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So, this came up on YouTube tonight and I realized I'd heard it before but I wasn't sure where.

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God, I love it.

It took a little digging but it's the vocal version of the music in the Star Trek Into Darkness trailer. It's a track called None Shall Live.

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And I had this moment where I started wondering...am I going in the wrong direction? Am I really supposed to be writing movie scores?

not ready ...

I'm probably going to be finished up here sooner than I expected, which is okay. But I'm not ready to go back to Boston for a lot of reasons. Not yet. I have some stuff to think about, including this job offer that I'm not sure about - for reasons.

So I think I'm going to head to LA once this is done. Hang with some friends. Spend time on the beach. And just ...


there went that

I have a choice: use the hundred bucks I made last night to get on a bus and see how far it will take me or find a room for rent again.

I almost called my folks this morning. Almost. I can't imagine they actually want me back with them, but you know ... I don't know. I can't walk in that door again, so I don't know why I'm even thinking about it. I'm not stupid enough to go to social services and just let the system do what my landlord did this morning, but the last few hours have been just about the worst in a long time.

The dudes I worked for the other night - the cool ones - they can't even get a hold of me now. Like it would have ever happened again. But it was a nice moment, you know. To have guys not treat me like ... well ... you know.

One of the girls I dance with disappeared the other night. Chances are she was snatched up by one of the rings that are selling us off to the "nanny" services.

Crap. Cops.

I gotta get out of here.

this shouldn't be this hard ...

I know it isn't the easiest world for my parents. I know papi hates it when he's actually home and mami is working 20 hour days. And I know how lonely mami gets when papi is on the road. But in all the years, it never felt this ... hard ... watching them. In the end, it's always been about the two of them supporting each other.

This is new. I know it is. We've never toured like this. Never had schedules like this. But it's real now. It's something I'm doing. And learning how to get through all the bumps in other aspects of life is just so hard.

Finally out

I can't tell you how long we've been in Bathurst. I apparently slept the whole way. I vaguely remember being shuffled off on our layover, and then being shuffled off once we got to Sydney and onto the charter. Apparently, and not surprisingly, Dad was a wanker almost immediately. Though, toour surprise, when it came to Marshall, he was wonderful. And Marshall took quite a shine to him. Mum seems to think it's because I favour Dad so Marshall would of course be drawn to him. But yeah, he and Mum took Marshall for an outing while Bess and I got proper sleep. I was mocked for being so exhausted. And for not drinking. But whatever. My hangover isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

Dad joked about giving me one of the pills he has left over from his knee operation. "That'd set you right again, wouldn't it?" He thought it was hilarious.

At least he's good to Marshall. And I haven't seen Mum so happy... that's what matters.

When things ended so badly with Liam, I went back to Shari and Mike's with the intent of finding new housing this summer. Then Maddie left and Jude offered me my old room back so I accepted. Now that Jude is off building mega shopping centers, I've been spending a lot of time alone. It was nice at first, the quiet solitude. But now the loneliness is starting to creep in.

I've had a lot of time to think. Boston College has not proved to be as fruitful of a venture as I once dared to imagine. Sitting in the classroom is less a didactic learning experience and more tedium than i could ever have imagined.

I'm used to learning on my own. I know how to navigate the library and how to glean valuable information from texts. What's worse, I detest my advisor who is not only the co-chair of the department, but the professor of a number of required courses.

The short of it is that I'm not sure I'm cut out for this. Of course, I don't mean that I intend to quit. It's just that...well, I've been thinking a lot about how I spent my last three summers and comparatively speaking, this is the worst out of all of them. I'd give anything to be back in California right now, even if it means sharing a ridiculously small apartment with three complete strangers. It's not as if the people I'm currently surrounded by know me any better...
Anneke is in this phase where she reads all the letters and numbers on all the things. She doesn't know what the words she's spelling mean, but she loves them anyway. For example, we dropped in on Seb this afternoon and she proudly read out loud 1-8-0-0-P-I-C-K-U-P-S on the back of his truck.

When we got home, I put Steve down for her nap and Anneke and I hung out on the floor for a while. She crawled on me and started reading the letters on my leg: F-A-I. Then she stopped and pointed to the faded L and asked me what letter it was.

