Or some ideas that I will elaborate on at a later date.

I listened to the lab supervisor chat animatedly with a girl in a Rollins Band shirt about the time he'd seen them live. I knew that, regardless of what kind of shirt I was wearing, nobody would start a conversation with me about anything like that.

I closed the door and fell onto my bed. I was exhausted. Not from walking halfway across the CBD, not from sitting for half an hour on the bus, but from practically leaping out of my skin every time my phone buzzed. I knew I'd have as much luck getting a reply from JS Bach, but still.

It would be inaccurate to say that I want to go home. I'm not sure where that is any more. I just don't think I enjoy living next to a piano teacher's studio. Of course, there's the noise, but there's also those poor kids who just don't want to be there. I don't know why their parents insist on it. It certainly didn't do me any good.

"Yes, I do like Philip Glass."
"Oh, thank God, I thought I was going to be judged for that for some reason."

My old piano teacher came over for dinner last night. I didn't talk much, because I had just woken up from a nap on the sofa.

She talked a lot about how awful the people were at wherever it was that she was working. Somewhere north, I think. She had also been studying religion. All of our family friends are always a bit irritatingly religious. She also complained about her neighbours, in the same way that my mother complains about her co-workers. That was dull. I think a lot of women have nothing to talk about except to complain about other people they know.

Playing in the background was a carefully curated playlist of well-known, influential, critically acclaimed, etc. songs designed to elicit some kind of response (e.g. wtf is an Arcade Fries?). That did not work in the way that I intended, so I tried playing a Pixies album. No response, so I gave up politeness and put on Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, which is practically impossible to ignore. She made a face, and asked if I actually liked this kind of thing. Yes, I got the side-eye for liking Stravinsky. I don't even...

She was unfamiliar with the Vienna Philharmonic, didn't know anything about Bruckner, didn't recognize Arvo Pärt, and didn't seem to approve of Mahler. I expect better from teachers. I learnt everything I know of music just this year, and just from hanging around the music classroom. For free.

Then again, the first music teacher at QASMT bought Maroon 5 and Jet music books. Ha.