dotting the i's and crossing the t's on the show, and an announcement

Thanks, and I look forward to seeing you on November 6th!

If you have any questions please drop me an email!

Mike "Wuzz" Wasielewski
Director
Boston University Winter Percussion Ensemble

::

Peace out.

The Picture of College

When we took our break for Education 0410B today, Dr. West decided that it was way too hot inside and we should go for class outside. It was a beautiful day, and we were all really excited about it. Our break ended a little early, which wasn't much fun, but it was okay.

Seriously, the scene was like the picture-book version of college. More specifically, the picture-book version of Brown. Twenty kids of every color and their professor - wearing cowboy boots, jeans, and a flannel collared shrit - sitting outside with no textbooks and often no shoes, talking about desegregation while sitting in a beautiful quad with yellowing leaves falling and hanging everywhere. And squirrels. There were lots of squirrels.

We were sitting in something like a circle, and Dr. West had his back to a tree. I was sitting across from him, so I could see behind him. There was another tree over his left shoulder, and there was a kid sitting there, with either a book or a laptop [can't remember which], studying or writing. It was like out of a college brochure. There was a cute squirrel on the tree on the part closest to me. There was another squirrel in the grass even closer to me, and it started to run towards the tree. Then the squirrel in the grass climbed up the tree and started chasing the other squirrel. They went around for a couple seconds - but I didn't see anything too crazy - and then, all of a sudden, one of them jumps off.

So the kid was sitting there just doing his work, and out of nowhere this squirrel catapults itself into his neck. I can't describe how incredibly hilarious it was to see this happen. Have you ever been at the beach or a park, and you're just sitting there minding your own business when someone throws something and it hits you in the head, and you're like "Ah, what the hell - a football/frisbee/tennis ball/etc.?" Well that's the exact reaction this kid was going through.

EXCEPT IT WAS A FREAKING SQUIRREL.

Just imagine. Minding your own business when you feel a nudge on your shoulder and you wonder what jerk is playing football too close to you, so you turn your head and BAM, SQUIRREL.

I can't stop laughing at the image. I wish you all could have seen it!

Peace out.

3AM

Last night was the first night in a long time that I actually had to spend working. I thought that was kind of strange - I remember a lot of nights in high school where I kind of felt like I was under the wire and I really had to be on top of things to get it all done, but here it's really only happened once so far, and that's because I kind of made it/forced myself into it.

So there's a big Applied Math project due Tuesday, and so far Max and I had really only been able to figure out what was going on in the first problem (out of four). I woke up somewhat late, went and got breakfast, and then started working on that for pretty much the rest of the day. We got up to the very last problem, but by 7PM we realized we'd reach the end of what we could teach ourselves and we'd have to call it quits for the day. In either case, that was pretty much seven straight hours of work right there, which I think it more than I have done at any other time here.

After that, I went to dinner, then to the Democracy Matters meeting, and decided I would take a break 'till 10:30 or so [it ended up being a little later than that - oops]. I did that knowing that I had 200 pages of reading to do for my Education course and then a paper to write - all before 6AM that morning. So sometime around 11:20, I think, I started the reading. I finished it sometime around 2AM, I think, and I finished my paper within half an hour. So I guess that whole ordeal really only took three hours - which isn't too bad, I don't think. Then I took a shower and went to bed sometime just before 3AM.

The good thing was that I could sleep until 10AM, and I did. So I feel fine. But I don't want to stay up that late tonight. I just want to sleep so that Friday comes faster.

Peace out!

You Have Just Witnessed the Construction of LIGHT

Peace out!

Toking Near the Third Floor Smoke Detector

From 4PM yesterday to 4AM this morning was a very, very crazy time for me. Sometime I'll write it all, hopefully, but for right now I have to go to the bathroom so I'll just talk a bit about 1AM - 4AM.

I got back into my dorm room sometime shortly after 1AM, but I can't remember exactly when. I was really, really wet because I'd been running around all night. My blue jacket is probably still wet, my socks were soaking, even my jeans were wet on like 70% of their surface area. I wanted to take them off because they were uncomfortable but I wasn't the only one in the hall so I couldn't do that very well. I went and I took a nice warm shower - but not too long 'cuz I was kind of tired - came back, got ready for bed and went to sleep. I think I might have listened to that song on my keyboard again, but I transposed it so it's in F# Lydian... I like F# Lydian but I think it sounds better in its original key, so I've put it back.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I fell asleep sometime between 1:25AM and 1:45AM. No problem.

Then, later... I woke up. I didn't know why exactly. Then I heard a sound, and I remember thinking along the lines of: "Hrm... well, that's a funny sound. That's also a really loud sound. I don't think I like you very much, you funny loud sou-OH MY GOD OH MY GOD FIRE ALARM GET THE HELL OUT OF BED."

