Monday's musings of Frigid Friday

Ok, so it's really not that cold but it is incessantly raining. Puddles have now lost their novelty and my umbrella has become an obnoxious accessory. But I'm not writing of my experience in this soggy state. No, instead I'll tell of my random experiences as a child.

What young boy didn't want to play the drums? In my elementary school's (required) music class the teacher would go around the room, in alphabetical order, and ask which instrument the respective child would like to play. The first boy, choose drums. The second, also chose drums. Up to the fifth boy, drums, drums, drums. Of course a school's percussion sections can only hold so many prepubescent boys. This restriction was mandated under the guise of space but really it would prevent a disaster at any rehearsal/performance where an audience member would be hurt. My last name begging with "W" I definitely missed out on the decent instruments and I got landed with cello. yes the cello. I'd like to say I was a Yo-Yo Ma prodigy but my last-name-remorse coupled with a 40 pound stringed instrument WHICH I had to take a bus filled with my peers...I hated life. My overly ambitious instrument teacher, appropriately named Mrs. Fluck (not a great name for prepubescent boys), wanted each of her orchestra students to play in regional and county concerts, events by and for the area's best and brightest musicians. I, being unmotivated (a young boy just wasn't "cool" if he played the cello well) and under talented somehow qualified. The night of the performance came and I realized that I had no idea what I should be playing. so I faked it. I moved my bow, while not touching the strings, in time with my counterparts. The various songs ended, the applause erupted and suddenly I was filled with pride and honor for such a moving performance, as if my air cello rendition was perhaps the embodiment of the "feeling" Mrs. Fluck had communicated. Triumphantly I carried my cello to the car, passing unknown spectators calling out their praise. Yes, I had arrived. Delicately I placed my cello in the trunk and climbed in the back seat. Buckled. and with perfect posture awaited my family's accolades. Dad, clearly touched by the performance, said " man, did you hear those drums?!"

Enough of the whining already

ok, so i've been a little preoccupied lately. my apologies for not maintaining my blogging habits. right. so. life in DC. is. cold. This blog is in no way a coherent string of thoughts so if you don't like leap frog, I suggest you get off the lily pad.

I'm learning more and more on my daily commute. I'm not sure why i paid to go to college. $3.25, one way, on the orange line has taught me more than any modern psychology/sociology class ever has. for instance, I've learned about new water bottles. Now i've been relatively modest about my beverage container, i'm only heaving around 1 liter at a time. You may smirk but it is always helpful to have 1 gallon of liquid handy at all times. I'm not as advanced as some of my metro counterparts (i.e. i can't "swig" whilst the train is actually moving) but i'm quickly learning the art of mass hydration. Actually i encourage you to try it. After all, Dr. Brett gives this piece of advice. I'll write out my favorite part:

What kinds of symptoms result from drinking too little water? Most commonly I see constipation, dry and itchy skin, acne, nose bleeds, repeated urinary tract infections, dry and unproductive coughs, constant sneezing, sinus pressure and headaches.

No dry and unproductive coughs from THIS man, thank you very much. The first half gallon is the most difficult. After all you are tipping 8.34 pounds in the air for a good gulp. I also recommend ponchos. Since i'm on a budget, i've been using trash bags. with a hole cut out of the top. It is a little hard to explain when someone merely walks into the office without knocking. Mostly because it looks like i've been sitting in the splash zone at sea world. Either way, i've noticed remarkable differences in my skin and i no longer sneeze 14 times in a row.

This brings me to another topic which builds my ire. Readers are beginning to question the validity of the content of Creative Gesticulations. I can wholeheartedly attest that my parents fought (via rock, paper, scissors) about the ER visit, and that i have battled vermin in the attic and i am currently drinking out of a one gallon container while wearing a trash bag. "Hyperbole" or "dramatic" aren't good words to describe this wordsmith but i will accept "genius" or "attractively charming and witty" or even "future best seller." I'll give you a moment to decide or maybe another two weeks.