I probably look pretty goofy right now. That is because my mouth is stuck in a permanent 'o' of surprise and amazement. How can a community of roughly 3000 people living in a cornfield possibly have this much going on?! I've been seeing flyers everywhere with messages of wonder that literally stop me in my tracks. There are flyers telling me that for just $1, I too can be awesome and go rock climbing with the studs, brightly colored missives encouraging me to audition for the 10 minute play festival, to write for the irreverent but amusing Grape magazine, to submit cartoons, to dance the night away to bumping rock or sizzling jazz, to attend this concert and that opening, to learn to sing/play steel drums/analyze cartoons, to join join join! There is so much to do, I don't know what to do with myself!
I was supposed to meet with my private bass teacher today for advice on the conservatory end of registration (which is a cracked out system, by the way, since my window to register for classes ended this morning, before my appointment). It wouldn't have mattered if I registered after my meeting, however, because there was no meeting. None of the bass faculty are here. We little (and not so little) lost basses are alone, stranded in the sinking/stinking quagmire that is PRESTO.
My room is already accumulating a nice layer of stuff, and starting to feel like home.
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