2011 brought many changes. More than any other year before. From learning how evil adverbs are, to that first "blow-hole" moment, a lot has changed.
In the year 2011, I fell impossibly in love with opera. I got to be in one, and became obsessed with it. I started voice lessons, which is definitely in the top three most life-changing thing that has ever happened to me. I was terrified of trusting someone with my voice, but thankfully, I know I chose the right person. I feel so grateful to have the kind of instruction I'm getting. I sometimes feel a bit horrified at the thought that I really didn't think I would like Dr. Singalot. He's awesome, and not just because he's funny, but because I think he really cares about his students as people.
I know that deep down(or maybe not so deep), if I could do anything with my life, I would pursue a career in vocal performance. That is something few people are successful in, but that's not going to stop me from trying. I could be happy as a choir director, or vocal coach, or anything that allowed me my music. I'm going to shoot for the stars, and hope that I land somewhere above the troposphere(geek moment, sorry). But I know one thing for certain: I am never going to stop singing. It is what I was made to do, and it makes me happy when nothing else does. It is truly my passion. Piano is not my passion; I like it, maybe even love it, but it does not have the all-consuming effect on me that singing does.
That's another thing; the piano camp I attended was inspiring, and really added a new depth to piano. The professors were fabulous, and I look forward to the next one.
I also took a writing class that really gave me what my writing was missing. I am by no means a talented writer, but I no longer feel embarrassed about writing stories. Fiction never was my thing, but now I really do enjoy it. The instructor rocked, and all the participants were wonderful.
As of now, I will probably wind up using my writing skills at the University of SA. No, not South Africa. I want to go double major in vocal and piano performance. After that, who knows? I like the idea of FSU for maybe a vocal coaching degree, but that's wayyy too far ahead to think about.
Now, for my resolutions. Ideas come from this:http://www.baldwincountynow.com/articles/2011/12/30/columnists/david_atwood/doc4ef9b5849712b922654229.txt
Five year- In five years, I would like to be an official diva.
One year- I would really, really, really like to place at this vocal competition that's really, really, really competitive. Or so I hear. We shall see. Also, I'd like to be graduated from high school. AND, I would like to be more accurate in piano. Like, the notes.
Day-to-day: I will stick to a schedule. Which will include an hour of piano. Yep. If it KILLS ME. Which it might. Tishmeister, you can have my goat apparel. Also, I will be blogging.
Goodbye 2011, hello a new year. You show promise, and I hope it's real.
At this point, Tishmeister is sighing about the fact that she did not get mentioned. Tishmeister, I saved the best for last. She came into my life and made me laugh at myself and gave me my first really meaningful nickname. She listens to everything, and never logs of of FB to avoid chatting(or so I think). I love Tishmeister. I can't believe how long I've "known" her without really knowing her. She is truly special and my biggest blessing of 2011.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Blurbing
Tishmeister said that part of my problem(other than my long-lasting writer's block) is that I don't write in blurbs- I write in big chunks. Ok, I'm going to blurb away now.
Tomorrow, I'm singing in church. I don't feel very confident about it, but I don't know why. It sounds fine, but I just feel like I'm groping for support and sound. Like I'm on a rock wall that could collapse underneath me. I know it will be fine, but I'm just a little worried about it. It's a very delicate song that needs lots of support.
I'm not worried about it, but I just wish I had a little more confidence. I think it'll be better in the morning. We shall see. I am tired from our two-day yard sale.
Well, I came, I saw, I blurbed. Adios.
Tomorrow, I'm singing in church. I don't feel very confident about it, but I don't know why. It sounds fine, but I just feel like I'm groping for support and sound. Like I'm on a rock wall that could collapse underneath me. I know it will be fine, but I'm just a little worried about it. It's a very delicate song that needs lots of support.
I'm not worried about it, but I just wish I had a little more confidence. I think it'll be better in the morning. We shall see. I am tired from our two-day yard sale.
Well, I came, I saw, I blurbed. Adios.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Doctors, Doctors, Doctors, Oh Yeah, and More Doctors
I know, I know. I’m a tardy blogger. I’ve had some medical adventures. As the song says, let’s start at the very beginning.
Nothing's changed, and that's the problem. I'm still short of breath, dizzy, lethargic(OOH, how I love that word! I get a visual image of a sloth.), and my blood pressure isn't being good. Right now, I'm OK. But we went to a different doctor two days ago. She told me that she was going to check for anemia, my thyroid function, and some other things. We would get the iron level results that day.
Well, I was entirely relaxed before they went to take blood, and I think that was the problem. Last time, I had my blood pressure up, this time, I didn't. Towards the end of taking blood, I started to feel funny, and I knew I was either about to black out or come very close to it. I did not want to black out, so I did everything I could to stay conscious. It took a while, but they eventually got my hearing back to normal(sounded like I was in a box) and they wheel-chaired me to a bed. So, I almost blacked out. Gah!
We got the results back I am not anemic. I was so disappointed. It's not that I wanted to be sick, but that anemia would be an easy fix(and, ahem, would help a lot with my paleness). Dr. H kept talking about my paleness. I am still waiting on the other tests.
In the meantime, she sent me to have a echocardiogram done. I got back from it a couple hours ago. I was fine; the lady explained what she was doing the whole time- it was like a biology lesson! Too cool. Oh, and guess what? I have abs. Oh yeah. *Laughs to self*
We'll have some results in the next few days. I actually know the doctor who is reading my echo. I prefer the term "echocardiogram", as it sounds much official, and less like a tin man(OK, so I stole that joke).
I think I'm going to practice voice today. I haven't been able to, and it's making me #1, upset, #2, behind, and #3 INSANE! I tried the last few days and physically could not. It makes me so mad, because I want to so badly, and I can't! I am going to do it, I think. The next time I feel really good(I'm beginning to think that I sit too often, and that's making my blood pressure low).
In reality, there's not been that many doctors. It just feels like it. I cannot wait for my results.
Nothing's changed, and that's the problem. I'm still short of breath, dizzy, lethargic(OOH, how I love that word! I get a visual image of a sloth.), and my blood pressure isn't being good. Right now, I'm OK. But we went to a different doctor two days ago. She told me that she was going to check for anemia, my thyroid function, and some other things. We would get the iron level results that day.
Well, I was entirely relaxed before they went to take blood, and I think that was the problem. Last time, I had my blood pressure up, this time, I didn't. Towards the end of taking blood, I started to feel funny, and I knew I was either about to black out or come very close to it. I did not want to black out, so I did everything I could to stay conscious. It took a while, but they eventually got my hearing back to normal(sounded like I was in a box) and they wheel-chaired me to a bed. So, I almost blacked out. Gah!
We got the results back I am not anemic. I was so disappointed. It's not that I wanted to be sick, but that anemia would be an easy fix(and, ahem, would help a lot with my paleness). Dr. H kept talking about my paleness. I am still waiting on the other tests.
In the meantime, she sent me to have a echocardiogram done. I got back from it a couple hours ago. I was fine; the lady explained what she was doing the whole time- it was like a biology lesson! Too cool. Oh, and guess what? I have abs. Oh yeah. *Laughs to self*
We'll have some results in the next few days. I actually know the doctor who is reading my echo. I prefer the term "echocardiogram", as it sounds much official, and less like a tin man(OK, so I stole that joke).
I think I'm going to practice voice today. I haven't been able to, and it's making me #1, upset, #2, behind, and #3 INSANE! I tried the last few days and physically could not. It makes me so mad, because I want to so badly, and I can't! I am going to do it, I think. The next time I feel really good(I'm beginning to think that I sit too often, and that's making my blood pressure low).
In reality, there's not been that many doctors. It just feels like it. I cannot wait for my results.
Monday, August 8, 2011
My Bucket List
Now, I'm going to keep "dreams" separated from things on my "bucket list"". These are just things I'd love to do one day when time and money permit. I'm not putting everything I want to do, like play the piano for the White House's inauguration ball. Just things that are very possible.
See an opera at the Met. Didn't see that one coming, did you?
See an opera at the Royal Opera House. I'm predictable.
Meet a famous opera singer. Predictable, but not very well-rounded.
See Guys N' Dolls on Broadway. My favorite musical ever.
See Oklahoma! on Broadway. My third favorite musical ever. Why did I skip the second one, you ask? Because it's actually more of a movie, but still, technically, a musical.
Meet a famous pianist, preferably Daniel Baremboim.
See a session of Congress(I've seen part of a state congress).
Do the chicken dance with Tishmeister.
Participate in a flash mob. Maybe it will be a chicken dance flash mob.
Milk a cow. Oh wait, I've done that. A million times. Let me redo that:
Milk a camel.
See an opera at La Scala. I know, you're screaming, "Shut up with the opera already!" OK, OK, I get it.
Go wild on a shopping spree. I am extremely cheap, and never go crazy with spending. I'd like to have 300 dollars to go crazy with.
Eat an entire pizza.
Be videoed while drinking a two liter of diet coke in under a minute. I can do it, but it's yet to be videoed.
Get an insane makeover. Just for a day. Blue eyeshadow and all.
Go to wal-mart in a ridiculous outfit. I'm thinking hair everywhere, mis-matched shoes, a HUGE shirt, shorts that reallllly don't match the shirt.
Act completely bizarre to a poor, helpless checkout employee of walmart. Not mean, just weird.
Get a shirt that says, "Billy Goat and Proud".
Get a shirt that says, "I'm with theTishmeister".
Go around walmart loudly announcing annoying conspiracy theories to everyone. I know, I have an obsession with doing weird things in walmart.
Are you scared yet? I think that's all for now.
See an opera at the Met. Didn't see that one coming, did you?
See an opera at the Royal Opera House. I'm predictable.
Meet a famous opera singer. Predictable, but not very well-rounded.
See Guys N' Dolls on Broadway. My favorite musical ever.
See Oklahoma! on Broadway. My third favorite musical ever. Why did I skip the second one, you ask? Because it's actually more of a movie, but still, technically, a musical.
Meet a famous pianist, preferably Daniel Baremboim.
See a session of Congress(I've seen part of a state congress).
Do the chicken dance with Tishmeister.
Participate in a flash mob. Maybe it will be a chicken dance flash mob.
Milk a cow. Oh wait, I've done that. A million times. Let me redo that:
Milk a camel.
See an opera at La Scala. I know, you're screaming, "Shut up with the opera already!" OK, OK, I get it.
Go wild on a shopping spree. I am extremely cheap, and never go crazy with spending. I'd like to have 300 dollars to go crazy with.
Eat an entire pizza.
Be videoed while drinking a two liter of diet coke in under a minute. I can do it, but it's yet to be videoed.
Get an insane makeover. Just for a day. Blue eyeshadow and all.
Go to wal-mart in a ridiculous outfit. I'm thinking hair everywhere, mis-matched shoes, a HUGE shirt, shorts that reallllly don't match the shirt.
Act completely bizarre to a poor, helpless checkout employee of walmart. Not mean, just weird.
Get a shirt that says, "Billy Goat and Proud".
Get a shirt that says, "I'm with theTishmeister".
Go around walmart loudly announcing annoying conspiracy theories to everyone. I know, I have an obsession with doing weird things in walmart.
Are you scared yet? I think that's all for now.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Getting Old
Is this what happens when you get old? Maybe it's just laziness, but..........
I think walking out the door to church and not caring about whether or not you shaved your legs very well or not qualifies as getting old. I guess part of getting older is not caring anymore.
I guess knowing that your outfit is a little weird and not caring qualifies as getting old. I don't particularly care if people think I'm an odd bird. They probably already know it.
I would say that not caring that this is the third time in the row you wore this skirt to church qualifies as getting old. It's not like I'm going out dressed like a hooker; surely they can forgive the lack of clothing variety. I don't think Jesus minds.
I believe that knowing your hair is ev-er-y-where and not caring qualifies as getting old. I'm not quite there yet, as I do like my hair to be at least somewhat contained, but I'm definitely not obsessing in the middle of church about it.
I bet that opting out of wearing high heels, although those heels make the outfit look 100% better, counts as getting old. I didn't want to fool with the 3 inch heels, so I just went with my very small 1/2 inch heels. Much more comfortable.
I'm getting old.
I think walking out the door to church and not caring about whether or not you shaved your legs very well or not qualifies as getting old. I guess part of getting older is not caring anymore.
I guess knowing that your outfit is a little weird and not caring qualifies as getting old. I don't particularly care if people think I'm an odd bird. They probably already know it.
I would say that not caring that this is the third time in the row you wore this skirt to church qualifies as getting old. It's not like I'm going out dressed like a hooker; surely they can forgive the lack of clothing variety. I don't think Jesus minds.
I believe that knowing your hair is ev-er-y-where and not caring qualifies as getting old. I'm not quite there yet, as I do like my hair to be at least somewhat contained, but I'm definitely not obsessing in the middle of church about it.
I bet that opting out of wearing high heels, although those heels make the outfit look 100% better, counts as getting old. I didn't want to fool with the 3 inch heels, so I just went with my very small 1/2 inch heels. Much more comfortable.
I'm getting old.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Blogless
I know, I know, I've been a terrible blogger. I didn't blog yesterday, and the blog the day before was a quickie. Call me a loser. But, as ERT workshop was these last two days, I was busy. I've got something on my mind, but it is unbloggable. Suffice it to say that it involves people doing things they shouldn't.
What am I going to blog about? To be honest, there's more than one unbloggable topic. I'm left here, blogless. Maybe tomorrow.
What am I going to blog about? To be honest, there's more than one unbloggable topic. I'm left here, blogless. Maybe tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Why I am So Freaking Pumped
OK, I don't like to use the word freaking, but it is totally valid here. I am freaking pumped. Let me enumerate my many reasons for glee.
1. I'm going to get to see Tishmeister tomorrow at ERT workshop(which is also exciting!)
2. And if that weren't enough, not only do I get to view her, but I get to talk to her!
3. And as if that weren't enough to make my year, I get to go somewhere with her!
4. And not just any old somewhere. We get to go see her daughters in Bye Bye Birdie!
I am freaking pumped. I wonder what kind of trouble we can get into. I'll do my best.
1. I'm going to get to see Tishmeister tomorrow at ERT workshop(which is also exciting!)
2. And if that weren't enough, not only do I get to view her, but I get to talk to her!
3. And as if that weren't enough to make my year, I get to go somewhere with her!
4. And not just any old somewhere. We get to go see her daughters in Bye Bye Birdie!
I am freaking pumped. I wonder what kind of trouble we can get into. I'll do my best.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Getting Off My Butt
I have a problem. Its name is mixed up priorities. Really mixed up. So, I sat down and wrote down all the things I do every day. The list looked like this:
School
Piano
Voice
Facebook
Exercise
Farm stuff
Ok, these are the things I do every day(with the exception of exercise, but I have to include it). Now, in reality, my current priority list looks like this when prioritized(I am being brutally honest):
Facebook
Voice
Piano
Farm stuff
Excercise
School
In reality, it should look more like this:
School
Voice/Piano
Farm stuff
Excercise
Facebook
It's almost flipped. I am determined to change this. I'm finally starting to feel myself(sans the breathing issues) and I'm going to have to kick myself in the butt to get this stuff done. I want to be able to do my activities in my Junior and Senior year. I don't want to be sorry that I wasted the first two years of high school and then be unable to do things I want. I want to have all my required high school courses done in two years. I want to be able to do early college classes. I want to be able to CLEP out of things so that I can focus on my work. I want to have a life.
I have a game plan for tomorrow. I am applying Moose Man's law of three times on facebook(though I'm not sure he actually adheres to it completely). I am not going to get on until lunchtime. Yep, I said it. Now I have to do it. I'm going to start the day off with school. Two hours of school. Straight. Two hours. Two. No interruptions. Then, I'm going to practice voice for an hour. Yep. Then, I'm going to practice piano for an hour. Only then will I get on FaceBook and do whatever else my heart desires for an hour. After that, I'll basically repeat my morning sans the voice practicing, although I may do a bit more of that as well.
That is my game plan. My only problem is that we are going to the gym tomorrow. I'll have to work around it. That will take about an hour and a half out of my day, but I think I can do it. I am determined, absolutely determined to get Algebra 2, Italian, geography, and writing out of the way. I will not sit on my butt and do nothing. I am going to change things.
Now that I'm all psyched, I feel better. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. I know it.
