Brevard: Day Twenty-one

Woot woot woot! Week Three under my belt!

So I fixed myself a gin and tonic earlier this evening because 1) I deserve a cocketail damint and 2) I thought maybe maaaybe the subsequent relaxation would help in my doble tonguing skillz (it didn't). Instead I found myself putting my clarine away and listenig to Chris Cornell's cover of "Billie Jean" instead. What an awesome cover. Do yo know it? You should. It's awesome.

Anwyay. I'm now in French Quarter and slightly less sober. Oops. It's okay though. No one can tell. HAHAHA. yeah right.

Hey, here's a picture of French Quarter I took earlier this after noon when I was sober:

I was way stealthy. Anhway, see that sneakered leg sticking up from those black leather chairs in front of the television? That's one of our opera coaches taking a nap. HE WAS SNORING SO LOUD that I was tempted to take a picture and tack it up on the wall. Or, you know, take a video and put it on my blog. But I didn't because I'm a good person. Speakong of good people (NOT). That fellow on the right hand side near the window wearing a blue shirt and a

yarmulke? Guess who that is? YONI THE ANGRY JEW, that's who!! Click on the picture to see a closer view of him in all his angry hunched over glory! And if I were to pan my camea to the left and show you what's outside, you'd see his silver Honda BECAUSE HE DROVE TO FRENCH QUARTER.

I had stories to tell but I can't think of them right now. Oh, I went to the clairnet studio class earlier this evening and one of them was really good and the other two were meh. I should try to not be so intimidated by these young scary prodigies. Really, I think I could take most of them in a dark alley during a vicious dirty clarinet battle. So what if they are locked in their rooms practicing for eighty million hours a day instead of watching terible reality television and eatig questionable meat-products like me?

Oy, I'll have a beter post tomorrow I hope.

Oh wait. Let me just asy this. So I've been slowly but surely wokring my way thorugh all of teh LOST DVDs starting from the very beginnig while I've been here (usually late at nigh after closing FQ and after battling the moths and spiders inside my cabin) and I'm now coming up to the Season 2 Finale. I rewatched this scene earlier and started outright clapping and giggling over how AWESOME a scene it was:

OMG do you remember how aweosome that was?!?! When Ben wasn't Ben but he was Henry Gale?? And he was totally manipulating Locke by playing him against Jack?? And Mr. Eko was still around and he was totally dark and mysterious and kick-ass??!! *sigh* Poor Libby. Poor Libby and Hurley. POOR MICHAEL WHO ONLY WANTED TO RESCUE HIS SON WAAAAAAAAAALT ABOVE ANYHTHING ELSE?? *siiiiiiiiiigh* I love you LOST 4evah and evah!

ps. As I'm rewatching this entire series from the beginning, I'm having a hard time DISbelieving that the writers and creators had a plan for the entire scope of the story all along. Becasuse there are so many clues and allusions to the series finale and endgame even in the first two seasons!! Ugh. I HEART THIS SHOW SO HARD.

Brevard: Day Twenty

We are in the deuces, you guys!

Diva Reilly UPDATE: Today at lunch I was trying to help a student out who was having trouble connecting to do intarwebz in French Quarter, so I went around asking the few people that were inside and had laptops out if they would mind if I restarted the wireless router. I asked each one individually and they all smiled and said no problem... Until I got to Reilly, who just looked up with a blank stare and no response save for the very beginnings of a betch snarl forming at the corner of her garishly red lipsticked mouth. So I giggled to myself and just walked away and restarted the router anyway. *sigh* I have under six weeks to make this happen, people!

Yoni the Angry Jew UPDATE: Coincidentally enough, this afternoon Yoni was on the phone with his girlfriend (?) trying to figure out arrangements for her to visit or whatever and he was also having problems connecting to the internets. I was, however, surfing the internet just fine. Isn't karma a botch, Yoni? Anyway, so who should happen to come sauntering up to me with an actual smile on his face (I wonder if that hurt) asking if I knew of any other airports near Brevard besides Asheville? Yoni the Angry Jew, that's who! So I gave him some ideas and even flaunted my free-wheeling use of internet in his face while looking up options on Google Maps and sent him on his merry way. Maybe you'll remember my kindness the next time you decide to fly above the seat of authoritah!!!

Anyway, on to more pictures:

Look at this wee little critter I saw crossing the street yesterday! I nearly stepped on him, actually, as he was all of like an inch long. Isn't he cute? I hope he hasn't been stepped on already.

Here he is again, with slightly better focus. I love his color, don't you?

Here are some orange (Go VOLS!) mushrooms that are right outside of Dan's cabin. Everytime I walk by them I think to myself, "I should take a picture of those sometime." And then this morning I finally did. Hooray for only taking three weeks to get around to taking pictures of pretty orange mushrooms!

Macro!

More macro! I like orange. I wonder what these buggers taste like?

Ok, enough with the pretty. On with the AWESOME!

A week or two ago, the Dean staff was having lunch in the cafeteria together and Erin got herself a monstrously large banana. It was hilarious. This picture does it absolutely no justice. That thing was a beast. Michael was not sure how to feel about it.

Ah, the Dean staff hard at work on Cale's porch/office.

Holy sheiss! Did you know they make rib-flavored chips?? Well, they do in North Carolina! When payday finally gets here (IN ONE WEEK AND FOUR DAYS BUT WHO'S COUNTING?), I will be sure to get myself a bag and report on the results.

Did you know they also make instant grits with bacon and ham already inside??? What is this place? HEAVEN?

