Day Two. Check.

Am in a hotel room. In California. Right by the Pacific Ocean. When we wake up tomorrow morning and smell the saltwater and see the giant Redwood trees it will be AWESOME. 

Saw our former Music History professor this morning. It was everything I could have asked for. The tile design of his guest bathroom involves the Fibonacci series. He baked us coffee cake.

Day One. Check.

1. Found a room in the first hotel we tried in a small town just shy of where our former Music History professor now lives. It was the first hotel in the first city we hit after a couple hours of nerve-wracking mountain passes in which we were passed numerous times. In one instance we drove by a tow truck that we contemplated just tailing during the entire trip - you know, as a security blanket - until it swiftly passed us on an uphill grade and we just could not keep up without risking implosion. But Lucky is hanging in there like a good boy.

2. We nabbed the very last room in the hotel. As I stood at the counter of the hotel lobby literally one minute after I walked in, a guy came in asking for a room. Unfortunately, there were no more of course. I felt bad because he had been driving from Alaska and looked like death. I asked him if he drove through Seattle and he said yes. I was in a surprisingly chipper mood - perhaps due to the prospect of a hot shower and a real bed in my near future - and tried to make conversation...he was not very chipper. And then five minutes later another guy came in asking for a room. When the lady at the counter told him that I had just gotten the last room, I looked at him and smiled apologetically. He responded by saying, "Hm...well, you win this round." Hahaha. Awesome.

3. Thus far, Day One has been all about food. Specifically, starting with possibly my most successful Salty's Brunch Buffet visit to date (awesome!) - with friends Jessica, Jennifer, Vu and Jooolia, Star*ucks/Internet pit stop in Portland, and capped off with a pre-scary-mountain sushi pit stop for dinner. I have taken numerous picture already on day one. 99% of them involve food. 

4. More detailed Day One post later. Bed now. Goodnight.

The end is the beginning is the end is the beginning is...

Well folks. It's my last morning in Seattle. I am starting it off by waking up inadvertently too early before my early alarm has even gone off and being unable to go back to sleep because of all the things yet to do that are continually running through my head. Harumph. Not a good way to start off Road Trip Day number 1. I can already guarantee this first leg of the trip will involve numerous Star*ucks stops (but hopefully not as numerous public restroom usages! - eep.).

Anyway, so maybe one of these days I will write a post detailing all the lovely, wacky, hilarious, awesome, etc. events that have taken place the last couple of weeks as I went out and celebrated with my friends during the official Ysabel's Final (But Hopefully Not...?) Hurrah In Seattle Extra Long Extended Party (oy, I didn't even like to party much in college - despite what my family members think - what am I doing partying for two weeks straight now?!...blergh). 

But in the meantime - since my eyelids are getting heavy again, and there is now a small chance that I may fall back asleep, thereby almost guaranteeing that I will oversleep, wake up, scream, pee in my pants a little, and run around town like a crazed woman trying to get all the final errands done before capping off the Goodbye To Seattle celebrations the only way I know how: A Salty's brunch buffet - I will say this:

• Somehow, on Sunday when I am somewhere between southern Oregon and northern California, I am going to have to find a way to get to a Catholic church and go to confession because as I tried to mail my 3 remaining giant boxes of CDs, books, sheet music, other valid forms of media purses, shoes and clothes to Schmooblebunnies via Media Mail (Yeah, that's right government! Take that! ... Okokok, please don't arrest me! I am just working under a VERY tight budget! And I am a starving artist! GAAH!), I had this little exchange with the postman:

Me: Hi, I'd like to send these Media Mail please. 

*dramatically hauls one large box onto the counter with much strain even though it really only weighs like 15 pounds*

Postman: Media Mail? ...This box is awfully light don't you think?

Me: ...

Postman: ...

Me: Umm..."light"? Uhh, I DON'T THINK SO! 

*begins to recite the Rosary instinctively in penitence*

• Bossman and Greatest Print Assistant - Now New Buyer...Ah, and the Grasshopper Becomes the Master - Ever threw me a surprise going away party (yeesh, with the parties!) during my last day of work yesterday. It was very sweet and I got emotional (I blamed it on the estrogen. Out loud.) and very much against my entire plan of sneaking out of work early without having to say goodbye to anybody. Bah. Anyway, much of the conversation at the party was centered around a) Southern accents, and b) nude beaches. Also: I guess this confirms that Bossman never caught on to all the slacking off I did at work during these past two years. I mean, if he knew, would he have bought all that food and cake for the party? Probably not. Yes!!

