Ah, countertenors. Where would we be without them?
When I was an undergrad, I took part in the annual Messiah sing-in, in which the Glee Club and a bunch of other singers from the university and the community came together and sight-read large chunks of the oratorio. Chaos frequently ensued from the choir, but we could always count on the soloists to know their parts.
Handel wrote solos for soprano, mezzo, tenor, and bass. At least one year, there was only one woman on stage.
While the School of Music had its share of good mezzos, it also had a countertenor, who was frequently called into service for alto lines. The guy was amazing. Tenors seemed a little uncomfortable. Sopranos and basses were confused. Altos just envied his high notes.
I didn't realize this until recently, but there's a further speciality breed of countertenors known as 'sopranists', who have ridiculously high falsettos. I was introduced to the concept by watching a concert clip from a young Latvian guy, Vitas, who is quite possibly not human, if sonic quality is any indication (you tell me). There's no telling how accurate the Russian-English translation of his website is, but his header reads: "Vitas: The Artist Who has been Waited For". With rarity comes ego, I suppose...
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Depopulated
I'm on my way to the gym (gradually...), where I expect to have my choice of machines, especially at this hour. It's official: the undergraduate mass exodus has happened.
As some might put it, the baby children are gone.
It's strange to walk into the gym and not hear the whine of several treadmill belts (I don't know why, but certain machines emit a high-pitched whine above 7 km/h or so), and to not see some of the more risque ensembles I've come to recognize over the past semester. Still, there will always be the old fellow with the bad knees and the blue paper towel tied around his head, and the middle-aged man who thinks it's appropriate to wear a midriff-baring shirt and short shorts, to keep me entertained.
I hear the library is similarly dead, especially after we watched half the undergraduate body move into it as a horde last month. (Really, think camping. It was worse than the D'port library at finals time - at least the Master gave us snacks and a constant supply of coffee. These guys looked up at you and glowered if you breathed too heavily, but then again, some of them were taking a full year's worth of finals in May. I don't understand the Scottish system.) I can only imagine what a ghost town Pollock must be at the moment, but then that's what summer school is for...
As some might put it, the baby children are gone.
It's strange to walk into the gym and not hear the whine of several treadmill belts (I don't know why, but certain machines emit a high-pitched whine above 7 km/h or so), and to not see some of the more risque ensembles I've come to recognize over the past semester. Still, there will always be the old fellow with the bad knees and the blue paper towel tied around his head, and the middle-aged man who thinks it's appropriate to wear a midriff-baring shirt and short shorts, to keep me entertained.
I hear the library is similarly dead, especially after we watched half the undergraduate body move into it as a horde last month. (Really, think camping. It was worse than the D'port library at finals time - at least the Master gave us snacks and a constant supply of coffee. These guys looked up at you and glowered if you breathed too heavily, but then again, some of them were taking a full year's worth of finals in May. I don't understand the Scottish system.) I can only imagine what a ghost town Pollock must be at the moment, but then that's what summer school is for...
Monday, May 28, 2007
Guilty pleasures
Last night, a group of us went to see P of the C: At World's End, a film I described to my mother as "168 minutes of lusting".
My father then asked me if I was going to see Shrek.
It wasn't the strongest of the series - there were quite a few loose ends and more double-crosses than any movie based on a Disney ride should have - but between the special effects, the fight scenes, and, ahem, Will Turner, I passed a pleasant three hours in the theater. The ending made little sense until I saw (on Wikipedia, Fount of Useless Knowledge) that an explanatory scene had been cut before the release. (Director's Cut, anyone?) I won't spoil it, but for anyone going in the near future, sit through the credits. Yes, they're long, but you get to see names like "Richard De'Ath", who you just know got teased in school.
That was yesterday. A few minutes ago, I finally found an MP3 of a song I've been guiltily enjoying since high school, one that not even Amazon seems to sell.
Anyone remember Daler Mehndi and the immortal "Tunak Tunak Tun" video? You know you did the dance...
I still have little clue as to what he's saying, even after looking at the translation. Does anyone know what "tunak" means, anyway?
My father then asked me if I was going to see Shrek.
It wasn't the strongest of the series - there were quite a few loose ends and more double-crosses than any movie based on a Disney ride should have - but between the special effects, the fight scenes, and, ahem, Will Turner, I passed a pleasant three hours in the theater. The ending made little sense until I saw (on Wikipedia, Fount of Useless Knowledge) that an explanatory scene had been cut before the release. (Director's Cut, anyone?) I won't spoil it, but for anyone going in the near future, sit through the credits. Yes, they're long, but you get to see names like "Richard De'Ath", who you just know got teased in school.
That was yesterday. A few minutes ago, I finally found an MP3 of a song I've been guiltily enjoying since high school, one that not even Amazon seems to sell.
Anyone remember Daler Mehndi and the immortal "Tunak Tunak Tun" video? You know you did the dance...
I still have little clue as to what he's saying, even after looking at the translation. Does anyone know what "tunak" means, anyway?
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Sunday morning strangeness
Things were a little odd at church this morning.
First, Roy the organist was home packing for his two-month sabbatical in Germany, so we had a guest organist and his wife, who joined the choir in place of Margaret, who was off running the Race for Life. Ian, the minister, had also stepped aside this morning to let a theology student preach, so our lineup was a bit shaken.
