Below are the most recent 4 friends' journal entries.

Monday, November 9th, 2009
thefirstredleaf	11:54p	in progress. List item in progress... #1. Play two degree required recitals, and one public recital at home. Public recital: check. That was the third movement of the Franck. Rips my heart out. I play it a little differently now, because I had some good coachings with Stefan, but this wasn't a bad sophomore effort. Well, I don't know. Anyway, here's the second movement. Yay. I still have some tension to work out, but I recorded all of my practice today, and it seems I've loosened up a bit... and a bit is still progress. (Comment on this)
Thursday, November 5th, 2009
thefirstredleaf	8:33p	Little gifts, many days. The night before we left for Disney World in 1990, I couldn't sleep. I kept imagining myself in front of the Cinderella castle in Mickey Mouse ears like those lucky kids on TV, icecream smeared at the corners of my mouth, my family and I waving ecstatically to the camera to all the normal people eating casseroles that could only peer in on all the fun I was having. Wistfully so, undoubtedly, just as I had from the green carpet of our livingroom, my chin in my hand, wondering what it would be like to actually meet all of those cartoon celebrities. With their plastic smiles and faces frozen in enthusiasm, they all seemed too excited to even blink-- and laying there in my flannel pajamas, my seafoam green comforter snug around my eight-year-old body, so was I. Yesterday I mentioned how many people have asked me if I felt let down now that the wedding is over, especially after three years of build up. Truthfully, I'm not. I love looking back over the pictures and reliving the memories-- the planning with Aunt Kathi is an especially fond recollection-- but in many ways, you begin to feel like your life is on hold. I had been "counting down" to October 2009 as if it was the second coming, and now that we're married, I've already taken up a similar time table for my sister's wedding in May and my doctoral graduation the following spring. When was it, though, that I stopped counting down to a turkey burger with my dad? When did I stop looking forward to a coffee in the morning, or a hot shower, or taking my dog for a walk? Why does there always have to be some kind of date in the distance we live for, while in the meantime, everything else is just something to get out of the way? Trust me, I don't enjoy summer. I'm not a winter fan entirely, and spring scares me because it's tornado season. Autumn, however, is my three month long holiday: pumpkins, turning leaves, biking to school looking up, scarves and cordouroy jackets, Halloween-- it's all bliss. But when the trees start balding and ice crystals pattern my windshield, there's this sinking feeling that creeps into my stomach. No, I reason, it's only November. Fall's only half over. Technically, fall ends on December 21. But at the same time, Christmas displays have already popped up in store windows and holiday commercials have begun to air. I'm honestly at a loss as to what it is, exactly, that people have against Thanksgiving. You'd think it was "National Rip Out Your Eyelashes Day" or something equally torturous, as even Starbucks opens at 3am on "Black Friday" to accommodate the eager drove of shoppers that actually leave for the mall while it's still dark out. It seems I rarely go a day without overhearing a conversation that includes, "Thank God it's almost Friday," or "I can't wait for this week to be over." And as much empathy as I have for stress and hectic schedules, today is still a decent day. In fact, just to prove my point, I'll itemize out the brilliance in what would be normally conceived as an ordinary Thursday... 1. I woke up to my dog's nose in my face. He was doing the breakfast box step, but the sun was shining through my curtains and he curled up next to me after chowing down. Naps with Jack are tiny wonders. 2. I had a cute dress to wear. I was particularly excited to wear this dress, because I never wear dresses. But I've decided that life is too short to spend every day in blue jeans. 3. I had breakfast at Panera and read an interesting article. It was cozy and quiet inside, people were bustling to their jobs and I had a seat by the fireplace. Perfect. 4. I had a lesson where I realized how awful I was at tango. I know this initially sounds like a negative thing, but the good that came out of it is that maybe now since Stefan has guided me a little in the direction of getting better, I won't be so awful next time. And I also got to learn a tango dance step with him, too, which is a small miracle in itself that I didn't trip over his feet or do something equally embarrassing. Stop laughing. 5. Pedagogy was enjoyable. I learn a lot from my classmates. Oh yeah, and Rachel made amazing cinnamon apple muffins. 6. I took a nap. Awesome. 7. I talked to my sister. We laughed about stupid things for an hour. Great. 8. I had dinner with a new friend. Black bean burgers were instantly better in Margaux's company. In addition to all of that, I've found this half-hour to write. Thomas and I will talk soon. I'm returning to the music building to practice. And certainly not to be undermined, Thomas got sworn in as an official attorney today in the backwoods of Moline. So conclusively, November 5 earned points all over the place. And so does the rest of this month, and January, and even that annoying stretch of weeks when we suffer through freezing rain and snow. Because within them wait a million little joys-- sleeping in with my husband, making blueberry waffles together, reading good books, scratching our dogs behind their ears, playing my fiddle, catching up with friends, dinner with my dad. Even musically, these lofty dates of recitals hang over our heads as a final destination of sorts, but to be fair, my daily practice often has moments that make my heart skip. I used to tell myself that when I could play a particular piece, or get into a specific school, I would consider myself as "having arrived." But I've long been able to master my once lofty dream of performing all Four Seasons and I'm