School
Piano
Voice
Exercise
Farm stuff
Ok, these are the things I do every day(with the exception of exercise, but I have to include it). Now, in reality, my current priority list looks like this when prioritized(I am being brutally honest):
Voice
Piano
Farm stuff
Excercise
School
In reality, it should look more like this:
School
Voice/Piano
Farm stuff
Excercise
It's almost flipped. I am determined to change this. I'm finally starting to feel myself(sans the breathing issues) and I'm going to have to kick myself in the butt to get this stuff done. I want to be able to do my activities in my Junior and Senior year. I don't want to be sorry that I wasted the first two years of high school and then be unable to do things I want. I want to have all my required high school courses done in two years. I want to be able to do early college classes. I want to be able to CLEP out of things so that I can focus on my work. I want to have a life.
I have a game plan for tomorrow. I am applying Moose Man's law of three times on facebook(though I'm not sure he actually adheres to it completely). I am not going to get on until lunchtime. Yep, I said it. Now I have to do it. I'm going to start the day off with school. Two hours of school. Straight. Two hours. Two. No interruptions. Then, I'm going to practice voice for an hour. Yep. Then, I'm going to practice piano for an hour. Only then will I get on FaceBook and do whatever else my heart desires for an hour. After that, I'll basically repeat my morning sans the voice practicing, although I may do a bit more of that as well.
That is my game plan. My only problem is that we are going to the gym tomorrow. I'll have to work around it. That will take about an hour and a half out of my day, but I think I can do it. I am determined, absolutely determined to get Algebra 2, Italian, geography, and writing out of the way. I will not sit on my butt and do nothing. I am going to change things.
Now that I'm all psyched, I feel better. Tomorrow is going to be a good day. I know it.
Activi....ties!
In my mind, I sing the title like one does the Activia theme song. Get over the weirdness.
I was thinking(very dangerous thing to do, by the way), and a I had thought while thinking. The thought that I had while thinking was, "Self, ya know, if you don't drop any activities, you'll wind up doing piano, voice, and choir, and church choir, and possibly another choir. Yep. Possibly another choir.
I hesitate to put this where, theoretically, Dr. Singalot can see, but it's nothing bad. It's just something I wouldn't voice to him. Get it? Voice. Ha ha ha. Anyway, he conducts a choir. Let's call it Villa Bocee. For now. I don't like it as a permanent name for the choir, but it's the best I've got at the moment.
Anyway, it's a good audition women's choir(directed by a man), and currently made up of all adults, most of them older. However, he doesn't limit it to adults, and said that in a year or two I'd be ready for it. Mom would love to accompany for them, I know. And they'd love to have her accompany(brag brag). She's purdy darn good, and it's not a paid position either. They meet on Thursdays, I believe. My dilemma is this: I am wholly attached and involved in the other audition choir. I also know that Villa Bocee would be a fantastic opportunity. However, time is of the essence. My dilemma is, if/when I am presented with this choir, do I drop one and pick up the other, do both and deal with it, or decline to do(not that anyone's begging) Villa Bocee? It's mainly a question of driving.
To add to the mess, my younger sister is in the other audition choir that I'm in. Let's call it ERT. ERT is a wonderful choir in which I have many friends. If my sister shows little interest in ERT in a few years, then that problem will be resolved, if not, the problem remains.
You know what I really really really wish I could do? The youth symphony. However, they bring in high and mighty guest pianists. I understand, actually. One pianist can mess up the whole thing. Still, I'd love to do it. Our area has one, and I bet they need a pianist, but I hear it's not so great.
I'd love to participate in the operas as well, but geez, I'm already booked. Maybe my junior and senior years when I can drive, and I'll be technically not doing high school, but early college. I'd better get my butt in gear.
I was thinking about the competitions I'm going to do this year. I'm doing MTNA piano auditions, Sonata contest(local, no biggie), probably the Schumann club auditions(though I don't know whether to audition with voice or piano), and possibly NATS(voice). Possibly. I probably need to wait another year. I'll find some in-between competitions somewhere. It'll be fun.
Activi......ties!
I was thinking(very dangerous thing to do, by the way), and a I had thought while thinking. The thought that I had while thinking was, "Self, ya know, if you don't drop any activities, you'll wind up doing piano, voice, and choir, and church choir, and possibly another choir. Yep. Possibly another choir.
I hesitate to put this where, theoretically, Dr. Singalot can see, but it's nothing bad. It's just something I wouldn't voice to him. Get it? Voice. Ha ha ha. Anyway, he conducts a choir. Let's call it Villa Bocee. For now. I don't like it as a permanent name for the choir, but it's the best I've got at the moment.
Anyway, it's a good audition women's choir(directed by a man), and currently made up of all adults, most of them older. However, he doesn't limit it to adults, and said that in a year or two I'd be ready for it. Mom would love to accompany for them, I know. And they'd love to have her accompany(brag brag). She's purdy darn good, and it's not a paid position either. They meet on Thursdays, I believe. My dilemma is this: I am wholly attached and involved in the other audition choir. I also know that Villa Bocee would be a fantastic opportunity. However, time is of the essence. My dilemma is, if/when I am presented with this choir, do I drop one and pick up the other, do both and deal with it, or decline to do(not that anyone's begging) Villa Bocee? It's mainly a question of driving.
To add to the mess, my younger sister is in the other audition choir that I'm in. Let's call it ERT. ERT is a wonderful choir in which I have many friends. If my sister shows little interest in ERT in a few years, then that problem will be resolved, if not, the problem remains.
You know what I really really really wish I could do? The youth symphony. However, they bring in high and mighty guest pianists. I understand, actually. One pianist can mess up the whole thing. Still, I'd love to do it. Our area has one, and I bet they need a pianist, but I hear it's not so great.
I'd love to participate in the operas as well, but geez, I'm already booked. Maybe my junior and senior years when I can drive, and I'll be technically not doing high school, but early college. I'd better get my butt in gear.
I was thinking about the competitions I'm going to do this year. I'm doing MTNA piano auditions, Sonata contest(local, no biggie), probably the Schumann club auditions(though I don't know whether to audition with voice or piano), and possibly NATS(voice). Possibly. I probably need to wait another year. I'll find some in-between competitions somewhere. It'll be fun.
Activi......ties!
Monday, August 1, 2011
My Parents, Adoptive or Not, Will Love This Post
I have a confession. I had a thought. This thought was, "Wouldn't it be weird if I had a boyfriend?" I burst out laughing at the thought.
I honestly cannot see myself dating in the next four years. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not date until I am well into college, and maybe even out of it.
I have views on dating that differ from this culture's. This culture views dating as an activity. I am an advocate of courtship, rather than dating. The difference? Courtship leads to marriage, and dating leads to entertainment. Entertainment that doesn't last.
I honestly do not think it's cute when 5 year-olds have boyfriends. Am I a heartless, mean old person or what? All this can lead to is a bunch of crap later on in the tweens. The minimum age I would put on my child for dating would be 17. My children will understand later on.
My mom used to say something to the effect of 16. That's two years away. This makes me laugh.
Most of this is due to the fact that guys have the intelligence and common sense of a retarded poodle until they get to around college age. This has been proved to me many, many times.
Practically all relationships in middle school end in heartbreak. I say heartbreak very lightly, because you can't know what love is at that age. People who think they know what love is when they don't are in trouble.
I don't think I'm in any danger of someone asking me out. As long as I keep up the opera freakishness, I don't think I'll have that problem.
I'm single and very content with it.
I honestly cannot see myself dating in the next four years. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will not date until I am well into college, and maybe even out of it.
I have views on dating that differ from this culture's. This culture views dating as an activity. I am an advocate of courtship, rather than dating. The difference? Courtship leads to marriage, and dating leads to entertainment. Entertainment that doesn't last.
I honestly do not think it's cute when 5 year-olds have boyfriends. Am I a heartless, mean old person or what? All this can lead to is a bunch of crap later on in the tweens. The minimum age I would put on my child for dating would be 17. My children will understand later on.
My mom used to say something to the effect of 16. That's two years away. This makes me laugh.
Most of this is due to the fact that guys have the intelligence and common sense of a retarded poodle until they get to around college age. This has been proved to me many, many times.
Practically all relationships in middle school end in heartbreak. I say heartbreak very lightly, because you can't know what love is at that age. People who think they know what love is when they don't are in trouble.
I don't think I'm in any danger of someone asking me out. As long as I keep up the opera freakishness, I don't think I'll have that problem.
I'm single and very content with it.
Insert Extremely Whiny Title Here
I don't want to be the whiny, sickly kid, but can I just wonder aloud on the internet? What I am wondering is why my blood sugar is so freaking uncooperative. You'd think with the low-carb diet that my blood sugar would be great. It always was when I went on Atkins. Nope. My fasting blood sugar was 115 on one meter and 99 on the other. Why the huge difference in meters, I don't know, but both are really quite terrible.
I've lost 3 pounds as of two weeks ago. Whoop(detect the sarcasm?). Mom says I need to eat more. Dad says I need to eat less. I think I'm eating just right. This is like a medical version of the three bears.
For today, I'm going to be much stricter with the kind of carbs I eat. I ate a lot of popcorn yesterday. This just feels so unfair. It's not like I'm eating tubs of ice cream in between meals of cookies. I'm going to start keeping track of what I eat. This is going to be incredibly boring.
Also, my blood pressure is not being very nice. It's all over the place in the morning. I always feel bad in the mornings, and a lot of times the whole day. My heart beats really fast and I'm out of breath. My chest started to hurt this morning. I don't want to be whiny, but if I can' complain here, I have to do it to the rest of the world. I'm sparing the rest of the world.
Someone said that I need to go to a pulmonary doctor. I'd like to get my blood sugar issues straightened out first. I know that I'm very likely(but not officially diagnosed) a hypoglycemic. Maybe I haven't been eating in intervals like I should. I'll try to balance what I eat and how much I eat of as well as how often.
Know that you spared the rest of the world a lot of whining. Go in peace.
I've lost 3 pounds as of two weeks ago. Whoop(detect the sarcasm?). Mom says I need to eat more. Dad says I need to eat less. I think I'm eating just right. This is like a medical version of the three bears.
For today, I'm going to be much stricter with the kind of carbs I eat. I ate a lot of popcorn yesterday. This just feels so unfair. It's not like I'm eating tubs of ice cream in between meals of cookies. I'm going to start keeping track of what I eat. This is going to be incredibly boring.
Also, my blood pressure is not being very nice. It's all over the place in the morning. I always feel bad in the mornings, and a lot of times the whole day. My heart beats really fast and I'm out of breath. My chest started to hurt this morning. I don't want to be whiny, but if I can' complain here, I have to do it to the rest of the world. I'm sparing the rest of the world.
Someone said that I need to go to a pulmonary doctor. I'd like to get my blood sugar issues straightened out first. I know that I'm very likely(but not officially diagnosed) a hypoglycemic. Maybe I haven't been eating in intervals like I should. I'll try to balance what I eat and how much I eat of as well as how often.
Know that you spared the rest of the world a lot of whining. Go in peace.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
I Hate Steers
I hate steers; Tidbit, our cow, is an idiot. He is a 200ish pound steer. He doesn't look that heavy, but boy, once you get where he can reach you, you're fully aware of how heavy he is. He does the buckin' broncho stuff. It's scary when you're right next to him. It doesn't help that he's about twice my weight(NOTE: I am not claiming to be 100 pounds here. I'm not a character out of South Pacific. He's probably a good bit over 200).
Anyway, hit as hard as I might, it doesn't phase him, and that scares me to some degree. He couldn't kill me at his weight, but he could sure as heck hurt me. Usually, we have no contact with him. He's on the other side of the fence. However, there is the occasional encounter. He doesn't mean to scare me; he wants to play. I don't wanna.
I hate steers.
Anyway, hit as hard as I might, it doesn't phase him, and that scares me to some degree. He couldn't kill me at his weight, but he could sure as heck hurt me. Usually, we have no contact with him. He's on the other side of the fence. However, there is the occasional encounter. He doesn't mean to scare me; he wants to play. I don't wanna.
I hate steers.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Shopping & A Note about Voice
We went shopping today. We took our little cousin, "Minnie". You'd know why if you saw how tiny she is.
First stop: Sephora. We went to get my makeup done. Yep, we finally went. My first thought in the store was, "Oh my goodness, if that gay guy over there is the one that does the makeup I am going to puke." He was talking valley girl style. Like a cheerleader. EW. Thankfully, he did not work in the makeup department.
Instead, I got a very nice lady with bright turqoise, sparkly eyeliner and a heck of a lot of mascara. I told her that I was really looking for a very natural look. Nothing flashy. She delivered.
I walked out very happy with the way I looked. I won't put eyeliner on the bottom lid, but other than that, it's just the way I need it. It's very natural looking. "It sure does cost a lot to look natural"- My mother's reflection.
My eyelashes are thick and very long, and I didn't really want much mascara. She showed me the clear mascara, which is basically hair spray for your eyelashes. PERFECT for me. I love it, and it won't smudge.
I got brown eyeliner. It's great. The black was too dramatic for me. This is going to be hardest to learn how to apply. It looks good. It's not overdone. Like I said earlier, I won't use so much on the bottom eyelid, but it still looks good.
Hm, let's see. I got an eye countour kit, whatever that is. Mom will have to show me how to apply all this again. I got a primer for concealer and eyeshadow.
Highlight of the shopping trip: We went to Sephora, and the lady, as we were leaving, gave us samples of the Justin Bieber fragrance. I just figured I'd burn mine later. The girls(my sister and Minnie) opened theirs in the car. The first thing out of their mouths was, "Justin Bieber stinks!" I said, "Yes, yes he does." I desperately wanted to put this on facebook, but I decided against offending people for the sake of laughing my head off.
The official inventory for Tishmeister: Hello Flawless, from benefit- powder. Stay, don't stray, from benefit- primer for concealers and eyeshadows. Sephora- clear mascara. Big beautiful eyes, from benefit. Erase paste- concealer. Lorac 3-in-1 eyeliner.
After this, we went to Build-a-Bear, and I attempted to text Tishmeister while the girls built their bears. I can't do it very well on my mom's phone. I almost called her to save the hassle, but I figured that she has an actual job. Besides, I didn't want to tell all my blog material. I wish Build-a-Bear had an opera outfit. I would have made a bear.
After this, we went to Claire's. I saw some piano knee-highs, but I knew I wouldn't wear them anywhere. I also saw a "Music is My Life" bracelet, but it had a guitar attatched and I knew I wouldn't wear it either. For the most part, I stood around and thought about what a tom-boy I am when it comes to jewelry. I can't stand it.
After this, we went to Belk. I have all but given up on the junior's department. Everything is too short and too small. They ought to rename it the anorexic department.
I am so tired. Exhausted, really. I haven't even practiced voice yet. But I will, believe me, I will. Every blog post seems to tie back to voice, but I follow where my moose leads me.
Dr. Singalot told me when we started voice lessons that he didn't give hour lessons until one got to college. Well, he's changed his mind, apparently. He like the idea of myself having an hour lesson this fall. I guess he thinks that I practice often enough to support and warrant an hour lesson. I never feel like he completely gets to all he could in a lesson. I'm looking forward to the extra time. I wonder if he'll switch anyone else over to an hour. I don't think anyone my age practices as much as me, which is fine. Nothing wrong with that, as long as you're not being lazy. I want more out of it, so I put more into it. It's simple.
I am loading up on good carbs and caffeine so I can make it through an hour of voice. Then, it's crashing time.
I know I made the rounds from shopping to voice, but that's what happens when you follow where your moose takes you.
First stop: Sephora. We went to get my makeup done. Yep, we finally went. My first thought in the store was, "Oh my goodness, if that gay guy over there is the one that does the makeup I am going to puke." He was talking valley girl style. Like a cheerleader. EW. Thankfully, he did not work in the makeup department.
Instead, I got a very nice lady with bright turqoise, sparkly eyeliner and a heck of a lot of mascara. I told her that I was really looking for a very natural look. Nothing flashy. She delivered.
I walked out very happy with the way I looked. I won't put eyeliner on the bottom lid, but other than that, it's just the way I need it. It's very natural looking. "It sure does cost a lot to look natural"- My mother's reflection.
My eyelashes are thick and very long, and I didn't really want much mascara. She showed me the clear mascara, which is basically hair spray for your eyelashes. PERFECT for me. I love it, and it won't smudge.
I got brown eyeliner. It's great. The black was too dramatic for me. This is going to be hardest to learn how to apply. It looks good. It's not overdone. Like I said earlier, I won't use so much on the bottom eyelid, but it still looks good.
Hm, let's see. I got an eye countour kit, whatever that is. Mom will have to show me how to apply all this again. I got a primer for concealer and eyeshadow.
Highlight of the shopping trip: We went to Sephora, and the lady, as we were leaving, gave us samples of the Justin Bieber fragrance. I just figured I'd burn mine later. The girls(my sister and Minnie) opened theirs in the car. The first thing out of their mouths was, "Justin Bieber stinks!" I said, "Yes, yes he does." I desperately wanted to put this on facebook, but I decided against offending people for the sake of laughing my head off.