Even stranger, I knew all the hymns. Really. All of them. One we had done at Kirk o' Field, but the others were all familiar from back home, or at least the tunes were. There was one with an American folk tune that no one else in the choir had ever heard before, so I got to lead, for a change. As I told Norma after the hymn, "Welcome to my world."
I had tea with two old ladies afterwards, one of whom began telling me all about her grandchildren, who are roughly my age. She then wanted to know about my program (she likes to write poetry), whether that was an actual degree program (instead of night courses), and what I wanted to do with it. We then went through the "Oh, I've always wanted to go to New York" stage. Fair enough.
Then she asked me what sign I was born under.
Huh?
"Taurus," I replied, wondering where this was going.
She seemed rather shocked at my choice of programs, given my sign, and said that it was more in line with her sign, Pisces. She wondered why I wasn't in accounting or something else math-heavy.
I explained that I got through calculus and ran from math. Then I made my excuses and slipped off.
First, Roy the organist was home packing for his two-month sabbatical in Germany, so we had a guest organist and his wife, who joined the choir in place of Margaret, who was off running the Race for Life. Ian, the minister, had also stepped aside this morning to let a theology student preach, so our lineup was a bit shaken.
Even stranger, I knew all the hymns. Really. All of them. One we had done at Kirk o' Field, but the others were all familiar from back home, or at least the tunes were. There was one with an American folk tune that no one else in the choir had ever heard before, so I got to lead, for a change. As I told Norma after the hymn, "Welcome to my world."
I had tea with two old ladies afterwards, one of whom began telling me all about her grandchildren, who are roughly my age. She then wanted to know about my program (she likes to write poetry), whether that was an actual degree program (instead of night courses), and what I wanted to do with it. We then went through the "Oh, I've always wanted to go to New York" stage. Fair enough.
Then she asked me what sign I was born under.
Huh?
"Taurus," I replied, wondering where this was going.
She seemed rather shocked at my choice of programs, given my sign, and said that it was more in line with her sign, Pisces. She wondered why I wasn't in accounting or something else math-heavy.
I explained that I got through calculus and ran from math. Then I made my excuses and slipped off.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Saturday musings
I woke at 5:30 this morning for absolutely no good reason but for the fact that the sun was shining brightly on the other side of my curtains.
Arrrrgh.
Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the 11 PM dusk, but 5:30 on Saturday is too early to be up unless you're trying to catch a flight. I gingerly rolled over and went back to sleep until 8:30, a much more civilized hour.
Why 'gingerly'? Well, as I've once again relearned through experience, not doing a machine for months, then getting on and doing 40 reps, will leave you in a bit of pain the next day. Right now, I feel like I've been punched in both pecs, and the triceps are right behind them. As long as no one asks me to lift anything heavy above my head today, I should be fine.
I can't say the same for the gang of teenagers I passed walking home at 9 last night, many of whom will probably wake up with hangovers some time around lunch. It's ridiculous how many teenagers - young teenagers, especially - are allowed to wander in packs around the city at night. Look, I understand that teenagers are supposed to be loud and obnoxious, but we did most of our group activity at the Summit, generally around the movie theater. I know my friends drank during high school, but it was usually at a place, like someone's house or school. (Hey, it was a boarding school on 250 acres. You try to control everything that goes on around there.) They weren't gathering in the streets with 20-ounce cans of Strongbow, being a nuisance.
This particular gaggle I passed was hanging around the wooded area at the top of St. Leonard's. The girls looked like they'd done their shopping by lifting whole ensembles from TopShop mannequins, while the boys had the usual assortment of jeans and track suits, plus the aforementioned cans of cider. None could have been older than 16. As I approached, a couple of girls ducked through a hole in the fence and descended into the woods, squealing as they ran off to join another faction. (So that's where the marijuana smell came from that one time...) The ones at the top of the hill were clustered around a gate, talking about sex they had had and smoking. As I turned off to take the path home, I found the rest of the group; one girl was sitting on a trashcan, complaining that she had "spunk on her hand" while the boy next to her laughed.
Where are these kids' parents, and why are they permitting them to roam the city? Maybe I'm just too suburban for my own good, but my mom would have killed me if I'd tried a stunt like that. She still doesn't like me out by myself after dark.
On a completely unrelated note, for the first time ever, I have been called "Lawrence" in an e-mail. Usually it's just "Laura", but folks are now getting creative with my gender.
Arrrrgh.
Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the 11 PM dusk, but 5:30 on Saturday is too early to be up unless you're trying to catch a flight. I gingerly rolled over and went back to sleep until 8:30, a much more civilized hour.
Why 'gingerly'? Well, as I've once again relearned through experience, not doing a machine for months, then getting on and doing 40 reps, will leave you in a bit of pain the next day. Right now, I feel like I've been punched in both pecs, and the triceps are right behind them. As long as no one asks me to lift anything heavy above my head today, I should be fine.
I can't say the same for the gang of teenagers I passed walking home at 9 last night, many of whom will probably wake up with hangovers some time around lunch. It's ridiculous how many teenagers - young teenagers, especially - are allowed to wander in packs around the city at night. Look, I understand that teenagers are supposed to be loud and obnoxious, but we did most of our group activity at the Summit, generally around the movie theater. I know my friends drank during high school, but it was usually at a place, like someone's house or school. (Hey, it was a boarding school on 250 acres. You try to control everything that goes on around there.) They weren't gathering in the streets with 20-ounce cans of Strongbow, being a nuisance.
