Dear December,
I had a good day today. At two o'clock I met with my horn teacher: scales, flubs in the upper register, lip slurs, erasing chromatic assumptions, and duets. Duets: fun as hell. I sounded good; we sounded great. Something inside me clicks the few times me and Reiner play duets together and I'm reminded why I'm on horn and not trumpet. When he tells me to pretend I'm the only horn playing, I say I don't have to pretend. (playing fortissimo through thirteen feet of metal is hard)
I texted Ronan three-something hours later: I'm bored, you up for a game of 20 questions? R, something along the lines of: tired, still sore, tomorrow? me: sure. feeeeeel the bite, ronan. R: ok. me: back to blogging it is
That's about how it goes. I really just wanted to ask him if he still has Pokemon cards and sh!t and someone to ask me dorky questions when I'm bored.
Today was good. Two and a half scales to memorize, two duets to pick out, one sexuality to determine. On it.
YOU ARE READING
dear december
Non-FictionContinued from last month's Dear November letters. A little less angsty, a little more poetic. Originally done on Polyvore, by @writingtips' and @smileylina 's suggestion, who got the idea from Youtuber Carrie Fletcher's series 'Letters to Autumn'.
