Bad Days

I had a really bad day yesterday. I was stripped from something I thought I would get, something I wanted very badly for a long time now.
Yesterday was the day I was playing for Solo Festival. It seemed like everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. And that is not an exaggeration.
My piano lesson was okay, but I really need to practice more. Nothing went badly there.
Then came Solo Festival. I practiced so much, for at least three or four months, on this one freaking piece. I was playing at home without the accompaniment, da da da da, and it sounded amazing. When I went there, however, nobody gave me any pep talk or anything. They all said I would be fine. The warm up room was so quiet that when I played, it felt really awkward. However, I didn't really care for it much because I wanted to get my solo over with, so after I went upstairs and waited for my turn.
I have to admit, I really was kind of nervous. The scales were fine, in fact, they were the best scales I've ever done. That's when really bad things happened.
The moment my bow touched the string for the first note of my "solo," I knew it was going to be bad. My hand was riding up the bow, the piano was going and going and going... Now that I remember it, it felt like a nightmare. There wasn't anything I could do... I couldn't just stop my solo and start over again. That's probably what everyone's been so key about - DO NOT STOP YOUR SOLO. My fingers were really stiff because the hallway was FREEZING out there... the piano lady messed up once. And the judge took a point off for that.
And I played probably the worst I've ever played that song. Every single time I played that song, while I was practicing, playing for my teacher, or rehearsing for solo festival... I've played it better than when I played for the judge. EVERY SINGLE TIME. I messed up over notes; I skipped over runs... basically, I sucked.
For my sightreading, I did everything perfect except I played one measly little E when I was supposed to play an Eb, and I *KNEW* that I was supposed to play an Eb. I messed up. Badly.
It didn't come as a horrible shock that I ended up getting an 89 on my solo. AN 89. WHAT THE FUCK. That's not even a 90! That's not even an A!
THAT SUCKS
Then I found out that the cutoff for All County was a 90. ONE POINT AWAY. I can't even submit my score. Everyone else who played a level 5 or above from Brighton would have gotten in. They would have all went, and I would be the only one who didn't make it. I'm all alone. And I thought I could've made it! I put so much work into it... I could've played that piece any other time and got a 100.
I felt like I spent too much time on the piece. 3-4 months on one piece? That's a long time... and the fact that NOBODY was there for me. My parents were there, obviously, but they don't know much about music and they can't tell the difference between a wrong note and an intentional chord. To them, it's the same thing. Not that it's a bad thing or whatever, I love my parents. Last year, Ms. Muhl was there reminding me to play blahblahblah, checking my bow, blahblahblah, my violin teacher actually practiced sightreading with me...
It was like studying for a test 10 months before the test was actually taken, and then when I actually was about to take the test, the questions were gone and only the answers were left. How am I supposed to do well if I don't even read the questions?
This year it's like, "Oh, you're amazing; you'll do great; you'll be fine." BAM. Big surprise, sucker-faces. Who's amazing now? Thanks for letting me fail miserably and do so badly that my dreams are all shattered, and it's all thanks to our overly-cockyness about how amazing I'll do.
Then I realized that the fact I did so badly all boiled down to so many things fitting together to weave this horrible web of sucky-ness.
And the reason why I sucked so badly was because
I'M NO GOOD.

Cheerleaders

Today, I asked my dad why guys liked to date cheerleaders. It had occured to me that cheerleaders weren't very... attractive. I figured I would be able to ask my dad, since you know, he's a guy, or at least he was one. Now he's a dad.
Well I guess he gave it some thought because he suggested that it was because cheerleaders root guys on during football and basketball, and when someone just cheers for you like that, you feel compelled to be attracted to them or whatever. And I don't mean that in a sexual way or anything, I just mean if someone was really supportive about you, you'd want to be friends with that person, right? So I guess I could understand...
My dad also said that guys like to show off, so if girls cheer them on, they like to show off even more. Apparently girls like it when guys are brave and tackle each other in football, or make a really nice shot in basketball. That, I thought, was ridiculous. But I guess I *could* understand why they're so attracted to each other. It's a matter of being supportive, I guess.
Maybe that's why I like my swim club so much. They're so supportive... and it seems like they're seeking *me* out, instead of me always finding them. I just really like them for some reason.

