Fame

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be famous in the way that I hope I will, for songwriting or being witty or something to that effect. I wonder more often, however, if I have the guts to do what is required to make the leap from ordinary to extraordinary. Most people who meet me would classify me as a Gryffindor, to use Harry Potter values of virtue. I'm loud, blunt, fun, very honest, and generally a good person. However, as years of reading fanfiction continues to inform me, most Headmasters of Hogwarts were Slytherins. Uh oh spaghetti-o.

What if I lack the ambition to succeed in the girl-eat-girl world of the entertainment world? What if I'm doomed to forever play music in some awkward downtown location with a band called the Unshaven Pirates? Well, Will Smith (and my father) would say that one needs the drive to work harder than you've ever worked before on every project. Pick one thing to specialize in, and work your ass off so badly that you pwn everyone else in the field. That's what my dad wanted me to do when I was seven, and extremely talented in piano. He wanted my mom to become a stage mom and take me from Carnegie Hall to Juilliard to wherever else. In this fantasy of his, we could always afford this, and my talent would be recognized by the entire world (or as close as he could get to that).

That's fantastic. My mom was of a different opinion, though, and she was the one who was actually on-the-ground in the situation. My dad, you see, lives in North Carolina. No biggie for most situations, but when his request was that my mom quit her job and work her ass off to further my career (which I did not want at the time), she did not take his suggestion well. She stopped taking me to piano lessons because I stopped practicing and told her I didn't want to go anymore. She decided that it wasn't worth the time and money to take me to lessons I did not want. Her reasoning was that if it wasn't fun, I probably wouldn't want to do this in a few years anyway.

But I was just thinking about how lots of models have these discovery stories like..."I was walking with a friend when [very famous fashion photographer/designer] saw me and decided that i was his muse." And I realized that either the old days had ugly people everywhere, or this had to be a lie. Honestly, any career in the arts takes more than just talent, as Will Smith says, it takes skill. Hours and hours of practice that I have not done recently. However, that's going to change, because I am going to practice every day; writing and playing my repertoire. I am determined not to fail myself when I have the time.

Give Thanks

For all the craziness that is my life...I suppose I wouldn't miss it for the world.

So, what's going on with me?

Between my family issues that seem to be a symptom of our general issues but also look like they're going to blow up at my graduation if I just let loose.

I'm not observing Thanksgiving today. Unless you call watching the Thanksgiving parade while secretly seething and not having any food to eat celebrating. Pretty freaking awesome. But luckily, I have my work to fulfill me. lolz. That means that I'm blasting Christmas music on my iMac and writing college supplements (I've already finished three!), and then rewriting the essay I bombed, and then starting another essay which I don't plan on bombing.

All in all, it's going to be a good day.

Perfect Day

So much has occurred since I last posted here. Let's do a tally!

Number of meetings with Paolo Montalbán: 2
Number of life goals fulfilled: 1
Number of homework assignments: innumerable
Number of octaves vocally achieved: 3
Number of friends: 51 (yay senior grade!)

Okay, so it's a Saturday and it's a long weekend (although I have to come into school on Columbus Day because of the Founder's Day Extravaganza), and I am insanely contented now.

I was utterly exhausted this week, and I often didn't get home until 7 or later. Woot.

However, I am pleased with the turn my weekend has taken. Chrissie and I have contacted Paolo, and he has contacted us back, which is insanely wonderfully and almost not possible. But, to quote Rodgers and Hammerstein, impossible things are happening every day. It is a lovely day for me to get on the homework bus. The sky is cloudy and white, the air is not too cold, but pleasantly 60s (autumn sixties, not summer sixties that always seem to be trying to be the seventies). I am still in my jammies, as yesterday was Senior PJ day and I just decided to go back to bed post Yearbook craziness. Friday night/Saturday mornings have tended to be awesome. Anyhow, my plan for the day is to sit on my bed and read the Stats textbook with the whitish light of the sky, and then work on my essay and proceed to work on Radio by Beyonce for the a cappella group. I would love to accomplish everything I've set out to do, and it seems that the Good Lord has enabled the conditions for contentment to be met. It's up to me to do what needs to be done!


<3
Olivia

stranger than you dreamt it

Hi again! I'm back, though it has been eons since I have last posted. I will attribute that in part to China, peer pressure, and other stuff. So I was in China for most of June, which was also a terrible time to post anyway, considering all the work I had due. July I have spent lazing about. Also, no one else in the blogosphere of friends I have has recently posted, so I felt like I was entitled to a break.

Anyhow, last night/this morning I had a nice dream. It was FOTC related. I dreamed that I saw Bret and some other dude in concert. They were supposedly FOTC, but I didn't recognize that the other man wasn't who he should have been until later. After the concert, I was in the subway waiting for the train to go home, and the other dude, who was blonde-ish/brownish with straight hair bangs falling his face, came up to me and asked me if I liked the performance. I smiled this weird smug/coy smile (trust me I remember that weird smile!) and said I did. He asked me what I was planning to do. And I said, "I'm a songwriter" and he was interested in that off-hand way that people who tend to not believe what you're saying are. And I said, "no really". And then I sang a little ditty about songwriting, which unfortunately I can't remember. It rhymed, though. He was excited about the song, and he gave me his card. I can vaguely remember that his last name was de ________. So was Bret's in this dream. It was around this time that I realized that this dude was not Jemaine. And I must have been half awake, because I started seeing flashbacks of the FOTC show where Jemaine is being a little smarmy/awkward/creepy.

I woke up.

why none of my friends have updated their blogs

We are dying of a disease called "Two Week Pile-Up Syndrome"

Such where teachers assign us WAY too many assignments, and then laugh as we try to do the work while dying instead. It's really quite fantastic. Congratulations to all of you who are hanging in there..

Momentous

I celebrate the momentous rediscovery of the Filipino (or Flip as Christine calls it) prince, Paolo Montalban. His voice is like the voice of a thousand male angels; it is wondrous. He sings in church and is really pretty as well. I love him. HEARTS <3>

I can't find his fan page yet; it looks like he doesn't have a big fan club in America. Christine and I will start one! JUST WATCH. 

SO EXCITED

Searching For the Stars

When it is darkest, men see the stars- Emerson

I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness for it shows me the stars- Og Mandino

Well, this week has certainly been strange.

The most I can truly comment about is the fact that life has a knack for attempting to suckerpunch a girl just when everything possible could be going wrong. The good news is the arrival of the weekend has also meant the arrival of better spirits.

When I say this week was bad, I cannot lie, it was truly one of the worst that I can remember having. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry again; seriously dudes, I'm not going into it again. No rehashment occuring (yes I know the word is rehashing). 

Thankfully, while walking the dog, I remembered how much I love life. Everything about it. Good bad, ugly, they all belong there. Some days are just going to make me want to cry, but it gets so much better on the weekend. Sometimes I live for the weekend. That and Spring Break Disneyworld visits.