Standing at the urinal, positioned to relieve myself, Dale asked me how my day has been. Sure, I gave him the standard “Pretty good.” But I reflected on it for a moment more: this day has been quite awesome.
It started off with band, as any ‘A’ day might. We didn’t tune for long before getting into Danse Bacchanale. I always dread having to play At Dawn They Slept because I easily lose time and there are multiple parts to keep up with, a couple that’s trouble in the making. Playing today went smoothly though. The second time around I was with it for the most part and my cymbal rolls and crashes are significantly louder. I’m improving, and pleased with myself. I’ll get more into this momentarily.
The biggest highlight was Tyi’s return. I missed him terribly as made evident by my inability to stop smiling when I first saw him. My Gawd I lit up something serious. There are very few people who can make me that happy by not so much as being there; there are even fewer who can upon the mere mention of their name.
Oh, right! Did I forget to mention that I’m in band? It was the only available course to replace IB Art. There was one other option, but I made the mistake of mentioning that I played an instrument way back when and Deane and Georgia just flew with it. Eventually, I’ll learn to keep my mouth shut. I have to admit, however, that either the Halloween or Christmas concert made me feel a bit nostalgic. I missed band. I missed the community and that amazing feeling when everything just comes together and falls into place—that feeling that hits deep down when listening to a real good song. My reacclimation into band culture has been challenging. I once made an analogy of how I felt—like a quadriplegic once again learning to walk. Okay, it was a terrible analogy, but you get the idea. After nearly four years of not so much as humming a note, I was in for something serious.
That first day, I just wanted to cry. It was that overwhelming. Marquita kept telling me to do stuff, I kept asking her and my fellow percussionists what I should be doing, and no one could give any answers. Oh right, she has me on percussion. Percussion of all things! Even when I was in band, the percussion section was the one thing that always baffled me. I never understood the notation, or how they know when to play what, or how they could possibly play several parts at once. That brings me into personality flaws that might make for a poor percussionist:
- I am easily confused, fairly clumsy, and lose my footing when sitting.
- Depending on the situation, I’d rather avoid drawing attention to myself; therefore, I prefer to make little noise or few sudden movements.
- I’m deathly afraid I’ll break something. Already I’ve dropped the bells and mark tree.
That said, I took brought these concerns to Marquita, who said that next class she’ll send the section off so Wintaye and I could have some one-one instruction. Next class, shit happened. Instead, she brought Chris in who gave me a crash course in bass drumming, triangle strumming, and crashing the suspended cymbals. That was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Maybe embarrassing is the wrong word. What I mean to say is I can’t believe she did that to me! Everyone was looking, and laughing (probably in good spirits but still).
As the weeks have progressed, I’ve grown more confident, which helps a lot. I’m just going to leave it at that. I feel that from here on I can only get better.
During biology, Carolyn told me that I got an A in IB Math. This shocks the hell out of me because I have no idea how!—I thought I had failed his class. One thing I’ve learned is to not question things, so I’m going to let it be. Nolte handed back our digestive system tests and reviewed his grading scale, which prompted me to figure my grade for his class—two tenths of a point shy of a B. Carolyn did the same, and we both learned that had we turned in that homework assignment, our scores would be 10 points higher. That motivated us to finish the bitch promptly after the beginning of free period and turn it in the same day. If all goes as planned, I should be sitting two tenths of a point shy of an A—fuck! You win some, you lose some.
And to further serve as a testament to that boy’s closet case sexuality (or impecable flair for fashion), of all the comments I’ve received about my doorag over the past week, he complained that it didn’t “match” what I was wearing. Now I’m one to coordinate, but that observation tells me that there’s definately gotta be something there…