Oh, I just found something I wrote during study hall because I was *really really* *EXTREMELY* *RIDICULOUSLY* bored. I guess it's kind of a continuation of the last post, so here goes:

Sometimes, I wonder why he's so nice to me. I wonder why he even talks to me. What's so special about myself?
That's how it always was. I'm *good* at something, but not extraordinary. I'm like a face in the crowd. Good, but not special.
I wonder, does he think of me as a newfound pet that he can cherish for a little while, and when I am old and boring, he can abandon me? I don't like to think that way, espeically since he doesn't seem like that type of person, but one can never be sure. I don't even know if he actually likes me, or if he wants to be my friend.
I'm someone new, someone who they don't know. There are things about me that are as foreign to them as an alien would be. Perhaps that is why I'm so interesting, the fact that I'm a mystery to their minds.
I wonder if in the future, one day, they will all look back and recall a faint trickle of a memory of a girl like me, and say to themselves, "Oh, I think I remember her..." or maybe I won't leave much of an impression at all.
He always seems so excited to tell me something, I can't help but note a possibility that maybe we could be great friends, or more. I don't want to be heartbroken, but maybe...
At this point, all I can hope for is that I'll always be remembered.
***

This is where my boredom has driven me. Bleh.
Oh yes, Ritti, I did read that website you sent me. It was... interesting. So now we're taking drugs to fall in or out of love? Yuck.

I guess I'm starting a journal.

I was going to type this on Microsoft Word for my own personal usage, but I guess I'll use this instead, since rarely anyone ever reads it.

Dear Blog,
I'm thirteen. Almost a woman, and yet still unable to let go of childish innocence. I wish I could stay this age forever. Yet this is the age where love is infatuation, and infatuation is the fuel to the drama in every day of our lives.
I think how sad it is that we grab onto this little piece of life and refuse to let it go, when there is so much more in life to pursue than some silly little crush. But in this way, I am hypocritical, for I also find it quite fascinating.
Sometimes I imagine little tinsy bits of stories going around, as if I could picture what would happen in a few years. In truth, perhaps I am tortured by the fact that I can not predict the future, as much as I want to be able to.
I am currently tortured by the fact that I'm not even sure what to do with my life. There are so many choices, each leading to a different ending... but maybe that is why it's so great to be a child. No burdens, no worries, just life. I think childhood is truly the only time in life that we actually live. After that... it's just an endless pattern of doing the same things over and over again, every single day...
Which is why I believe that maybe the only reason people invent drama is to entertain themselves. They like to believe there is something more to see then there actually is, and perhaps they are right. I just don't like how people like to invent bad things, terrible things to say about others. Gossip. Why can't we invent good things? I like movies that are funny. That may be one of the only ways that drama is good, when drama does not harm others.
I could maybe start a little dramatic scene of my own, right now. Tell me, what would you do if I suddenly said that I had a crush on someone? Would you say, "Eh, okay, I don't care," but still would be curious to find out who it is. Would you get excited and jump for joy, while thinking of ways to worm the answer out of me? Or would you perhaps think, "Oh, maybe I know who it is..."

Currently, I think everyday when I see them, "Could I ever be with one of them?" The person of my interest, he seems to be best friends with a girl he met only a couple of weeks ago, a month at most. It kills me to see how they can be such great friends, yet perhaps I'll never be that close to him. I wonder if we'll ever be together like that, after all I've said that could possibly have irritated him.
Then there is another person, who is so kind to me, ever so kind. Truth to be told, when I first laid eyes on him, I was actually quite frightened. His stare was so indifferent, so without warmth, I was very wary to talk to him. It seems like now, after several weeks of getting to know each other, that we are friends. His sister and I, why I love her. She is incredible. And him, well I wouldn't mind if we were ever together. It might be kind of awkward at first, but I'm sure we could be wonderful.
Then there is the third, who I know would not fit me at all, I find myself wanting to talk to him. He is so blunt. He says thing in such a fashion that I could not possibly keep from laughing. I know for a fact that I am not of interest to him, and yet it doesn't pain me as it pains the first person I was talking about. To this person, he is like my brother in such a way that if we were ever to date, I think I would throw up at the thought. I may have used to call him attractive, but now to use those words to describe him would be the same as saying that my own brother was "hot." It is rather revolting to think about that.
And I know what you might be thinking. "Who could this be?" You may have guesses, but I assure you, you probably would not be able to guess the first two. They don't go to our school. And the third, well, only my closest friends would be able to guess him, for we don't exactly speak during school regularly, and I certainly don't show him much affection when I see him in real life.
And now you can see how love and infatuation has tortured me. Three men in my life that I could possibly like, although it's more narrowed down to two. The third person, he doesn't really count. And it tortures me even so because the two, they are best friends! If I show any affection to either, the other might be hurt, because I like to think that I am equal friends to the two, and I would wish most for it to stay that way.
So I stand, faking smiles and laughs, having fun, when deep down inside I am thinking of these terrible things. Horrible, isn't it? To be so confused, yet forbidding myself to think of liking one of the other.
I've been forbidding myself to even consider liking someone. I just don't want to be back into that circle of obsessiveness. No, no siree. I refuse.