why literature might be my mind, but music is my heart

Sometimes my mind feels like it has my heart in the middle of it, but then I have days that remind me that my heart is firmly made up of a different substance.

Like yesterday, when I was told I could remain in the really awesome choir next semester, even though I won’t be a student. Win! So, so happy. I’m pretty sure I was smiling way too big, like in a very embarrassing, child-like way and everyone must think that choir makes me way too happy. Also, our concert on Sunday night was amazing, and I loved every moment, even when my feet fell asleep in my pumps and I still had to sing all of “Eia, mater.”

Then I go to a Weepies concert, and it’s the first concert I’ve managed to go to all semester, and really only the second or third that I’ve wanted to go to, so I’m really glad I made it. I spent way too much money on the ticket, the whiskey sour, and the t-shirt, but it was so worth it. They were so amazing. Somehow they almost extra-produced the songs that are usually so un-produced and quiet on their albums, and yet it didn’t lose the folky quality. It was just SO GOOD. I love couples who sing together, like the Weepies or the Ditty Bops or Jenny and Johnny. I love it when bands use real bass violins and not just bass guitars. I love it when you can tell that the people on stage are still very normal people. I love hearing stories about why songs were written, like how “Riga Girls” is about spam that turned into porn that froze Steve Tannen’s computer just when Deb Talan was walking in the room. I love being with other music majors at the concert. I love realizing that the three of our voices go really well together and we need to co-write some songs, which we’re going to do this winter. I love meeting people at concerts and being good friends by the time the stage is flipped for the starring act. I love watching people in the act of making music, because it makes me realize how much I love doing it, too.

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