Full of complaints

I woke up very early yesterday morning and my back hurt. a lot. I think I slept on it wrong. It hurt all day yesterday. a lot. It still hurts today, thank goodness less. I want a chiropractor.

Nicole has gone home to the Inland Empire for a food-based holiday. Ha ha. Alas. I have class on thursday night, even. I don't think I can figure out how to make a pumpkin pie.

My house is cold. I'm out of rice and vegetables. I have lab hours tonight, but the software we just learned isn't installed on the mac yet, so I don't want to go. Anyway, I need to do my UC Application essays, which are too long and very annoying. I wrote some music and it got played. Then I wrote some more music and it got played. Then I wrote a different kind of music. Yawn.

It's going to rain down slushy muck on friday.

Last week (the week that Cola was here), I had class everyday from 10 am - 7pm, which ran late sometimes. This week, I have two hours of class on thursday night. My school has had toilet paper two days out of the last three weeks. That's not counting the day one other student got upset and begged some off a neighboring studio. He went and complained. He was informed that it will take two weeks for new toilet paper to arrive. What happened to the old toilet paper? He suspects students may have stolen it. He has suspects in mind. We're a suspicious lot. There are rumors going around about people stealing each other's work and each other's samples. Improbable, strange theories wherein the stolen samples were only heard when the informant was outside the studio, thus highlighting the sneakiness of the thieves. (I'm being deliberately vague here, but I'm not making these rumors up, just causing inadvisable drama by repeating them.) The tweeters on the main speakers are definitely out. The mixing board has dirty faders (smoking in the studio doesn't help). The patchbay's normalizations are going out. I have serious hatred for frustration with one individual (if you're reading this, it's not you.)

I want to get a job. My visa allows me to work 20 hours per week. If I had a job: 1. I could afford to buy more blazers. 2. I would know more people. 3. My french would likely improve. 4. I would have more than 2 hours a week of things I was supposed to do with other people.

Or I could go awol. Nobody at school is French. I don't have any connections to the french performance scene. If I went to Berlin, I could make connections there through wesleyan people who did the german exchange. But I have a lease on my Paris apartment.

Nothing makes me feel more female-identified than sexism. Where is Hothead Paisan when you need her?

I need: a conversation partner, a transformer for my mixer, to finish my stupid application, to find out if I can fax it in or find somebody in the us to print and mail it for me, to request transcripts from previous schools, (It is such a pain in the ass to do these things from another continent.) to figure out how the hell to get gigs, to go buy some rice and vegetables and toilet paper and baugette and cheese. I'm thinking emmental and st nectaire, although i haven't tried the latter.

Tags: Paris, Celesteh