The Crow

My next-door-neighbour sings in the choir of the local church. She told me, because she heard me singing. It was the same time she enquired whether I was a music teacher; Maybe she wanted me to give her some pointers? Later she did mention the choir isn't the standard I achieve when working on my pieces at home.
On Friday I was suddenly exposed to the croaking standards of said local church choir. Next-door-neighbour (I assume it was her) was singing in the other room while I was sitting behind the computer, surfing the World Wide Internet. However loud I let iTunes play its music, her voice managed to get the upper hand, and it wasn't particularly enjoying to listen to. It left me wondering whether I sound as bad as her. P. – whose a-musicality is legendary – wiped away my doubts: "If you sounded half as bad as that, I'd gently, but firmly ask you to take up the guitar at the music academy and stop with the singing."

I'm an afternoon person.

You are the moment when the last bell rings and school lets out for the day. You are resistant to schedules and obligations, so you love feeling like you're in control of your life again. You are the very moment when the second hand hits the 12, and the halls fill with noise and motion. Even if your after-school time is packed with activities, lessons, or a job, somehow, you just feel freer in the late afternoon than you do earlier in the day. Maybe it's all that blue sky and afternoon sunshine? Nah -- even on rainy days, 3:15 is always a beautiful time.

(It's a pity that the bell rings at 3:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays for me.)