And sweet Jeebus and angels singing, somebody has made espresso-infused vodka. You guys. One week and four days.

Brevard: Day Nineteen

WHY ARE STUDENT VOCALISTS SO OBNOXIOUS?? WHY, GODDAMNIT?!?!

I know some of them eventually grow up to be fine human beings. Like Beth, my next door cabin neighbor who owns the beagle/my alarm clock named George. She's the chorus master and a vocal coach for the opera company here. And yet, she is nice and says hello everytime I see her.

On the other hand, there is this little betch diva named Reilly (hereafter: "The Diva"). She is nineteen or twenty years old, definitely not a natural blonde, is perpetually pissed off, is specifically angry at the Dean staff for enforcing such things as the state law regarding age limits regarding alcohol consumption and has inspired in me a summer quest: I have made it my mission this summer to get The Diva to look at me, smile and say hello when I walk by her and do the same. Instead of, you know, strutting right by with a scowl on her face, virtually ignoring my friendly greetings on purpose. As Dan pointed out earlier, she actually has to go out of her way to make an effort to be such a hateful bitch. If I cared more, I might get angry. But instead I'll just play this little game this summer. It'll be fun.

The Diva's male counterpart is another vocalist I have dubbed Yoni the Angry Jew. The first or second day the opera arrived at campus, he requested to Dan and I that we open up French Quarter before lunchtime (instead of after, as was our original plan) since he must eat kosher and cannot eat lunch at the cafeteria. So we obliged him. And then a few days later, the RAs arrived and we needed to utilize French Quarter for 90 minutes one evening for RA training. Just as we were preparing to begin our first meeting, Yoni the Angry Jew came storming in, marched right up to Cale, the Dean of Students, and immediately made it known that he was displeased about the fact that nobody was going to be able to use French Quarter for social purposes for the following precious 90 minutes. When Cale clearly and succinctly shut him up, he asked, "Okay, who can I talk to about this?" Cale replied, "You're not going to speak to anybody about this. Come back at 9pm."

Yoni the Angry Jew also likes to blatantly disregard the very simple and very minor rules that the administrative staff has asked us to maintain. Such as "This is a pedestrian campus. There is no driving to rehearsals, lessons and campus concerts allowed. Because it takes all of ten minutes to walk from one end of campus to another, you nitwit." But Yoni the Angry Jew is apparently above having to use his legs for walking and drives to French Quarter from his cabin. He also drives from French Quarter to rehearsals. Maybe I should make it my Quest #2 to get his license plate number (which we have on file) and bust him for being such a lazy bastard. (And by the way, if I of all people am calling you lazy, you are ONE LAZY MOTHER-EFFER.)

Brevard: Day Eighteen

Story time, childrens!

1. Earlier today, I was sitting in the audience for this afternoon's concert (Candide overture, Barber's Adagio for Strings, Gershwin Piano Concerto in F and Copland Symphony no. 3) when, during intermission, somebody taps me on the shoulder and says, "Ysabel?" I turned around and saw Amy, a bassoonist I played with eons (five years) ago with the Missouri Chamber Orchestra and hadn't seen since. It was so awesome to see her! She is on faculty at Furman University in Greenville, SC now which is about an hour away, and just happened to see that there was a concert here in Brevard this afternoon and decided to check it out. I think we have all said this at least a dozen times already this summer but, what a small world this music businesses really is! Anyway, it was great to see an old music friend and catch up.

2. As you know, part of my job here is to make sure that the College Division kids don't get into too crazy of shenanigans at French Quarter and that usually entails hanging out there into the wee hours of the night. In order to keep my sanity at bay during the one minute walk from FQ to my cabin in the darkness, I always make sure I've turned my porch light on earlier that evening so I can watch out for psychotic hillbillies or Asian-meat-craving bears waiting for me in the trees. This strategy has worked well so far. Unfortunately, this also means that I have a swarm of moths and other assorted flying insects waiting for me at my door; usually, two or three of them will make their way inside with me as I step inside and my nightly bedtime ritual will include walking around my wee little cabin locating and killing (eep!) these critters before I go to sleep.

Last night, a particularly large moth flew inside with me. I went with my usual plan of attack with insect killing, which is to spray it with ant spray or disinfectant spray or Lysol or whatever other chemical I can find nearby and hope that it dies a quick and relatively painless death. Also, squishing it with a shoe or anything else is a last resort because I always think that I can hear and/or feel the actual *SMOOSH* which is really disgusting.

Anyway, so last night I grabbed my one and only can of chemical in my cabin - which happens to be spider and roach killer - and sprayed the moth. It flew around frantically and bounced off walls for about ten seconds then nosedived down to the floor. I thought it was over. Until it started fluttering its wings again and then flew back up. So I ran around like a little girl and squealed. Then I grabbed the can and sprayed it with more chemicals. Again, it flew frantically and landed on the floor. I sat on my bed and watched with terror and remorse as it just crawled around the floor for like five minutes. Part of me wanted to just squish it with my shoe. And then the other part of me was completely disgusted at the thought of feeling the body of that poor moth pop and squish. So finally I grabbed the spray and sprayed it with some more spray. AND THIS HAPPENED FOR LIKE THIRTY MINUTES. The poor bastard just wouldn't die! And I felt like a cruel murderer sitting on my bed watching this poor creature die a slow and probably painful death at my hand.