The official inventory for Tishmeister: Hello Flawless, from benefit- powder. Stay, don't stray, from benefit- primer for concealers and eyeshadows. Sephora- clear mascara. Big beautiful eyes, from benefit. Erase paste- concealer. Lorac 3-in-1 eyeliner.
After this, we went to Build-a-Bear, and I attempted to text Tishmeister while the girls built their bears. I can't do it very well on my mom's phone. I almost called her to save the hassle, but I figured that she has an actual job. Besides, I didn't want to tell all my blog material. I wish Build-a-Bear had an opera outfit. I would have made a bear.
After this, we went to Claire's. I saw some piano knee-highs, but I knew I wouldn't wear them anywhere. I also saw a "Music is My Life" bracelet, but it had a guitar attatched and I knew I wouldn't wear it either. For the most part, I stood around and thought about what a tom-boy I am when it comes to jewelry. I can't stand it.
After this, we went to Belk. I have all but given up on the junior's department. Everything is too short and too small. They ought to rename it the anorexic department.
I am so tired. Exhausted, really. I haven't even practiced voice yet. But I will, believe me, I will. Every blog post seems to tie back to voice, but I follow where my moose leads me.
Dr. Singalot told me when we started voice lessons that he didn't give hour lessons until one got to college. Well, he's changed his mind, apparently. He like the idea of myself having an hour lesson this fall. I guess he thinks that I practice often enough to support and warrant an hour lesson. I never feel like he completely gets to all he could in a lesson. I'm looking forward to the extra time. I wonder if he'll switch anyone else over to an hour. I don't think anyone my age practices as much as me, which is fine. Nothing wrong with that, as long as you're not being lazy. I want more out of it, so I put more into it. It's simple.
I am loading up on good carbs and caffeine so I can make it through an hour of voice. Then, it's crashing time.
I know I made the rounds from shopping to voice, but that's what happens when you follow where your moose takes you.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Purple Elephants
Vocally, this has been a very good day. A very good day indeed.
Everything just went right. I was having extreme difficulty with fast scales. That changed today. Don't misunderstand; they're still a challenge, but one that I can see being conquered sooner than later.
Dr. Singalot explained how I can't think about every note; I'm just supposed to do it. Like many things he tells me, I grasped the concept immediately, but the application came a bit later. It is hard not to think about it.
Don't think about a purple elephant.
See? It's hard not to think about something when all you can think about is how you're not supposed to be thinking about it. At one point, I was blinking with every note of the scale, which resulted in Dr. Singalot being seized with convulsive laughter. I was thinking about every single step, and you can only sing as fast as you think.
I don't think this is true for piano. I've heard it said, but unless thinking in glissando-type scales count, then I don't believe it.
I am really surprised at how far I've come vocally. I didn't think I would make progress like this. I know it will slow down eventually, but I'm enjoying it for now. A few months ago, a simple, slow scale was a near impossibility, today, I can do one without ever despairing of my life. What's surprised me the most is my break. It has evened out much faster than I ever hoped. At first, it didn't seem like the work was doing anything. It is now.
Choir workshop is in a week. I am excited, but slightly hesitant. Will I be able to find my choir voice again? And if/when I do, will my break still be even? I have not had a chance to try my choir voice. Also, and I need to ask Dr. Singalot about this, what part in the music should I try for? I go for the hardest part, which is usually 2nd soprano. I need to ask what would be best for my personal improvement. My guess is that he tells me to pick parts that challenge my break.
I wish Dr. Singalot could come and work with our choir. Not replace our choir director; that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that I wish he could come every now and then and work on technique. While our choir director is great, no mistake about it, there are some things that she cannot communicate as well as an outsider can. For instance, she has talked about breathing, and what should happen, but she only went half-way, and that half-way did not do as much as it could have for my breathing.
Dr. Singalot loaned me a fantastic book filled with scores of interviews with extremely famous singers. It is fascinating. What intrigues me the most is the difference in the answers. Let's take a few of the questions the interviewer almost always asked.
What do you do the day of the performance? Many said that they treat it like an ordinary day, and only warm up a little, maybe 10 minutes, if any. Some said that they warm up for an hour or more.
Do you use the lips in forming vowels? The almost universal answer was no.
Do you vocalize every day? Most of the time, the answer was yes. In one case, a tenor went mountain climbing for two months and didn't sing at all. I can't imagine. He said it took less than a week to bounce back. Wow.
The most interesting thing, though, was the initial training the singers received. This varied greatly. One singer started at 12, and had vocal training twice a day! One mezzo had vocal training from the age of 5, if I'm not mistaken. She was taught how to breathe correctly even at that age. One tenor didn't receive any formal training until he was in the middle of his career and got into trouble vocally. Another singer was initially not allowed to sing in the school choir, because her voice was too loud. I can't imagine. The backgrounds of these singers are so varied. Most spoke several languages, and nearly all of the played the piano. I am thoroughly enjoying the book.
Don't think about a purple elephant.
Everything just went right. I was having extreme difficulty with fast scales. That changed today. Don't misunderstand; they're still a challenge, but one that I can see being conquered sooner than later.
Dr. Singalot explained how I can't think about every note; I'm just supposed to do it. Like many things he tells me, I grasped the concept immediately, but the application came a bit later. It is hard not to think about it.
Don't think about a purple elephant.
See? It's hard not to think about something when all you can think about is how you're not supposed to be thinking about it. At one point, I was blinking with every note of the scale, which resulted in Dr. Singalot being seized with convulsive laughter. I was thinking about every single step, and you can only sing as fast as you think.
I don't think this is true for piano. I've heard it said, but unless thinking in glissando-type scales count, then I don't believe it.
I am really surprised at how far I've come vocally. I didn't think I would make progress like this. I know it will slow down eventually, but I'm enjoying it for now. A few months ago, a simple, slow scale was a near impossibility, today, I can do one without ever despairing of my life. What's surprised me the most is my break. It has evened out much faster than I ever hoped. At first, it didn't seem like the work was doing anything. It is now.
Choir workshop is in a week. I am excited, but slightly hesitant. Will I be able to find my choir voice again? And if/when I do, will my break still be even? I have not had a chance to try my choir voice. Also, and I need to ask Dr. Singalot about this, what part in the music should I try for? I go for the hardest part, which is usually 2nd soprano. I need to ask what would be best for my personal improvement. My guess is that he tells me to pick parts that challenge my break.
I wish Dr. Singalot could come and work with our choir. Not replace our choir director; that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that I wish he could come every now and then and work on technique. While our choir director is great, no mistake about it, there are some things that she cannot communicate as well as an outsider can. For instance, she has talked about breathing, and what should happen, but she only went half-way, and that half-way did not do as much as it could have for my breathing.
Dr. Singalot loaned me a fantastic book filled with scores of interviews with extremely famous singers. It is fascinating. What intrigues me the most is the difference in the answers. Let's take a few of the questions the interviewer almost always asked.
What do you do the day of the performance? Many said that they treat it like an ordinary day, and only warm up a little, maybe 10 minutes, if any. Some said that they warm up for an hour or more.
Do you use the lips in forming vowels? The almost universal answer was no.
Do you vocalize every day? Most of the time, the answer was yes. In one case, a tenor went mountain climbing for two months and didn't sing at all. I can't imagine. He said it took less than a week to bounce back. Wow.
The most interesting thing, though, was the initial training the singers received. This varied greatly. One singer started at 12, and had vocal training twice a day! One mezzo had vocal training from the age of 5, if I'm not mistaken. She was taught how to breathe correctly even at that age. One tenor didn't receive any formal training until he was in the middle of his career and got into trouble vocally. Another singer was initially not allowed to sing in the school choir, because her voice was too loud. I can't imagine. The backgrounds of these singers are so varied. Most spoke several languages, and nearly all of the played the piano. I am thoroughly enjoying the book.
Don't think about a purple elephant.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
GASP
There is a pun in the title. You will see why.
So, I went to the doctor. My diagnosis? Decreased lung capacity. The capacity is only 74%ish of what is should be. He basically told me to go to my voice teacher and get exercises. Okey dokey. He was not very helpful today.
BUT, I am continuing with Atkins. Here is where the problem comes in.
I literally do not eat any fruits or vegetables. None. It's not the taste; it's the texture. I am extremely sensitive to texture. I gag. I have actually looked this up, and it is more common than I thought. Hyper-sensitivity to texture. I found this forum one time with hoards of adults who ate bread and meat. That was it. Sounds like me, except that I don't want to be like this! I want to change it before it takes over my life.
I guess I'll start trying food that has a relatively mild texture, and work my way up the texture scale, so to speak. The thing is, I would start with potatoes, but, oh no, those are NOT permitted on a low-carb diet. Nuh-uh. So, I'll have to find low-carb and a relatively mild texture. I can deal with lettuce, but I feel like a freaking rabbit just sitting there chewing on the green stuff.
Oh, and I absolutely cannot stand it when foods are mixed, like in a casserole. No. This is a problem.
I am absolutely determined to find some sort of fruit and vegetable that I"ll eat. I may throw up trying, but at least I'm going to try.
If it were just the taste, I could get over that. I can do that. But it's not. I also have a super-sensitive gag reflex. Combine that with the texture problem........it makes for very little food choices.
I'm tired of being the picky one at the table. I'm tired of having one thing on my plate. Something has got to change, and I'm going to have to tough it out to make that change.
So, I went to the doctor. My diagnosis? Decreased lung capacity. The capacity is only 74%ish of what is should be. He basically told me to go to my voice teacher and get exercises. Okey dokey. He was not very helpful today.
BUT, I am continuing with Atkins. Here is where the problem comes in.
I literally do not eat any fruits or vegetables. None. It's not the taste; it's the texture. I am extremely sensitive to texture. I gag. I have actually looked this up, and it is more common than I thought. Hyper-sensitivity to texture. I found this forum one time with hoards of adults who ate bread and meat. That was it. Sounds like me, except that I don't want to be like this! I want to change it before it takes over my life.
I guess I'll start trying food that has a relatively mild texture, and work my way up the texture scale, so to speak. The thing is, I would start with potatoes, but, oh no, those are NOT permitted on a low-carb diet. Nuh-uh. So, I'll have to find low-carb and a relatively mild texture. I can deal with lettuce, but I feel like a freaking rabbit just sitting there chewing on the green stuff.
Oh, and I absolutely cannot stand it when foods are mixed, like in a casserole. No. This is a problem.
I am absolutely determined to find some sort of fruit and vegetable that I"ll eat. I may throw up trying, but at least I'm going to try.
If it were just the taste, I could get over that. I can do that. But it's not. I also have a super-sensitive gag reflex. Combine that with the texture problem........it makes for very little food choices.
I'm tired of being the picky one at the table. I'm tired of having one thing on my plate. Something has got to change, and I'm going to have to tough it out to make that change.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Pretty Good Day
Voice and piano lessons were today They went pretty well. The voice lesson was pretty good for me not to have practiced. The piano lesson.....not so much. Of course, this would be the musical instrument I actually practiced.
Nothing particularly exciting happened, but the voice lessons did make me laugh at myself later on. Two things:
My mom started going off about my health woes. Anyway, long story short, he asked, "Are you purging behind our backs?" At first I thought he was kidding(me? That would absolutely ruin my vocal chords; I'm not stupid) and then I realized he was serious, and so I did my best serious face and said, "Definitely not." Anyway......
I was also asked to be a diva. Uh......that is hard for me to do. Really hard. I (excuse the language; I tried to work around it, but the words fits) suck at being a diva. I'll work on that.
Piano lesson was so-so. I didn't play very well. Oh well. I'll work on it.
I think Dr. Singalot has figured out that I'm different around Dr. Terminator. More outgoing; more myself, I guess. I don't think he gets that side of me. I don't know. He'll find out. It took a while with Dr. Terminator, and it'll take a while with him.
Overall, a pretty good day.
Nothing particularly exciting happened, but the voice lessons did make me laugh at myself later on. Two things:
My mom started going off about my health woes. Anyway, long story short, he asked, "Are you purging behind our backs?" At first I thought he was kidding(me? That would absolutely ruin my vocal chords; I'm not stupid) and then I realized he was serious, and so I did my best serious face and said, "Definitely not." Anyway......
I was also asked to be a diva. Uh......that is hard for me to do. Really hard. I (excuse the language; I tried to work around it, but the words fits) suck at being a diva. I'll work on that.
Piano lesson was so-so. I didn't play very well. Oh well. I'll work on it.
I think Dr. Singalot has figured out that I'm different around Dr. Terminator. More outgoing; more myself, I guess. I don't think he gets that side of me. I don't know. He'll find out. It took a while with Dr. Terminator, and it'll take a while with him.
Overall, a pretty good day.
Monday, July 25, 2011
I'm Feeling Very Guilty
So, this isn't really a blog post. I already posted my "real" blog post, but I feel the need to express my guilt.
I feel extremely guilty right now. Emphasis on the extremely. I practiced voice once this week. Once. I feel terrible.
I practiced on Wednesday. I felt great, and had no reason not to. That changed on Thursday. I decided I'd give myself the day off, as I had started Atkins and spent the day fighting bread. I thought I'd be fine. Not so.
On Friday, I felt terrible. Like a zombie. I tried to practice, I really did, but fifteen minutes into warming up, I passed out onto my bed. Not actual passing out, but you get the idea. I was not in the zone.
On Saturday, I felt the same. Dragging. I did not practice. Atkins was still killing me.
Sunday came, I and I had four hours in between church services. THIS is where the excuses END. I should have practiced. Sure, I wasn't feeling my best, but I was feeling better. Instead, I practiced piano and laid around. Yep. All my fault. No excuse. I plain didn't practice.
And here I am at Monday night. I had fully intended to practice. Fully. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to practice. TODAY. I feel pretty good today. Nothing was going to stop me. Oh, wait. I feel dizzy. So, I took my blood pressure. It was on the low side. Mom says it's because I'm eating different things, and probably not getting enough calories. GEEZ LOUISE. I did count my calories one day(and when I say count, I mean I added them up at the end of the day, not restricted them) and I'd only eaten 650 calories. That is definitely not enough, but I'm getting 50+ grams of protein a day, and I'm not hungry anymore. Goshness. I always thought this would be a good problem to have. It's not.
I absolutely hate that I'm dizzy. It's getting better, but it's still too much for me to practice. And it's already 8 o'clock at night. BLAH.
So, yep, I feel really badly about the non-practicing. Really badly. And my voice lesson's tomorrow. Sigh.
I feel extremely guilty right now. Emphasis on the extremely. I practiced voice once this week. Once. I feel terrible.
I practiced on Wednesday. I felt great, and had no reason not to. That changed on Thursday. I decided I'd give myself the day off, as I had started Atkins and spent the day fighting bread. I thought I'd be fine. Not so.
On Friday, I felt terrible. Like a zombie. I tried to practice, I really did, but fifteen minutes into warming up, I passed out onto my bed. Not actual passing out, but you get the idea. I was not in the zone.
On Saturday, I felt the same. Dragging. I did not practice. Atkins was still killing me.
Sunday came, I and I had four hours in between church services. THIS is where the excuses END. I should have practiced. Sure, I wasn't feeling my best, but I was feeling better. Instead, I practiced piano and laid around. Yep. All my fault. No excuse. I plain didn't practice.
And here I am at Monday night. I had fully intended to practice. Fully. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to practice. TODAY. I feel pretty good today. Nothing was going to stop me. Oh, wait. I feel dizzy. So, I took my blood pressure. It was on the low side. Mom says it's because I'm eating different things, and probably not getting enough calories. GEEZ LOUISE. I did count my calories one day(and when I say count, I mean I added them up at the end of the day, not restricted them) and I'd only eaten 650 calories. That is definitely not enough, but I'm getting 50+ grams of protein a day, and I'm not hungry anymore. Goshness. I always thought this would be a good problem to have. It's not.
I absolutely hate that I'm dizzy. It's getting better, but it's still too much for me to practice. And it's already 8 o'clock at night. BLAH.
So, yep, I feel really badly about the non-practicing. Really badly. And my voice lesson's tomorrow. Sigh.
Gym Musings
We went to the gym today. I alternated every five minutes between running and power walking. I did 43:27:4489 minutes. OK, so I made the seconds part up. It was somewhere in there.
My heart rate won't go as high as I need it to. I'm trying, but there's a fine line between a good workout that kicks your butt moderately, and an overdone workout that kicks your butt majorly and leaves you slightly paralyzed.
I also did a little of some machine that works your thighs and one that works your abs. I should have done more, but I think Mom was ready to go, and I wanted to be able to walk in the morning. The next time we go, I'm going to alternate between the two machines for a while.
