Volunteering & Volunteer Students

I wish I had some awesome pictures to post. Alas. Let me paint what I can.
There is this cafe in the east village that I sort of love with outdoor seating and a clientele definitely based right across the Williamsburg bridge – cut up skinny jeans, flannels, shaggy messy hair. Sometimes I fit this description. More often, I fit the description of the conspicuously misplaced midwest girl with unruly curls and lines beneath her eyes.

My attitude had been particularly good up until today. My anniversary of emo is today. For no particular reason. But amplified since I can’t at least be with the family.

Anyway. I play in the amateur recital on Saturday and how my enthusiasm for that went from 10 to 0 in under 24 hours is unknown to me. But I don’t really care to play. Haydn. I love him, but he is little like me. Actually this is what I’ve loved about me (and Haydn) most up until today. Probably PMS but my littleness is getting annoying to me.

In New York everyone and everything is “larger than life” like Janet says. At work you have to be “larger than life.” With my littleness, no way can I even so much pretend to be this. I’m not passionate enough even.

Well in honesty my hair does look lovely today. A combination of John Freida “Brilliant Brunette” and Aveda “Be Curly”. For others with brown curly hair, I recommend it.

It’s all wasted though since I’ll stay home, talk with the roommates and maybe finish “Dance Dance Dance” by Murakami before starting one of the seven books I have queued at my bedside.

I remember this time last year when I met the dog guy in Ann Arbor and had breakfast with him. What a lovely morning that was.

I’m meeting with the piano outreach this week which means I have to have a resume of some substance to show them so they’ll feel confident relying on me for writing or marketing or general fundraising for their organization. I hope I can help. I know I certainly would have appreciated the opportunity for studying music had I been an under priviledged child in New York. I’ll also meet with the Free Arts org later this month for much the same thing. I hope I can help them too. And I can’t wait for my piano teacher to come home. I dearly miss my Friday night routine.

Trying not to feel lonely or become a recluse. It’s natural though. I’m a Hodge. We’re all basically the same.