I mean, why do I hate the idea of going to sleep with a moth flitting about my head in the middle of the night so much? Moths are just freaking butterflies with less colorful wings, right? Bleah. I felt terrible. I mean, remember the episode "The Moth" in LOST? A freaking moth SAVED JACK AND CHARLIE FROM SUFFOCATING TO DEATH IN THE CAVES WHEN IT CAVED IN. And I murdered one last night FOR THIRTY MINUTES. Boo me. I should have just squished it.

Anyway, more picture time!

Do you know what happens when you are forced to sit at a table during High School division registration day for nine hours repeating the same spiel over and over and over and over AND OVER AND OVER again? You put googly eyes on your phone, that's what happens. And then an hour later you will put a Post-it on it and draw a mouth saying "AAAUGH." 

I played RISK for the first time a couple of nights ago at French Quarter. It was fun even though I didn't last very long (not because I died or anything, I just went to sleep) and I'm not sure that I fully understood the rules. I was yellow (because I'm Asian, duh). I had a pretty good presence in Asia and Western United States, except for the fact that I only had like one or two troops on each territory by the time I left. 

Here is the lake in front of my cabin again. Down on the bottom right corner you can see the roof of the Pavilion which is also right next to the brass studios. Hence, you can also see a trombone player practicing there in front of the water. Pretty good view for a practice session.

So here's that double decker bus that has been turned into a coffee shop in Asheville. Mmm...coffee. Boo... bladder infections that prevent me from enjoying coffee. The name of this place is "Double D's" and I told Dan that I was going to buy a mug for Schmoobs as a gift and say, "Well, it's the best I could do." HA! Get it? Because I have little bubbies.

Here's Dan and Elif on the second level of Double D's. If you remember, Elif was the fifteen year old cellist from Turkey that I picked up from the airport last week. Remember how her cello got sent on its merry way down the luggage chute at the airport in Asheville? That, combined with the fact that Turkey is waaay dry and Brevard is waaay humid, resulted in Elif opening her cello case when she arrived in Brevard and seeing that the fingerboard had broken. So Dan was tasked with driving her and her cello back to Asheville to get it emergency-repaired. He found the two hour round-trip journey in the van with Elif to be awkward and silent and uncomfortable. So I offered to accompany them on the trip to go pick up her cello a few days later. For some reason, I have skillz at speaking with fifteen year old cellists from Turkey who have a limited grasp of the English language. Anyway, the trip ended up being really fun, in large part because of the detour to Double D's AND TARGET!! Elif had never been to a Target before, although she had heard of them. Also she needed to buy a towel, some bedsheets and some Ben Gay for her arm and the closest Target is in Asheville. So, duh, Target run! Related: Did you know that a simple cup of Star*ucks coffee in Turkey costs the equivalent of like $5 to $7 dollars? Cah-razy!

Here's Cale, the bossman, on his porch practicing his euphonium. He's got the swankiest cabin BY FAR our of everyone on the Dean staff. I guess that makes sense since he's the boss...

And here are three members of the College Division clarinet studio. Aren't they cutie patooties? Sam on the bottom left actually lives in Denton, which is not terribly far from Rockwall, so I have every intention of forcing him to be my official Second Friend when this summer is over and we get back to Texas. 

Brevard: Day Seventeen

Sooo...I missed my daily deadline by 21 minutes. But it's still not past midnight in Dallas. And certainly not in California. So I'm totally going to count this.

But it's all for naught because I am merely logging on to say that I am too tired/lazy to write a real post today. But some cool things actually happened, I promise. Like a quasi-work related trip to Asheville where I got coffee (still decaf...blurgh) from a double decker bus and learned how to say "Hello. How are you?" in Turkish. And then we drove the opera singers out of French Quarter and played a rousing game of Taboo to close out the night. I'll explain more tomorrow. I may even post some pictures.

It's sleepy sleepies time now.

Brevard: Day Sixteen

Outsourced Facebook Status No. 4815162342:

Ysabel Sarte kiiiiinda feels bad about missing tonight's opening concert, but has been working since 8am this morning registering the High School division bebbies (accompanied by the very occasional overbearing, rude mother hen), capped off by a quasi-surprise trip to the Asheville airport during dinner time (blargh!) to pick up four late-arriving students, which then involved figuring out Tetris-style how to fit five humans, four sets of luggage, two backpacks, a cello and a violin into one seven-passenger minivan (success!), AND as the cherry on top, took a nice little tumble down a wooden staircase made slick by the afternoon rain which then turned my white cardigan sweater into a muddy mess.

Instead, I'm going to sit here in French Quarter ALL BY MYSELF YESGODDAMNIT, which I just finished cleaning and reorganizing in a sudden OCD fit (you never know when those things will hit) and enjoy my first and only meal of the day with my precioussss interwebs and a bit of solitude.

So I'm okay with missing tonight's concert after all.

Brevard: Day Fifteen

Ah, today is a good day. Do you know why? Well, for a multitude of reasons. But mainly because this is the first time that I have been able to enjoy a true non-decaffeinated (bleh!) cup of coffee (an iced Americano from a local coffee shop with free wi-fi, to be precise) since coming to Brevard without fear of Hootie flaring up in burning anger in protest. Huzzah!

