The fair in farewell

I wanted to spend my last few days in Dallas doing the things I love the most. Namely, eating...reading...talking....seeing friends...playing house and dress-up with the little sibs...eating more...and listening to some classic Sinatra. But of course, packing and goodbyes and work all have filled my schedule to overflowing, and I come home, tired, and stay up for several more hours just to have that last bit of alone time before I live with even more people than I'm accustomed to...(hard to imagine, eh?)

Back in, oh, eighth grade, freshman year, I had time. I was a huge Sinatra fan. He was pretty much all I ever listened to and eventually I bought a life-size poster of him (with the amazing tilted fedora and the look he has of being a complete tool) and put it smack in the middle of a wall in my room. I listen every week on Sunday night from 6-8 to a Sinatra segment on one of those AM stations that has commercials for old people cruises and diet solutions.

Best part of the week, hands-down.

Next week, though, I enter the realm of Elvis. I like Elvis quite a bit. I hold a grudge against him, of course, for upstaging the Sinatra era, but he's so smooth that all that criticism just slides off like melted ice cream and those drops of melted ice cream are even tastier than the actual ice cream. (And this is why opposites attract, those drops of melted criticism are just sooo delicious...)

But just listening to Sinatra's voice, to all of his little slides and breath control and GAH he may not have the prettiest tone, but he has the most perfect technique. Technique is so underrated. Technique arises out of practice and experience and just general sensibility. 

The letter "r" is the most exciting letter in the alphabet, by far. Listen to Edith Piaf roll her French r's, or Sinatra draw out every single one of his, or Melody Gardot just gently vibrating them, and you will be more sensualized than after you watch a dramatic love scene. Absolute magic. 

I can't wait to develop my own technique: the technique of life! Just random moments of absolute joy have come upon me in the last few days, knowing that I will be starting so fresh, so new, something I have never been able to do before! Nobody has expectations, nobody expects me to be top in everything, or the total prude, or the shy one in the corner. I can be a slacker, an absolute opposite-of-prudish (....), and the most outrageously annoyingly loud person that everyone instantly HATES in the room. And so can you, dear reader. But only change into something or someone that YOU want to be, and that you enjoy being < cliche of the century, excuse my ineffective grammar.

Blah I'm supposed to be packing and/or asleep right now. But I'll have plenty of time to sleep after college, no? And if I'm not packed by Wednesday, then it's just really tough for me. (that's what friend are for, stealing necessities from, correct?). Nope, I've been painting my nails and watching music clips from the Music Man. Incredibly content. Excited. Nervous. And this is my last Saturday night in Dallas for a long, long time.

Perhaps if I ever have a break, I might possibly blog a bit. Ha, I might actually write something that stays on topic and qualifies as enjoyable. Till then, fare thee well, and brush three times a day.