• Day 2 of the Road Trip will start off with a visit to my former Music History professor/mentor. This is both fun, funny and spectacularly nerve-wracking. Namely, because this is the same man who, after three years without seeing each other after I graduated with my undergraduate degree and were reunited when we played in the same summer music festival, said to me when I saw him backstage during a rehearsal of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik: "Ysabel. So tell me what dance form this movement is in."  Zoiks! Once a musicology student, always a musicology student, I suppose.  In any case, as I emailed him a few nights ago to plan out schedules and such, I jokingly wrote at the end of my email: "ps. Should I be studying the Stolba between now and Sunday? Haha." Whereupon he responded only with these words: "Grout. Not Stolba." ACK!

• (un)Lucky's registration expires at the end of the month. As in, in 2 days. As in, the precise day that I cross the border from Oregon to California. And if all goes according to plan, I will sell him (Aah I can't even think about it, it's so SAAAAAD!) to a new owner (GAAAAAH!) in California in about one week (WAAAAH!!). So as I walked up to the counter yesterday to renew his registration and get new tabs, I had this little exchange with the licensing lady:

Ysabel: So I'm driving down to California and am going to sell this car in a week. Do you guys prorate these registrations by any chance?

Lady: *looks at me incredulously* .... No.

Ysabel: *sigh* Ok. Couldn't hurt to ask, I guess.

Well, I'm off. Wish Joools and I luck as we attempt to maneuver (un)Lucky over the mountains and through the woods to the beautiful land of northern California without any occurences of implosion, explosion or general all-around ceasing of function. Wheee!

The Olympics. They are over. My soul is dead.

1. 536 days until Vancouver. 

2. Bobby C said that the Chinese spent an estimated 40 billion dollars (What is that in Yuan? Like 80 zadzillion?) on the entire Beijing Olympics. So it should come to no surprise that, when it was time for the "official London segment" of the closing ceremonies, it all came out a little...quaint. Did it not?

3. For example: a red double decker bus? Is that really the best they could do? I mean, if Rogge had called me up last night and was all, "Ysabel! You gotta help me out, I forgot that we had to do a London presentation in tomorrow's closing ceremonies and I dropped the ball! Eeeep!" then that's what I would come up with.  ETA: Ok, the jets were pretty hip. 

4. Becks. ...oh, Becks. Never speak. Because you sound like a Cockney chipmunk. Just stand there and look inhumanly hottt and occasionally take your shirt off whilst kicking a soccer ball. But never speak. That is the proper way to represent the future host of the Summer Olympic Games.

5. The Bird's Nest: Masterpiece of modern architecture or Artfully designed giant toilet seat? 

6. Jackie Chan! Ha!

7. Oh, you Chinese officials. Sure, you cheat and cover up and make little girls lip synch but only if they are deemed cute enough...but, damn, you put on a good Olympics. You are forgiven.

Sometimes I do actually still act like a twenty-something.orI am hungover.

A co-worker organized an office going away get-together for me, which took place last night. The result? I woke up this morning in a flurry because I had a car appointment in twenty minutes and, when I got out of my ten-second shower and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, I realized I was still a wee bit boozy. Egads.  Anyway. Luckily, there was a Star*ucks directly across the street from the auto shop, so the 3 espresso shots I ingested this morning whilst waiting for (un)Lucky's checkup to be completed helped to awaken my senses. 

Unfortunate: drunken stomach + 3 shots of espresso = gastrointestinal nightmare

So I sit here back at home, surfing between Olympics goodness (only two days left! SAD.) and the Million Dollar Listing marathon on Bravo (how ridiculous are these pretentious idiots? answer: VERY ridiculous), guzzling multiple tall glasses of water and mentally willing myself to get off my butt and cook up a nice greasy eggs & sausage breakfast. I wish my colon a swift and easy recovery. 

ps. I should also add that, while the going away party goodness was last night, I still have one week of work left -- something that the vast majority of my co-workers were not aware of. So all of my workday yesterday was filled with this:

Co-worker: Ysabel! I'm so sorry I can't make it tonight, but I wanted to say goodbye!

Ysabel: Um, you know I'm still here next week, right?

Co-worker: Oh. ...Never mind.

So I imagine most of my Monday next week will be filled with this:

Ysabel: Good morning!

Co-worker: What are you doing here?

Ugh. Awkwaaaard.

Hello again.

