You can have my love, you can have my smiles.

AaAAahAhAaaAAHhhhh...

Here's food for thought...I'm going to be interning at the Sydney Opera House this summer. Whaaaaaaaat??

Yup. I'll be working in the marketing department, which involves event planning, writing press releases, being the coffee and donut bitch, spending wayyyy too much time on the phone, watching world-class performances for FREE!! et cetera. It's unpaid, but I mean...come on. It's the world's most recognizable music landmark and to someday have a job that somewhat resembles this one is my dream. I can't wait to meet new people (aussies!), to plan and run performances like oh, I don't know...the Copenhagen Royal Chapel Choir, Madame Butterfly, The Australia Ballet, the Berlin Symphony Orchestra. Shit.

And of course there's the bittersweetness of leaving what could I could have done behind - stay in Ann Arbor and work to pay for these recording costs which are kicking my ass right now (god, could my mouth be any more potty today? Jesus. Oh, and there I go blaspheming...twice...sweet.), not to mention finish the album, which is SOOOO close to completion I could just sit and gnaw on my fingernails from anticipation. But the more I think about it the more I see how much I really need to get out of this town that is starting to feel smaller and smaller with every year, and broaden my horizons...I've been in ann arbor for about two years straight now and after this disgusting winter holed up in my room, I need something...what is it? i know...beauty! adventure! risk! a new environment, new people, new experiences. A clean slate. The end of my college career is sneaking up so much faster than I thought it would. Shit is getting real. I don't know if it's good or bad that getting this internship feels like the most adult thing i've ever done in my life. I'm flying to a totally unfamiliar place by myself, living on my own, working for myself (albeit unpaid), doing things for me, and not for a teacher or professor for once. Weird.

But seriously....the album. In the name of everything holy, it sounds fucking beautiful. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? "It' like masturbation, really, listening to yourself," says a character Marie in High Fidelity. Whatever. This record was all about experimentation-a chance for me to explore all the different ideas I'd had festering in my head for the past few years and to just indulge myself, basically. I've talked about the songs-as-people analogy, how they start out as babies and then as they come into their forms, they sprout arms and legs...these guys have grown beyond that, even, and sprouted wings. Shameless, aren't I? At least they affect me in this way, I don't know if the effect on anyone else will remotely come as close. Maybe not. I hope so, but it's not necessary, weirdly enough. I like it too much myself to care. Maybe it won't even go anywhere and the only people who will ever hear it are people who already live in the same town as I do, and friends of my parents. But at least I'll have a sweet internship at the Sydney Opera House if all else fails. Rock and Roll, y'know?

“I think people who can truly live a life in music are telling the world, "You can have my love, you can have my smiles. Forget the bad parts, you don't need them. Just take the music, the goodness, because it's the very best, and it's the part I give most willingly.”
George Harrison