I am a very pale person, but my face is entirely red when I'm done working out. I also drink water like a pregnant cow. OK, maybe just a cow that's 5 months into lactation. Cow geeks unite.
I find the people in the gym fascinating. Most of the time I'm concentrating on living to see tomorrow. But occasionally, I'll look up to survey my surroundings. A lot of buff guys, probably football players, are over by the weights. There's usually at least one elderly couple supporting each other through biking or some other mild exercise. There's always at least two extremely fat people on the treadmills(I'm not hating here, I'm just stating the facts; good for them!) and then, there's people who look a lot like me. Out of shape and exercising for the heck of it, and any possible benefits that may arise.
The outfits of people in the gym are also amusing. All the guys wear t-shirts and bermuda length shorts, but for the women, it varies. Where I live, few people wear the popular nike shorts. Those are too pricey for us country folk. Most everyone I saw on the treadmills were wearing bermuda length shorts, and one lady was wearing jeans. I wear my nike knock-offs and a t-shirt. I get way too hot for any longer shorts. I did see one lady with those fancy nike shorts. She should have left them at home. 60 year-old women should not wear those shorts, especially when they're 3 sizes too small. "Nuff said.
There are 3 TVs for the treadmillers and ellipticallers. One had some news channel that I can't concentrate on when I"m trying to breathe, one had Dr. Phil, and finally, someone changed the other TV to Dr. Oz. Dr. Phil is not my thing. Dr. Oz? Totally. That is the one TV show I really get into. Call me a nerd. Go on, call me one! I know you want to. Uh huh, now who's the one hating?
Anyway, it was a good workout. Mom doesn't think she'll be able to walk tomorrow<insert sarcasm here>, so we most likely will not go back. That is probably wise. I hope you enjoyed my gym musings.
My heart rate won't go as high as I need it to. I'm trying, but there's a fine line between a good workout that kicks your butt moderately, and an overdone workout that kicks your butt majorly and leaves you slightly paralyzed.
I also did a little of some machine that works your thighs and one that works your abs. I should have done more, but I think Mom was ready to go, and I wanted to be able to walk in the morning. The next time we go, I'm going to alternate between the two machines for a while.
I am a very pale person, but my face is entirely red when I'm done working out. I also drink water like a pregnant cow. OK, maybe just a cow that's 5 months into lactation. Cow geeks unite.
I find the people in the gym fascinating. Most of the time I'm concentrating on living to see tomorrow. But occasionally, I'll look up to survey my surroundings. A lot of buff guys, probably football players, are over by the weights. There's usually at least one elderly couple supporting each other through biking or some other mild exercise. There's always at least two extremely fat people on the treadmills(I'm not hating here, I'm just stating the facts; good for them!) and then, there's people who look a lot like me. Out of shape and exercising for the heck of it, and any possible benefits that may arise.
The outfits of people in the gym are also amusing. All the guys wear t-shirts and bermuda length shorts, but for the women, it varies. Where I live, few people wear the popular nike shorts. Those are too pricey for us country folk. Most everyone I saw on the treadmills were wearing bermuda length shorts, and one lady was wearing jeans. I wear my nike knock-offs and a t-shirt. I get way too hot for any longer shorts. I did see one lady with those fancy nike shorts. She should have left them at home. 60 year-old women should not wear those shorts, especially when they're 3 sizes too small. "Nuff said.
There are 3 TVs for the treadmillers and ellipticallers. One had some news channel that I can't concentrate on when I"m trying to breathe, one had Dr. Phil, and finally, someone changed the other TV to Dr. Oz. Dr. Phil is not my thing. Dr. Oz? Totally. That is the one TV show I really get into. Call me a nerd. Go on, call me one! I know you want to. Uh huh, now who's the one hating?
Anyway, it was a good workout. Mom doesn't think she'll be able to walk tomorrow<insert sarcasm here>, so we most likely will not go back. That is probably wise. I hope you enjoyed my gym musings.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
I Have a Boyfriend!
OK, I know for a fact that two people who read the title absolutely flipped out. My mom is not one of them, as she knows that I know that if I had a boyfriend, he would be missing a limb before you you could finish reading this blog post. I'm kidding about the boyfriend. I'm very single. Kind of. It has nothing to do with a human being. Read on.
I read a fascinating blog post by an opera singer. He talked about how, as an artist, he must be beaten up sometimes. His work must be undervalued, all so he never stops learning and improving.
I also read an article on "Artist's Depression". How many artists, whether they be writers, musicians, or workers in the visual arts, tend to place everything into their art, and when it doesn't go well, they are thrown into a depression.
I don't get this, and when I say that, I am talking about the fact that I don't get this depression, not that I don't understand it. I completely understand the feeling of wondering whether your work is any good or not, wondering if you are fooling yourself into thinking it's half-decent. You wonder sometimes if you've been delusional. You think something is fantastic in the morning, and you wake up in the middle of the night, slapping your forehead, and thinking, "Who the heck played that crap? Did I seriously think that was good?" I have done this before competitions, and sometimes, just when I'm into my art. Namely, piano.
Most people, especially people my age, do not understand this. They do not understand when you're concerned about how it is going. They do not understand passion for an art, and dedication to it. Artists are very passionate people. Often, they are lonely.
I would imagine that it is hard for artists to be married to non-artists. Non-artists, say, office workers, are generally less happy with their work, and less dedicated. Artists love their work. More accurately, they have a love/hate relationship with their work. Take my tumultuous relationship with the piano at the moment.
Let's just be weird for a moment and think of the piano as my boyfriend. Bear with me.
My boyfriend is always there for me. And my boyfriend doesn't mind if I take my stress out on him. However, he is not particularly sympathetic, and is not a great listener. He has selective hearing. Sometimes, when I'm with him, he doesn't want to cooperate with what I want to do. If I want to play softly, he doesn't always agree. However, I keep going back to him, because I love him, and when we're passionate and in love, life is good. He goes with me. He's rather bipolar, and we have our ups and downs, but I know that he's always going to be there, whether he wants to be or not. Sometimes, we mix perfectly, and we are head-over-heels in love. But sometimes, we fight, and things get ugly. We might get separated for a time, but I always go back and we make things up.
OK, shake the creepiness off. But do you see? Many artists are married to their art, and that relationship is exactly the kind they have. As freaky as this sounds, I kind of think of piano as my temporary boyfriend for now. Next time someone asks me if I have a boyfriend, I might just tell them, "Yeah, his name is Samick." Not really. I wouldn't do that.
Right now, I love my piano. It's treating me well.
I would make a guess that more artists stay married more than non-artists. They learn what dedication is. They learn that relationships take work. I'm learning this early on.
My piano is my boyfriend.
I read a fascinating blog post by an opera singer. He talked about how, as an artist, he must be beaten up sometimes. His work must be undervalued, all so he never stops learning and improving.
I also read an article on "Artist's Depression". How many artists, whether they be writers, musicians, or workers in the visual arts, tend to place everything into their art, and when it doesn't go well, they are thrown into a depression.
I don't get this, and when I say that, I am talking about the fact that I don't get this depression, not that I don't understand it. I completely understand the feeling of wondering whether your work is any good or not, wondering if you are fooling yourself into thinking it's half-decent. You wonder sometimes if you've been delusional. You think something is fantastic in the morning, and you wake up in the middle of the night, slapping your forehead, and thinking, "Who the heck played that crap? Did I seriously think that was good?" I have done this before competitions, and sometimes, just when I'm into my art. Namely, piano.
Most people, especially people my age, do not understand this. They do not understand when you're concerned about how it is going. They do not understand passion for an art, and dedication to it. Artists are very passionate people. Often, they are lonely.
I would imagine that it is hard for artists to be married to non-artists. Non-artists, say, office workers, are generally less happy with their work, and less dedicated. Artists love their work. More accurately, they have a love/hate relationship with their work. Take my tumultuous relationship with the piano at the moment.
Let's just be weird for a moment and think of the piano as my boyfriend. Bear with me.
My boyfriend is always there for me. And my boyfriend doesn't mind if I take my stress out on him. However, he is not particularly sympathetic, and is not a great listener. He has selective hearing. Sometimes, when I'm with him, he doesn't want to cooperate with what I want to do. If I want to play softly, he doesn't always agree. However, I keep going back to him, because I love him, and when we're passionate and in love, life is good. He goes with me. He's rather bipolar, and we have our ups and downs, but I know that he's always going to be there, whether he wants to be or not. Sometimes, we mix perfectly, and we are head-over-heels in love. But sometimes, we fight, and things get ugly. We might get separated for a time, but I always go back and we make things up.
OK, shake the creepiness off. But do you see? Many artists are married to their art, and that relationship is exactly the kind they have. As freaky as this sounds, I kind of think of piano as my temporary boyfriend for now. Next time someone asks me if I have a boyfriend, I might just tell them, "Yeah, his name is Samick." Not really. I wouldn't do that.
Right now, I love my piano. It's treating me well.
I would make a guess that more artists stay married more than non-artists. They learn what dedication is. They learn that relationships take work. I'm learning this early on.
My piano is my boyfriend.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Sick of It
Sick of it. Sick of feeling like this, sick of wondering about people, and sick of continually questioning my beliefs for the sake of conformity.
I'm blaming my physical awfulness on many different things. I have many reasons to be in pain right now, so I'm just going to do my best to not die before I can get over these reasons. And yes, I'm kidding about the dying. I'm not going to die. This too shall pass. Eventually.
Sick of wondering about people. Some people act like they really care about you and want to have an active role in your life, and then they just disappear again. And then some people really do care, but they wonder if you do because you never get to see them. And I do care. I just don't have resources to do what some people are asking.
Conformity is a dangerous word. Sadly, it is a word that our culture seems to place in a very positive light. Conform to dress standards(or lack thereof), conform to what's popular on the radio, conform to what your age says is cool. I think not. The sad thing is that I sometimes realize that I'm not aware of conformity on my part. It just seems like a natural thing to do.
I'm sick of it.
I'm blaming my physical awfulness on many different things. I have many reasons to be in pain right now, so I'm just going to do my best to not die before I can get over these reasons. And yes, I'm kidding about the dying. I'm not going to die. This too shall pass. Eventually.
Sick of wondering about people. Some people act like they really care about you and want to have an active role in your life, and then they just disappear again. And then some people really do care, but they wonder if you do because you never get to see them. And I do care. I just don't have resources to do what some people are asking.
Conformity is a dangerous word. Sadly, it is a word that our culture seems to place in a very positive light. Conform to dress standards(or lack thereof), conform to what's popular on the radio, conform to what your age says is cool. I think not. The sad thing is that I sometimes realize that I'm not aware of conformity on my part. It just seems like a natural thing to do.
I'm sick of it.
My Take on Atkins
This is not a blog post. This is for Tishmeister. She asked. If you don't have any interest in Atkins diet, then you will not want to waste your time reading this. This is more like my take on Atkins, not really a blog post.
I say that I'm eating like I'm in Phase 1 of Atkins. In reality, you're actually supposed to keep it under 20 carbs. As the carb limit is mainly set to burn fat, I am not restricting myself to 20, although when you do, you lose weight like crazy. The "new" Atkins also says that 15 of those carbs are supposed to be from veggies. This phase is called "induction". It gets the metabolism super crazy fast. http://www.atkins.com/Program/Phase1/HowtoDoInductionRight.aspx - this link is great. Induction usually lasts 2 weeks.
Then there's phase 2. They call it OWL- ongoing weight loss. You gradually up your carb level to the highest amount you can tolerate, while still losing the amount of weight you want to.
Phase 3 is pre-maintenance. Once you're 10 pounds away from your goal, you keep upping carbs to where you're losing at a tolerable pace.
Phase 4 is maintenance- You know what to do. You keep carb level at what you can tolerate without gaining. This is the liftime phase.
I say that I'm eating like I'm in Phase 1 of Atkins. In reality, you're actually supposed to keep it under 20 carbs. As the carb limit is mainly set to burn fat, I am not restricting myself to 20, although when you do, you lose weight like crazy. The "new" Atkins also says that 15 of those carbs are supposed to be from veggies. This phase is called "induction". It gets the metabolism super crazy fast. http://www.atkins.com/Program/Phase1/HowtoDoInductionRight.aspx - this link is great. Induction usually lasts 2 weeks.
Then there's phase 2. They call it OWL- ongoing weight loss. You gradually up your carb level to the highest amount you can tolerate, while still losing the amount of weight you want to.
Phase 3 is pre-maintenance. Once you're 10 pounds away from your goal, you keep upping carbs to where you're losing at a tolerable pace.
Phase 4 is maintenance- You know what to do. You keep carb level at what you can tolerate without gaining. This is the liftime phase.
Sam's Club
We went to Sam's today. Blah. I was not too happy about it, but I knew that since our whole family is all Atkinized now that we'd need more low-carb stuff soon. So, I didn't put up a fight. Of course, I would never do that. I'm the perfect angel, remember? Note the extreme sarcasm.
We went with Maw-Maw and Paw-Paw. I'll refer each of them with the corresponding acronyms. That was a mouthful.
Bringing MM can get on my nerves sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love her to death, really, I do, but two things drive me crazy! She is so unaware of her surroundings. She doesn't pay attention and she gets kind of irritable when she doesn't understand something. But my biggest thing is this: She has little to no grasp on nutrition. At all.
Marketers of junk food target this kind of ignorance. Example: She thinks that anything with the word "fruit" in it is automatically good. This brings the inevitable storm of questions of whether she can get fruit snacks, fruit rolls, fruit juice, etc. Another example: Anything low-anything, whether it be low-fat or low-cal or low-carb, is good to her. She doesn't understand that something that is low-fat is usually that way because they added sugar to it, and that low-cal does not equal good-for-you. And many "low-carb" products aren't really low-carb, or taste like cardboard. So there you go.
Let me say this again. I love my Maw-Maw. It's just these two things that get on my nerves. I am not embarrassed by her in the least, I just wish I could make her understand these things.
Aside from the usual aboveness, it was a good trip. We loaded up on the beef jerky and Atkins bars. Afterwards, Mom and my sister(I have got to find a blog name for her) got hot dogs and didn't eat the bread. I resisted pizza. Yep. Congratulate me.
This trip made me very thankful. Thankful for the fact that I don't have a major bodily deformity/weirdness. I saw a woman with legs so spindly that you'd think she'd weigh maybe 90 pounds, but her upper body was probably 200 pounds of fat. It was weird. God bless these people. Surely there is something wrong with them.
I also saw just extremely fat people. Kind of made me thankful for the Atkins bars in the cart.
Overall, it was a pretty good trip. We probably gave Atkins enough money to build another factory.
We went with Maw-Maw and Paw-Paw. I'll refer each of them with the corresponding acronyms. That was a mouthful.
Bringing MM can get on my nerves sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love her to death, really, I do, but two things drive me crazy! She is so unaware of her surroundings. She doesn't pay attention and she gets kind of irritable when she doesn't understand something. But my biggest thing is this: She has little to no grasp on nutrition. At all.
Marketers of junk food target this kind of ignorance. Example: She thinks that anything with the word "fruit" in it is automatically good. This brings the inevitable storm of questions of whether she can get fruit snacks, fruit rolls, fruit juice, etc. Another example: Anything low-anything, whether it be low-fat or low-cal or low-carb, is good to her. She doesn't understand that something that is low-fat is usually that way because they added sugar to it, and that low-cal does not equal good-for-you. And many "low-carb" products aren't really low-carb, or taste like cardboard. So there you go.
Let me say this again. I love my Maw-Maw. It's just these two things that get on my nerves. I am not embarrassed by her in the least, I just wish I could make her understand these things.
Aside from the usual aboveness, it was a good trip. We loaded up on the beef jerky and Atkins bars. Afterwards, Mom and my sister(I have got to find a blog name for her) got hot dogs and didn't eat the bread. I resisted pizza. Yep. Congratulate me.
This trip made me very thankful. Thankful for the fact that I don't have a major bodily deformity/weirdness. I saw a woman with legs so spindly that you'd think she'd weigh maybe 90 pounds, but her upper body was probably 200 pounds of fat. It was weird. God bless these people. Surely there is something wrong with them.
I also saw just extremely fat people. Kind of made me thankful for the Atkins bars in the cart.
Overall, it was a pretty good trip. We probably gave Atkins enough money to build another factory.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Atkins Blues
I feel crappy. I don't use this word lightly, at least not in writing, but that is how I feel.
I've lost track of how long I've officially been on Atkins. Several days at least. I am not feeling the love. I know that boost will come if I give it time. For now, I am wading through the day, somewhat literally, as we went swimming today. It didn't help very much.