So that's exactly what I did when I recognized what it was. I didn't have a lot of time to think, assuming of course that it was a real fire and I was actually in danger, so I just did what I had been told to do in a fire alarm situation like this. I suppose I should mention that I sleep in my underwear, which is like, fine, it's more than the swimsuits guys wear in Europe, but I wouldn't want to be outside in front of my entire dorm in my underwear at 3AM. So, like I said, did what I was told to do - grab something to keep you warm for the night and get the hell out of the building as fast as you possibly can. I figured, what's the nearest warm thing to me I can possibly get? My comforter. So I'm in my underwear, grab my comforter, wrap it quickly around my body, bolt out the door and start hopping down the stairway towards the exit on the first floor.

As I was hopping down the stairs in my comforter, I realized that Danny was still in the room. It looked like he might not even have recognized it was a fire alarm by the time I left. I felt really bad about it and was like, God, I should have told Danny to wake up. But there was no way I was going back in for anything.

So hopping hopping down the stairs in my white feather comforter wearing only my underwear, and I get to the first floor, go through the door. As I do, I see Eric Dobson walk out of his room in his red, velvet(?) bathroom robe. I just kept running, got out the door, and stood and looked. No smoke. Probably false alarm. What can you do.

So, I should say, when I grabbed my comforter, I was pretty certain that everyone else ran the hell out of their room, they would probably grab their blankets and run, too. I was very, very wrong. I was the ONLY person with my blanket out their. Everyone else was dressed. Some people were clearly still very awake.

At some point during this ordeal, I looked at my watch. 3AM. We were out there until 3:25AM.

While I was out there, I was talking to Janine (the Minority Peer Counselor on the first floor) and Lauren (the girl who lives with Trish, across the hall and one door down). Janine said she was considering just going back in and sleeping... I don't know how, but we came upon the topic of what to take out with you when you went. Janine said she would take her computer, and I thought... what's the first thing I would take?

I realized it was my blanket. That I've had pretty much since birth. More on that later. After that, I said, I'd take my little box of memories - full of all the cards and letters and other little things I've gotten since shortly before I came here or while I was here. Janine thought that was kind of crazy. She mentioned she would take her camera, which I thought was a good idea, but I have three copies of all my pictures, so I'm currently good for now.

I realized, though, there are a lot of things in my dorm room that I would really, really hate to lose. My box of memories. I don't want to go through everything that's in there right now, but oh, how I would hate to lose that. My blanket. My roller hockey equipment. My flash drives, keys, wallet, money, peppermint patties. My camera. My posters on the wall. My pictures of all my friends. My novelty t-shirts I've had for how long now? My computer. My external hard drive. All of my CDs - not the ones of myself, just the ones I listen to. All my schoolwork. My calculator and its programs. My Rubik's Cube. The mallets mom got me for my birthday one year. My Carbondale foam-mesh hat and aviators.

Thankfully it wasn't a real fire...

Peace out!

Membership Drive

I finally started listening to NPR today in the Bee Ache Lounge (B&H lobby). It was a membership drive. I wanted to diiiieeee. But now they're doing the news so it's okay!

Peace out.

Aunt Nancy

When I was really young - I think before the age of 8 or so - my undisputed favorite relative in the world was Aunt Nancy. I found out later that her really name was actually Anne, but I never really knew her as anything other than Aunt Nancy. She was my mom's sister, a couple years older I think, who lived in Scranton. She had two kids, Leroy and Gabrielle, he in a band and she a model. I could never really understand exactly what was going on with their living situation - they lived with Aunt Nancy and not whichever uncle (I think his name is also Leroy?) was their father in a house in a fair part of Scranton, but I think they rented out the top floor of the house. I don't think they were ever too pleased with the renters, whoever they were. They had a lot of cats, including one named Barney that ONLY liked Gabrielle and hissed fiercely at anyone else, and another one that hung itself by its collar on a tree one day and Leroy found it. One of the rooms had a bunch of instruments in it for Leroy and his band; they also had a Wild West pinball machine of some sort in their basement. I remember thinking they had some stairs in their house, but thinking back, I can't remember where they went. I remember a living room connected to the band room, the kitchen, and a bedroom, which I think was Gabrielle's, all on the first floor. Later, Leroy put a pull-up bar in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. That was when he owned the house, I think.

