What are the odds?

I’m a little tipsy, which means that this post will take a while for me to type, considering all the backspacing I’ll be doing to correct typos. Hubby and I just came from the pub where Little Princess’ band was playing at a fundraiser for the children of Burmese migrant workers. Prior to that we went to see the latest monster-that-ate-New York movie, Cl0verfieId, which made me feel like I was going to vomit. Seriously. It was worse than The BIair Witch Pr0ject. Several times I had to close my eyes to let my stomach settle back into a lesser state of upheaval.

It was interesting, actually, how we both reacted to that film. I hated it, not just because of the camera work, but because I am sick to death of monsters-that-ate-New York movies. He loved it. It must be a guy thing.

But, aside from all that, I had a bit of a shock and a revelation to day. I was chatting with a student, the one who had one lesson with me and decided she knew more than I did and switched to the teacher who doesn’t actually teach them anything, and I started to talk about a situation (the accompanist debacle) and she said, “I know, I read your Xanga.”

I leave a moment to pause here.

I do not post as freely in my Xanga as I do here. Well, I don’t generally talk about my personal life the way I do in this diary, I don’t vent as much and I try to be more literate. She did say that no matter what I write about, she always enjoys reading it because I write so well. That was flattering. But it made me pause and wonder what I have actually said there that paints me in a negative light. Have I written anything about her that she might read? Or about people she knows (besides our most ineffectual chair)? Would she betray me to them?

Scariest of all was her confession that she herself has had many blogs over time, one at this particular site, in fact, and what freaks me out is that my Xanga is in the same name as this one. What is to keep her from searching and finding me here with all the terrible things I’ve said about her and others whom she knows? It makes me wonder if I should be locking this diary. I don’t know. I don’t know if I should even be concerned about this. Is it really that big a deal?

The weather has been playing hard-to-get, and walking to school this morning I needed sunglasses. Mid-morning it started to rain, and then it turned to snow. During the studio recital at noon I watched as white fluffy flakes of what was actually slush fell from the heavens through the window of the recital hall, the grand piano open in front of it, and thought that it was quite a lovely picture. The reality is not as nice, though. The ground is covered with slush, slippery slush, and it is miserable. I am so sick of winter.

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