finals week, senior recital, graduation, moving.

ben alper's erasure is appropriate again.

[x] days before recital.

trying to pack and learn the third movement of the concerto and organize my life for some unpacking at an undesignated and time and place. rubbing icyhot on my arms all the way up to my shoulders for tendonitis. being generally stressed out and snappish. losing my phone and not really trying to find it because then i'd have to be responsible and communicate with people.

[x] days after recital.

it went pretty well. i'd like a re-do for some parts, but who cares, i always do. it lasted about an hour and a half and the ushers ran out of programs. my teacher thinks that there were at least one hundred people in the audience, which is an exceptional turnout for a senior recital.

(this is the dress that i wore. finally got a picture of it on the morning i drove off; note the empty room. the colors in this picture aren't very accurate. that baby is REDREDSHINYRED. it looked awesome for the concerto with the orchestra in black.)

it was a curious process, growing up in the department and watching all of these strong students give their senior recitals and leave. i wanted to be like them -- intimidating, on the ball, going somewhere. the senior recital was the culminating display of dominance, the final ruffling of feathers, the last strut. i wanted to nail mine to the wall. i wanted it to be Good and Ferocious and a final knockout punch with a square and perfect impact that maybe, maybe, other students would look at and think, "damn, i wish i could be like her", or just "damn."

but of course, the closer i got to the recital, the less i cared. i just needed to learn the damn pieces, to survive. and when i finished, it wasn't some sweaty, strong, wild-eyes, bloody fist in the air hallelujah finish-line-crossing, it was just a relief. i'd been picturing it like a fight when all it really turned out to be was proof that time keeps moving.

so i put my mattress on top of my car and drove it across town in the rain and left it in a friend's room. i gave away my bookshelf, and half of my clothes and a lot of books and wrote:

everything fits in my car

it is hard to say goodbye to this town

goodbye to the people

took a final trip to the river, to the beach, the marsh, the forest.

all of my students gave me a final hug and several asked me to please come back in the fall. (that might be enough to sway me. i didn't realize how much i love them, and how much i really don't trust anybody else to do right by them.)

i think maybe arcata is this big hole in my chest right now because i have no definite plans after august 5th and at least there i have people and the forest and familiar movements of light.

and of course, i'll miss things like this:

but i think i'm ready. here we go.