I feel very guilty about this, but I'm going to fess up I did not practice voice today. I tried. I warmed up for about 15 minutes before my legs gave. I decided not to kill myself trying.
Mom gave me regular vitamins, a B vitamin, and a D vitamin. The B vitamin was supposed to make me "full of energy". Yeah, right. It might do some good with regular use. The D vitamin was because everyone in my family seems to have a D deficiency. I haven't had the tests run.
The doctor wants me to come in and get blood work done. Gladly! Just give me something that's going to make me be less than a sloth! My mom went in the other day for something entirely different, but asked about me. "She's whiny all the time and can't get anything done." The doctor told her, "Is she 14?" Mom was taken aback. "How'd you know?" "They're like that from 13-20." Thanks, Mom. So, now when I complain, Mom says, "You're 14". Geez.
It's true, though. I'm emotional, sluggish, and, OK, a little whiny. See? There I go again. Whine whine whine. I've got the Atkins blues. Big-time.
I've lost track of how long I've officially been on Atkins. Several days at least. I am not feeling the love. I know that boost will come if I give it time. For now, I am wading through the day, somewhat literally, as we went swimming today. It didn't help very much.
I feel very guilty about this, but I'm going to fess up I did not practice voice today. I tried. I warmed up for about 15 minutes before my legs gave. I decided not to kill myself trying.
Mom gave me regular vitamins, a B vitamin, and a D vitamin. The B vitamin was supposed to make me "full of energy". Yeah, right. It might do some good with regular use. The D vitamin was because everyone in my family seems to have a D deficiency. I haven't had the tests run.
The doctor wants me to come in and get blood work done. Gladly! Just give me something that's going to make me be less than a sloth! My mom went in the other day for something entirely different, but asked about me. "She's whiny all the time and can't get anything done." The doctor told her, "Is she 14?" Mom was taken aback. "How'd you know?" "They're like that from 13-20." Thanks, Mom. So, now when I complain, Mom says, "You're 14". Geez.
It's true, though. I'm emotional, sluggish, and, OK, a little whiny. See? There I go again. Whine whine whine. I've got the Atkins blues. Big-time.
Sore
My first thought this morning was, "Geez, I'm sore.". We went to the gym yesterday. Mom and I decided to try the treadmill. It was a much better workout. My legs and butt are SORE today. The elliptical never made me feel like I was working.
I only ran 2/3rds of the distance that I did on the elliptical, and only burned half the calories, but I think I've got it figured out how to adjust it. Slowly work the speed up. I don't really care about calories, just heart rate. Mom did 5 minute intervals of running. I have to turn it up really fast to be able to jog. I have a giant stride. I prefer intensity to speed.
I hate that the treadmill doesn't use your arms, but I get a lot of that everyday. Maybe I'll eventually try something that uses my arms.
That being said, Mom introduced me to the ab machine and some machine that gets your thighs burning. I am in love. The latter especially. Relative to the rest of my body, I have "thunder thighs". Not like Elastigirl bad, but still, my thighs need work. Well, my whole body does, but you know what I mean.
We're just going swimming today. I'm too sore to work out much, and Mom shouldn't push her luck. I think I'll do sit-ups or something like that in the water. It would also be a good opportunity to use my arms.
Mom and my little sister went to the doctor to talk about the blood work. In short, my sister has high cholesterol, yadadada, blah blah blah, and something else I can't pronounce. Issues. So, the whole house is officially back on Atkins. Phase 1. It's OK with me- it just means I'm not tempted with stuff I know I don't need. In the long run, I enjoy when my household is on Atkins.
I've lost 2 pounds. Whoop. Actually, pre-Atkins, I was gaining 2 pounds a month. That's scary, considering that 12x2=24. I do not want weigh more than my mom in a year. My Maw-Maw asked me yesterday, "Are you trying to lose weight or just tone up?". This is a comical question coming from her, but I kept a straight face and said, "Just tone up". I think she thinks that all teenagers are trying to lose weight. You know, when I turn down ice cream, it's automatically because I'm "counting calories". I mean, who would turn down creamy goodness for any other reason but weight loss? Teenagers don't think about health. At least, that's her thought process. I'll let her think what she wants to think. She'll figure it out eventually. Maybe.
I hope I'm not so sore I can't swim. I don't think I am. I'll tough it out. Regardless, I'm still sore.
I only ran 2/3rds of the distance that I did on the elliptical, and only burned half the calories, but I think I've got it figured out how to adjust it. Slowly work the speed up. I don't really care about calories, just heart rate. Mom did 5 minute intervals of running. I have to turn it up really fast to be able to jog. I have a giant stride. I prefer intensity to speed.
I hate that the treadmill doesn't use your arms, but I get a lot of that everyday. Maybe I'll eventually try something that uses my arms.
That being said, Mom introduced me to the ab machine and some machine that gets your thighs burning. I am in love. The latter especially. Relative to the rest of my body, I have "thunder thighs". Not like Elastigirl bad, but still, my thighs need work. Well, my whole body does, but you know what I mean.
We're just going swimming today. I'm too sore to work out much, and Mom shouldn't push her luck. I think I'll do sit-ups or something like that in the water. It would also be a good opportunity to use my arms.
Mom and my little sister went to the doctor to talk about the blood work. In short, my sister has high cholesterol, yadadada, blah blah blah, and something else I can't pronounce. Issues. So, the whole house is officially back on Atkins. Phase 1. It's OK with me- it just means I'm not tempted with stuff I know I don't need. In the long run, I enjoy when my household is on Atkins.
I've lost 2 pounds. Whoop. Actually, pre-Atkins, I was gaining 2 pounds a month. That's scary, considering that 12x2=24. I do not want weigh more than my mom in a year. My Maw-Maw asked me yesterday, "Are you trying to lose weight or just tone up?". This is a comical question coming from her, but I kept a straight face and said, "Just tone up". I think she thinks that all teenagers are trying to lose weight. You know, when I turn down ice cream, it's automatically because I'm "counting calories". I mean, who would turn down creamy goodness for any other reason but weight loss? Teenagers don't think about health. At least, that's her thought process. I'll let her think what she wants to think. She'll figure it out eventually. Maybe.
I hope I'm not so sore I can't swim. I don't think I am. I'll tough it out. Regardless, I'm still sore.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
92 Questions!
I can't be fully honest on Facebook, but I can here. I love these.
WHAT WAS YOUR:
1. Last beverage: Water
2. Last phone call:Maw-Maw
3. Last text message: It was from Shoe Station
4. Last song: Geez, I haven't really listened to any music besides myself......
5. Last time you cried: An hour ago.
HAVE YOU EVER:
6. Dated someone twice: Not even once.
7. Been cheated on: That's impossible.
8. Kissed someone & regretted it: Never kissed someone- duh.
9. Lost someone special : Yes.
10. Been depressed: Not like Prozac bad.
11. Been drunk and threw up : Heck no!
LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:
12.Black
13. Light blue
14. Lime green
SINCE LAST YEAR (2010), HAVE YOU:
15. Made a new friend : Yep!
16. Fallen out of love : Impossible.
17. Laughed until you cried: Every day.....
18. Met someone who changed you: Several.
19. Found out who your true friends were: Yep
20. Found out someone was talking about you:Not that I can remember.
21. Kissed anyone on your FB friend's list: Again, impossible.
GENERAL
22. How many people on your FB friends list do you know in real life: Everybody but the politicians and dog.
24. Do you have any pets: Just 3 dogs, 80 chickens, and 5 cows.
25. Do you want to change your name: No.
26. What did you do for your last birthday: I lazed around the house.
27. What time did you wake up today: 7:30ish
28. What were you doing at midnight last night: SLEEPING.
29. Whats something you can't wait for: Um......the pain searing through my body to go away.
30. Last time you saw your mother: This second.
31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: I wish I was Wonder Woman.
32. What are you listening to right now: The radar.
33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom?:No.
34. What's getting on your nerves right now: My eyes are still watering from Mom cutting jalapenos.
35. Most visited webpage: Facebook
37. Nickname(s): Lizardbreath, EB, E.
38. Relationship Status: Single and unavailable.
39. Zodiac Sign:Who cares?
40. He or She: My mom tells me I'm a she.
41. Elementary: Homeschool, baby!
42. High School: Homeschool.
43. College: I wish I knew.
44. Hair color; Brunette!
45. Long or short hair:Longish
46. Height: 5'7
47. Do you have a crush on someone?: My dog is so adorable.
48. What do you like about yourself?; I smell good at the moment.
50. Tattoos: NO
51. Righty or lefty: Righty.
FIRSTS :
52. First surgery:I had my tonsils taken out a very long time ago....
53. First piercing: None. I've got enough holes in my head without piercings.
54. First best friend: Mary Jo?
55. First sport you joined: T-ball?
56. First vacation: I went to WDW when I was 3ish. That's the only family vacation we've ever taken.
59. Eating: Chewing gum
60. Drinking: Nothing
61. I'm about to: Huff really loudly./
62. Listening to: Still the radar.
63. Waiting for: Sleep.
YOUR FUTURE
64. Want kids? Lord willing
65. Get Married?: See above.
66. Career?: Something to do with music. ALthough, I'd make a scary cosmetologist.
WHICH IS BETTER :
67. Lips or eyes : Eyes.
68. Hugs or kisses: hugs
69. Shorter or taller: taller
70. Older or Younger:Older.
71. Romantic or spontaneous: I"m not even sure what that means.
72. Nice stomach or nice arms:Well, as my very clever friend said: Nice everything! Mean bodyparts are no fun.
73 Sensitive or loud:.?
74. Hook-up or relationship: A relationship, dur.
75. Funny or Shy?:Funny
76. Kissed a stranger; N/A
77. Drank hard liquor:Never.
80. Broke someone's heart: This made me laugh aloud. I break them every day. ;)
81. Had your own heart broken: No.
82. Been arrested: several times.....not.
83. Turned someone down: No.
84. Cried when someone died: yep.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
86. Yourself: 99% of the time.
87. Miracles:Yes.
88. Love at first sight: Not really...
89. Heaven:Of course!
90. Santa Clause: DUH!
91. The tooth fairy: WHat's with these questions? OF COURSE she's real!
92. Angels: Yes!
WHAT WAS YOUR:
1. Last beverage: Water
2. Last phone call:Maw-Maw
3. Last text message: It was from Shoe Station
4. Last song: Geez, I haven't really listened to any music besides myself......
5. Last time you cried: An hour ago.
HAVE YOU EVER:
6. Dated someone twice: Not even once.
7. Been cheated on: That's impossible.
8. Kissed someone & regretted it: Never kissed someone- duh.
9. Lost someone special : Yes.
10. Been depressed: Not like Prozac bad.
11. Been drunk and threw up : Heck no!
LIST THREE FAVORITE COLORS:
12.Black
13. Light blue
14. Lime green
SINCE LAST YEAR (2010), HAVE YOU:
15. Made a new friend : Yep!
16. Fallen out of love : Impossible.
17. Laughed until you cried: Every day.....
18. Met someone who changed you: Several.
19. Found out who your true friends were: Yep
20. Found out someone was talking about you:Not that I can remember.
21. Kissed anyone on your FB friend's list: Again, impossible.
GENERAL
22. How many people on your FB friends list do you know in real life: Everybody but the politicians and dog.
24. Do you have any pets: Just 3 dogs, 80 chickens, and 5 cows.
25. Do you want to change your name: No.
26. What did you do for your last birthday: I lazed around the house.
27. What time did you wake up today: 7:30ish
28. What were you doing at midnight last night: SLEEPING.
29. Whats something you can't wait for: Um......the pain searing through my body to go away.
30. Last time you saw your mother: This second.
31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: I wish I was Wonder Woman.
32. What are you listening to right now: The radar.
33. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom?:No.
34. What's getting on your nerves right now: My eyes are still watering from Mom cutting jalapenos.
35. Most visited webpage: Facebook
37. Nickname(s): Lizardbreath, EB, E.
38. Relationship Status: Single and unavailable.
39. Zodiac Sign:Who cares?
40. He or She: My mom tells me I'm a she.
41. Elementary: Homeschool, baby!
42. High School: Homeschool.
43. College: I wish I knew.
44. Hair color; Brunette!
45. Long or short hair:Longish
46. Height: 5'7
47. Do you have a crush on someone?: My dog is so adorable.
48. What do you like about yourself?; I smell good at the moment.
50. Tattoos: NO
51. Righty or lefty: Righty.
FIRSTS :
52. First surgery:I had my tonsils taken out a very long time ago....
53. First piercing: None. I've got enough holes in my head without piercings.
54. First best friend: Mary Jo?
55. First sport you joined: T-ball?
56. First vacation: I went to WDW when I was 3ish. That's the only family vacation we've ever taken.
59. Eating: Chewing gum
60. Drinking: Nothing
61. I'm about to: Huff really loudly./
62. Listening to: Still the radar.
63. Waiting for: Sleep.
YOUR FUTURE
64. Want kids? Lord willing
65. Get Married?: See above.
66. Career?: Something to do with music. ALthough, I'd make a scary cosmetologist.
WHICH IS BETTER :
67. Lips or eyes : Eyes.
68. Hugs or kisses: hugs
69. Shorter or taller: taller
70. Older or Younger:Older.
71. Romantic or spontaneous: I"m not even sure what that means.
72. Nice stomach or nice arms:Well, as my very clever friend said: Nice everything! Mean bodyparts are no fun.
73 Sensitive or loud:.?
74. Hook-up or relationship: A relationship, dur.
75. Funny or Shy?:Funny
76. Kissed a stranger; N/A
77. Drank hard liquor:Never.
80. Broke someone's heart: This made me laugh aloud. I break them every day. ;)
81. Had your own heart broken: No.
82. Been arrested: several times.....not.
83. Turned someone down: No.
84. Cried when someone died: yep.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN:
86. Yourself: 99% of the time.
87. Miracles:Yes.
88. Love at first sight: Not really...
89. Heaven:Of course!
90. Santa Clause: DUH!
91. The tooth fairy: WHat's with these questions? OF COURSE she's real!
92. Angels: Yes!
The Morning Routine
I've wanted to blog about this for a while, but something always came up that was better. Well, nothing is better at the moment, so here we go.
Every morning, I'm woken up by my mom around 7 o'clock. I get up and put on my shoes- boots, as of late. It's super muddy. I load the wagon with our milking supplies. The "blue room", named for its bright blue walls, is where the milking supplies are stored. Mom puts them there for me. I load the tub containing the claw and tubes of the milking machine, the silver bucket that the milk flows into, the two 5-gallon buckets with cleaning water in them(not all the way full), some additional cleaner for the claw, and the two buckets that we pour the milk into once we're done milking. Phew. All this up and down rickety stairs.
Then, I pull the wagon to the back. It's about 50 yards from the back of the house to the beginning of the back of the property. Does that make sense? The back is where most of the milking/cow stuff takes place. Then, I go back to the shed and get the two buckets of feed for Buttercup and Lil' Bit. Some days, this is no big deal. Some days, they seem especially heavy. Regardless of how heavy the buckets feel, my heart is pounding at this point. It's just too early for this kind of work.
Once I've hauled the feed to the back, I set it right outside the cow gate. Mom takes a scoop out of Buttercup's bucket and gives it to her in a separate bowl so that I can get Lil' Bit into her stall without Buttercup sneaking around & trying to get in first. I make my way through the muddiness, get to the stall, get in quickly and latch it shut, put the bucket in the feed holder, let Lil' Bit in, and put the rod behind her. The rod is so if she gets crazy and tries to back out, she can't. She hasn't done that in a very long time.
If Mom is doing her job, she should have already wheeled the wagon through the gate. Occasionally, she'll wheel it to the stall herself, but as it's been suck-your-shoes-off muddy, I've been doing it. I wheel it in and straighten it out so that it takes up as little space as possible. Mom grabs the tube that hooks up to the machine that has been hanging outside. We let it dry.
I'm off to fill up the water buckets. I enjoy this to some small degree. I just stand around in the shade and let the hose do its job. Mom is cleaning Lil' Bit's udder, and after she's done, she starts the milking machine. I finish filling the buckets a few minutes before the milking machine is done. I go into the stall and get Lil' Bit out. Sometimes a little patting is enough, but lately, I've had to kick her bucket so it makes a loud noise. It doesn't hurt her one bit; it lets her know that I mean business. After she backs out, I take her food and put it out in the "pasture" so she can finish eating. Then, I go and get Buttercup's food, and do what I did with Lil' Bit's food. I let her in.
During this round of milking, I feed TidBit his three bottles of milk. I have to go back twice to let Mom refill his 2-quart bottle. He eats, and by the time he's done, the milking is done too. But wait, there's more.