This particular gaggle I passed was hanging around the wooded area at the top of St. Leonard's. The girls looked like they'd done their shopping by lifting whole ensembles from TopShop mannequins, while the boys had the usual assortment of jeans and track suits, plus the aforementioned cans of cider. None could have been older than 16. As I approached, a couple of girls ducked through a hole in the fence and descended into the woods, squealing as they ran off to join another faction. (So that's where the marijuana smell came from that one time...) The ones at the top of the hill were clustered around a gate, talking about sex they had had and smoking. As I turned off to take the path home, I found the rest of the group; one girl was sitting on a trashcan, complaining that she had "spunk on her hand" while the boy next to her laughed.
Where are these kids' parents, and why are they permitting them to roam the city? Maybe I'm just too suburban for my own good, but my mom would have killed me if I'd tried a stunt like that. She still doesn't like me out by myself after dark.
On a completely unrelated note, for the first time ever, I have been called "Lawrence" in an e-mail. Usually it's just "Laura", but folks are now getting creative with my gender.
Friday, May 25, 2007
The Penguin Lady
We received a visit from the (apparently sole) representative of Penguin Scotland yesterday, whom many of us had hoped could give us the Magic Key (TM) to getting our work in print.
Alas, it was not to be.
She was lovely, and gave us many helpful tips (You can put purple polka-dots all over your manuscript and be remembered, but do you really want to be remembered as the purple polka-dot guy?), but as for actual assistance, she couldn't offer much.
"How many of you are Scottish?" she asked the room of about twenty.
Three people, including one of our professors, raised their hands.
Her face fell a little at that.
The problem is that Penguin Scotland is supposed to find, well, Scottish talent. Granted, "Scottish" is a loose term, encompassing both those born here and those who have written here for a while and use matter with local interest, but the majority of the people in the room didn't quite qualify. What made it even sadder is that she's one of the few publishers left who will actually read unsolicited materials...
Still, the event was followed by a book launch and wine reception, so it all worked out.
Alas, it was not to be.
She was lovely, and gave us many helpful tips (You can put purple polka-dots all over your manuscript and be remembered, but do you really want to be remembered as the purple polka-dot guy?), but as for actual assistance, she couldn't offer much.
"How many of you are Scottish?" she asked the room of about twenty.
Three people, including one of our professors, raised their hands.
Her face fell a little at that.
The problem is that Penguin Scotland is supposed to find, well, Scottish talent. Granted, "Scottish" is a loose term, encompassing both those born here and those who have written here for a while and use matter with local interest, but the majority of the people in the room didn't quite qualify. What made it even sadder is that she's one of the few publishers left who will actually read unsolicited materials...
Still, the event was followed by a book launch and wine reception, so it all worked out.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Better days
Today, with the exception of the low headache, has been much better than many recent days. This is largely due to the e-mail I received this morning - an agency in Atlanta wants exclusive reading rights to my dissertation novel for the next two weeks, so I spent the morning formatting that puppy and sent it off, hopefully to find a good home. We shall see...
Other than that, and partly due to the headache, today was largely unproductive, and was spent in an afternoon nap, a long walk around the park, and The Golden Hour. What amazes me is that it's quarter past eleven and the sky isn't completely black yet...what's mid-June going to look like?
Other than that, and partly due to the headache, today was largely unproductive, and was spent in an afternoon nap, a long walk around the park, and The Golden Hour. What amazes me is that it's quarter past eleven and the sky isn't completely black yet...what's mid-June going to look like?
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
One year
One year ago today, I graduated from Yale.
Where the heck did the last twelve months go?!? I've been trying to figure it out, but somehow Commencement seems like yesterday. There was the walk in, and the batons Lauren and I got to carry, and Aaron with the flag, and the cute kids in the park with our D'port pennants, and the tip-take-shake method of diploma acceptance...
'07, remember this. You've been warned.
In less nostalgic news, we're booked in for Skye on June 13! And At World's End comes out this weekend! Huzzah!
Where the heck did the last twelve months go?!? I've been trying to figure it out, but somehow Commencement seems like yesterday. There was the walk in, and the batons Lauren and I got to carry, and Aaron with the flag, and the cute kids in the park with our D'port pennants, and the tip-take-shake method of diploma acceptance...
'07, remember this. You've been warned.
In less nostalgic news, we're booked in for Skye on June 13! And At World's End comes out this weekend! Huzzah!
Monday, May 21, 2007
Collecting
Not that this is doing much good for my ego, but I've begun collecting what every young writer inevitably collects: rejection letters.
As of this afternoon, here's the tally:
Acceptance, but from a shady agency (and thus rejected by me. Ha!): 1
Rejection with "Don't worry, it only takes one 'yes'" tag at the end: 2
Unanswered e-mail queries: 2
Drafts sent to my editor in Birmingham, who sent it to my former English teacher, who knows someone: 1
Meetings with Alan tomorrow to discuss how much work this novel will need over the summer: 1
Novels and short story collections (or drafts) written this year: 7
Novels and short story collections written to date: 8
Novels and short story collections with fantasy themes, and thus untouchable by many agents: 5
Meals I owe Eytan Halaban after I sell my first book: technically 1, but really quite a few at Union League, Mory's, or the fine dining establishment of his choice.
