But, now that A Tale of Two Cities is hauntingly behind me, I can’t quite bring myself to pick up Harry Potter. It’s not that I don’t want to read it, because I do. I’ve heard great things about it. And, the Harry Potter series has consistently entertained me possibly more than any other book series.

But, starting Book VII will kind of be the beginning of the end. And I know that when I do finally start it, I’ll go completely crazy like I have with all of the books and finish it in no time at all. After that, I will never read a new Harry Potter book again. It’s something I want to savor. So, while I’m very excited to read it, I’m also not in a huge rush.

On the other hand, the fear of spoilers pushes me to read it sooner rather than later, because I know the longer I wait, the more likely someone will accidentally (or purposefully) let something pivotal slip, which would seriously be the worst thing.
Ever.

Spoiler-free comments, please.

Well, last night, nearly seven months after starting, and after probably well over 100 hours of time spent at the piano, I finally played the whole thing through from start to finish.

It wasn’t perfect, mind you. But, it was decent and coherent, and largely listen-able. Honestly, for the amount of time that I spent learning it, one would probably expect the song to be more complex than it actually is. It really boils down to the fact that I’m moderately OCD when it comes to learning a piano piece, as I want it to sound as close as possible to the original. So, I spend a lot of time on each part that I learn playing it again and again trying to get it to sound the best I can. And, even though I played I finally played Tifa through, there’s still lots of work to be done to tweak it and get the dynamics down. Knowing all the notes is only half the battle.

But, it was still something of a landmark, and I thought it worth mentioning on my otherwise sparse blog.

Carry on.

So, the first round of American Idol “auditions” is composed of getting up at 5:00am Saturday morning, driving to Texas Stadium, and standing in line for four hours just to get a ticket and an armband (see previous post). It continues with waking up at 2:30am on Monday morning, driving to Texas Stadium, standing in line for five hours, sitting around for six more hours, all so that you can have the honor, joy, and privilege of experiencing the most built-up thirty seconds of rejection you’re likely to encounter your whole life through.

All that to say, not an experience I expect to ever repeat unless under threat of… well, one of the few things in the world that would be worse than going through that again. That would have to be one creative threatener. Something like, “launched into the sun submerged in acid” or “devoured by piranhas while my bones are slowly being liquefied.”

Well, maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as I’m making it out to be for the sake of an entertaining read. It still wasn’t all that great, either. Fortunately, I went in to this for the experience and the “bragging rights,” though as I’ve already demonstrated, there wasn’t much worth bragging about, so I wasn’t too disappointed when I didn’t make it.

Probably the highlight of the whole ordeal, though, was a girl standing next to us in line, who was holding a sign saying, “Justin Nubby. The Next America Idol.”

He didn’t make it either.

I was actually in class for less than twenty minutes, because all we had to do was take a 36-question multiple choice test. As I finally filled in the last of the thousands of answer bubbles I’ve filled during my college career, I sat there in the classroom in quiet reflection. The back of the room was lit while the front set of lights were switched off, and with the fading sunlight seeping in through the half-open blinds on the windows, the room had a soft, relaxing atmosphere. Though I was done with my test, I figured that since it was likely the last time that I would sit in a college classroom as a student, I shouldn’t be in a huge rush to leave. And since I’m possibly one of the most sentimental people to ever walk our great Earth, I wanted to kind of savor my final moments of college. So, there I sat, thinking back over my college career, and it’s slow progression over the past six years.

And then I left. Though I’ve not technically graduated yet, college is pretty much behind me.

This means I get a raise, right? …right? …hello?

Lord willing, I’ll be a college graduate two days before I turn 24.

Knock on wood.