Anyway, Dan and I (it's good to have friends with vehicles) are in town again, this time hanging out at said coffee shop while we wait for our respective loads of laundry to finish tumbling about in suds at the laundromat across the street. Me likey wi-fi. Some of the RAs already tease me about my dependency on internet because they have seen the desperation in my eyes when the wi-fi in French Quarter decides to go berserk. Which is often. *harumph*

Last night, I drove the Spaceship to the Asheville airport to pick up one of our early-arriving High School division students (the official registration for High Schoolers isn't until tomorrow). She is a fifteen-year old cellist named Elif. Do you know where she flew in from? Freaking Turkey!! She flew out of Istanbul and connected in Detroit. How awesome is that? I can't even imagine being fifteen years old and traveling on my own on a transcontinental flight that lasted nearly two days to a completely foreign country with only a limited grasp of the English language. I admire her for that alone. I do NOT admire the airline for telling her that they would be delivering her cello to her by hand once she landed in Asheville...and then leaving us to pick it up in horror as it plunked down the chute and onto the baggage claim conveyer belt! Ugh.

Anyway, I tried to be as warm and welcoming to her as I picked her up and drove back to the music center. We stopped at a grocery store so that I could get her some food (a simple chicken sandwich) and some toothpaste. I asked her what she thought of American food:

Elif: "Well ... it is very ...sugary. For me."

Ysabel: "Yes. Yes it is."

The conversation was largely one-sided (on my part) as she hadn't slept very much and hadn't eaten very much and it was late at night by the time we got back to BMC. She had a lot of questions. She tried to ask them to the best of her ability and I tried to answer them to the best of my ability.

It was all going well until she said this, "Oh, and I must tell you. I have a ... how do you say? ...phobia. Of ... insects." And then I pulled something out of my ass and said something reassuring like, "Oh, well your RAs - the women that will be living in your house - have been cleaning all day (which was true). So it should be fine. And if you keep your room clean all the time, you won't have a problem (which may or may not be true)."

Anyway, off to put my clothes into the dryer.

Brevard: Day Fourteen

Picture time!

(Just a few to start with for now, since it started thunderstorming yesterday while I was trying to take pictures. So I stopped trying to take pictures.)

So this is one of the two lakes on campus, Lake Milner. I don't know who Milner is or was, but definitely somebody important and rich. I have learned that if something here doesn't have a musical name (I live on Melody Lane off of Andante Lane, for crying out loud), then it is probably named after a rich person who donated a large sum of money to the music center. Anyway, Lake Milner is situated next to the main auditorium where the BMC orchestra rehearses and performs. The lake is also home to a group of geese who like to crap in the lake. On a related note: no swimming allowed in this lake.

Speaking of Andante Lane: here it is (or a portion of it)! It is the main road that takes you through campus. I walk up and down this road multiple times a day. On another related note: my ass is getting higher and tighter by the day. Woot!

So you thought I was kidding when I told you I lived in a cabin in the woods, eh? That's my door on the right. The door on the left leads to the unit occupied by the chorus master for the opera company, Beth. She is very nice and owns (AND BROUGHT! STAB ME IN THE HEART ALREADY!) a beagle named George. I like George because he makes me think of BB. But George also barks and CRIES like a crazy person at extremely high volumes every single morning when Beth leaves to go to breakfast. Note: Beth leaves to go to breakfast before 7am. I do not. So I get a lovely wake up call from George every morning roughly two hours before I am ready to be conscious again after manning French Quarter. But he's a cute doggie woggie so I forgive him everyday.

Ah. Speaking of French Quarter. This is it. I am inside it right now. Even though you are looking at it from the outside. Am I tripping you out? Anyway, French Quarter is located roughly forty paces to the right from my cabin. Inside, one will find things such as air conditioning, spotty (but precioussss) mountain w-fi, a television, board games, a ping-pong table and a refrigerator full of booze as this is the only place on campus where alcohol consumption is allowed. You may also find some opera singers who like to be loud and obnoxious and who don't know how to clean up after themselves (or read rhythms...wait, did I say that out loud?)

And lest I start feeling sorry for myself for having to keep watch over a hooligan crowd of music students in the woods under constant danger of being abducted by a psychotic mountain hillbilly, I just have to keep in mind that this is the view directly in front of my cabin. Lake Sonata (there they go again, with the names...), where swimming IS allowed under the supervision of a lifeguard. No ducks here, but there are fish in the lake. As well as a very loud and vocal group of (I'm guessing) bullfrogs that make laughing noises every night everytime I close down French Quarter and am walking back to my cabin. Seriously, this is what I hear during my walk: "CROAK. ...CROAK. ...CROAK. ...MHAAA HA HA HA HAAA." It is not at all terrifying the first time you hear it in the dark mountains by yourself.

And I just love walking by the low brass instruments studio every day because it so epitomizes what this place is. There is almost always a student or two inside the studio practicing their instrument and completely surrounded by the mountains and trees with a lovely brook running right underneath the cabin. Kinda neat. 

Oh, and I took a short video of the BMC Orchestra rehearsing for this week's concert in the auditorium (which, as I tried to show you in the video, is also an outdoor facility), conducted by Keith Lockhart. They sound aight. Ha. Also, all that extraneous noise you hear in the background isn't fuzz or static. It actually starded storming during the rehearsal. 

Brevard: Day Thirteen

You guys, I think I have found my number one favorite cafeteria food product here and, much to the chagrin amusement of my fellow Deans, I have affectionately named it "Rib Shaped Meat." It tastes like ribs. It's shaped like ribs. BUT IT'S NOT RIBS. There are no bones. But it's shaped to look like it has bones. It is AMAZING. It also bears more than passing resemblance to the ever-elusive McRib sandwich.