I don't remember a whole ton about Aunt Nancy herself, but I remember liking her a whole lot, all the time. I can't remember a time when I didn't like her. She always laughed at my jokes - even though I was just a stupid little kid - and I remember she actually made me feel like I was funny. I remember one time she was on the phone with my mom, and she asked to talk to me so I could tell her a joke, and I said, "Did you hear the one about the three deer?" She said, "No." And I said, "Deer, deer, deer!" And she laughed a lot. I mean, I thought that was a funny joke and that's why I told her, but not so many other people seemed to find it funny.

I remember I showed off to her once - in a family party of some sort at our old house at 4 Federal Farm Drive - that I could hop on one leg. I came up to her in our dining room and she asked me to show her something new, so I hopped on one leg and hopped right out of the room.

I think it was at that same party that I told her my real name was Vega. Vega was a video character in the Street Fighter II game on Sega Genesis that wore a mask and long metallic claws who I thought was incredibly awesome. She went along with it.

I remember when we were a little older and we were staying in Avalon, she got a trailer and a spot in a nearby park for the summer. We thought that was pretty much the coolest thing ever. We would go and swim in the fresh water (?) lake in the park, with a plastic dock of some sort and sandy beaches, while her and my mom talked. I can't remember much about the trailer itself. I remember one time, though, we went to a vending machine and I got a tiny piece of gold jewelry. It wasn't real gold, of course. Plastic. I don't know much else about it, but I think it had a chain of some sort attached to it. I wonder where it went.

I can't remember the last time I saw Aunt Nancy. I'm pretty sure it was at her trailer near the beach.

Sometime before the end of 2nd grade - and I really can't tell you much more about it than that - Aunt Nancy got sick. Very sick. She was up in Scranton and we were back at home - I can remember I was in the 4 Federal Farm Drive house, so that's how I know it was 2nd grade or earlier. We didn't really know what was wrong, definitely not as kids who were in like 8th grade or lower, but I don't think any of the adults really knew what was wrong either. I remember it was a pretty confusing time for me. I can't even remember exactly how long it went on. I remember thinking it was a long time. Though I was little then, so anything seemed long.

Sometime the summer before she got sick, my mom and Aunt Nancy got in a fight. I never learned what it was about, but I remember picking up that it was pretty serious. I'm not sure my mom and Nancy ever really made up before she got sick, but I do know that my mom went to see her once at her trailer after the fight and said that Nancy was smiling and dancing and happy to see her, so I'm pretty sure they were okay with each other.

Anyway, like I said, Nancy was sick. We didn't know what was wrong and I don't think anyone else did. At some point during this whole ordeal, my mom went up to see Nancy in the hospital. She told me later - I think she even told me when I was young - that when she was there, Aunt Nancy said - sickly, softly - "Oh... it must be pretty serious if they brought you here...?"

My mom came home eventually. I can't remember when. I can't remember what I knew when she came home versus what I knew when she left. I know that I heard stories of Aunt Nancy being on some sort of breathing apparatus, and something about her being very sedated, and something about pain but I'm not really sure what, and I think something about appendicitis but I'm not really sure, and I think something about smoking but I'm not really sure about that either.

I got a phone call from my dad sometime that school year. Or maybe it wasn't a phone call, and he told me in real life. I know that somehow I knew before Jessica, so maybe she had gone to school, I can't really remember. In any case, my dad told me that Aunt Nancy died. I didn't really have any reaction. I'm pretty sure my response was actually, "Oh, okay." Looking back, I feel horrible and I wonder what the hell was wrong with me. I was stupid and I'm sorry.

Later that day, I was in the kitchen with Jessica. We used to hang out sometimes when we were both home from school, Dad was at work, and Mom was out somewhere getting Ryan or something. I remember we were talking about something, then stopped. To end the silence, I said, word for word, flatly, passingly, "Oh, by the way, Aunt Nancy died." Again, I was stupid and I'm sorry. I can't remember how Jessica responded when I told her. I wouldn't have understood even if I saw it, I guess. I don't think I was looking. She tells me now that she reacted extremely strongly, but I can't remember that.

She had a funeral and a viewing in Scranton sometime after that. I remember thinking that I would have had to have gone all the way up to Scranton, all the way back, missed school, and saw some family that I didn't think was very much fun, so I didn't want to go and my dad said that was fine. I was in like 1st or 2nd grade. Again, I was stupid, and I'm sorry, and I understand if you hate me for not going. I wish I had gone.

Peace out.

Locks

I'm pretty sure that the locks to Alumnae Hall were changed overnight. I could get in there one or two days ago, but when I went today - at first I was talking on the phone to Dad about my bike - I could NOT get the keys to go in. I figured it was just because I had low dexterity with my one hand, and maybe I was actually just trying the same key over and over again... but even when I hung up I couldn't get it to work. It would NOT go in.

