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uberniftacularToday was...pretty miserable. I'm not going to go into detail, but Bry and I have been...I don't know if you can exactly call it arguing, but it's something, and it sucks. So anyway, I was dealing with that all day (starting out your day by bawling at like 8 in the morning is not exactly indicative of it being a good day), and I spent most of 5th hour on the verge of tears, and by the time between 5th and 6th hours I was full-blown crying; thank God for having Bry's shoulder to cry on. I forced myself to be composed and go to class (I refuse to go to the guidance office. I hate that place so much)...struggled through stupid music that I can't even play while trying not to cry.
By the end of 6th hour I was feeling miserable and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep...but no, I had to go to pep band rehearsal. And that's when things really started to get ridiculous. By that point, every little stupid thing was affecting me way more than it should have (like how I was practically crying over the flutes' idiot hand thing in "Go Daddy-O," which, by the way, is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen and I hope they never do it again, as rap hand gestures have no place being within 100 miles of swing music)...Schuster made some comment about me "still looking stressed" or whatever (because he'd said something to me yesterday about stress). Anyway, we were working on "Go Daddy-O" and there's this part where people decided they wanted to add a horn move thing (and let it be known, I hate horn moves with a passion), so Schuster was going around telling the sections what horn move thing they should do, and when he got to me he asked what I wanted the mellos to do, and all I had to say was "I don't care, I think it's stupid anyway, but whatever," and then I just totally started bawling. I don't think anybody but Schuster even noticed, which, I guess, just goes to show how much I really matter in the band. Yeah, having emotional breakdowns in the middle of rehearsal is not a good thing to do.
After rehearsal Schuster called me aside. He was apparently all worried about me and such...we ended up sitting in the kitchen thing talking for like 20 minutes, pathetic as that sounds. I think he's one of the only people that's even noticed that anything is wrong, though.
I hate crying in public.
And I'm scared, because I've never broken down like that before.
By the end of 6th hour I was feeling miserable and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep...but no, I had to go to pep band rehearsal. And that's when things really started to get ridiculous. By that point, every little stupid thing was affecting me way more than it should have (like how I was practically crying over the flutes' idiot hand thing in "Go Daddy-O," which, by the way, is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen and I hope they never do it again, as rap hand gestures have no place being within 100 miles of swing music)...Schuster made some comment about me "still looking stressed" or whatever (because he'd said something to me yesterday about stress). Anyway, we were working on "Go Daddy-O" and there's this part where people decided they wanted to add a horn move thing (and let it be known, I hate horn moves with a passion), so Schuster was going around telling the sections what horn move thing they should do, and when he got to me he asked what I wanted the mellos to do, and all I had to say was "I don't care, I think it's stupid anyway, but whatever," and then I just totally started bawling. I don't think anybody but Schuster even noticed, which, I guess, just goes to show how much I really matter in the band. Yeah, having emotional breakdowns in the middle of rehearsal is not a good thing to do.
After rehearsal Schuster called me aside. He was apparently all worried about me and such...we ended up sitting in the kitchen thing talking for like 20 minutes, pathetic as that sounds. I think he's one of the only people that's even noticed that anything is wrong, though.
I hate crying in public.
And I'm scared, because I've never broken down like that before.