I am starting to have thoughts. Mainly concerning my life path. Mainly the fact that now I am weighing two options regarding my foray back to the world of acamadaemia:

Option 1: Get a Ph.D. in Musicology.

• All of the post-graduate musicology programs that I have looked into (i.e. want to apply for) are a minimum of 5 years. At this rate, I'd be in my mid-30s before I even begin my professional career as a university music professor. Egads. 

Option: Get a DMA in Clarinet and some sort of minor/secondary graduate degree in Musicology.

• This way, I could theoretically be a "doctor" in 2 years (or at least be "All But Dissertation") and be on my way to having a professional career as a university music professor in 2+ years. 

Thoughts:

1. My professional goal is to be both a university professor and a clarinetist. In my fantasy world, I would teach at a university - both as an applied clarinet teacher and also as a music history teacher - and play in a symphony orchestra. Both of the options above are with that goal in mind, obviously one with my focus on Musicology and the other with my focus as a clarinetist. 

2. It's hard to say which of the two options I prefer since I clearly am torn between the two concentrations. I think the difficult thing for me right now is the thought of devoting another 5 years to schooling when I could, essentially, be viable for the same types of jobs in less time.

3. Obviously, if I go the Ph.D. route, I would be a very well-rounded candidate for the type of professorship I'm looking for, especially if I continue to keep my playing chops in shape and stay in touch with the performance world. If I go the DMA route, my resume would be extremely clarinet-heavy and would not be as well-rounded. And in that case, I would be more viable for clarinet teaching/performing jobs (at least on paper). However, after being out in the real world for a few years now, I've seen how difficult the life of a clarinet performer can be, and that prospect in itself is only slightly (yurgh) daunting. 

4. So maybe the Ph.D. route still makes the most sense? But FIVE YEARS?! If I were still in my early twenties, that prospect would actually be welcome. But as I approach 30, my perspective has changed a bit. I'm not sure I want to wait until I'm 35 to begin my career. Blargh.

Help? Thoughts? Opinions? Fart jokes?

***

ps. I am still also taking suggestions for my new leisurely sport/hobby (see post below). So far I have heard gymnastics, Pilates, tennis and badminton. 

1. Thank you everybody for not suggesting distance running (and by "distance" I mean, "any distance more than 2 blocks"). The mere thought of running more than one mile makes me vomit in my mouth. No, literally. Running a mile makes me vomit in my mouth. Sometimes out of my mouth. That's the worst.

2. Oh, I would love to do gymnastics again. Anyone see that 33-year old Russian-turned-German win the vault silver a couple of days ago? Zoiks! I'm 5 years younger than her, and my joints ache at the thought. But, oh, what fun! As long as there's no more vault involved. Because if I was doing face plants and total wipeouts on that thing when I was 12, Lord knows what would happen if I tried it now. I'll have to see if there are any Senior Citizen gymnastics classes in Texas. Hahaha.

3. Hm, tennis. Yes, the outfits are cute. But that would involve finding a tennis partner. Perhaps I can guilt Schmoobliebuns for dragging me to Texas enough to force him into becoming my weekend tennis buddy? Maybe after marching band season. But even then, doubtful. Although I could play on his ultra-competitive side. "Too scared of losing to play tennis with me, eh? Wow, I thought you liked sports. I guess you are getting too old to challenge me in tennis, old man .... or are you just chicken? BAWK BAWK BAWK!" 

4. Badminton. I think we played badminton in junior high PE. And if I recall correctly, I was not good. I did not enjoy team sports in PE. Unless it was racket ball (baseball with a tennis ball and racket instead of baseball and bat). Flag football was okay. Dodgeball was the DEVIL. Mainly, I just liked being the fastest sprinter in my PE class and the one who could do more push-ups, pull-ups and sit-ups than any of the girls (and most of the boys thankyouverymuch) in class. However, my mile time? I'd be lucky if I broke 12 minutes. And if I did, I would probably  commence with the vomiting (see above). 

5. Oh yeah, and Pilates. I've thought about it before. I would definitely have to join a gym and/or take a class. Because doing Pilates by myself with no motivation or anyone else pushing me will not happen, guaranteed. That was proven by my 30 minute attempt to do yoga 8 years ago. Does Pilates involve any of that weirdo deep-breathing? And long stretches of silence involving introspection and internal thought? Because that's not happening either. There is too much caffeine and LOST-theories running through my brain at any given moment for that to happen. But people who do Pilates do have fabulous bodies. Hm.

Anyway, more suggestions are welcome so I can make a well-informed decision!

Checking in...

