(no subject)

My mother broke my guitar. Not fatally, we just have to dig up the spare tuning knobs, but in the meantime I've gotten twitchy enough to actually try out the keyboard again. Now, we got this ancient bastard when my parents were still sending me to this ancient Russian woman to learn endless etudes, so it's about ten years old. Still works though! Or, at least, I assume it does, it did a few months ago. I didn't actually get a chance to find out, because you know what doesn't work anymore? That's right: it's the power cable. What an anticlimax. (The prongs fell off. I guess cables age worse than keys.)

Of course we wouldn't be HAVING this problem if mum would learn not to wander into my room of mornings and MESS WITH MY SHIT. I mean, what did she think would happen if she leaned a guitar against a wheelie chair, forgot about it and then tried to move the chair? And it's funny, I don't think I had this problem when I was procrastinating on guitar practice and hadn't touched it in weeks, but at least I knew I COULD. Now I literally have nothing to make music with except my voice, which is still a bit fucked up from that cold, and DEAR GOD.

So I'm going through my mp3 collection alphabetically to weed out the random big bang mix songs that I need to delete, and also make a playlist of my favourites. Other playlists I'm making include: Apocalyptic, Rain, Zombies, The Joker, and Recursive. The last one's pretty easy because it's apparently compulsory to write at least one song about the music business. *shrug*

I'm up to the D's now.