Mom has to clean all the equipment, so I undo the lids to the cleaner. Mom sucks it up with the claw. I go and check on how much Lil' Bit has eaten. I hope she finishes before Buttercup does. Buttercup is the boss, and when she finishes eating, she runs over to Lil' Bit to steal the remains of her food. There's only a little bit left, usually. Get it? Little bit left of Lil' Bit's food? Ha. Ha. Ha.
Alright, we're in the process of finishing up. I dump the cleaning water into the grass, and we're off. We wheel the wagon out of the stall(Mom always says, "Let's get this bad boy out of here." It 's like a tradition) and pull it back to the house. Or should I say, I pull it back to the house, all the while hoping that I don't get killed by a snake.
It's all downhill from here. I unload all the milking supplies(with extremely full milk buckets) and Mom takes it from there. She strains the milk and does whatever else farm women do. I get on the computer and start blogging.
You now have an insight into the first hour of my day.
Every morning, I'm woken up by my mom around 7 o'clock. I get up and put on my shoes- boots, as of late. It's super muddy. I load the wagon with our milking supplies. The "blue room", named for its bright blue walls, is where the milking supplies are stored. Mom puts them there for me. I load the tub containing the claw and tubes of the milking machine, the silver bucket that the milk flows into, the two 5-gallon buckets with cleaning water in them(not all the way full), some additional cleaner for the claw, and the two buckets that we pour the milk into once we're done milking. Phew. All this up and down rickety stairs.
Then, I pull the wagon to the back. It's about 50 yards from the back of the house to the beginning of the back of the property. Does that make sense? The back is where most of the milking/cow stuff takes place. Then, I go back to the shed and get the two buckets of feed for Buttercup and Lil' Bit. Some days, this is no big deal. Some days, they seem especially heavy. Regardless of how heavy the buckets feel, my heart is pounding at this point. It's just too early for this kind of work.
Once I've hauled the feed to the back, I set it right outside the cow gate. Mom takes a scoop out of Buttercup's bucket and gives it to her in a separate bowl so that I can get Lil' Bit into her stall without Buttercup sneaking around & trying to get in first. I make my way through the muddiness, get to the stall, get in quickly and latch it shut, put the bucket in the feed holder, let Lil' Bit in, and put the rod behind her. The rod is so if she gets crazy and tries to back out, she can't. She hasn't done that in a very long time.
If Mom is doing her job, she should have already wheeled the wagon through the gate. Occasionally, she'll wheel it to the stall herself, but as it's been suck-your-shoes-off muddy, I've been doing it. I wheel it in and straighten it out so that it takes up as little space as possible. Mom grabs the tube that hooks up to the machine that has been hanging outside. We let it dry.
I'm off to fill up the water buckets. I enjoy this to some small degree. I just stand around in the shade and let the hose do its job. Mom is cleaning Lil' Bit's udder, and after she's done, she starts the milking machine. I finish filling the buckets a few minutes before the milking machine is done. I go into the stall and get Lil' Bit out. Sometimes a little patting is enough, but lately, I've had to kick her bucket so it makes a loud noise. It doesn't hurt her one bit; it lets her know that I mean business. After she backs out, I take her food and put it out in the "pasture" so she can finish eating. Then, I go and get Buttercup's food, and do what I did with Lil' Bit's food. I let her in.
During this round of milking, I feed TidBit his three bottles of milk. I have to go back twice to let Mom refill his 2-quart bottle. He eats, and by the time he's done, the milking is done too. But wait, there's more.
Mom has to clean all the equipment, so I undo the lids to the cleaner. Mom sucks it up with the claw. I go and check on how much Lil' Bit has eaten. I hope she finishes before Buttercup does. Buttercup is the boss, and when she finishes eating, she runs over to Lil' Bit to steal the remains of her food. There's only a little bit left, usually. Get it? Little bit left of Lil' Bit's food? Ha. Ha. Ha.
Alright, we're in the process of finishing up. I dump the cleaning water into the grass, and we're off. We wheel the wagon out of the stall(Mom always says, "Let's get this bad boy out of here." It 's like a tradition) and pull it back to the house. Or should I say, I pull it back to the house, all the while hoping that I don't get killed by a snake.
It's all downhill from here. I unload all the milking supplies(with extremely full milk buckets) and Mom takes it from there. She strains the milk and does whatever else farm women do. I get on the computer and start blogging.
You now have an insight into the first hour of my day.
Monday, July 18, 2011
FaceBook Stati(the Plural for Status, You Know)
I had a good opinion of a person- until about 10 minutes ago.
Her facebook status was directed very negatively at some anonymous person. She used three different cuss words in a 12 word sentence. Excuse me? You are 17, maybe 18. Adults don't post this badly. I blocked her.
I understand that for her, facebook is a place to share every single thought that pops into her head. She posts literally every half hour. And I understand that that status probably made her feel better. However, she was obviously not using common sense. Over 600 people just saw that. Good job. 600 people now have a lessened opinion of you. In my case, much lessened. You had better hope that a potential employer doesn't see that. And all because of a facebook status.
I hope I'm careful with my facebook statuses. I would never post anything like that, of course, and I try not to ever post anything negative about anything that anyone cares about. That being said, my last status was:
Yes, that is very negative, and uses words that I wouldn't use about someone, but no one cares that I'm bashing the very probable pedo. Geez, what's with my adultness today? The moral of the story is- don't post a status you'll regret. Oh, and by the way, while there wasn't anything wrong with my status, I did delete it. If my grandmother saw, she literally would never ever stop talking about safety precautions. She would drive me INSANE. I love her to death, but she would. She'd probably suggest that we not use computers anymore.
Artificial Insemination & Other Things People Don't Want to Talk About
Yep. Get read for some stuff you probably don't hear around town. Also, this is not for small children. I'm kidding.....maybe.
We have one hopefully pregnant cow. They AI'd her many moons ago. I didn't get to watch. I think CowBoy(the man who got us into the cow business and did the artificial insemination) is kind of uncomfortable with me there. I think he thinks I'm still "ignorant". Yeah, calves come out of the ground. That kind of makes me laugh, seeing as I've actually felt a calf in utero. I'd love to be certified in AI(in case you didn't get that, it stands for artificial insemination). There's a class you can take. Cool. I wanna stick my arm up cows' butts.
Our cow, Lil' Bit, came into heat today. She's mooing like crazy. I told my mom, "I get like that sometimes." She said, "You don't come into heat. Oh, I guess that's like PMS for you." Thanks, Mom.
The last time one of our cows came into heat, it was raging heat. I think that's what they call it. If I messed that up, Mom is never going to let me forget it. It was intense. As funny and wrong as this sounds, my sister and I went out and watched the cows mount each other. It's extremely cool to see 900 pound animals jump on top of each other. Call me a weirdo. I wonder what the neighbor's kids think.
This brings me to the topic of chickens and their mating. The poor hens in the front of our house have bare backs. All the feathers have been rubbed off by the stupid roosters. We have way too many roosters. Roosters are good for nothing. Well, maybe two things. Eating and fertilization. We don't need the latter.
We have rooster named Mr. Purdy. We thought he was Ms. Purdy, but then he crowed. I think he's gay. No joke. Or at least very confused about his orientation. He mates with crocs. Yes, the shoes. He prefers the black ones. He finally started mating with the actual hens. He practiced on the crocs for a long time. He was too slow, and he's a small rooster. Now, he is constantly chasing the hens. The other rooster usually gives him a look and Mr. Purdy backs off, but sometimes, he gets away with it. Poor hens, and poor black crocs. He still mates with the crocs in addition to the hens. We have got to get rid of Mr. Purdy. Raising a rooster in the house was not a good idea.
Let's see.......what else can I talk about? I've run out of weird things to talk about. Alright, have I scared my blog audience enough? I've probably lost readers.
As you can see, I don't get grossed out easily. In fact, I don't get grossed out ever. I cannot remember ever feeling sick to my stomach. Well, besides when Aguilera sang the national anthem.
We have one hopefully pregnant cow. They AI'd her many moons ago. I didn't get to watch. I think CowBoy(the man who got us into the cow business and did the artificial insemination) is kind of uncomfortable with me there. I think he thinks I'm still "ignorant". Yeah, calves come out of the ground. That kind of makes me laugh, seeing as I've actually felt a calf in utero. I'd love to be certified in AI(in case you didn't get that, it stands for artificial insemination). There's a class you can take. Cool. I wanna stick my arm up cows' butts.
Our cow, Lil' Bit, came into heat today. She's mooing like crazy. I told my mom, "I get like that sometimes." She said, "You don't come into heat. Oh, I guess that's like PMS for you." Thanks, Mom.
The last time one of our cows came into heat, it was raging heat. I think that's what they call it. If I messed that up, Mom is never going to let me forget it. It was intense. As funny and wrong as this sounds, my sister and I went out and watched the cows mount each other. It's extremely cool to see 900 pound animals jump on top of each other. Call me a weirdo. I wonder what the neighbor's kids think.
This brings me to the topic of chickens and their mating. The poor hens in the front of our house have bare backs. All the feathers have been rubbed off by the stupid roosters. We have way too many roosters. Roosters are good for nothing. Well, maybe two things. Eating and fertilization. We don't need the latter.
We have rooster named Mr. Purdy. We thought he was Ms. Purdy, but then he crowed. I think he's gay. No joke. Or at least very confused about his orientation. He mates with crocs. Yes, the shoes. He prefers the black ones. He finally started mating with the actual hens. He practiced on the crocs for a long time. He was too slow, and he's a small rooster. Now, he is constantly chasing the hens. The other rooster usually gives him a look and Mr. Purdy backs off, but sometimes, he gets away with it. Poor hens, and poor black crocs. He still mates with the crocs in addition to the hens. We have got to get rid of Mr. Purdy. Raising a rooster in the house was not a good idea.
Let's see.......what else can I talk about? I've run out of weird things to talk about. Alright, have I scared my blog audience enough? I've probably lost readers.
As you can see, I don't get grossed out easily. In fact, I don't get grossed out ever. I cannot remember ever feeling sick to my stomach. Well, besides when Aguilera sang the national anthem.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
It's Been an Uncreative Kind of Day
I've started about 3 million blog posts, but I don't like some of them, some are too whiny, some no one will understand, and some I don't want to post. So, I'm left here without a blog post.
I also started about 3 million facebook statuses today. They all violated my code of facebook statuses. OK, I have no code, but you get what I mean. They had the same things wrong with them that my blog posts do. It is not a creative type of day.
I am tired, and I don't know why. I didn't do much, but it's only 8 and I might fall asleep right here. Maybe I'm anemic or something. I don't know. The last time I went to the doctor was so long ago I don't even remember. I probably need to have my iron levels checked. I'll be sure to start taking my iron supplement. My blood sugar is fine- almost perfect, even. I've eaten very well. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's hormones. Poor hormones get blamed for everything. But it could very well be. I have been tired without reason lately, and sort of ridiculously emotional. I thought I was having a hot flash the other day. The thought kind of makes me laugh now, although I still don't know what the feeling really hot all of the sudden was about. I don't want to get up in the morning- I mean, really really don't want to get up. But as there's a hungry cow with an udder that might explode, I get up. It would take more effort to clean up an exploded cow anyway.
I don't like this blog post either, but the cow part is funny, so I'll post.
I also started about 3 million facebook statuses today. They all violated my code of facebook statuses. OK, I have no code, but you get what I mean. They had the same things wrong with them that my blog posts do. It is not a creative type of day.
I am tired, and I don't know why. I didn't do much, but it's only 8 and I might fall asleep right here. Maybe I'm anemic or something. I don't know. The last time I went to the doctor was so long ago I don't even remember. I probably need to have my iron levels checked. I'll be sure to start taking my iron supplement. My blood sugar is fine- almost perfect, even. I've eaten very well. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's hormones. Poor hormones get blamed for everything. But it could very well be. I have been tired without reason lately, and sort of ridiculously emotional. I thought I was having a hot flash the other day. The thought kind of makes me laugh now, although I still don't know what the feeling really hot all of the sudden was about. I don't want to get up in the morning- I mean, really really don't want to get up. But as there's a hungry cow with an udder that might explode, I get up. It would take more effort to clean up an exploded cow anyway.
I don't like this blog post either, but the cow part is funny, so I'll post.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Rambling
I thoroughly enjoyed practicing voice yesterday- even more than usual. I would have gone half an hour more, but I daren’t, lest my mother tell on me.
This practicing is sucking the life out of me. I’m not sure how long I’m practicing piano a day, but it’s a lot. Many many hours. Add that to the hour of voice every day. Oh, and don’t forget the ever increasing amount of time I’m spending on non-vocal, yet voice related activities. I'm sure this makes no sense, so let me elaborate. I'm talking about stuff that doesn't require your vocal chords, like breathing. I work on breathing a lot. Is that clear as mud?
I’ve started prepping for the ACT. Sigh. I need a 28. Need. So I can take college classes, but also because I can then register my piano and voice lessons as college courses, which would save a heck of a lot of money. Yep, I need a 28. Let the pressure begin.
This is one test I am not excited about. It’s the first I’ve had a lot riding on. I’d much rather have this my freshman year than my senior year, however. I can’t imagine taking the test my senior year at the last possible test, desperately hoping for a certain score. I do not want to be that kid. I’d like to forget about the ACT once my junior year is over. Maybe take it a few more times, but I”d like to have the score I need before that.
I’m afraid that my blog is becoming boring and limited. Boring and limited in the sense that all I seem to write about is voice, opera, piano, and tests. It is my blog, however, so I guess I’ll write about what I want. I’ll enjoy these 10 years from now.
I don’t like my writing as of late. It doesn’t flow well. Too much rambling and too little content. Maybe it’s because I’ve been writing when I’m exhausted. I’m not sure. My transitions are almost non-existent. That point is about to be proven.
I’ve been eating pretty well. I’m basically eating Atkins Phase 3.5. OK, there’s no such thing, but it’s somewhere between phase 3 and 4.
I think I’m having the Atkins blues. The first few days are miserable hunger-wise, but after you get past that, it’s awesome. Trust me- I’ve been on/off carbs several times. Never the full fledged 20 carbs a day max, but I’ve come close. My fasting blood sugar was 84 this morning- yay!
Another complaint about my writing. I cannot think of smooth endings. I look and look and look and I cannot find a place to tie the ending back to. Here I am again, searching for the perfect ending. Sigh.
This practicing is sucking the life out of me. I’m not sure how long I’m practicing piano a day, but it’s a lot. Many many hours. Add that to the hour of voice every day. Oh, and don’t forget the ever increasing amount of time I’m spending on non-vocal, yet voice related activities. I'm sure this makes no sense, so let me elaborate. I'm talking about stuff that doesn't require your vocal chords, like breathing. I work on breathing a lot. Is that clear as mud?
I’ve started prepping for the ACT. Sigh. I need a 28. Need. So I can take college classes, but also because I can then register my piano and voice lessons as college courses, which would save a heck of a lot of money. Yep, I need a 28. Let the pressure begin.
This is one test I am not excited about. It’s the first I’ve had a lot riding on. I’d much rather have this my freshman year than my senior year, however. I can’t imagine taking the test my senior year at the last possible test, desperately hoping for a certain score. I do not want to be that kid. I’d like to forget about the ACT once my junior year is over. Maybe take it a few more times, but I”d like to have the score I need before that.
I’m afraid that my blog is becoming boring and limited. Boring and limited in the sense that all I seem to write about is voice, opera, piano, and tests. It is my blog, however, so I guess I’ll write about what I want. I’ll enjoy these 10 years from now.
I don’t like my writing as of late. It doesn’t flow well. Too much rambling and too little content. Maybe it’s because I’ve been writing when I’m exhausted. I’m not sure. My transitions are almost non-existent. That point is about to be proven.
I’ve been eating pretty well. I’m basically eating Atkins Phase 3.5. OK, there’s no such thing, but it’s somewhere between phase 3 and 4.
I think I’m having the Atkins blues. The first few days are miserable hunger-wise, but after you get past that, it’s awesome. Trust me- I’ve been on/off carbs several times. Never the full fledged 20 carbs a day max, but I’ve come close. My fasting blood sugar was 84 this morning- yay!
Another complaint about my writing. I cannot think of smooth endings. I look and look and look and I cannot find a place to tie the ending back to. Here I am again, searching for the perfect ending. Sigh.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Massanet's "Manon"
Warning: Those weirdos who find themselves disgusted at the mention of opera should not, I repeat, not read this post. It contains material not suited for the uninformed and uncultured.