So I tried the other side door, then the other side door, and I heard someone talking and thought it might be a security officer who might know about lock changes. It turned out it was a caterer on the phone with her son, but she actually hung up on him to call security and ask. They weren't really a help - I'll have to talk to the music department at some point. I suppose I could just ask at orchestra tonight...? In either case, I would be pretty upset if I couldn't practice in Alumnae Hall anymore.

Also, my bike was stolen. I headed out to class today around 10:20AM or so, walked to Smitty B where I keep my bike, and didn't see it there. I thought I might be crazy, and that it wasn't actually stolen, so I probably just left it somewhere else. The most likely locations were Faunce House [mail room] and The Ratty, so I walked to those places on my way to my 10:30AM class [Applied Math 33]. It wasn't in any of the bike racks that I saw. For some reason I was still convinced that it wasn't stolen, though.

So after my class, I went back to Smitty B to check if my bike was still there, or for one other thing... to see if my lock was still there. When I got there, I started to make out what I thought... yes. I saw my lock laying on the ground, sawed essentially in half. My bike was definitely stolen. I called campus security and filed a report with a police officer. Later, Bekah told me she had an article about bike theft in the Brown Daily Herald [campus paper] today that I should read. My dad told me it was just one of those things that happens and I'll just have to get a new one.

Is it weird that I was like completely apathetic about both of these things when they happened...?

Peace out.

Elevator

Have you ever thought about what you were passing by in elevators? When you step in, wait, press a button, go down, and step out... what were you missing on all those floors? A kid sitting in his room waxing philosophic about elevators and listening to recordings of himself playing piano; a group of kids on the 3rd floor gathering together and freaking out about their physics problem set due tomorrow; a girl with benign cancer losing a friend over the phone because they simply refuse to believe that she actually has cancer and she can't stand the accusation of dishonesty; two people unsure of how they feel about each other sitting awkwardly together with some sort of academic pretenses to settle the awkwardness; a group of water polo players trying to teach themselves the Soulja Boy dance as they watch the video on YouTube over and over again and get drunk; a brilliant pair of roommates sitting by each other, one whistling, one listening to classical music nearly endlessly; someone dreaming about home; someone dreaming about college; someone who can't fall asleep; someone watching The Daily Show and eating a bowl of cereal like they used to do at home; someone sketching in the shower for their crazy visual arts teacher; a scattering of kids throughout a number of rooms rooting for their baseball teams; two strangers telling each other about the worst weekends they can remember; two kids having sex in the dark in their strange and new something-like-home; someone writing a love letter and someone writing a poem and someone writing a song and someone writing the score they swear will change your life.... then the elevator stops. And did you notice it?

Peace out.

Points

I never really liked fighting with teachers over points on tests or projects or anything. It always kind of felt like a hyper-public and therefore acceptable form of cheating to me.

Today, we got our midterms back in Math 18 with Sergei Treil. I did a little bit better than I thought I did, but there was one question - I think question #4 - where I thought I deserved some points back. I'll try to explain...

Basically, the question was about a particle in motion. It gave you acceleration, and then you had to find the velocity by integrating the acceleration function, and then find the position by integrating the velocity function. Each time you integrate, you have to make sure that your new equation lines up with the initial conditions. In this case, the velocity at Time = 0 was -(1/2)i. When you integrated the acceleration function, that condition was already satisfied - you didn't need to do any work to get it. So I just left it how it was. Once you got that, you had to integrate to get the position function, with the intial condition that the position at Time = 0 was (0, .25). Once again, this was exactly the answer you got when you integrated - I didn't need to do any work to correct for this initial condition; it was already done for me automatically.

So I got the position function and went from there, solved the problem and got the answer right. When I got the test back, though, the grader had taken off four points. I couldn't figure out exactly why, but it looked like it might be something to do with intial conditions.

I feel like I need to say something about this so I don't seem like a hypocrite. I wasn't fighting for points just to fight him or to get him to change my grade. I only said anything because I knew that I understood the material and the question and that I - in my head - did the things he had wanted us to do on paper. I felt like I truly deserved those points, and that's the only reason I fought for them. There was another point I could have probably fought for and gotten back if I really wanted, but he gave me another point somewhere on the test that I didn't deserve, so it would be unfair to fight for that one. But this one I actually, really deserved, and that's the only reason I brought it up to him.

I kind of felt bad about it though. Deep down, I knew that I deserved those points, and in the end I think he agreed to give them to me, but I felt bad because I got the impression that he didn't understand that, and it was more just to get me to lay off of him than because I really understood it. I'd prefer that it was the second way, but ... I don't know. I don't know if it's better to get what is right in a wrong way, or to have something be wrong but at least not go about fixing it the wrong way.

Peace out.