Yesterday, I saw a pack of bison in the foothills of Mt. Rainier and one of the baby bison was drinking from the stream of piss it's mother/father/random giant adult bison was letting out. True story.

In other news: two weeks before I leave Seattle and OMG I HAVE A SH*T TON LEFT TO DO THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME FROM FREAKING OUT IS WATCHING THE OLYMPICS AAAAUGH!!! And entertaining my brothers who are in town visiting for a few days. Wheee!

Why am I at work instead of watching the Olympics?? Blergh.

Sorr for the lack of posting. Too much packing, working, watching Olympics to do. Just some quick notes - and, yes, they all have to do with the Olympics:

1. My thinking is that backstrokers are typically the most attractive of the Olympic swimmers in any given year. Krayzelburg! Peirsol! Lochte! Yes yes yes!

2. I was really rooting for Shawn Johnson to win last night's all-around final. Yeah, Nastia is beautiful and extremely talented, but I feel like I could fit Shawn into my pocket (and I am pocket-sized myself!) and just take her out occasionally to perform ridiculous feats of acrobatics for me and then put her back in my pocket.

3. All this Olympic physical excellence is making me feel especially flabby, un-toned and generally out-of-shape. I am thinking that it is time I take up a new sport/hobby as a part of Ysabel: The Next Chapter: Texas. I am taking suggestions as to what that new sport/hobby should be. Keep in mind that, while I used to be athletic (back in the Stone Ages), I have long abandoned any sense of being physically active since deserting the life of a tomboy/athlete and deciding to become an artiste instead and the only reason I have stayed so slim and svelte is because of my general state of consistent destitution. So, ideas? And don't say yoga. I tried it. It's boring.

I went to Texas and all I got was some painful, burning urination.

Too much information? Good, because I have five days of Olympics-viewing to catch up on. Whilst popping excessive amounts of cranberry supplements.

Bring on the BBQ!

1. Greetings from The Furthest South I've Ever Lived Except When I Was A Wee Little Lass Living In the Far East. Goddamn, it's hot here.

2. Schmoobliebuns, in a well-meaning money-saving gesture, has decided to not sign up for cable television or the intarwebs until I move here for realz next month. Hence, I am currently seeking refuge at a nearby Star*ucks (THANK GOD) savoring my first Internet in two whole days (i.e. forevarrr). Also, this means that I AM GOING TO MISS NOT ONLY THE OLYMPIC OPENING CEREMONIES FOR WHICH I HAVING BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO FOR - OH, THE LAST TWO YEARS MINUS TWO WEEKS - BUT ALSO THE FIRST FOUR DAYS OF DELIRIOUSLY AWESOME OLYMPICS GOODNESS!!! Ugh times infinity plus one trillion!!! If I had known about this, I would have instructed my Tivo to take care of things back home. Blergh. However, my younger brother has informed me that Olympics coverage is supposed to be available online (or so he hears) so it had all better be available for me on the World Wide Web when I get back to Seattle. Or there will be hell to pay!

3. Ok, I guess that's all for now. Things here have been all in all pleasant so far. If you dis-count the blazing hellfire temperature and the lack of connection to the outside world. Oh, and the lack of ANYTHING on the horizon. That part's freaky, yo.

More later when I can connect to the precious Interwebs again.

I see youuuu! (Now with double TRIPLE the updates!)

It makes me laugh the number of people who come across my blog by Googling "clarinet playing squirrel." HA!

In other news: the final month of this move has turned me completely destitute. Especially the part where I had to pay more than $80 this morning to get a shuttle to and from the airport for my upcoming Barbecue Bonanza!! visit to Texas. This blows. Someone pay me to eat hotdogs and write lame blog posts already.

Question: What's worse than finding yourself at eleven o'clock at night still haven't had anything to eat for dinner and one second away from eating your face off and realizing you have nothing in the apartment to eat but 2 cans of tuna, 1 can of refried beans, 1 can of soup and half a bag of stale tortilla chips?

Answer: Realizing you have nothing in the apartment to eat but 2 cans of tuna, 1 can of refried beans, 1 can of soup and half a bag of stale tortilla chips ... AND YOUR CAN OPENER IS 2,000 MILES AWAY IN TEXAS.

The end.

***

UPDATE: Greatest Print Assistant Ever is constantly worried that I never eat enough and will often push her healthy organic non-meat-oriented (i.e. non-delicious-oriented...haha...just kidding!) hippie food items on me at work. And today it happened to be one of these - made entirely of sesame seeds and honey. It was not entirely un-delicious. And something that is not deep-fried or containing high fructose corn syrup is admittedly a nice change for my overall health. I am, however, a little paranoid about THIS happening again.