currently in a wonderful doctoral program, and meanwhile I still think I suck, my goals have been replaced with others, and my To-Do list has been quick to replenish itself. I mean, I realize some days hold plans that are more exciting than a morning coffee, but there is still so much more in the outwardly mundane than we credit it for. So, conclusively, I've decided to stop living for Friday, for Christmas, or for the day I win a job. Because it's likely my dog will die before I land a spot in an orchestra, and I would think it a great waste that I spend any walk with him until then impatiently brooding over my career discontent. Disney adventures and Christmas gifts aside, there are many more reasons to go to bed excited for the next day. Tomorrow, for instance, I'm wearing a green sweater. I get to go home early, I'm practicing first thing in the morning, and I have a fresh mix to listen to in the car. I may not be waving to TV cameras with Minnie Mouse's giant foam arm draped over my shoulder, but I will actually be there when Tom gets home from work... and that, in itself, is far better than a plastic set of ears. Current Music: Landen Pigg, "You Look So Tired" (Comment on this)
Wednesday, November 4th, 2009
thefirstredleaf	2:23p	love gets everything it asks for. Thank God it's only a few weeks until Thanksgiving break. I really shouldn't be complaining given my recent vacation, but the stress of the wedding was actually more intense than I'd anticipated. People have asked me since I've gotten back if I'm let down at all, but frankly, I'm not. Thomas and I were ready. And we were ready for the day, too. That's what happens when you have a long engagement. I'm not saying it diminishes the excitement any, but it certainly maximizes the relief that ensues once you're in the taxi going to your hotel after the reception. My dress is hanging on the door of my bedroom at my dad's apartment. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with it, yet. Originally, I thought I'd eBay it or something, or donate it to a charity (they really have those, they're called like, Cinderella's Closet or something) but I'm more attached to it than I thought I would be at this point. I know it will never get used again if I box it up or preserve it or whatever, but as I was telling my sister, what would I be doing it for? To pull it out thirty years from now and show my daughters, only for them to be like, "Mom, no offense, but I'm totally not wearing that." To be fair, my dress was one of our wedding steals, so even if I sold it, I wouldn't ask for a lot. And the thought of someone else wearing it bothers me to a laughable degree. Guess I've answered my own question. Tom and I are going to try to use our piggyback flight for December to see Erin and Justin's new home in Knoxville. As I was saying, everyone being here was a huge blur. There really wasn't enough downtime to get to catch up with everyone we wanted to, and even though Erin and Justin were staying with us, it still felt too short. My next semester's classes are looking like a worse lineup than I'd originally thought. Theory is bad enough on its own, but trudging through Illinois snowstorms to get there poses an even greater temptation of remaining curled up in my flannel sheets. I'm determined to finish this degree sooner than later; I did it at Cincinnati, and I've even greater motivation to do it now. I've had to turn down two orchestra gigs because of UISO, and that's painful. I'm in the process of helping Drew found his violin school in Naperville, and I'd like to be able to spend more time up north for its development. I'm doing a lot of teaching, which I expected, but I can't neglect my excerpts. Those auditions will be here sooner than I realize. And I still have to learn a Romantic concerto. Ugh. Still, when I come home tonight and Jack's walking around with my snow boot in his mouth, and all I have to do is make a Healthy Choice meal, read a Suzuki book, write an article response, and go back to school to get in a couple more hours of practice, I'm more content than I've been in a long time. This autumn has been healing. My therapy is going well and I have much to celebrate. It's been so good to be good to myself, at last. (Comment on this)
thefirstredleaf	12:36a	...the best is yet to be. It's November 3. I've been married for nine days, and back in Urbana for one. The latter feels like an eternity, and the former a flicker. In my absence, Champaign suffered a ladybug infestation-- not the cute kind that people dress up as for Halloween, but the orange kind with barely any spots. After ruling out the possibility that these were the "man bugs" I had been referring to them as, I actually discovered they were Asian beetles. They bite if provoked and smell if they're smashed. Even my dog is afraid of them. Wonderful. So after spending the better part of last week in San Diego laying on the beach, drinking mojitos and eating shrimp, I'm back to wrapping scarves around my neck and biking to class along Oregon Street. The trees I photographed before I left have bare arms now, a sad discovery but one my aunt and uncle mused made our wedding date a wise one. We had stunning pictures outside, and as my aunt relayed in thanking our florist, it was every bit the "fall fairy land" I'd been dreaming of for the last three years. Not to be obvious, but last Saturday was the happiest, most emotional, and most beautiful of my entire 26-year-old life. For those of you who helped make our wedding day so wonderful and perfect, for those of you who were there and cried with us, for everyone who stood up for us and traveled so far and party trained with hearts as full and light as ours that night, thank you. Aunt Kathi, my mother of the bride, single handedly coordinated the smoothest running wedding day Martha Stewart has ever seen, complete with itineraries on florescent sheets. We had a fantastic wedding party, I got to see Erin and Justin again and so many of our out-of-town family members, and everyone's generosity was completely overwhelming. Even saying that leaves some dissatisfaction; words are so limited in describing my