I watched the opera "Manon" last night. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was the first Massanet opera I'd ever seen. Both Natalie Dessay and Rollando Villazon were "featured" in it. I love both those singers. Villazon seemed to have some pitch problems, but it wasn't too terribly noticeable, and only happened in one aria. He's probably one of the best looking opera singers I've seen. Moving on.....
This opera included a ballet. A ballet with 5 men and 5 women. Where they got the men, I do not know. Honestly, there's nothing wrong with what the men are doing. It's just so out of the norm. Wait, where have I heard that before? I've heard that said about me many times. I think it's wrong when people judge me for loving opera. Should I be judging just because our culture say that ballet is not a very masculine thing to do? Male opera singers are somewhat stereotyped, but it's nothing compared to male "ballet dancers". Maybe it's because when we think of ballet, we think of the little girls in pink tutus. As a result, we think of ballet as a feminine art. Is it? It's an expression of emotion, just like opera. Why should I judge? Yes, the vast majority of them are homosexual, I'm sure, but putting aside that fact, what makes it so bad? Is there something wrong with it that I'm not seeing? Why is there such a negative connotation of male ballet dancers? These are questions I ask myself. I enjoyed the ballet, regardless of the gender of the dancers.
Natalie Dessay was a ballerina. And evidently, a very good one. She still looks like a dancer; she's probably one of the smallest opera singers around, which, I would think, gives her the freedom to play much younger roles- roles that require a lot of lifting. That's just my thinking. Don't cite me in a research paper.
The conductor of the Met orchestra in this version was not James Levine, however, it was still good. I believe this was recorded right around the time Levine's back surgery happened. You can't really fill in for Levine, you just do your best and hope it measures up. John Adams does not measure up to Levine, not even close, however, this conductor(who was not Adams) did a nice job, even if James Levine is still the best.
I think Natalie Dessay tries to make roles that aren't about insanity about insanity, and I'm sure this drives James Levine to insanity. She likes "mad" roles. Her interpretation of "Glitter and be Gay" from the opera Candide is way off because of this. She interprets the girl as if she had lost her mind, when in fact, she has not. Dessay still has a wonderful voice, but does tend to make mad roles out of characters that are not meant to be mad.
I say all this like I know what I'm talking about. These are just the reflections of a girl who loves voice, and opera in particular. Overall, "Manon" was a very enjoyable opera.
I watched the opera "Manon" last night. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was the first Massanet opera I'd ever seen. Both Natalie Dessay and Rollando Villazon were "featured" in it. I love both those singers. Villazon seemed to have some pitch problems, but it wasn't too terribly noticeable, and only happened in one aria. He's probably one of the best looking opera singers I've seen. Moving on.....
This opera included a ballet. A ballet with 5 men and 5 women. Where they got the men, I do not know. Honestly, there's nothing wrong with what the men are doing. It's just so out of the norm. Wait, where have I heard that before? I've heard that said about me many times. I think it's wrong when people judge me for loving opera. Should I be judging just because our culture say that ballet is not a very masculine thing to do? Male opera singers are somewhat stereotyped, but it's nothing compared to male "ballet dancers". Maybe it's because when we think of ballet, we think of the little girls in pink tutus. As a result, we think of ballet as a feminine art. Is it? It's an expression of emotion, just like opera. Why should I judge? Yes, the vast majority of them are homosexual, I'm sure, but putting aside that fact, what makes it so bad? Is there something wrong with it that I'm not seeing? Why is there such a negative connotation of male ballet dancers? These are questions I ask myself. I enjoyed the ballet, regardless of the gender of the dancers.
Natalie Dessay was a ballerina. And evidently, a very good one. She still looks like a dancer; she's probably one of the smallest opera singers around, which, I would think, gives her the freedom to play much younger roles- roles that require a lot of lifting. That's just my thinking. Don't cite me in a research paper.
The conductor of the Met orchestra in this version was not James Levine, however, it was still good. I believe this was recorded right around the time Levine's back surgery happened. You can't really fill in for Levine, you just do your best and hope it measures up. John Adams does not measure up to Levine, not even close, however, this conductor(who was not Adams) did a nice job, even if James Levine is still the best.
I think Natalie Dessay tries to make roles that aren't about insanity about insanity, and I'm sure this drives James Levine to insanity. She likes "mad" roles. Her interpretation of "Glitter and be Gay" from the opera Candide is way off because of this. She interprets the girl as if she had lost her mind, when in fact, she has not. Dessay still has a wonderful voice, but does tend to make mad roles out of characters that are not meant to be mad.
I say all this like I know what I'm talking about. These are just the reflections of a girl who loves voice, and opera in particular. Overall, "Manon" was a very enjoyable opera.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Exercising
We went to the gym today. I didn't want to go; I wanted to stay home and practice piano. I'm a nerd. Mom insisted, however, so we went. I'm glad I did, but still, I missed out on some piano time. I didn't protest too heavily, but I really didn't want to go. I would have gone even if Mom had not insisted, but I wouldn't have gone with the attitude of "Yip! Physical pain! I can't wait!". Actually, it's not that painful at all. I have two very good reasons for going.
The first is, of course, that I'm now an "official" hypoglycemic. I'm sure my blood sugar meter will thank me in the morning. I feel good when I exercise.
The second is that Dr. Singalot suggested it for better breath support. OK, if you say so. So I'm doing it. Here's a funny conversation between me and my mom. At least, I think it's funny, so I'm darn well going to put it on my blog. Selfish, huh?
Me: Do we have to go to the gym? I'd really rather stay home and practice piano.
Mom: I'm going to tell Dr. Singalot!
Me: Mom, my life does not revolve around Dr. Singalot.
But I do trust his opinion. So, I am going to the gym. I wonder what my blood sugar will be tomorrow. I'll let 'cha know. For now, I'm going to hope that I can walk tomorrow.
The first is, of course, that I'm now an "official" hypoglycemic. I'm sure my blood sugar meter will thank me in the morning. I feel good when I exercise.
The second is that Dr. Singalot suggested it for better breath support. OK, if you say so. So I'm doing it. Here's a funny conversation between me and my mom. At least, I think it's funny, so I'm darn well going to put it on my blog. Selfish, huh?
Me: Do we have to go to the gym? I'd really rather stay home and practice piano.
Mom: I'm going to tell Dr. Singalot!
Me: Mom, my life does not revolve around Dr. Singalot.
But I do trust his opinion. So, I am going to the gym. I wonder what my blood sugar will be tomorrow. I'll let 'cha know. For now, I'm going to hope that I can walk tomorrow.
My Day: Hypoglycemic Discoveries and Work Ethic(or lack thereof)
I''ve started about 4 blog posts, but none of them were very long, so I'm just going to talk about my day yesterday. This first topic is not something I'm announcing to the world, so hush hush if you know me. :)
We went to the doctor yesterday, but not for me. My sister and mom got their blood drawn for some tests. I felt left out. Anyway, my mom and I started talking to the nurse. We talked about my freaky blood sugar. Basically, I'm hypoglycemic. The nurse telling me this did not surprise me one bit. It just gives me the motivation I need to stop eating what I"m eating.
Our family does not buy things like Cheez-It's, Wheat Thins, Little Debbies, or M&Ms. We haven't had those things since Mom and Dad went on Atkins and lost weight. My blood sugar has been a rollercoaster these last 12 months. At one point, my fasting blood sugar was barely normal, and so I went(informally) on Phase 3 of Atkins. It worked, and my blood sugar was normal for a long time. And then, I slipped into my old habits. And guess what? I gained weight, and my blood sugar is no longer stable. My weight fluctuates about 10 pounds. It fluctuates with my blood sugar. Hm.
A few minute after this conversation with the nurse, my sister passes out. She looked fine right after her blood was taken, but a few minutes later, she passed out onto my mom. She was OK in a few minutes. Of course, she milked it all day long. She insists that I didn't do enough to "help" when she passed out. What was I supposed to do, start CPR?
The bright side of this(I'm a terrible person, I know) is that I had the rest of the day to practice piano and voice without her commentary. She was holed up in her room. My sister feels the need to sing along sometimes, and comments on my pitch. An often heard phrase in my home is, "If you go any higher, you're going to break glass!" Oh, and did I mention that she mocks my vibrato?
Back to the practicing. I started the second movement of the Waldstein a few days ago. It's lovely, as Dr. Singalot would say. He makes me laugh. A lot....... I'm going to stop reminiscing on Dr. Singalot's humor now. I have five vocal exercises that I do each day. They are definitely improving. I love improvement. This brings me to the "work ethic" part of my blog.
My mom has a ridiculous work ethic. Scary amazing. I do not. I have extreme motivation for certain things. In my perfect world, I practice piano and voice all day. I stop only to go the opera. Unfortunately, the world does not obey my every whim, and I must finish high school. Darn.
I have extreme motivation to practice piano. I love piano, and I love practicing it. What's funny is that Dr. Terminator really has no clue how much I practice. He probably underestimates, but that's OK. As long as he's happy with my progress, it's all good, dude.
I also have extreme motivation to practice voice. To be honest, it gets boring sometimes. I'm not going to lie- it does. I'm not the perfect angel that has endless energy and patience. I'm human. Some days, I don't want to practice. I can't get results without practice, however, and results are what I'm after. I like results, and at the end of the day, I'm very disappointed in myself if I haven't practiced Don't get me wrong- the vast majority of the time, I enjoy practicing voice. But when I really don't want to, I really don't want to. But I do it anyway, as the song goes. Unfortunately, I'm an not disappointed in myself if I do no school whatsoever. I'll have to work on that.
I see this is already a very long blog post. The sequel is to come. It involves Tishmeister, so you know it's going to be good.
We went to the doctor yesterday, but not for me. My sister and mom got their blood drawn for some tests. I felt left out. Anyway, my mom and I started talking to the nurse. We talked about my freaky blood sugar. Basically, I'm hypoglycemic. The nurse telling me this did not surprise me one bit. It just gives me the motivation I need to stop eating what I"m eating.
Our family does not buy things like Cheez-It's, Wheat Thins, Little Debbies, or M&Ms. We haven't had those things since Mom and Dad went on Atkins and lost weight. My blood sugar has been a rollercoaster these last 12 months. At one point, my fasting blood sugar was barely normal, and so I went(informally) on Phase 3 of Atkins. It worked, and my blood sugar was normal for a long time. And then, I slipped into my old habits. And guess what? I gained weight, and my blood sugar is no longer stable. My weight fluctuates about 10 pounds. It fluctuates with my blood sugar. Hm.
A few minute after this conversation with the nurse, my sister passes out. She looked fine right after her blood was taken, but a few minutes later, she passed out onto my mom. She was OK in a few minutes. Of course, she milked it all day long. She insists that I didn't do enough to "help" when she passed out. What was I supposed to do, start CPR?
The bright side of this(I'm a terrible person, I know) is that I had the rest of the day to practice piano and voice without her commentary. She was holed up in her room. My sister feels the need to sing along sometimes, and comments on my pitch. An often heard phrase in my home is, "If you go any higher, you're going to break glass!" Oh, and did I mention that she mocks my vibrato?
Back to the practicing. I started the second movement of the Waldstein a few days ago. It's lovely, as Dr. Singalot would say. He makes me laugh. A lot....... I'm going to stop reminiscing on Dr. Singalot's humor now. I have five vocal exercises that I do each day. They are definitely improving. I love improvement. This brings me to the "work ethic" part of my blog.
My mom has a ridiculous work ethic. Scary amazing. I do not. I have extreme motivation for certain things. In my perfect world, I practice piano and voice all day. I stop only to go the opera. Unfortunately, the world does not obey my every whim, and I must finish high school. Darn.
I have extreme motivation to practice piano. I love piano, and I love practicing it. What's funny is that Dr. Terminator really has no clue how much I practice. He probably underestimates, but that's OK. As long as he's happy with my progress, it's all good, dude.
I also have extreme motivation to practice voice. To be honest, it gets boring sometimes. I'm not going to lie- it does. I'm not the perfect angel that has endless energy and patience. I'm human. Some days, I don't want to practice. I can't get results without practice, however, and results are what I'm after. I like results, and at the end of the day, I'm very disappointed in myself if I haven't practiced Don't get me wrong- the vast majority of the time, I enjoy practicing voice. But when I really don't want to, I really don't want to. But I do it anyway, as the song goes. Unfortunately, I'm an not disappointed in myself if I do no school whatsoever. I'll have to work on that.
I see this is already a very long blog post. The sequel is to come. It involves Tishmeister, so you know it's going to be good.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
A Quick Update
Today's voice lesson was so so. At least I have the motivation to practice now. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't exceptional. I am by no means discouraged, just eager to see more progress.
My break is coming. I didn't do my best today, but it wasn't too bad. I know exactly what to work on this week.
My piano lesson, however, was AWESOME! So, I am going to quote Dr. Terminator. QUOTE!
"Your rhytmn was impeccable. You didn't miss a single note."
*jaw drops*
I have never been told either of these things. Not in my entire life. I am taken aback.
Sure, my mom helped, but hey, I still got it right. She might have even helped a lot, but still! That coming out of Dr. Terminator's mouth? Priceless. I am VERY happy about this. Very.
Oh, and a certain person who has a certain name is happier today, and that makes me happy as well.
Overall, a good day. Opera with Tishmeister and family tomorrow! Yay:)
My break is coming. I didn't do my best today, but it wasn't too bad. I know exactly what to work on this week.
My piano lesson, however, was AWESOME! So, I am going to quote Dr. Terminator. QUOTE!
"Your rhytmn was impeccable. You didn't miss a single note."
*jaw drops*
I have never been told either of these things. Not in my entire life. I am taken aback.
Sure, my mom helped, but hey, I still got it right. She might have even helped a lot, but still! That coming out of Dr. Terminator's mouth? Priceless. I am VERY happy about this. Very.
Oh, and a certain person who has a certain name is happier today, and that makes me happy as well.
Overall, a good day. Opera with Tishmeister and family tomorrow! Yay:)
Pre-Voice Lesson Blog
I wrote this yesterday. The voice lesson is today. I'm way too lazy go back and fix the tenses. My apologies.
I’m very anxious to see how tomorrow’s voice lesson goes. I haven’t practiced nearly as much as I usually do. A practice log would look something like this:
Wednesday: 1 hr
Thursday: 20 min
Friday: 20 min
Sat: none
Sun: none
Monday: 40 min.
This is due to piano camp and my absolute exhaustion. I’m still tired. Next week will be better. It’s not a lack of motivation, just a lack of physical and mental effort to put into to practice. Next week will be much, much better. I am still exhausted.
I’m hoping that I didn’t do too much damage. My break is really starting to even out, and that makes me very excited. I think it improved this week, even with the sad lack of practicing.
I will fess up to one thing: I am an all-or-nothing type of person when it comes to practicing voice. If I miss a day, I am thrown out of wack, because I cannot make up what time I lose.
Warming up is becoming increasingly boring, but I do it because I trust Dr. Singalot, and plus, we’re paying way too much money for me to squander this opportunity. I am tired, which doesn’t help the boredom. Then I remember how awful it would be for me to look back 20 years from now, and think, “Gee, if I’d warmed up properly, my voice would be a lot less croaky”, and I keep going. 20 minutes is a long time when you’re ahhhhhing,ohhhhhhhhing, ehhhhhhhhhing, eeeeeeeeeeeeing, and oooooooing up and down the piano.
We went to the gym today. Dr. Singalot told me that it would help my breath support. Okey dokey. Again, I really trust his opinion. We(my mom and I) did 35 minutes on the elliptical. I could have gone longer, but I wanted to be able to walk the next day. Yes, I am 99% serious.
Physically, I’ve never been in better shape in my life, which, if you know me, is kind of sad. However, the farm requires enough physical labor. More than most kids my age do around the house, I know. I have what I like to call “practical strength”. Yeah, lifting weights heavier than 20 pounds would probably kill me, but I can lift and carry 60 pound bags of feed with no problem. I can get a LOT of sound out of a piano. I have extremely fast reflexes, proven to be at least as fast as a cow’s. I can carry very heavy buckets a good distance without my arms falling off. And it’s astonishing how fast you can run when a cow is giving birth. In other words, my physical strengths work well in the real world, but in a gym-type setting, I’m not so hot.
The people in a gym are interesting. Some are morbidly obese, some are skinny skinny, and some are freakishly buff. I’m somewhere in the middle, I hope.
I'll have a voice lesson update later, I'm sure.
I’m very anxious to see how tomorrow’s voice lesson goes. I haven’t practiced nearly as much as I usually do. A practice log would look something like this:
Wednesday: 1 hr
Thursday: 20 min
Friday: 20 min
Sat: none
Sun: none
Monday: 40 min.
This is due to piano camp and my absolute exhaustion. I’m still tired. Next week will be better. It’s not a lack of motivation, just a lack of physical and mental effort to put into to practice. Next week will be much, much better. I am still exhausted.
