All about my life

Oh, goodness me, it's the 200th post! I feel like I should have something spectacular to say, but I don't. Can't someone write a song about this moment or something?
I don't have work tomorrow, yay! The students have their semester final, and there's no need for a TA during something like that, so I get to stay home and sleep in. I'm really happy. Sleep may be for the weak, but it makes the weak strong, and that's something to which no one could object. I hardly know what I'm saying. Maybe I will later.
We had a practice SAT English test for the high school age CKC kids today, in lieu of a regular music class (since it is summer). Since Mom had to do some other stuff, I did the teaching, and really, I was happy to do it, but two of the other teen mentors (neither of whom are remotely qualified to be mentors) decided to take the test too, and they were the most obstreperous and irritating specimens I have ever had the misfortune to direct. The little pustules sat there talking and disrupting everything and not listening and making complete nuisances of themselves. I'd be more willing to tolerate their rudeness if they were smart, but unfortunately, they are both remarkably dim. All the CKC kids tested circles around them, and bear in mind, if you will, that the CKC kids don't have the benefit of what could be called "schooling." I mean, let's be real here, the San Bernardino school system is horrible. From what we've heard from the kids, the teachers are mean and abuse their power, and never teach anything. One girl nearly failed her English class because the teacher didn't like her. Anyway, the kids are mostly pretty bright, so they were doing well, and understanding why they were doing well, while the two poster children for white privilege were demonstrating very little aptitude for anything but insubordination. Ugh, it was so annoying. I don't think I could ever be a teacher.
Ya know, I got a perfect 800 on the English portion of my SAT, and a 790 (ugh) on writing, and it was as easy as Warrant's cherry pie (which I'm listening to, coincidentally), and I honestly don't understand how it's possible to do so abysmally. I really don't. It seems like it should just be intuitive, you know? I suppose for literature and stuff, it's a little harder (though not necessarily much), but for stuff like this, it seems like you should be able to just know the answers.
I feel like a jerk now. I'm so puffed up, ugh.
But I really don't understand why it's hard.
The other day, Austin asked me what I would do if someone wrote a song for me. Of course, this has already happened, but I felt like it would be rude to say that, so I said it would be flattering and lovely, don'tcha know, or something of that ilk. Then he asked if I would still like it if it was really bad, and I said of course. Cuz I would. And that was that. But it was cute. He's cute. Everything he says is so funny and adorable, and then I reply with stupid puns, or allusions, or weird things in general, and it makes me realize how good it is that I'm not ugly, because if I was, I would have nothing going for me. He always replies to me, though, and seems happy to talk to me, so maybe it's not so bad after all. I mean, I would love to have a conversation partner like me. We could talk about literature all day and I wouldn't have to reply on time, because I wouldn't either. Ooh, that sounded like a science fiction story or something. But it's true, I never do text back on time.
Oh my goodness, I went to listen to Paradise City on Youtube (don't laugh at me, it's a classic for a reason), and there was this ad before it played, and it was a full length rendition of Trouble by Taylor Swift, only written about stubble, like mustaches (or femme staches I guess), and I thought it was going to be some clever thing for wax or something, but it was for some shoddy amateur band, and I was so disappointed. I guess I should be supportive of my fellow artists and all, and really, they did a good job, but it would have been funnier if it were some real product. That's expensive, though. We learned about that in Econ when we did marketing and game strategies. It was very interesting. Actually, now that I mention it, how did this amateur band get the funding to do that? Maybe they embezzled it from a mustache-waxing company.