***

UPDATE II: Someone needs to explain to me why Facebook Scramble won't let me score any points with "farter" or "chode" but insists that "porniest" is an actual word. Really. I mean, I dare you to use that in a sentence. Guh.

***

UPDATE III: Just sent this text message to Schmoobliebunbuns, whose phone call I had missed two minutes earlier:

Sorry...I was in the other room cleaning it out and had just picked up what I thought was some dirt. Until I realized that what I had in my hand was a fossilized Bela TURD. So I was busy vomiting in my mouth when you called...

True story.

Anyone else notice how much I'm updating lately?*

I guess that's what happens when your Schmooblebunny is living 2,000 miles away and your only weekend companions (aside from too-hip-to-be-square, ponytail-wearing dirrrty bartenders) are a drooling cat, cable television and the interweb. 

In other news, I have been in contact with my clarinet teacher from my undergraduate years and - since the plan is for me to spend a bit of time back home in California (whee! wheeeee!!) in between my leaving Seattle and moving to Texas - I have made plans to meet up with her while I am there and (GIANT GULP) have her listen to me play. (In case you were startled, that sound you just heard was me simultaneously having an aneurysm and crapping in my pants.) It's a prospect that, clearly, is terrifying for me, but also exciting. And as if I even need to add: Highly. Motivational. I haven't had a proper lesson myself in over three years and, specifically, have not played the devil stick in front of her for going on over five years now (I think?). But, I feel, since I'm embarking on yet another new chapter in my life and one in which -I hope - I will be putting my focus back on living as a clarinetist and not just moonlighting as a clarinetist, it is time for me to put my big girl pants back on and start putting myself out there as a player again.

Anyway, after spending the last couple of days playing through all the music that I kept with me here, instead of boxing up and sending away to Barbecue Country, I have finally pinpointed the piece of music I want to focus on practicing and getting worked up to play for my former teacher. Something from this book, in case any clarinerds out there are curious. It is long, technical, fast and highly capable of kicking my ass. In other words, the perfect thing to usher me back into the performance world. Criminy. 

* By the way, the proper way to show your appreciation for all my posting is to leave comments, you ungrateful bums.

I thought this was the funniest thing ever.

In other news, I'm going to visit Schmooblebuns in (...gulp) Texas in a few days. My brain - being solely focused on the plentifullness (?) of barbecue ribs in that region, and not at all on the fact that I will be travelling for a minimum 8 hours with one connection with Bela in a kitty carrier - is quite looking forward to it.

Ugh, it's 10am on a Sunday morning and I haven't had any coffee yet. Blar.

This late Friday night post is brought to you by Ketel One vodka.

Scene: Ysabel sitting by herself at a hip Bohemian-neighborhood Seattle bar while waiting for her married-couple friends to arrive.

Bartender: Hey there, can I get you anything?

Ysabel: Yeah, I'll have a Ketel One martini.

Bartender: Do you want olive juice in that, or straight up?

Ysabel: Just straight up please.

Bartender: Really? People usually ask me for a dirty martini.

Ysabel: Oh yeah?

Bartender: Yeah, we have really good olives here and I just use the juice straight from our olive bar...

Ysabel: Hmm...

Bartender: I make great dirty martinis...'cause I'm REAL dirty...

Ysabel: .....*gulp*

Cue: Ysabel looking away swiftly and pretending that she didn't hear that last comment.

Happy The Summer Olympics Open In Exactly One Week Day!!!

Wheeee!! I am sure you are nowhere near as excited as I am - losers - but you should be.

Also, Clarinet Don has reminded me in his previous comment that I have not updated you all on my Super Secret Awesome Project. That is because it is still in the works -- but in its final phase of completion. So just hold your horses and I will let you all know exactly what it is when the time comes...and then you can commence being completely dissapointed and letdown because it truly is really not thaaat exciting or impressive. Unless you are a nerd and/or my family.

And on an It's Friday So I'm Doing Goddamn Whatever the Hell I Please At Work But What Else Is New? Note:

Ahahahah. Yes, I ordered a batch of these as well. I couldn't help it. I blame Sarah P. for the idea when I very innocently asked her as we gChatted the other day, if I was leaving off any pertinent information on my first (official) batch of business cards. They will, quite obviously, be given only to friends and family, as the front side also contains the url for this blog (eep!).