Hooter cooter update! It (She? Hootie?) is better, but not yet fully recovered. Sad face. I bummed a ride with Dan into town yesterday, which was nice since we got to walk around a bit, get coffee, pop into some quaint little awesome shops and visit some achingly adorable kittens that were up for adoption through the Humane Society. Seriously, if we had already gotten our first paycheck, I would have walked away with fifteen new kitten friends.* Anyway, the point of all this was to tell you that I also was able to buy some over the counter UTI symptom helper pills that seem to be helping, but it also turns your pee a vibrant orange-y magenta-ish color (thank God I read the warning label and was expecting it, otherwise I would have fuh-reaked out). Also, Dan told me in the car that reading my blog adds a whole other context now that he sees me at work every day:

Dan: I mean, I just can't read it the same way when you say things like "ladyparts" now that I see you everyday.

Ysabel: What? I like euphemisms! Like "hooter cooter" and "hoochie coochie."

Dan: GROSS.

Ysabel: WELL IT'S BETTER THAN SAYING THE V-WORD. ...Hm, maybe that's why Scott refuses to read my blog.

And on that note, I'm off to watch/listen to a rehearsal of the orchestra made up of young musicians who were probably practicing their instruments already as they were being squeezed out of their mother's womb.


* I MISS YOU, BB AND BELA!!!

Brevard: Day Twelve

Blargh!! I had two hours left in the night set aside to keep watch in French Quarter and catch up on my interwebs quality time and daily blog post, and then it took me like twenty effing minutes just to connect because I think SOMEONE was streaming media on their laptop. Which does not work when you're sharing a measly weak mountain network with eleventeen thousand other laptop users in one room. And then a bunch of the new College Division students came up to me one after another and wanted to talk to me because apparently they happen to think I have a friendly face (Seriously, what? I have to work on my scowling skillz.) despite my true icy interior.

Anyway, more to write. I'll do that tomorrow (i.e. later today).

Brevard: Day Eleven

Whoa, I'm getting this in just under the clock. Today was spent welcoming and registering all the College Division students, which was a little hectic and stressful for a brief period in the morning, but then evened out to a steady manageable pace for the rest of the day. Mainly because the Dean staff is awesome and we work together in a magically delicious way.

Now I am winding down the evening playing a rousing game of Monopoly in the French Quarter with some members of the RA staff and one of the French horn students. (By the by, what are they doing hanging out at French Quarter playing Monopoly? They've got auditions tomorrow! ...These are my people.) Anyway, however, since I had to write this post before midnight, I had to pass my game on to Dan - even though I was currently in the midst of probably my best Monopoly game ever! I owned a monopoly and had two houses each on the purple properties, owned a monopoly on the railroads and had a healthy bank account.*

Also, I pounced on the primary clarinet teacher here, who happens to be the clarinet teacher at Northwestern University (i.e. one of the schools I want to apply to for my Ph.D, natch), and introduced myself to him quite shamelessly. Fortunately, we mutually know a few clarinet players from DFW and I had already prepared him via email that I was going to be harrassing him for a lesson. Also, the clarinet professor at TAMU- Commerce is a former student of his, and she apparently gave him a good word on my behalf. Woot, connections! Not bad for an anti-social networking-hater like myself.

This dialogue just transpired here at the Monopoly table:

Mikhail (Russian violinist RA) to Dan: I veel geev you my two utilities eenstead.

Dan: Nah.

Mikhail: I veel geev you these two plus three hondred dollars. Eet ees da same theeng as payeenk. Von feefty plus von feefty.

Dan: ...eh. That's a bad investment.

Mikhail: Agh.

Dan: And this is how I am going to run camp. WITH AN IRON FIST!

Mikhail gesturing to Ysabel: And you only eenherited this from Eesabel! All thees power and you deedn't earn it! Eet ees like "Bruce Almighty"!


Okay, on to more exciting topics: I have officially deemed that my hooter cooter is allergic to ghetto one-ply toilet paper. It has been two days since I switched to my luxurious three-ply contraband and I feel significantly better. My ladyparts have standards! (hush, you)


*Ah, if only 'twere real life!

Brevard: Day Ten

Woot woot! Double digits!

In other news: Holy Christ, college aged music students - nay, college aged opera students - are LOUD. I am sitting in a corner of the French Quarter doing my duty as an Assistant Dean and watching over these students as they shout over one another in an attempt to be The Center of Attention in a room full of thirty other talented music students who are all also straining to be The Center of Attention.

Sopranos, when speaking in over a crowd, are screechy and annoying. I'm way too old for this sh*t. The end.

Also: I definitely smuggled a roll of luxurious Scott toilet paper from French Quarter in my backpack this morning before anyone else got there. It felt brilliant on my ladyparts.

The College Division students all arrive tomorrow for registration which signals the semi-official (the High School division students arrive in one week yet) beginning of the summer music season. Yay.

Brevard: Day Nine

Do you know how to make me feel like a veritable athlete for the first time since 1995? Put me in a large group of elite musicians and incredibly talented young music students who have done nothing but practice their instruments since they were fetuses. I AM A FREAKING JOCK HERE!

Case in point: Game 7 of the NBA Finals last night (Curse you, Lakers!!! *shakes fist at sky*). The Dean staff and the RAs were having an informal preliminary meeting in the one and only facility (dubbed "French Quarter") on campus where the students are able to congregate and relax and watch television and drink, etc. By the time the meeting was officially over and we could finally turn on the television to watch the game, it was the very end of halftime. I stayed to watch the game - while burning effigies to the God of the Underdogs while poking voodoo dolls of Kobe and Artest (it didn't work damnit) - along with two RAs and two opera singers.

