I'm quite frequently tempted to begin entries with the opening lines to "Jabberwocky": Twas brillig, and the slithy toves... It's strange how often that pops into my head, strange how nonsense can be so enduring. What am I trying to tell myself, by wanting to start the record of my days with words that have no meaning?

When I listen to classical music, as I have been so much recently, I have a tendency to hum along, closing my eyes at the most exquisite parts. No, I'm not being overly flowery here- what else but 'exquisite' could you call the beautiful plaintive soprano line ("A-i-ea, a-i-ea, a-i-e-ia") in Carmina Burana? Once more I find that I miss making music, to the point where I am frustrated by the lack of creative release in my life. It was this semester that I had decided I would once more make room for it; I was going to take voice lessons, perhaps, or at least get back to playing the piano. It is now the third week of classes, and I haven't once set foot in the music building. I'm not exactly setting a great precedence for myself.

Sometimes I think that if I could go back and do it all again, 'all' being my college education, I'd be a music major. Not at a large university or a well-renowned conservatory, as I never quite had the talent for that, but here, at Macalester. People here major in music simply because they want to, and in return for their love of music they are given considerable freedom. A fellow I knew last year wrote a piece revolving around the television show "Twin Peaks" for voices, 2 cellos, and a few other assorted instruments; others, of course, follow a more traditional route.

What I want most right now is to conduct, to hold in my arms a full orchestra or chorus, to cradle it with a symphony. I want to have the ability to put my raw passion for the lyricism, the rhythm, the sheer beauty of music, into a useful form. I want to be exhausted by the emotional force of a performance, the culmination of weeks and weeks of trials and frustrations as only minutes' worth of bridled intensity.

Perhaps I ought to make an effort to go play piano tomorrow, eh?

Listening to: Orff's Carmina Burana, Lloyd Webber's Requiem