s’mores for dinner

6/9/99

Guess what I didn’t throw away yesterday? Guess what kind of big plastic box I decided to start? That’s right! A big plastic box full of things I can’t bear to throw away. The first inhabitant of this box of junk is that black wallet. I’m so weak. It was the mommy note that got me. That and the cabin 26 messages.

I finally went to school today. I was supposed to have cleaned up my office weeks ago. I snuck in last night and sorted a big pile of music, making it very obvious that someone had been working in there. There’s a reason I hadn’t been there yet—I called it sloth, or heat-sensitivity, but it’s not, so much. I’ve been avoiding someone.

Daryl shares my office; he’s my assistant, and one of my closest friends here in Lansing. During Commencement Band, a month ago now, I slipped up. I was half-arguing with one of the other euphonium players, I hardly remember what it was about, and I said something rather disparaging about the Symphony Band. (That’s the second band here—the Wind Symphony is the top ensemble.)

God, I don’t even remember why, but I said, “If you’re good, you’re in Wind Symphony; if you’re not, you’re in Symphony Band.” I can’t believe I said it, I don’t even think that. I was just trying to win the damn argument. They are two completely different ensembles, and people make it out to be a huge deal, you have to get into Wind Symphony, whatever, it’s all bullshit. They are both good bands. Symphony Band has more undergrad players, W.S. is made up of mainly grad students, and it’s smaller, so naturally it’s going to have slightly higher standards.

Daryl’s in Symphony Band. He’s a grad student, he got caught by an audition slip-up, when the two undergrads who beat him have been here for several years and are more experienced with the whole band audtion thing. Daryl was still fitting into the scene.

He shrugged it off that day, made a joke, but I have been kicking myself ever since. I was so pissed off at Me for saying it that I haven’t even been able to write about it here. I know he’d never, ever hold it against me, and that makes it so much worse. We were supposed to go out for beer, but I was too embarrassed to call him, and his wife’s pregnant, I have a million excuses. God, it was his birthday that day. I am such a stinking faux pas loser sometimes.

So.... Today I saw him. Of course, we "forgot" about it. He may even have forgotten it for real. We hung out, talked like we used to. Damn it, I miss Daryl. He's moving to Howell in two weeks, I'm moving to Georgia in a month, his daughter's coming in August, and THEN what will we have in common? Nada.

While I was at school, I found out that I've been totally pushed out of the band library scene. I was planning to clean up, update the catalogs, take care of shit for next fall. But they've hired my replacement already and, in the meantime, given all my responsibilities to Daryl. I feel so (sniff) unneeded. He'd even finished the job I started last night by the time I got in this afternoon.

Oh, well. Onward, and definitely upward. When will I ever work for $5.41 an hour again?

I've had a totally childhood evening. If a ten-year-old kid had the means to live alone, that kid would live like I have tonight. I watched mediocre sitcoms, walked to the convenience store, sat on my back steps and blew bubbles. I had s'mores for dinner. Well, a ten-year-old wouldn't have drunk Bell's Porter with the s'mores. Very tasty, though! Roasted malt hit it off nicely with the graham crackers.