Anyway, one of the RAs who is studying cello at Boston Conservatory was cheering on the Celtics (doy) and doing the stereotypical chick thing where she shrieks when her team makes a basket and pouts when the other team makes a basket. I empathized because I know what it's like to watch a sports game when you don't really know what's going on. But anyway. About halfway through the third quarter, Boston was up by like six or seven points and this girl startes to leave, saying, "Oh good! They're totally going to win! I don't have to stay for the whole game." And I was like, "Are you kidding me? This lead means nothing right now. There's so much game left to play!" But I didn't really say that, I only thought it. And was really proud that I could make silent informed sports commentary - regardless of how obvious it was.

But then one of the tenors standing behind me talking (i.e. vocalizing and giggling in a high pitched voice) with a group of his fellow opera singers SHRIEKED at the television...because a commercial with talking babies came on. He was like, "OMIGOD! TALKING BABIES! OMIGOD! I LOOOOVE TALKING BABY COMMERCIALS!!" and I felt totally butch.

Also, we took the RAs on a hiking tour of the whole campus, including secret trails and shortcuts that lead from cabin to cabin and I totally didn't have to take twenty hits from my inhaler at all. I was a disgusting sweaty mess, though. But that's okay. That's what Third Showers are for.

I should also add that we had a visit from the local police and fire department today to talk to the RAs about safety procedures and one of them mentioned something about Terminix going into the facilities to spray down the buildings for dangerous spiders. And then that same RA chick from Boston raised her hand and was like, "Wait, were you serious about termites and stuff? Like, are there really termites?" And we all looked at each other quizzically. And I said, "Do you mean ticks?" And she was like, "No, termites. Because I don't want termites getting into my cello." But then we realized that she just misheard the word Terminix and all was well in her universe again.

*sigh*

Musicians.

ps. All of these students probably practice more in one year than I think I have in my entire life. But whatever. That's my dirty little secret. I'lllll never telllll! Hahaha.

pps. I've gotten so used to unraveling like three arm lengths worth of one-ply toilet paper all week that I instinctively did the same thing just now when I went to use the bathroom in French Quarter, which happens to have the nice luxurious kind of toilet paper...and I ended up with a wad of TP in my hand literally the size of my head. I felt like Queen of the Universe! It was AWESOME.

Brevard: Day Eight

So our cabins are supplied with toilet paper by the Music Center. WOOT! ...except for the fact that it is that low-cost one-ply nonsense that I* have no patience for.

Ysabel: Soooo...do you think it would be completely ridiculous of me to spend a portion of my first paycheck on a supply of luxurious toilet paper?

Dan: No. That would not be ridiculous at all.




I mean, seriously. One-ply? I don't play that game.

RA registration is the activity for the day. Three hours in, and only about five RAs have shown up. So really, all we have done so far is just sat around making inappropriate jokes while trolling our Facebook accounts and wasting time on the Interwebs. Speaking of: I want THIS.

On the plus side, the weather is sunny sunny sunny! Which means that it's still pretty toasty, but at least it doesn't feel like we're hiking through a dinosaur's fart cloud anymore.


* And by "I," I mean "my ass."


UPDATE: So Erin and I took it upon ourselves to go on a coffee run to one of the local coffee shops in town. Fact: If you walk around to a group of newly-met musicians and music administrators and say, "Hi, we're going on a coffee run. Did you want anything?" you WILL make friends. Anyway, so we ended up with a handful of drink orders. And THEN a man we had never met before named Mark introduced himself to us and PAID FOR OUR ENTIRE DRINK ORDER just because we were wearing our Brevard nametags and he saw that we were on staff at the Music Center! Turns out this gentleman owns pretty much half of the businesses in Brevard ("I own the movie theater downtown. And the UPS store. And the tanning salon. I don't even remember buying that tanning salon. I just woke up one morning and I owned it!") and is a great supporter of the Music Center. AND he is also giving us passes to watch movies for free at his movie theater. This is shaping up to be quite an enjoyable summer job. Now if I can only get my hooter cooter to feel better.

Brevard: Day Seven

Hey, guess what the weather is like today? Near ninety degrees with eleventeen million percent humidity with alternating sunshine and cataclysmic thunderstorms. JUST LIKE IT'S BEEN ALL WEEK.

I wouldn't mind so much since the ultra green mountain forestry in the rain is really pretty and the sound of monster rain is quite pleasant, but the two pairs of flip flops that I brought are genuine leather Born sandals. I suppose I should go to Kmart and invest in some more utilitarian $3 rubber flip flops or something.

In other news, the two other Assistant Deans (for the High School division) are here and they are awesome: Erin and Michael, who are married and are both doctoral students in music at Ohio State University. Now that we're all here, we've got the numbers to form a Deans staff quintet! Now all we need to do is find some literature written for flute, clarinet, saxophone, euphonium and tuba. That's fairly standard instrumentation, right?

The Resident Assistants arrive tomorrow and we get to put them through RA training for the next three days. I hope the RAs that I will be working with (College Division females) are cool and not betches. Otherwise, I'll have to whip out my taser.


UPDATE: So I got tasked with driving a giant behemoth of a minivan (dubbed "The Spaceship") that is used as the staff vehicle to go pick up an RA that was arriving today from the Asheville airport:

Ysabel (realizing that she had been doing nothing but trolling Facebook and reading blogs for twenty minutes in Cale's "office" i.e. his cabin porch): Um...is there anything you want me to work on right now? I'm not really being very productive.

Cale: Well...we've got that one RA arriving in 45 minutes. Maybe you can go pick her up.

Ysabel: D'OH!