Times rejected by Eytan's agent: 1 (but hell, the novel was in the 300,000-word neighborhood at the time. Give me a break, I was 20.)
Total rejections to date: 3
Beyond wallowing in self-pity and nursing my wounded pride, I'm keeping this in hopes that I'll look back one day and laugh. In the meantime, if anyone out there is (a) a reputable agent with a thing for both general fiction and fantasy, who is (b) looking for new writers, and (c) might be interested in me, I've got a query I'd be happy to send your way...
As of this afternoon, here's the tally:
Acceptance, but from a shady agency (and thus rejected by me. Ha!): 1
Rejection with "Don't worry, it only takes one 'yes'" tag at the end: 2
Unanswered e-mail queries: 2
Drafts sent to my editor in Birmingham, who sent it to my former English teacher, who knows someone: 1
Meetings with Alan tomorrow to discuss how much work this novel will need over the summer: 1
Novels and short story collections (or drafts) written this year: 7
Novels and short story collections written to date: 8
Novels and short story collections with fantasy themes, and thus untouchable by many agents: 5
Meals I owe Eytan Halaban after I sell my first book: technically 1, but really quite a few at Union League, Mory's, or the fine dining establishment of his choice.
Times rejected by Eytan's agent: 1 (but hell, the novel was in the 300,000-word neighborhood at the time. Give me a break, I was 20.)
Total rejections to date: 3
Beyond wallowing in self-pity and nursing my wounded pride, I'm keeping this in hopes that I'll look back one day and laugh. In the meantime, if anyone out there is (a) a reputable agent with a thing for both general fiction and fantasy, who is (b) looking for new writers, and (c) might be interested in me, I've got a query I'd be happy to send your way...
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Multi-tasking
I had marked on my calendar that this was to be the morning that I both sang a duet and read in church, but as I hadn't heard from the minister, I assumed I wouldn't be reading. Nevertheless, I showed up 45 minutes before the service, since the walls of Churchill House are quite thin and my neighbors probably wouldn't like to hear vocal exercises on Sunday morning.
Just a guess.
The piano was locked when I got there, but I was able to stand in the corner and hum a bit without feeling too self-conscious. Roy the organist gave me the cheat Post-It of the day (a little service he does for me, since the minister likes to pair hymns with other tunes and I'm still reading most of these tunes cold), and we decided to run the duet once my partner arrived.
Then I saw the bulletin. Yup, that's my name on the front.
Whipping out the Bible I had borrowed the week before (my NIV translation is slightly different), I scanned the verses and breathed a quick sigh of relief - I had a total of seven to read. Not too shabby. The minister told me that he had tried to call yesterday, when I was at Ian's "Dead Animal Feast," but he didn't leave a message on my cell phone, and I didn't want to call a strange number at 10 PM, so there we stood.
We got the piano unlocked, ran the anthem, and then it was time for the service. We had no men again - Bert's on vacation - but we had a whopping six women, including four altos, though one had to sing soprano on most hymns since she accidentally picked up the Melody version of the hymnal. It was great fun - sing, sit for prayer, surreptitiously chug contents of water bottle for sustenance, read, sing anthem, listen to minister read, sing, read, sing, sit for a while, sing once more. The ladies seemed to like our duet, so all was well.
There's nothing quite like a solo F in the morning to give an alto heart palpitations, but I didn't crack, thank God. Still, if anyone knows how to make my leg stop shaking when I get nervous, I'd be grateful for the tip...
Just a guess.
The piano was locked when I got there, but I was able to stand in the corner and hum a bit without feeling too self-conscious. Roy the organist gave me the cheat Post-It of the day (a little service he does for me, since the minister likes to pair hymns with other tunes and I'm still reading most of these tunes cold), and we decided to run the duet once my partner arrived.
Then I saw the bulletin. Yup, that's my name on the front.
Whipping out the Bible I had borrowed the week before (my NIV translation is slightly different), I scanned the verses and breathed a quick sigh of relief - I had a total of seven to read. Not too shabby. The minister told me that he had tried to call yesterday, when I was at Ian's "Dead Animal Feast," but he didn't leave a message on my cell phone, and I didn't want to call a strange number at 10 PM, so there we stood.
We got the piano unlocked, ran the anthem, and then it was time for the service. We had no men again - Bert's on vacation - but we had a whopping six women, including four altos, though one had to sing soprano on most hymns since she accidentally picked up the Melody version of the hymnal. It was great fun - sing, sit for prayer, surreptitiously chug contents of water bottle for sustenance, read, sing anthem, listen to minister read, sing, read, sing, sit for a while, sing once more. The ladies seemed to like our duet, so all was well.
There's nothing quite like a solo F in the morning to give an alto heart palpitations, but I didn't crack, thank God. Still, if anyone knows how to make my leg stop shaking when I get nervous, I'd be grateful for the tip...
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Why I miss Alabama
I believe the graphic says it all. Birmingham's two degrees warmer, and it's 4:20 AM there.
And we're having a cookout today, too...
Friday, May 18, 2007
Two-rainbow day
The weather here has been hit and miss all day: the rain either hits you, or it misses you for a few minutes and comes back around the block to bite you in the butt. Still, thanks to our intermittent nasty weather, we've seen two sets of rainbows today.
"Sets," you ask?
Item one: the 5:30 rainbow
Item two: the 5:30 rainbow and its faint double (upper left, just squint a bit)
Item three: the 6:45 rainbow, also known as The Brightest Freaking Rainbow Ever
Someone pass the Skittles, eh?