Ethan put the pictures up from my senior recital, and there was one of me, him, Francisco, Austin, and Chris, and I tagged all of us (since he hadn't). The poster of the photo has to approve the tags, so that was Ethan's job. He approved all of them except Francisco's. And that's because during intermission, when I was getting water, both of them followed me out to the lobby, and we were talking. Then Francisco asked me in a very seductive voice if he could ask me a question. Ethan faded courteously into the background (which was very polite of him, I must say), and Francisco looked me deep in the eyes, and said, "Jasmine, can I have a ride?" Poor Ethan thought he was asking me out, and I guess he thought that was presumptuous. But that's the story. I don't really know why I decided to share that with you. I suppose I just thought it was funny. I was really happy that Francisco came to my recital, though! I was so happy to see him! I will never get tired of being with that silly twerp. Maybe he can be my Maid of Honor someday.
Speaking of which (ish)! Our family got hired to play a wedding! We were playing for a local church, and this lovely couple saw us and hired us. They're so cute, it's vastly inspirational. I also appreciate that they're paying us. They asked us to do music for about half an hour for the prelude and for the reception as well as for the ceremony, so it's quite a job. Still, none of us mind, because it's fun to play chamber music. The bride wants me to sing The Prayer at the reception, and I hope no one will be listening to it, because we had to arrange it ourselves, and there are some very questionable elements to it. Ooh, but we thought they wanted us to do Bless This House, which is an old hymn, so I arranged it for violin, viola, cello, and voice (me), and it was beautiful. I even wrote my own bridge. But it turns out one of their friends is doing it! I was excessively disappointed. Maybe I will sell the rights to my arrangement on eBay for millions of dollars and pay for college.
Mom and I have to play in church this Saturday, because the wife of the director accompanied me at my recital for free, and now we have to be on call as the requisite violists of the town whether we want to or not. I actually don't mind, though. Though it makes me sound like the haughtiest of prospective divas to say it, I like to perform. And I feel like it's my duty to do it. So that's settled. I do wonder what it is we're playing though.
I have another gig too, only no one knows about it save me! Roger texted me really late last night asking me to help the choir at his church next month because they're really bad. I said yes, because it's him, and because I miss singing in choir already. But now that I think of it, it might be a tad bit awkward. I really don't know anyone my age at his church (though I do know a lot of the adults from volunteering at the hospital with them), because I haven't played in the orchestra there in years. Come to think of it, I don't think there's been an orchestra in years. I mean, I've soloed there with my family and stuff, but that's not really conducive to making lasting friendships, you see? So I'm not sure what I'll do. Wellp, it's not like I've never been the Kevin of a choral group before. I suppose this is what I must do. Some men are born Kevins, some achieve Kevin status, and some have Kevin-hood thrust upon them. It is my lot in life to bear this load, and I will bear it uncomplainingly until the day I start making a fuss about it. Maybe it will be good for my poetry.
On Kevin-hood:
Oh my heart
Oh my soul
Kevin is my name
And like the pale waters' transcendent snow
The flush fades from the faces of the sky
While the rippling on stone
And the ring of silver
 Flashes into my consciousness
Like starlight.
Well, I'll be. That's very good. I never knew I was such a modernist. I should write a proper book and become known in all the literary circles. I can wear a beret and get tattoos of dragons and start smoking. I will even get a new tumblr to deal with my newfound passion. It will be a lifestyle, and none can tell me different.
I realize I talk about literature and poetry and English way too much. I should branch out some more; I must be very annoying.
SO! How bout them Dodgers, huh? Bet chu didn't know they was 24 and 0 this season! They've got a real shot at the gold, especially after that play of Kobe's in the last inning. I gotta hand it to em, they really know how to utilize their halfbacks. That's strategy right there! They've got a chance in the World Cup this year too, if the San Francisco Stallions don't beat them to the punch. I bet the statisticians are having a field day with em too!
Field day, that's a pun, you see.
Okeydokey, this is more abrupt than the end of Heart of Darkness, but it's time for me to hit the hay. Kitty just went to bed, and I'm afraid the CIA will see me down here by myself and come in to kidnap me, so I'm going to foil their dastardly plans by going upstairs and hiding under the sheets. I'm a real warrior, I am. Okay, goodnight!