Anyway. The RA I picked up is a very pleasant and intelligent young lady from Carmel (woot Norcal!), who just graduated with a Masters degree in Piano from Indiana University. I had forgotten what it was like to speak with college students who can converse with educated opinions utilizing complete sentences strung together to form coherent paragraphs. *sigh* Anyway, she and the only other RA that is already here (all the others arrive tomorrow) happen to be a pianist and a cellist and we may or may have already decided to form a trio. First on the docket: The Brahms Trio, doy. This is quite exciting.

Also: I should also mention that this marks my first full week here and I have not been eaten by a bear yet.

Brevard: Day Six

So I opted out of dinner at the cafeteria this evening AND I MISSED CORNDOG NIGHT. Waaaah. No worries, though, as I trust there will be a few more corndog nights throughout the summer. I hope.

In TMI news (my favorite kind): My hoochie coochie is still a little bit hurty. And this is despite the fact that I have guzzled nearly 64 ounces of cranberry juice in the last 2 days. I think it's helping...? On the plus side, I also discovered at lunch today that one of the juice carafes in the cafeteria offers cranberry juice, so yay.

But seriously. I effing missed corndog night.

Brevard: Day Five

I think I have urinated about eleventy thousand times in the last five days. Also, I have guzzled nearly half of the jug of cranberry juice I bought yesterday, so I am feeling better.

In other news, we are welcoming and registering the opera company today. No big deal so far. The closest I have come so far to encountering the animal known in the wild as "The Soprano Opera Diva" is a French Canadian opera resident named Veronique. And to be clear, that's pronounced "Vekhneeek." And I really don't even think she's much of a diva...just French Canadian. Do you think it would be a good idea for me to ask if she knows Celine Dion?

Anyway, there are a bunch of faculty and staff members here who brought their dog with them, AND I AM NOT ONE OF THEM because I didn't think it would be allowed and I didn't want to ask and run the risk of making a bad first impression as somebody who asks ridiculous and high maintenance questions. So of course I am self-flagellating myself for not asking. I WANT BB HERE. The end.

UPDATE: Look, a white squirrel!

Brevard: Day Four

Rumor has it that the cafeteria opens this evening, which means that my rationing out of my meager leftover funds to feed myself these last four days will at last come to an end.

Also, there is a functional wireless router in the College Division hangout joint called "French Quarter" which is just a short skip and a jump away from my cabin. Unfortunately there is this little thing called "a dense forest of trees" situated directly between the French Quarter and my cabin that gets in the effing way of my ability to get signal in my place. Dangblastitall!! The  really cool thing  is that if I walk out my front door and walk roughly fifteen paces forward, I  can  get internet on  my  laptop.  Now, the  question is if I  am  willing  to risk being  snatched  up and traded  into  mountain  slavery  by a bear in order to update my  Facebook  status  after sundown.

In other news, Cale and Dan came up with the idea to start a rumor around camp that, despite my small stature and quiet demeanor (ha), the students should not try to mess with me because I was convicted of attempted murder a few years ago and am out on parole. I think I can go along with this.

Also this morning, Dan was telling us that he had zero water pressure in his shower, to which I remarked, "Ugh, it's like having someone peeing on you." And then Cale and Dan looked at me silently with brows raised and I had to explain, "NO, I DON'T HAVE ANY EXPERIENCE WITH THAT." Yeah, so I think the three of us are starting to warm up to each other, which is good. The two remaining Assistant Deans (for the Young Artist division) arrive tomorrow, so it'll be good to get to know them. Woot.

Oh, and did you know that they have white squirrels here? Literally. Squirrels that are all white. I'll try to take some pictures in the next day or two to post on here.

Brevard: Day Three

Hullo. Continuation of housing lists is on the docket today. Super exciting (not so much). What is exciting is that I walked roughly fifty feet in the mother-effing woods in complete darkness last night carrying a bag of groceries and a 12-pack of bottled water without getting eaten by a bear or molested by a lunatic mountain hillbilly. I was glad. And then I proceeded to spend the remainder of the night inside my isolated cabin with the lights on and NPR (I found the NPR station in the mountains!) on the radio. I will be very glad when the RAs and students and faculty arrive at camp so I can feel like there are a multitude of people to protect me from meat-eating animals and crazy mountain folk.

Also, it smells like my air freshener here. Only, it's all of outside and comes from actual nature instead of chemicals emanating from an electrical outlet. I guess that's pretty nice!

I may update more later, depending on how successfully I can find mountain interwebs in these here parts.

Brevard: Day Two

OMG I found some interwebz! Day Two is going splendidly. So far it is just me, Dan and our boss, Cale, (the Dean of Students). Officially, we are "training." Unofficially, we are sitting on Cale's porch, trading music war stories, sharing meals and occasionally talking about work. The first students (the opera company) don't actually show up for another two or three days and then the RAs and bulk of the students show up a couple of days after that. So for now, we are just getting a lay of the land and getting things prepared for other humans to show up to campus.

In other news, my bowels have not had any movement since I left Dallas. Also, I had no hot water in my cabin (a matter which is currently being attended to by the savvy maintenance crew) for my shower this morning. Long story short, I began hyperventilating while trying to dunk my head under the frozen spray of water and quite literally started choking on my own breath. It was FUN. But at least I got to bathe my head and roughly 75% of my arms before I finally gave up and jumped out.

Oh, and by the way. It is HUMID as an elephant's taint (Is that a saying? I just made it up.) here.