"Sets," you ask?
Item one: the 5:30 rainbow
Item two: the 5:30 rainbow and its faint double (upper left, just squint a bit)
Item three: the 6:45 rainbow, also known as The Brightest Freaking Rainbow Ever
Someone pass the Skittles, eh?
Celebrity
My college roommate, Mary, is home from the convent for a few days, and so she forwarded me the link of herself being interviewed on MTV.
MTV!!!
Sadly, because I'm in the UK, I can't actually watch this clip right now, but if anyone out there knows Mary and wants to repost this on YouTube, I'll be eternally grateful...
"Entering the Convent is Anything but Conventional"
MTV!!!
Sadly, because I'm in the UK, I can't actually watch this clip right now, but if anyone out there knows Mary and wants to repost this on YouTube, I'll be eternally grateful...
"Entering the Convent is Anything but Conventional"
Thursday, May 17, 2007
My kind of band
I consider myself a moderate Evanescence fan - I haven't been to any concerts or anything, but I bought both Fallen and The Open Door.
Yes, on actual, glorious CDs.
Thanks to Wikipedia, however, I learned that they produced several EPs and one questionably decent CD prior to Fallen, but that they were released in very limited issues, some with less than 1,000 copies in the complete run. Basically, unless you want to pay a few hundred dollars for one on eBay, you're not going to find copies anywhere.
In an interview a few years back, the band addressed this issue by saying that paying eBay prices for one of their early EPs is ridiculous, and that they'd rather fans just buy the new CDs and download the old tracks. As the EPs aren't for sale and they're not generating any money for the band, they don't mind fans just having the songs.
I found a site today that has taken this to heart, and so I now have more old Evanescence tracks than I know what to do with. I'm thinking there will be a listening in the near future...
Yes, on actual, glorious CDs.
Thanks to Wikipedia, however, I learned that they produced several EPs and one questionably decent CD prior to Fallen, but that they were released in very limited issues, some with less than 1,000 copies in the complete run. Basically, unless you want to pay a few hundred dollars for one on eBay, you're not going to find copies anywhere.
In an interview a few years back, the band addressed this issue by saying that paying eBay prices for one of their early EPs is ridiculous, and that they'd rather fans just buy the new CDs and download the old tracks. As the EPs aren't for sale and they're not generating any money for the band, they don't mind fans just having the songs.
I found a site today that has taken this to heart, and so I now have more old Evanescence tracks than I know what to do with. I'm thinking there will be a listening in the near future...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Good and bad e-mail
The bad news: the first thing I saw when I opened my Gmail-box this morning was my Very First Rejection Letter. At least I'm now in good company, and there's nothing for it but to keep trying other places...
The good news: the first thing I saw when I opened my SMS mailbox this morning was another offer for proofreading work, in a discipline I might have a snowball's chance of understanding.
I'm glad we have this new technology...
The good news: the first thing I saw when I opened my SMS mailbox this morning was another offer for proofreading work, in a discipline I might have a snowball's chance of understanding.
I'm glad we have this new technology...
Monday, May 14, 2007
Art imitating life
I was bored this evening after listening to some of the Clio winners (the radio awards went overwhelmingly to Bud Light's "Real Men of Genius" ads, which have to be some of the best spots ever), so I listened to a few tracks off the Avenue Q soundtrack.
Man, that CD gets better with age.
The opening number is still my favorite - for being appropriate, if nothing else - but I'll always have a soft spot for "The Internet is for Porn", especially after having watched Vardit and Chris do it live in Glee Club.
If you're unfamiliar with Avenue Q, imagine Sesame Street with adult themes. The opening number, sung by a character named, ha, Princeton, begins, "What do you do with a B.A. in English?"
I feel for ya, buddy. Word.
Man, that CD gets better with age.
The opening number is still my favorite - for being appropriate, if nothing else - but I'll always have a soft spot for "The Internet is for Porn", especially after having watched Vardit and Chris do it live in Glee Club.
If you're unfamiliar with Avenue Q, imagine Sesame Street with adult themes. The opening number, sung by a character named, ha, Princeton, begins, "What do you do with a B.A. in English?"
I feel for ya, buddy. Word.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Being cultural
Rounding out the weekend last night was SHINE, a series of 12 short one-acts by young writers performed by high schoolers, which gave us a chance to be both cultural and social for the second night in a row.
Whoa.
Some of the plays, whether because of the writing or the acting, were a little questionable (there were some "Bohemian Rhapsody" moments). One of the better ones, simply for its absurdity, had a character who seemed to be channeling Jay of Jay and Silent Bob, and another who seemed to be the Scottish version of Artie, the Strongest Man in the World. But the best was certainly saved for last. Cali's play, "Wrestling Armageddon", sent the whole affair off with a bang (and seven trumpets...). She says it was loosely based on the Arthur's Seat bonfire - yeah, there was no champagne and Death never made a guest appearance at ours - but Ian, Leigh, and I couldn't help feeling that some of the characters seemed awfully familiar. A short brunette getting angry at the end of the world and wrestling Death has to be Leigh, right? Ian had his choice of the non-gay guy (the other was originally a girl, but the casting worked anyway) or Death, while I think I got pegged as the ditz. Whatever. They all had good lines.
