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Monday, February 06, 2006

Some things have a way of working themselves out, and some things don't.

I just got off the phone to West Chester University. After putting in my online application on January 9, I never received any further correspondence from them, so I rang to see what the hell is going on. The admissions office checked their records, and apparently I'm nowhere to be found in the system, despite my web application clearly listing my status as "Payment accepted, data sent, received, and confirmed!" complete with exclamation mark.

Fucking fantastic.

They're returning my call after the webmaster gets back from lunch. I guess it's a good thing I didn't want to audition in January or February. God fucking damn. This is freaking me out.

I'm a ball of worry about everything at the moment. The singing is coming together for Frog and Toad, but I'm paranoid about the instrumentalists. I haven't had a moment to collate my compositions or create any new ones. Music123 appears to have gone completely downhill in the last few months, and now it's going to take them two more weeks to ship me a violin shoulder rest - for an order I placed in mid-December. I wanted to use my violin to record my incidental music for The Glass Menagerie before my WCU audition, but now I don't know if I'll get up to speed in time. Mind you, I've been completely lax at practicing the piano, cello, and the voice as well. My sleeping patterns are completely out of whack, and I'm constantly tired. After forking out $120 for that sewing machine I found on Amazon, one of Matt's friends sold him a better one for $10. And worst of all, I can't think of anything to do but whine on my blog. Arrrrgghhh I hate myself and I want to die.

I did have a beautiful conversation with my mother last Wednesday, at least. Dad has come home. It's not good news - it's more of a deathbed situation. He has no appetite. Mum kept trying to force him to eat at the hospital, to the point where he would scream at her and cause terrible rows. Eventually, after discussion with doctors, she decided to stop pressing the issue. The doctors give him four months or so, so it's unlikely he'll last until Matt and I visit in August. I don't know which is the lesser evil: seeing Dad on his last legs, or visiting his grave. God.

Anyway, Mum began to tell me about how guilty she has been feeling lately for all the things she had ever done to Joe in the past, and I assured her at length that she has nothing to feel guilty about. Joe certainly wasn't an innocent, and was free to live life as he wished. And Mum is acting incredibly selflessly (if any act can rightly be called truly selfless) right now. It was a great phone call.

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