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The ghost of summer's past

Laughing in the Warriner mall tonight reminded of other moments of late night performance that I've had around this campus.

Both of these events were outside the music building, however, and took place during the summers I worked here, Summer 1999 and Summer 2001, respectively (I was here Summer 2000 also but I don't have an embarassing moment that fits this equation).


Let's go chronologically. When I first came to Central, I had a horrible first semester, and didn't return for the spring. Geb, my hero, rescued me from home when I told her I needed to get the hell out of Hastings by offering me a summer desk job. I gladly accepted. Me, and all my bitterness toward certain parts of campus returned.

One night, extremely intoxicated, I walk past the Music building, on my way to bdubbs. All my pent up anger at my failed music jury (I tried to become a sophomore after one semester against the department's advice, and got swatted for it) just explodes, and the next thing I know, I'm swearing.
At a building.
I'm not kidding.
All I remember is something along the lines of, "nothing I could I do was fucking good enough for you. You have no idea what you've done to me! Singing hurts now, you've taken it away from me."

Well, eventually, I noticed the rollerbladers in the parking lot, who of course noticed the drunk guy picking a fight with a building minutes earlier, so I ran, to bdubbs, into the arms of lady liquor and my friends who were waiting for me.

Two summers later, as Stewart prepares to leave for Western, he is walking back from bdubbs (noticing a theme?) and happens to pass the music building. Having grown in the intervening years, having realized his role in his negative music experience, Stewart is no longer bitter (well maybe a little) and the playful side of him wants the capstone experience that all Music students at CMU have, namely, a senior recital (this capstone idea is very prevalent at this time in my life, look at my earliest lJ posts)

So I gave my senior recital, standing in the grassy area between the music building, Bush, and Brooks. Since I didn't have to consult the department regarding literature choice, I only picked the repertoire material I truly loved, lots o' Broadway, my most beloved Italian pieces. NO GERMAN. Given my inebriated state, I probably gave a dance recital, too (Side Note: Never get me drunk and mention ballet, you will pee your pants from laughter). While not highly attended (I blame it on the lack of advertising), I regard it as the cultural high point of the season for Mt Pleasant.

I'm so glad I can laugh at myself now. Once upon a time, the whole rollerblader thing mortified me.

Well, that's enough self-disclosure for one evening. Good night/morning everyone