Ian might have been glad to avoid them, but I left the theater with an unexplainable hankering for Reese's Cups.
Whoa.
Some of the plays, whether because of the writing or the acting, were a little questionable (there were some "Bohemian Rhapsody" moments). One of the better ones, simply for its absurdity, had a character who seemed to be channeling Jay of Jay and Silent Bob, and another who seemed to be the Scottish version of Artie, the Strongest Man in the World. But the best was certainly saved for last. Cali's play, "Wrestling Armageddon", sent the whole affair off with a bang (and seven trumpets...). She says it was loosely based on the Arthur's Seat bonfire - yeah, there was no champagne and Death never made a guest appearance at ours - but Ian, Leigh, and I couldn't help feeling that some of the characters seemed awfully familiar. A short brunette getting angry at the end of the world and wrestling Death has to be Leigh, right? Ian had his choice of the non-gay guy (the other was originally a girl, but the casting worked anyway) or Death, while I think I got pegged as the ditz. Whatever. They all had good lines.
Ian might have been glad to avoid them, but I left the theater with an unexplainable hankering for Reese's Cups.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Huzzah for oboe!
Here's to Ruth, her oboe, and the symphony orchestra, who managed to save a concert that was going horribly wrong before intermission. "Rhapsody in Blue" and "Bolero" were fantastic, as were the two encores. Bravo, Ruth! Bravo, oboe!
As for the other groups...well, let's just say that, when playing the great orchestral game of "Find the A" tonight, the first orchestra lost. There were tuning issues, and something sounded off in the string section. No matter, though; they recovered fairly well with the Unfinished Symphony, which then, sadly, led to our choral act of the night.
Guys, there's a reason why we love "Bohemian Rhapsody", and it's Freddy Mercury. "Bohemian Rhapsody" is not intended to be a choral piece.
Sopranos going for the falsetto part? Uh-unh.
Cutting out verses? No.
Wonky arrangements? Forget it.
Final consonants? Sounds like a New England glee club attempting a spiritual.
The biggest letdown of the piece was that bit after "For meeeeee" - you know, the great bit with the guitar rocking out - which turned into a piano solo. PIANO SOLO. People, you can rock out on many instruments, but a dinky little piano isn't one of them.
The most appropriate statement uttered during that song?
"No, we will not let you go."
"Let me go!"
Jeff, if you ever see this, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for never attempting a Queen piece with us.
As for the other groups...well, let's just say that, when playing the great orchestral game of "Find the A" tonight, the first orchestra lost. There were tuning issues, and something sounded off in the string section. No matter, though; they recovered fairly well with the Unfinished Symphony, which then, sadly, led to our choral act of the night.
Guys, there's a reason why we love "Bohemian Rhapsody", and it's Freddy Mercury. "Bohemian Rhapsody" is not intended to be a choral piece.
Sopranos going for the falsetto part? Uh-unh.
Cutting out verses? No.
Wonky arrangements? Forget it.
Final consonants? Sounds like a New England glee club attempting a spiritual.
The biggest letdown of the piece was that bit after "For meeeeee" - you know, the great bit with the guitar rocking out - which turned into a piano solo. PIANO SOLO. People, you can rock out on many instruments, but a dinky little piano isn't one of them.
The most appropriate statement uttered during that song?
"No, we will not let you go."
"Let me go!"
Jeff, if you ever see this, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for never attempting a Queen piece with us.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The things we do for cash
I've learned a very valuable lesson in the last 24 hours: transcription is horrible.
I'm doing a little work for another student, and all I'm going to say is that I had no idea how long it takes to do a single tape. It's taking me at least three or four times longer than each tape's length to finish the transcription. My eyes are glazing over, my ears are pinched from the headphones, and I've begun promising myself little rewards to keep going. Two more questions and you can have dinner, one more tape and you can have ice cream, stuff like that.
Suffice it to say that I was probably the person most pleased to be caught out in the rain during the afternoon fire alarm today.
I'm doing a little work for another student, and all I'm going to say is that I had no idea how long it takes to do a single tape. It's taking me at least three or four times longer than each tape's length to finish the transcription. My eyes are glazing over, my ears are pinched from the headphones, and I've begun promising myself little rewards to keep going. Two more questions and you can have dinner, one more tape and you can have ice cream, stuff like that.
Suffice it to say that I was probably the person most pleased to be caught out in the rain during the afternoon fire alarm today.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
This may be a problem
For the last two mornings, I've been waking at 6:15.
This hasn't been intentional. My alarm has been set for 7:30, I have no pressing matter in the morning to make my mind fret and wake me hours early, just in case, and the drills haven't been back.
No, the problem is that sunrise in Edinburgh is currently 5:15, and when there's full sun, my curtains aren't quite strong enough to block it. By quarter after six, my room looks much like it did at 9 AM a few months ago, and it's only going to get worse as we move into June. At its peak, the sun is supposed to come up at 4:26 and not set until 10:03, giving us more than 17 hours of daylight.
The one real perk, besides the end of everyone's seasonal affective disorder depression, is that the later sunsets give me plenty of time to walk after dinner. I can watch television and still take a three- or four-mile walk before sunset. Considering that it used to be twilight when I walked to class at 4 PM, this is a welcome change.
Still, I may look into a sleep mask...
This hasn't been intentional. My alarm has been set for 7:30, I have no pressing matter in the morning to make my mind fret and wake me hours early, just in case, and the drills haven't been back.