I didn't know if I should tell her. She would have no concept of why it's there and what it means. But at the same time, I know she's paying attention and I didn't want to encourage anything.

I never came up with an answer because Steve started screaming and by the time I got back to Anneke, she had moved on to playing with Boo. And as I sat and watched her trying to coax the dog into sitting at her little tea party table, I realized I had come to a decision about my tattoo ideas.

That one.

I am not a failure. And I never want to see that word again. I don't want my girls getting used to seeing it.  So I am going to cover it. To remind myself daily that my insides and my outsides are beautiful, that I am enough just the way I am.

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there's something about wishes and horses

Landed a job last night that wasn't, you know, my usual. I snuck into a club to escape the rain and a band was setting up and when they caught me the lead singer wasn't a dick and didn't make me suck it either. He just said their merch girl was sick and couldn't work and their manager was going to do the table, but if I took a shower and washed my hair, they'd pay me for the time and give me some of the cut. They let me use the shower at the venue too, which was gross but I've been in worse. And I don't think anyone watched me.

Pennies from heaven and something or something. Made enough cash for food this week. And they gave me a couple of shirts too. Haven't had new, clean shirts in a while. And because I have something clean, Starbucks didn't kick me out this morning and the library staff didn't look at me funny. Amazing how that goes.

They're local, so it wasn't like they were taking off. And the drummer gave me a ride back to the hovel after the show and bought me dinner too and wouldn't let me, um, pay him back. Not a world I'm used to.

And, he said that I'd be on their list for shows in the future and if they needed help, they'd let me know.

First good thing that's happened in a while. And the coffee was really warm this morning.

Jul. 26th, 2016

I was going over piano specs in my sleep last night. I want to be done with this and I don't have time to waste on it anymore.

If I'm going to be spending $63k on a brand new piano, all that is going to get me is something that is not comparable to what I play on with the orchestra. The longer the piano, the better and louder the sound. A concert grand is almost 9ft whereas the $63k is barely over 5ft. I don't have room in my home for a concert grand, so that's easily out of the question.

The antique Victorian I've been dreaming about is just over 7ft and I think it'll fit. It's a model Steinway doesn't make anymore. A comparable newly made, albeit slightly smaller model costs as much as some starter houses in parts of the country.

What it came down to was, spend a shit ton of money and get something that's beginner level or spend a little more and get something that comes as close to what I'm used to as possible.

Right? That makes sense? Even though I'm not sure how the money will work out.

Mum-in-law sniping.

My mother-in-law. Dear sweet woman. We've been here since Saturday and I'm about to jump off the pier. Every time we're there she wants to know why I don't let Dave drink. "He wouldn't be like that father of his, I raised him better than that. You need to loosen the reigns or he's going to wander off. And that would be a tragedy with the kids still so little."

Excuse me? I don't even know how to react. Am I insulted because I'm being portrayed as a controlling cunt? Or am I saddened by the fact that she has no idea Dave is the one who is committed to being sober. Or should I feel grateful that she wants me around? Or... there are so many levels. So many.

But she does this all the bloody time. Little digs at why I'm an ineffective wife. Like she's one to give relationship advice! And I'm not the one who first called your son an alcoholic, Granny Bea. So in that case, you're right. You did raise him better than your shit of a dead husband, he at least acknowledges his problem and sees fit to change it.

While we're here Dave says nothing, though. He's spoilt rotten by this woman. Only child. Some very weird Electra/Oedipus vibes which I can say nothing about because then I am the villain. "Perverting a mother's love for her son! Let's see how you'd feel if someone said that about you and Josh!" No I did not say that this time around. I learned my lesson a long time ago.

Josh is her angel who looks exactly like her dear father. Who, if we're talking about it, was also a bloody alcoholic. And I can assure you, Josh doesn't look like her father. Dave says she didn't start saying that until she realized he was the only grandson she was going to get. Maybe he's right about that. But she's just... awful. Sometimes she's just awful. And she has so wound me up I'm having to lull myself to sleep with some port. Which is something else I'll catch hell for, I'm sure.

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