((Glad you're still reading this! It's all extremely smashing. This chapter is going to be kind of deep and confusing though, because that's the next step of what happened my freshman year))

The thrilling, wonderful idea of being an oboist in an orchestra suddenly filled my days. My mind was completely taken over with that idea...it was the single pinprick of knowledge that buried itself in my head and became part of my identity. Suddenly, this was my world, and I'd never know anything else for my life. I'd be the one to tune the orchestra someday, I'd be playing amongst violins and violas and far away from all those evil loud trumpets who sat behind me. The orchestra would be my home...I would love that place like no other, and I could not wait for the day when it would come.

This dream was beautiful. In my dream, fashioned in the idealistic way of a freshman, I was the first oboist of an orchestra somewhere...they'd all tune to me and I'd have all these fabulously awesome solos...everyone would hear me, they would! And they'd say what a fabulous oboe player I was.

Because, blast it, that's what I was going to be! I was going to be a fabulous oboe player someday! And there'd be somewhere an orchestra for me, and Chandler and I would be so famous and recognized and it would be beautiful.

This dream I fashioned, it was so elaborate, the details so fine that by the time it was fully taking place in my head somewhere around late January, there was even a flautist named Adele who would taunt me about my reeds in the way that flute players would so often do. It was so detailed, that I could even see the sheet music in front of me sometimes...

Of course, that was all by late January, this beautifully fashioned dream. It was so gorgeous and perfect, this dream of mine...nothing in the world would stop me, I thought! Absolutely nothing now! Now that I'd finally decided that this dream that I long harbored was mine and I could rise up and take it!

Then came...

Then came something I entirely forgot about.

This dreadful, horrible, dream-shattering thing was called society.

Ah yes, society. As soon as this dream was realized, that soon came to tear it down. Society, I soon learned, was cold and unfeeling. They were this world dominated entirely by teachers, businessmen, and politicians. And in my school, I also soon learned, if you had no intention of doing any one of those three things...you were not going to be successful. Musicians? No, musicians didn't have any place in the real world. The real world...you must be a businessman. You must be a teacher. You must be a politician or a math person or something that gives something useful to society. And music, in the eyes of my school and the rest of society, did not fill the category of useful. It was just something frivolous, a pastime and nothing more...

My oboe playing was a pastime. There was no future in it. Society scoffed at me...they scoffed at the idea that I would be an oboe player in an orchestra and get money for it. Society didn't need musicians, and they didn't want them.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

This brought the first round of my freshman year frustrations. I realized this dream...and the world tore it to pieces and showed me what a fake it was, showed me there was no place in this world for musicians anymore. There was only room for those who followed the crowd, for those business and accounting people I saw constantly in al my school days.

Second came my mom.

Yes, my mom. Earlier when I learned the oboe, she was cool with it. Thought it was kind of amusing, having no idea what an oboe was and all. But now? I don't know what happened now, ever since I told her I was serious about being an oboist and wanted to take steps towards being so. Suddenly, her entire aspect changed. Perhaps she didn't think I was serious enough, or perhaps she still wanted to live her dream through me...wanted me to become a scientist or whatever. But she was discouraging my music like I never thought was possible. "You should major in science," She said one day. "You don't practice enough. You're never going to get anywhere with this, you know that?" Oh, she'd say that all the time. Talking about how there was no way I'd get anywhere in life with my oboe, how bad I was at it, constantly berating me and discouraging this newfound dream of mine. She agreed with society, that musicians never got paid and were starving on the streets and living in boxes under bridges or something.

To hell with society, I wanted to say, even though my freshman mind didn't curse yet. To hell with them all! What was wrong with musicians? Most often, they were more real than any of these other people in the world! Businessmen were all lemmings who followed the crowd, who all went one way just because society dictated it. And there were so many of them, and they were all the same! Musicians were unique, was there something wrong with uniqueness? Or did you have to follow the crowd to get ahead in life?

Yes, that's what it seemed. Go in the same direction and do what everyone else did, because if you didn't, you'd starve and die and have to sell your hair and teeth like Fantine did in Les Miserables except there wouldn't be any illegitimate children involved, but you never know, the way society was it could include that too. The girls in my school were so flamingly promiscuous...I mean, we were 14 or 15! And already they were doing such unnamed things that you shouldn't do until you're married? Gah! If that's what society meant, then I wanted nothing to do with it!

Yes, nothing to do with this shallow world. Where musicians were not accepted, where I had this horrible feeling that I'd spend the rest of my life trying to find a place for this little oboist where there probably wasn't one. Where just because I didn't have a boyfriend or want one, I was scoffed on. Where my mom obviously hated this decision of mine to be an oboist, and was definitely trying to dissuade me from this...

Of course, that wasn't going to happen. To hell with society (well, to heck with society, I was a freshman after all)! I was going to be an oboist, I'd be a great one, and someday in the little playbill thingies on Broadway it would say Kathryn and Chandler (I'd put my oboe's name in there, of course!) and I'd play and dammit I'd be there! No matter what my mom said. She couldn't dictate my life for me...I was the one who made the decisions!

But my mom held sway over my life for so long. I was so afraid of doing something that didn't agree with her, especially something as drastic as a career and future for myself...

But it looks like I was going to have to start. I wanted to be an oboist, I honestly could see doing nothing else with the rest of my life than living in an orchestra with my oboe, my reeds, and the music in front of me, surrounding me all the time. That was the only life I wanted...just because my mom didn't want it, it didn't mean that I'd give up my dream this easily! Down with society and it's shallowness, and no longer would I let my mom dictate my life!

Thus began the tumultuous freshman year. My eyes were opened...far too wide. I saw all the negatives of the world, saw how they scorned musicians and I'd have to spend forever searching for a place where I doubt I'd find one. Thus also began this between my mom and I...her, trying to stop and discourage me, and me in my Les Mis obsession boldly proclaiming, "Damn their warnings, damn their lies! They will see the people rise!"

And they would. Chandler and I...we'd take the world like a storm, and forget what everyone else thought of us! For I was Kathryn, an oboist...

And no matter what was in this cold, unfeeling light of society...the music would reclaim me once more, and I would return to it. There was nothing in the world that could stop me...I'd see to it.

I'd make a future for Chandler and I...I'd find an orchestra for us...no matter what.

((yeah, I bet this was confusing. I was very confused my freshman year, having all of this stuff chucked at me at once...it was crazy. I'm so glad I'm not a freshman anymore.

Next chapter coming soon, when I have time to write. By the way, if any of you live in New Jersey, come see The Scarlet Pimpernel in November. Yes, I'm advertising. But it's a great show, our Percy is dreamy sigh awesome, and I'm a random chorus member. WOO! And once more, hail to the oboes!))