No, the problem is that sunrise in Edinburgh is currently 5:15, and when there's full sun, my curtains aren't quite strong enough to block it. By quarter after six, my room looks much like it did at 9 AM a few months ago, and it's only going to get worse as we move into June. At its peak, the sun is supposed to come up at 4:26 and not set until 10:03, giving us more than 17 hours of daylight.
The one real perk, besides the end of everyone's seasonal affective disorder depression, is that the later sunsets give me plenty of time to walk after dinner. I can watch television and still take a three- or four-mile walk before sunset. Considering that it used to be twilight when I walked to class at 4 PM, this is a welcome change.
Still, I may look into a sleep mask...
Monday, May 07, 2007
Monday
Today won't go down as one of the most thrilling on record. Highlights included a four-mile hike around the park after dinner and seeing a lovely rainbow during more of the sporadic rain showers this evening. I did, however, find something I wanted to post...
In all honesty, I think the folks who wrote this bit of copy from the back of my Herbal Essences shampoo bottle were high at the time:
DIRECTIONS FOR USE: Massage into wet hair. Indulge in the luscious lather and the energising, refreshing fragrance. Rinse when ready.
I don't consider something called "Fruit Fusions" to have an energizing, refreshing fragrance, but I think that's the least of their problems. The conditioner is worse:
DIRECTIONS FOR USE: Massage the juicy conditioner into strands of wet hair. Let it soak up the refreshing energy for as long as desired, then rinse thoroughly.
Am I the only person out there wondering what ad team was paid to create this drivel? Or whether English was their first language?
In all honesty, I think the folks who wrote this bit of copy from the back of my Herbal Essences shampoo bottle were high at the time:
DIRECTIONS FOR USE: Massage into wet hair. Indulge in the luscious lather and the energising, refreshing fragrance. Rinse when ready.
I don't consider something called "Fruit Fusions" to have an energizing, refreshing fragrance, but I think that's the least of their problems. The conditioner is worse:
DIRECTIONS FOR USE: Massage the juicy conditioner into strands of wet hair. Let it soak up the refreshing energy for as long as desired, then rinse thoroughly.
Am I the only person out there wondering what ad team was paid to create this drivel? Or whether English was their first language?
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Random musings
Today has been one of those days...
The morning began with a marathon through Edinburgh, which just happened to run by my church. This meant that very few people could park near the building, which in turn meant that our numbers were down.
I left church at around 12:30 to beautiful skies and wet cement. Five minutes later, the heavens opened up. Then they closed. Then they reopened with two minutes of hail, followed by more rain. It's rained off an on all day, now, and the wind is horrible out there. (One of those "Why did I forget my ponytail holder?" days, indeed.)
I wanted to purchase a pedometer - I've been meaning to figure out how far I walk - but I had to hit up, in this order, EBS, Superdrug, Pound Savers, Boots, the sports store off Princes Street, the bigger Superdrug, and the bigger Boots before finding one. Even then, it's a crap model and only counts your steps, but thanks to a nifty map tool I found online, I've discovered that it's 0.75 miles from my door to Princes Mall, and that my after-dinner walk is in the 3-mile neighborhood.
Also, and this is completely unrelated to anything above, I'm reading a Bill Bryson book, Made in America, that explains many oddities about American English. One of those is the phrase "quarter of", which means fifteen minutes before the hour. Brits always use "quarter to", and so they get confused when we give them the time. According to Bryson, using 'of' instead of another preposition was actually a feature of Elizabethan English, and our method of telling time is just a relic of the practice. So there you have it, guys. It's archaic, but it works. Also, there has never been an American coin officially known as a penny - it's a cent - but the term is a holdover from the days of using British coins. The cent was originally one two-hundredth of a dollar, too, which makes absolutely no sense.
The morning began with a marathon through Edinburgh, which just happened to run by my church. This meant that very few people could park near the building, which in turn meant that our numbers were down.
I left church at around 12:30 to beautiful skies and wet cement. Five minutes later, the heavens opened up. Then they closed. Then they reopened with two minutes of hail, followed by more rain. It's rained off an on all day, now, and the wind is horrible out there. (One of those "Why did I forget my ponytail holder?" days, indeed.)
I wanted to purchase a pedometer - I've been meaning to figure out how far I walk - but I had to hit up, in this order, EBS, Superdrug, Pound Savers, Boots, the sports store off Princes Street, the bigger Superdrug, and the bigger Boots before finding one. Even then, it's a crap model and only counts your steps, but thanks to a nifty map tool I found online, I've discovered that it's 0.75 miles from my door to Princes Mall, and that my after-dinner walk is in the 3-mile neighborhood.
Also, and this is completely unrelated to anything above, I'm reading a Bill Bryson book, Made in America, that explains many oddities about American English. One of those is the phrase "quarter of", which means fifteen minutes before the hour. Brits always use "quarter to", and so they get confused when we give them the time. According to Bryson, using 'of' instead of another preposition was actually a feature of Elizabethan English, and our method of telling time is just a relic of the practice. So there you have it, guys. It's archaic, but it works. Also, there has never been an American coin officially known as a penny - it's a cent - but the term is a holdover from the days of using British coins. The cent was originally one two-hundredth of a dollar, too, which makes absolutely no sense.
