A Simple Hello.

Today was pretty good.
And I realized something.
My real, true, close friends are the ones who say "hi" to me when they see me. Even just passing me in the halls. I realize these people are the friends I have no complaints about, the friends who are nice and sweet and smart, and who unload their drama on me, because they know I'm a good listener and they can get good advice from me. They are the friends who keep their plans, and who make plans, just to hang out. We share secrets, we cry on each other's shoulders, and we just talk about what's going on in the moment. The friends who ask me to sing because they like my voice, not because they like a certain song. The friends who ask me to perform at events, not because a full band cancelled, but because they like my music. These are the friends I really love, and they are the people care who enough to say "hi," without anyone having said "hi" first.
I love these friends to death.

As far as my other friends go, I'm trying to get out of any label that's been stuck on me. I'm spending a little more time thinking before I speak, and a little more time listening and really comprehending what people say, so I can bring these things up later and share a nostalgic laugh. I want enough respect that these people will say "hi" as well.

And don't get any ideas that I'll like you just because you say "hi" to me. If I didn't like you before, chances are I won't change my mind because of a simple hello. It's not a magic wand that can be waved, it's just a signal that my friends give to show their appreciation.
It's amazing what a simple hello can do.



I had to make up the English portion of the California High School Exit Exam (CAHSEE) today. As soon as the bell rang, I went straight to the cafeteria, and sat there for half an hour before Mrs. Porter finally shut up about why we need #2 pencils. I finished the first multiple-choice question and the essay portion in about forty-five minutes. I took a nap for over an hour before I heard Mrs. Porter say, "For those of you still working on the test, you have half an hour left."
Half an hour later, we got a break. A five-minute break. We sat back down and took the second multiple-choice section, which took me less than 30 minutes. I continued onto the questionaire ("What do you think you will do if you don't pass the CAHSEE?" It's impossible to fail), turned in my test, and was permitted to leave. Sweet Jesus.
I went to the last ten minutes of history, then choir.
Thank God we did sectionals in choir. We [the guys section] sang through the material once and goofed off while the girls kept singing. The guys' part to "O Fortuna" isn't hard, no more than four notes, so we were home free for 86 minutes.
In drama, we cast Alky, the play about teenagers at an alcohol-filled party. Instead of being cast as Tay, the persuasive alcoholic who sets his girlfriend up to be raped, or as Ira, the musician who's been drinking beer since he was little, I'm in the background as Kid #2, which is fine. I'm glad I don't have to say any of those god-awful lines ("A brewski for me-ski!"). And the best part is the ending, in which four people die and one person is permanently mentally damaged. Three of the people are hit and killed by the narrator. Spoiler alert! It's one of those plays with a moral, so it's not like the audience doesn't see that coming.

I'm going to start analyzing and explaining my songs tomorrow. I'm sure you can't wait.

-Jason