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Damn. I didn't realize how high stress being an opera singer is.

One wrong note and suddenly you need to defend yourself against vampires, serial killers, and opera ghosts that all have obsessively perfectionistic musical inclinations.

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Biblical…..

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It was my English teacher's second day back from maternity leave and coincidently our second to last class to prepare for our AP exam. Therefore we were all in major cram mode™. My teacher decide to show us a YouTube video that consisted of a montage of AP graders who told us what we should and should not be doing on our upcoming test. One of the teachers, who was probably very tired from reading all of America's bs test answers in some large overly bright glorified cafeteria, advised us to never use the Great Gatsby in our writing ever. When the video finished ages later my teacher asked us to recap our takeaways, as one does when they believe that none of their students were paying attention to the video. One guy piped up with "never write about the Great Gatsby." My teacher dismissed it very quickly as none of us had read the Great Gatsby, it was a book we would not receive instruction on until the next school year, so none of us would even have the ability to use it on the test. The final part of our lesson that day was reading some essay prompts before the bell rang. The prompt was something like "does wealth make you happy?" and my teacher wanted us to supply books that were related to this prompt.

I had a golden opportunity. A moment as manufactured by the gods as a pull through parking space in a parking lot and all I had to do was take the great advice of my Driver's Ed instructor and drive through it. I had a chance to make up for the biggest regret of my life and could not live with passing up on a golden opportunity again and so I opened my mouth and proclaimed

"The Great Gatsby?"

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The scene: 12 am, standing at the front of the living room commanding all attention from my sibling who is covered in a fluffy snowflake blanket

Me: This fic I'm reading is really nice. It has Super Mario Sunshine vibes.

Sibling, mildly confused: So like falsely imprisoned for crimes they didn't commit?

Me, eyes widening: No, like sunshine and summer and cool water graphics

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There's imitation crab in my mac and cheese?

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Ran into my seventeen year old brother in the kitchen at 1am last night and when I asked him what he was doing he just shrugged, said “these are my roaming hours,” and walked off strumming vaguely on his guitar

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I've developed an op detection system for this song in particular. NBC tried to pull a fast one, playing it for me in a cooking scene of Hannibal, but I know better.

Cue me skipping Prelude in e minor by Chopin at the beginning of an aesthetic dark academia instrumental playlist because a girl at my high school played the most mind numbingly slow, bastardized version of the song (that she had been practicing for eight months, by the way) to earn a meaningless music award the department gave out for being able to play the piano.

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I had high hopes for the day but all my plans have been Krispy Kringled.

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Bless your dash with the forgotten prologue of "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas"

🎶The sun is shining, the grass is green

The orange and palm trees sway

I've never seen such a day in Beverly Hills, L.A.

But it's December the 24th and I am longing to be up North🎶

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Oh my gosh, is that really her? Candace Cameron Bure? Two time Hallmark Christmas movie lead and main character in that infamous Starkist Tuna commercial? The woman. The myth. The legend. Oh and she also played that little girl (DJ Tanner, I think her name is?) on that old, kooky family sitcom. You probably haven't heard about that one. It's kind of an archaic role. Anyway the way she portrayed Kate Lockhart and Chrs Dixon in "Switched for Christmas" was inspired. She is such a shining light in the acting community---

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Toddler me was stubborn. She'd sit in time out after the punishment ended just to spite her parents, make them feel guilty.

Toddler me felt no pain. She crawled on a broken leg for three days before her mother took her to the doctor to be re-examined.

Toddler me hated milk, would vomit at the first taste. She wouldn't drink it for most of her life. Now she enjoys it in bowls of cereal or buried deep into baked goods.

Toddler me loved dolls, always playing, creating. Her toys translated to a flair for the performing arts, seeing her buried in music performances. Clarinet, soprano, musicals, and jazz.

Toddler me over reacted. She was dramatic and extra in every sense. Now she drops onto couches with the grace of a fainting noblewoman, sighing loudly to get the parlors attention.

Toddler me is me, in the purest sense of the word.

Toddler you is the purest form of self.

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My favorite word without a doubt is

Reconnaissance

Something about it is just...poetic, I guess.

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Going from a small town to a city is like:

Gentle motor of school buses in the afternoon piercing peaceful silence to WheeWhooWheeWhoo!!!!! Fifth fire truck of the week!!! Get outta the way!!!! Fiiireee!!!

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That moment where you make sure you tell your sibling you love them regularly so that you don't become those emotionally estranged siblings later in life who end a phone call with their brother in front of the only student in attendance at this after school review session with I love you before cringing and apologizing because you don't normally tell your brother that and was that weird it's not normally something we do and other over sharing and I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW THE INTIMATE DETAILS OF YOUR FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS THANK YOU I'M HERE FOR DE HISTORY

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As Adobe flash dies, so does my hopes and dreams.

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Toddler you is the purest form of self.