Friday, May 04, 2007
The morning after
First off, I'd just like to thank everybody here, back in Birmingham, and all over Facebook for making yesterday such a nice birthday. Between the roses, lunch, the amazing caterpillar cake, and drinks...y'all are awesome! :)
Last night was Bar Kohl, and I managed to not get drunk. Happy, perhaps, but still able to walk a straight line and not be like the girl in the bathroom, who was asking everyone if they had an eyeliner she could borrow. Yes... But last night was momentous for me in that it was a double first: my first shot (the schnapps I sipped from a shot glass on choir tour doesn't count), and my first absinthe.
Absinthe (absinth) is an interesting drink, strong (mine was mid-range at 140 proof), green, and tasting of licorice (it's anise-flavored, but the wormwood gives it its bitterness). I'm not a huge fan of licorice, so when it was time for a drink, I did it the easy way and got this little number off the chalkboard, which was tempered with honey vodka. (This bar has over fifty flavors of vodka - honey was certainly not the strangest.) There are pictures on two camera that document me getting it down, but there's really no need to put those out here, right? Suffice it to say that the Diet Coke I requested as a birthday drink came in handy.
Since I took a long hike before dinner and the bar (almost up Arthur's Seat - I did everything but the rocky summit, since all the tourists were snapping pictures), I didn't feel bad about stopping for pizza at Ian's suggestion. We came in for one pizza. Once we discovered that the student price is only £2.50, we left with four, and the guys were still able to finish the caterpillar. Now I have cold pizza in my fridge, roses on my windowsill, and a nagging suspicion that I should get some work done today.
Last night was Bar Kohl, and I managed to not get drunk. Happy, perhaps, but still able to walk a straight line and not be like the girl in the bathroom, who was asking everyone if they had an eyeliner she could borrow. Yes... But last night was momentous for me in that it was a double first: my first shot (the schnapps I sipped from a shot glass on choir tour doesn't count), and my first absinthe.
Absinthe (absinth) is an interesting drink, strong (mine was mid-range at 140 proof), green, and tasting of licorice (it's anise-flavored, but the wormwood gives it its bitterness). I'm not a huge fan of licorice, so when it was time for a drink, I did it the easy way and got this little number off the chalkboard, which was tempered with honey vodka. (This bar has over fifty flavors of vodka - honey was certainly not the strangest.) There are pictures on two camera that document me getting it down, but there's really no need to put those out here, right? Suffice it to say that the Diet Coke I requested as a birthday drink came in handy.Since I took a long hike before dinner and the bar (almost up Arthur's Seat - I did everything but the rocky summit, since all the tourists were snapping pictures), I didn't feel bad about stopping for pizza at Ian's suggestion. We came in for one pizza. Once we discovered that the student price is only £2.50, we left with four, and the guys were still able to finish the caterpillar. Now I have cold pizza in my fridge, roses on my windowsill, and a nagging suspicion that I should get some work done today.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Pub Quiz Night
Here's to Team Whatever, which managed a brilliant sixteenth place of sixteen teams! At least we got applause and the attention of Sketchy Drunk Semi-Pro Golfer...
On that note, I really need to come up with a new state. Whenever anyone in a bar asks me where I'm from, I try to go with a generic "States", but this inevitably leads to a call for specification, which can only lead to one thing:
"SWEET HOME ALABAMA!!!"
Yes, I was aware of the song, but thanks for pointing it out to me, buddy...
On that note, I really need to come up with a new state. Whenever anyone in a bar asks me where I'm from, I try to go with a generic "States", but this inevitably leads to a call for specification, which can only lead to one thing:
"SWEET HOME ALABAMA!!!"
Yes, I was aware of the song, but thanks for pointing it out to me, buddy...
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Beltane
There are few things for which I'll willingly stand on a hilltop in downtown Edinburgh for four hours on a chilly night. Beltane happens to be one of them.
For the folks back home: Beltane is a Celtic fertility festival (remember that bit in The Mists of Avalon?) now celebrated by the Beltane Fire Society every April 30 (since May 1 is officially Beltane). I couldn't actually see most of the procession around the mountain, since we were sharing Calton Hill with 12,000 of our closest friends, but here's the quick and dirty on the event:
The May Queen and her court, the White Women, have to walk through a processional fire arch and enter the Underworld to reunite the elements. They parade around the mountain, visiting each of the four elemental sites in turn, while the Red Men (and women), who are wearing little more than loincloths, interact with the crowd and try to subvert the parade. Meanwhile, the Horned God touches the May Queen, dies, and is reborn as the Green Man in a dance. In the end, a giant bonfire is lit and there is much rejoicing, particularly since it's very cold up there.
While we couldn't see much of the parade itself, there was plenty to watch. Side shows. Various pagans in their cloaks. A girl wearing elf ears. Drunk Frenchmen (one of whom almost fell on me from his buddy's shoulders). Fire jugglers. A Red Woman who...um...danced on the Parthenon steps in a loincloth and nothing else (we felt sorry for the Red Men...it was really cold last night). The poor Christian group giving out much-appreciated chai tea and, well, laughable pamphlets. (Really, they were pretty bad.)
What was neat was that the evening started as a perfectly clear night with a full moon, and as we watched, the fog rolled in from the Firth and covered everything. By the time we left, it was decently foggy and the whole place had atmosphere.
The video was meant to capture the fire arch, but regrettably, the lighting was horrible and the crowds were worse, so it's more of a "Sounds of Beltane" clip.
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