Posts Tagged ‘shit’

Odd Sentimentality

July 27, 2008

I am a member of the Walnut Creek Concert Band (WCCB), which is a really nice name for a group of instrumentally-challenged old folks who play really shitty music for even older folks. I always wonder why the retirement communities love our 4th of July concert so much…probably because they’re more deaf than blind, and if our band’s got one thing going for it, we all look sharp rockin’ the american flag polo. But I digress.

I’ve been a member of this heinous organization for a little over a year. And strangely, for a little over a year, my life has for some reason seemed a little gloomier than it previously had. I’m beginning to see a connection. My band director basically guilted me into playing in this band, which is understandable because I’m a doormat and I can’t say no to anything, even if saying yes tempts me to drink three gallons of bleach.

We usually play really shitty arrangements of disgusting old american tunes. Occasionally they aren’t patriotic, only shitty. Occasionally, they’re shitty arrangements of operas, or shitty arrangements that tragically destroy music that was once decent (“A Copeland Portrait?” What did you use, fingerpaint? Shit. “The Magic of Andrew Lloyd Weber?” Nice try. I can almost hear Weber projectile vomiting in his grave.) The only two constants of WCCB are these: We play shit, and we play shit really suckily. I mean this. We suck. It’s kind of like watching a person falling into a puddle and laughing, then shutting up because, in fact, the person who fell in the puddle was you. But I still laugh at us when we humiliate ourselves in public, because hey, I’m 18, and I’m kind of an ass.

We had a concert tonight. We played a bunch of shitty arrangements of operas that probably sounded nice at one point, and I don’t remember a second of it. Why? Because I was not listening, only playing along mindlessly. Why?

BECAUSE IT WAS MY LAST WCCB CONCERT EVER. That’s right. I’m going to college in a month. So naturally, I spent the duration of the hellish hour-and-a-half concert daydreaming about never having to go to WCCB ever again.

And then my dream came true.

Then, I got to hand in my folder to the music librarian, who I believe hates me with every fiber of her being.

I got to say goodbye to my stand partner, who was glad to see me go, because she’s a kindergarten teacher and talking to me during rehearsal is probably just like an extension of the work day for her.

I took a last look at the man who looks upon me as one would look upon satan or a convicted serial rapist, and all because I occasionally play Dots during rehearsal. And make fun of his bird-like qualities, but only behind his back, I swear.

Then I hugged the lead director goodbye, which was incredibly uncomfortable.

I looked around the room at all the people who will not miss me or my flute playing, either because they find me obnoxious or because they do not know I exist.

And I realized, shit, I’m really going to miss this. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m totally going to go to WCCB rehearsals when I am back in town during breaks. I am going to dream about WCCB. I am going to idealize it, and wish I could once again be part of such a fine organization.

Thanks brain, I really appreciate the extra gush of estrogen. As if I ever needed to be more emotional.