gratitude for so many I hold dear to me. Tom and I just couldn't get over how incredible it was to have everyone we love in one room together. It was like all those road trips went from miles and miles to ten feet between tables. I could see Joe and Jenny as quickly as my Starbucks crew, and Tom's cousins as readily as my Fox Valley friends. I only regret we didn't have more time to just sit down and catch up with everyone. As much of a joy as it was, it was also a tease. The whole weekend flew. My thank you notes are going to take forever because I have so much I want to say. They practically run the risk of turning into sagas reminiscent of my hamster trilogy from grade school. If you're unfamiliar, the adventures of Chewy and Snappy called for much detail in recounting the excitement of wheel spinning and pellet chomping. So, as far as my list is concerned, a few have been satisfied. They are, in order of completion... #27. Sing karaoke, at least once. Once. Are you ready? Plug your ears...     #8. Marry my best friend. Last Saturday, Thomas, I promised to be a "constant force of faith and hope that you can trust in and rely on every day for the rest of your life." I promised to turn to you when I'm burdened, to "remind you every day what a gift you've been to my life." I promised to be strong for you, for me, and for us. As I wrote to you the day before we married... "Over the last ten years, it is needless to say that we’ve been through a lot. We’ve had our moments of giddy, ecstatic happiness and times of trying lows that could have torn us apart, and for most people, would have. But those moments were honest—they exposed our strengths and our weaknesses, and we loved each other all the more for them. Having you in my life has made me continually strive to be all the beautiful things you see in me, because loving you is a constant reminder that they do, in fact, exist. I know we have what it takes. I know about your receipt obsession and you know about my holey underwear. I know how bad your farts smell and you know how bad I look when I’ve slept on wet hair. I also know how strong you are, how brilliant—I know how dear your heart is, how patient you are, how humble and hard working and a million other attributes I could have only dreamed of finding in someone. And regardless of how clear or clouded over our sky gets, those are the things that never let me give up on us—and on myself."       I walked on the arm of my father towards our happinesses, our joys. I left the brittle versions of myself-- the part of me that struggled to stay together, the person that felt she needed to sacrifice her comfort and happiness to please and keep everyone. The look on your face told me I was good enough, from rabbit ears and bowl haircuts to alien t-shirts and tree trunk hips. The comfort of your hands reminded me that I was indeed loved enough, my sad collection of shortcomings and flaws as clear as the truth and effort in my heart. And though I'll never be perfect, I think we are both perfectly imperfect for each other. Dancing with my dad was hard. Besides the fact I know exactly one dance move (if you know me, you won't need to ask), my dad and I are extremely close.   I picked Elvis's "I can't help (falling in love)" because it was the song he used to dance with my to in our kitchen on Hickory Street. We had absolutely nothing back then, it was the era of breakfast dinners and many hand-me-downs, my dad operating as both mother and father with the careful help of my aunts and uncles, but those memories are some of the dearest in my life.     My Aunt Kathi was my "Honorary Mother of the Bride," because essentially, that's what she's been to me. Dad did a pretty decent job of combing our hair, but Aunt Kathi has been that mom I didn't have. This wedding would have been a straight up disaster if it hadn't been for her. I made both her and my uncle thank you cards with messages to that effect. Everyone was crying at our rehearsal dinner well into the next day. And, of course, my bridesmaids and maid of honor were awesome. I love both my sisters and Erin so much. Tom and I chose a reading from the Velveteen Rabbit for our ceremony; it was one of my favorite books as a kid. But really, the Skin Horse's advice is so relevant to us. As a gift, I made Thomas something particularly unique to us: every autumn, I collect leaves to use as bookmarks, so this year I picked my favorite leaf, framed it, and included the following passage below it with our names and our wedding date... "Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing you become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get all loose in the joins and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."   Thomas surprised me on the afternoon of the wedding with a beautiful pair of pearl earrings, which I wore to the ceremony. My violin teacher, Drew, was kind enough to play, as did my dear cellist friend, Nancy. I'd arranged the music for the two of them, and was thrilled to be waiting in the wings and hear a not so awful version of Legends of the Fall. I have to thank Erin Martin for that, because if it weren't for her, I never would have even known of all the soundtracks I selected. We also picked Ben Fold's "The Luckiest" for our first song because it's been one of our songs ever since it came out. It's honest, just as our time together has been.   I am the luckiest, indeed.   #63. Visit the ocean. That's me in San Diego. We had an awesome honeymoon.   I know this update has been exceptionally long, but in keeping up with my list, it was necessary. In conclusion, I'm happy. I keep reliving each moment in my mind, and even the moments since then-- pumpkin carving the night we got back, lunch on Friday, having someone ask me who I was shopping for as I was perusing through some store and answering, "my husband." I couldn't have asked for a more perfect day, surrounded by those dearest to us, and ultimately taking that next step together that we'd endured so much and waited so long for. I know I'll be a good wife to Thomas-- let's just hope I can remember that caramel swirl brownie recipe. (Comment on this)