ALSO: Hey guess what? I'm teaching Music Theory I, two sections of Ear Training I and Intro to Music Lit (for non-majors BARF) this fall. Hooray?

Brevard: Day One

10:20am - Greetings from Dallas Fort Worth International airport!

So I think I'm going to attempt to blog everyday while I'm in Brevard. Counting this day in and the last day out, it should total 62 days. I wonder how long it will be until I resort to posting about farts and poop. Three, four days? Haha. Anyway, I'm counting today as day one because I should technically be in Brevard by the end of the day. Also, I totally fell asleep for a few minutes here at the gate and I'm pretty sure I was that person with their head tilted back and mouth open with slight drooling action. Awesome. So I had to share. Also: I woke up because I heard this couple sitting across from me talking about how the guy got a $100 Star*ucks gift card as a present. And the girl was all, "Who gives a $100 Star*ucks gift card?!" And I was all, "Hahaha, I know right? Seriously. That's way ridiculous. NOW GIVE IT TO ME." Ok, I didn't really say that. But mainly because I was too busy wiping the drool from my chin.

10:49 - There is now a family with 5 kids and another family with 2 kids that have completely surrounded me at the gate. They are ALL eating breakfast from Burger King. Oy, the grease! I'm pretty sure I would be saving these children from a lifetime of high cholesterol and obesity if I were to take their fries, chicken nuggets and Whoppers from them and insert them in my belly. The only thing stopping me is the fact that my next shower is several hours away.

An airport haiku for you:

Cloud of french fry grease
Should I shower or steal fries?
Can't catch me, lil kid!

3:49 EST - Hello. I am now in Orlando. I also came very close to spending $8.00 on a hotdog and fries ("Combo special!!" ...UGH) but got a $4.00 wee little soy latte instead. Da end.

Oh, by the way: Carrying your own pillow on the plane so you can sleep through the entire first leg of your trip seated next to a large man who likes to lean over and watch what his seatmates are doing on their phones is A TOTAL WIN!

3:59 - The man seated directly across the gate from me just shoved a huge wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth. I wonder where he's planning on spitting tha -- EWWW HE JUST SPIT IT INSIDE THE EMPTY WATER BOTTLE HE WAS HOLDING! GROSS!!! Don't look at the bottle don't look at the bottle don't look at the bottle. BARF.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Am I really watching a Katherine Heigl romantic comedy on FX while drinking a glass of pinot grigio by myself?

Yes I am.

In other news, I just finished taking BB for a walk (we - meaning "I" - opted out of our evening jog and just went for a leisurely walk today*) and my little ten pound puppy took a leak seven times and took three - THREE! - number twos. Did you know that it is not at all a sign of mental illness that I keep count of my dog's bowel movements? Well, it's not OKAY?

Also, if you, like me, are in a constant state of horror at the state of our youth's writing skills and are in need of a good laugh, please click here. And make sure your speakers are on.

* I am planning on braving our building's exercise room treadmill in the morning. I can't stomach it right now. No, literally, I can't. My stomach is full of my bowl-of-tater-tots dinner.


*** UPDATE (45 minutes later): What just happened? One minute I'm sitting on my couch, about three sips into my glass of wine, watching a lame movie on cable television, and next thing I know I'm in Target. How did that even happen?? I think I saw a commercial for shampoo and conditioner on the television. Which reminded me of how often I've been taking showers the past week (partly because it is eleventy million degrees here already and partly because I've been bored and partly because I've been working out in the evenings yay!). Which then reminded me that my skin has been getting a little dry as a result. Which made me ponder the possibility of maybe not taking a shower tonight before bed. Which then made me tell myself, "You dummy. Of course you're taking a shower before bed tonight. You have psychological problems." Which made me realize that I don't want to keep washing my face with my regular soap to exacerbate the dryness. Which then made me get in my car and drive one mile to our nearby Target to buy a gentler, cream based face wash to use for the next few days. And then I also bought two greeting cards for no reason.

Anyway, I'm back now. Except now I'm watching Real Housewives of New York City. Upgrade?


*** UPDATE #2: OMG. I just spent the last minute licking my finger and viciously trying to swipe a stubborn cookie crumb off of the "<" key on my laptop...until I finally realized it was just the effing comma. What is in this glass of pinot grigio? Drugs??

Like of the Day: Tubs of Organic Spring Mix at the grocery store.

Because it costs only a few dollars, and "a few dollars" is something that I occasionally have. Also, if you put some in a bowl and then lightly toss it with lemon juice, honey, balsamic vinegar and black pepper, it makes a delightful (and unusually healthy) light lunch. I would imagine it would be super duper yummy if that was then mixed with some forbidden goat or mozzarella cheese, mini tomatoes and julienned (ooh fancy word alert!) basil. And then if you top it with a couple scoops of homemade non-poisonous curry chicken salad, it transforms into a tremendously delicious, nutritious, uncharacteristically un-deep fried meal for Ysabel. 

Note: This healthy meal is best followed by a cold beer and a handful of Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies from the freezer. Life is all about balance.

Also: I have straight-up exercised for two days in a row. It now hurts to sneeze. But other than that, I feel pretty stupendous. 

When does Schmooblebuns come back and/or I start working again?

So I sent this text message to my sister, older brother (Jaime, I would have sent it to you too, but, seriously, where are you now, like Season FOUR?), Dev and Sarah today:

and I am SO TOTALLY RIGHT.

Evidence 1:

Hatch timer beep. 

and

Evidence 2:

Target scanner beep.

Question.

Am I the only one who takes a shower in preparation for working out? (Don't answer that)