I’m hoping that I didn’t do too much damage. My break is really starting to even out, and that makes me very excited. I think it improved this week, even with the sad lack of practicing.
I will fess up to one thing: I am an all-or-nothing type of person when it comes to practicing voice. If I miss a day, I am thrown out of wack, because I cannot make up what time I lose.
Warming up is becoming increasingly boring, but I do it because I trust Dr. Singalot, and plus, we’re paying way too much money for me to squander this opportunity. I am tired, which doesn’t help the boredom. Then I remember how awful it would be for me to look back 20 years from now, and think, “Gee, if I’d warmed up properly, my voice would be a lot less croaky”, and I keep going. 20 minutes is a long time when you’re ahhhhhing,ohhhhhhhhing, ehhhhhhhhhing, eeeeeeeeeeeeing, and oooooooing up and down the piano.
We went to the gym today. Dr. Singalot told me that it would help my breath support. Okey dokey. Again, I really trust his opinion. We(my mom and I) did 35 minutes on the elliptical. I could have gone longer, but I wanted to be able to walk the next day. Yes, I am 99% serious.
Physically, I’ve never been in better shape in my life, which, if you know me, is kind of sad. However, the farm requires enough physical labor. More than most kids my age do around the house, I know. I have what I like to call “practical strength”. Yeah, lifting weights heavier than 20 pounds would probably kill me, but I can lift and carry 60 pound bags of feed with no problem. I can get a LOT of sound out of a piano. I have extremely fast reflexes, proven to be at least as fast as a cow’s. I can carry very heavy buckets a good distance without my arms falling off. And it’s astonishing how fast you can run when a cow is giving birth. In other words, my physical strengths work well in the real world, but in a gym-type setting, I’m not so hot.
The people in a gym are interesting. Some are morbidly obese, some are skinny skinny, and some are freakishly buff. I’m somewhere in the middle, I hope.
I'll have a voice lesson update later, I'm sure.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Intelligent on FaceBook
I had a different blog post, but I reread it and realized how braggarty(yep, braggarty) it sounded, so I took it down. What to blog about?
A friend of mine once said something like, "A large vocabulary makes you look intelligent." Except that he said it using four words that I didn't recognize. And he's right. I do think of him as being intelligent, and he is. Many a person has assumed that I'm "intelligent" because I have a rather large vocabulary. I have learned to back off with the big words. It doesn't help communication anyway; not if people are standing there using a dictionary every time you speak.
Something I've been thinking about for a while has gotten me blogging. Some people look plain stupid on the internet. Let's use FaceBook. Some people look dumb because of content and irrelevance, some because of grammatical errors, and some because of timing.
Let me say it outright. I am guilty of putting things that no one wants to hear about as my status. I admit it, and I apologize. However, I do my best not to. No one wants to hear about my opera, and no one wants to hear about the hilarious sus chord I found. I really try not to put stuff like that on, unless I can make it where the general facebook user finds it funny. If I put every status that ever popped into my head, everyone would unfriend me, I promise. Some people just put plain dumb things without thinking about it. Especially when they put stuff that gives you no idea what they mean. Say, "blah" or "hahahahaha" or "shut up" or "funny". I have done this at least once, I'm sure. But the vast majority of my posts can be understood by the average reader.
Grammatical errors run rampant on FaceBook. It's ridiculous. I won't get into this. Let's just say that "your" seems to be the universal choice for your AND you're. Ugh.
Timing. How does this relate to posts? Well, please don't post "This is the best day of my life", right before you post, "He is SUCH an idiot". I've never had anything this extreme show up on my wall, but you get the idea. Right after you post "God is so amazing", please don't let your next comment be filled with cuss words. Again, I'm being extreme, but I've seen it on other people's news feed.
You can look really stupid of FaceBook. You can also look intelligent. I have been told by several people that my FaceBook info is so "funny, and intelligent looking". I don't know about that, but thanks. I'll take what I can get.
I hope I never make myself look very stupid on FaceBook. Hopefully, Tishmeister will keep me in line.
A friend of mine once said something like, "A large vocabulary makes you look intelligent." Except that he said it using four words that I didn't recognize. And he's right. I do think of him as being intelligent, and he is. Many a person has assumed that I'm "intelligent" because I have a rather large vocabulary. I have learned to back off with the big words. It doesn't help communication anyway; not if people are standing there using a dictionary every time you speak.
Something I've been thinking about for a while has gotten me blogging. Some people look plain stupid on the internet. Let's use FaceBook. Some people look dumb because of content and irrelevance, some because of grammatical errors, and some because of timing.
Let me say it outright. I am guilty of putting things that no one wants to hear about as my status. I admit it, and I apologize. However, I do my best not to. No one wants to hear about my opera, and no one wants to hear about the hilarious sus chord I found. I really try not to put stuff like that on, unless I can make it where the general facebook user finds it funny. If I put every status that ever popped into my head, everyone would unfriend me, I promise. Some people just put plain dumb things without thinking about it. Especially when they put stuff that gives you no idea what they mean. Say, "blah" or "hahahahaha" or "shut up" or "funny". I have done this at least once, I'm sure. But the vast majority of my posts can be understood by the average reader.
Grammatical errors run rampant on FaceBook. It's ridiculous. I won't get into this. Let's just say that "your" seems to be the universal choice for your AND you're. Ugh.
Timing. How does this relate to posts? Well, please don't post "This is the best day of my life", right before you post, "He is SUCH an idiot". I've never had anything this extreme show up on my wall, but you get the idea. Right after you post "God is so amazing", please don't let your next comment be filled with cuss words. Again, I'm being extreme, but I've seen it on other people's news feed.
You can look really stupid of FaceBook. You can also look intelligent. I have been told by several people that my FaceBook info is so "funny, and intelligent looking". I don't know about that, but thanks. I'll take what I can get.
I hope I never make myself look very stupid on FaceBook. Hopefully, Tishmeister will keep me in line.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Searching for a Name
I'm calling him Dr. Singalot for now, but I am determined to find a more meaningful name for my voice teacher. Something that does credit to his amazing sense of humor, and something that expresses his awesomeness. Suggestions?
To Tishmeister
I have been sadly neglectful of this response to Tishmeister's blog post. But here it is.
Intelligence vs. initiative. That's what it was about. See http://bluetoiletwater.blogspot.com/ for more info.
Part of the reason that people are afraid to take initiative is that they are afraid of being wrong. I am wrong very often. Being wrong isn't a bad thing.......until it has consequences beyond just embarrassing yourself. Being wrong is a good way to learn.
Some people use and abuse the phrases, "I'm only human, after all", and "To err is human." Both are true, but when foresight and planning could have prevented a mistake, it's time to fess up. What happens often in the American workforce is that people blur the lines between honest, unpreventable, unconsequencial mistakes and those that are caused by lack of preparation, and have consequences.
No one likes to be embarrassed, least of all me. And really, one shouldn't be embarrassed when being incorrect in the process of learning. Our culture may promote that incorrectness of any kind is to be avoided at all costs, and that principle promotes two ideas:
1. You should never risk being wrong.
2. You should make every effort not to be embarrassed, even if you must make excuses.
The first principle is one that I completely disregard as insane and useless. The second, I disregard in the same manner, but I do not always disregard it like I should.
Excuses are tempting. They get you out of stuff. It's like a get of jail free card. Everyone loves those, but we shouldn't.
People want jobs that they can't mess up. I understand that. It all goes back to being inside your shell. Stepping out of your comfort zone, getting out of the box is not something that Americans are encouraged to do. Stay safe. Stay untouchable. Be beyond embarrassment. You know what I really don't want to do in a few Sundays? I don't want to lead the congregation in the hymns. But you know what, I'm going to do it, because I'll do my best. I might embarrass myself, but you know what? There's really noting to be embarrassed about. I'm doing something for the better of the church, and that's that.
People are afraid to step out and take initiative. Don't be.
Intelligence vs. initiative. That's what it was about. See http://bluetoiletwater.blogspot.com/ for more info.
Part of the reason that people are afraid to take initiative is that they are afraid of being wrong. I am wrong very often. Being wrong isn't a bad thing.......until it has consequences beyond just embarrassing yourself. Being wrong is a good way to learn.
Some people use and abuse the phrases, "I'm only human, after all", and "To err is human." Both are true, but when foresight and planning could have prevented a mistake, it's time to fess up. What happens often in the American workforce is that people blur the lines between honest, unpreventable, unconsequencial mistakes and those that are caused by lack of preparation, and have consequences.
No one likes to be embarrassed, least of all me. And really, one shouldn't be embarrassed when being incorrect in the process of learning. Our culture may promote that incorrectness of any kind is to be avoided at all costs, and that principle promotes two ideas:
1. You should never risk being wrong.
2. You should make every effort not to be embarrassed, even if you must make excuses.
The first principle is one that I completely disregard as insane and useless. The second, I disregard in the same manner, but I do not always disregard it like I should.
Excuses are tempting. They get you out of stuff. It's like a get of jail free card. Everyone loves those, but we shouldn't.
People want jobs that they can't mess up. I understand that. It all goes back to being inside your shell. Stepping out of your comfort zone, getting out of the box is not something that Americans are encouraged to do. Stay safe. Stay untouchable. Be beyond embarrassment. You know what I really don't want to do in a few Sundays? I don't want to lead the congregation in the hymns. But you know what, I'm going to do it, because I'll do my best. I might embarrass myself, but you know what? There's really noting to be embarrassed about. I'm doing something for the better of the church, and that's that.
People are afraid to step out and take initiative. Don't be.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Act Like a Kid
What is it like to act like a kid? Do I ever do that? Should I do that? When would that be appropriate? These questions are what I am reminiscing on.
I acted like a kid at piano camp. At least, during the times when we were goofing off. What does it mean to act like a kid? Does it mean to lose all formality, common courtesy, and self-respect? I believe that "acting like a kid" has been pushed to its limits.
Someone(a man) this week described me as being a "doll". Seriously? A doll? I mean, I'm flattered, but seriously, am I that courteous and respectful, or what? I say "please" and "thank you" and "yes sir", but that got me the status of being a "doll"? I don't think of myself as being one of those kids that adults go "AWWW! She's such a sweetheart!" at. My favorite adults(yes, I have favorites; isn't it terrible?!) think of me as this girl who is confident, strong-willed, and ready to face the world.
But back to being a kid. What does it mean? I think the problem with this generation(yes, prepare for the preaching), is that people my age are given the privledges of an adult, and the responsibilties of a child.
When I act like a kid, I try to do it without losing respect from others. In other words, I don't fully start acting reckless. Reckless happens at home.
Several people in the last month have told me to act more like a kid. I find things entertaining that other kids don't(i.e. opera, practicing, etc.), and I guess that's my way of acting like a kid. Sometimes I take a break from the hard classical music, and I get out my broadway book. Sometimes I stop reading the Twain and get out the easiest book imaginable. So, I guess my way of being a kid is doing something easier. Easier can be good, in moderation. But I enjoy a challenge. Sure, I'm not exactly a happy camper when practicing my hardest vocal stuff, but I enjoy what I get from that.
I probably have more adult friends than kids my age. Maybe that's why I find it hard to be a "kid". I enjoy good, well-rounded humor(and dry wit when I can find it), and I enjoy honest to goodness intelligent conversations. It's what I love. It's what I do.
What I do not love is making big decisions. All the usual junk that everyone tells me is supposed to accompany my age(i.e. dating) ain't gonna happen any time soon. I was looking at college websites last night, and I got into bed and just breathed this huge sigh of frustration. So many choices, so many limitations, so little time. We shall see. I think I'll just concentrate on living through high school for right now. Who has time for a social life when college is fast approaching? I enjoy talking to my Tishmeister and others, but that will have to do for now.
So do I ever act like a kid? I'm still not sure. Until tomorrow.......
I acted like a kid at piano camp. At least, during the times when we were goofing off. What does it mean to act like a kid? Does it mean to lose all formality, common courtesy, and self-respect? I believe that "acting like a kid" has been pushed to its limits.
Someone(a man) this week described me as being a "doll". Seriously? A doll? I mean, I'm flattered, but seriously, am I that courteous and respectful, or what? I say "please" and "thank you" and "yes sir", but that got me the status of being a "doll"? I don't think of myself as being one of those kids that adults go "AWWW! She's such a sweetheart!" at. My favorite adults(yes, I have favorites; isn't it terrible?!) think of me as this girl who is confident, strong-willed, and ready to face the world.
But back to being a kid. What does it mean? I think the problem with this generation(yes, prepare for the preaching), is that people my age are given the privledges of an adult, and the responsibilties of a child.
When I act like a kid, I try to do it without losing respect from others. In other words, I don't fully start acting reckless. Reckless happens at home.
Several people in the last month have told me to act more like a kid. I find things entertaining that other kids don't(i.e. opera, practicing, etc.), and I guess that's my way of acting like a kid. Sometimes I take a break from the hard classical music, and I get out my broadway book. Sometimes I stop reading the Twain and get out the easiest book imaginable. So, I guess my way of being a kid is doing something easier. Easier can be good, in moderation. But I enjoy a challenge. Sure, I'm not exactly a happy camper when practicing my hardest vocal stuff, but I enjoy what I get from that.
I probably have more adult friends than kids my age. Maybe that's why I find it hard to be a "kid". I enjoy good, well-rounded humor(and dry wit when I can find it), and I enjoy honest to goodness intelligent conversations. It's what I love. It's what I do.
What I do not love is making big decisions. All the usual junk that everyone tells me is supposed to accompany my age(i.e. dating) ain't gonna happen any time soon. I was looking at college websites last night, and I got into bed and just breathed this huge sigh of frustration. So many choices, so many limitations, so little time. We shall see. I think I'll just concentrate on living through high school for right now. Who has time for a social life when college is fast approaching? I enjoy talking to my Tishmeister and others, but that will have to do for now.
So do I ever act like a kid? I'm still not sure. Until tomorrow.......
The Recital
The recital went well. It was......different.
I'm not one to get nervous easily. I'm also not one to admit that I'm nervous. Because I feel like once I am "diagnosed", I've psyched myself out. My heart beat a little faster today, but nothing like my true, 100% freaked out, shaking hands, feet numb nervous. Here's how the whole thing went:
I sat with the other concert participatees(yep, I totally made that word up) until a few pieces before mine. I went backstage and waited. I'm my calmest at this point. I'm good, happy, and smiling. My mom and I talked to my piano teacher. In the course of the conversation, he said something that has been running through my head a good while. "Three of you" refers to myself and my two friends who are my age and both take from him. "Out of the three of you, ********** has the natural talent, ********** takes longer to learn pieces, but once she gets them, they're amazing, and you're the hardest worker."
That's really stuck with me. And makes me want to work harder. It also reminded me of something that Dr. Minuet said. I will reveal her real first name. Here's what she said: "My teacher told me, Ludmila, you have not got talent. Zero.",Dr. Minuet made a zero with her fingers, "but when you put in hard work, you have a 1", and she made a one with her finger, "and when you have one and zero, you have ten." Wow.
Back to the recital story. So, it's my turn. I think I smiled(hope) and walked out. Small, very small audience. I could do that. I sat down, and my heart rate sped up. "Beep........beep........beep..........beep....beep...beep.beepbeepbeepbeep." You get the idea. My thought was. "Well, crap, I have to play now." And so I did. It was OK, I thought. I messed up many times, but I kept going. It was a 10 minute piece. I walked off feeling like it was kind of.....awful, and I was prepared for a "That was a good practice run" kind of statement from Dr. Playalot, but instead, I get a very Dr. Playalot, typical hearty, "That was the best you've ever played it!" OK, I'll go with that. Everyone else(even my mom! And she does NOT make that stuff up) thought it was great. I'm anxious to see the video, and yet, not so much.
My friend told me that I threw my head up at one point. SHOOT. I did NOT mean to be dramatic! I can't stand it when people are dramatic. I was honestly just trying to get the stupid note to crescendo! Oh well. I was dramatic looking. Ugh. It'll be OK. Surely people will forgive me.
Did I mention that I wore a pretty black dress? I rather liked how I looked. That is rare that I like a dress. It's pretty.
This was a good concert.
I'm not one to get nervous easily. I'm also not one to admit that I'm nervous. Because I feel like once I am "diagnosed", I've psyched myself out. My heart beat a little faster today, but nothing like my true, 100% freaked out, shaking hands, feet numb nervous. Here's how the whole thing went:
I sat with the other concert participatees(yep, I totally made that word up) until a few pieces before mine. I went backstage and waited. I'm my calmest at this point. I'm good, happy, and smiling. My mom and I talked to my piano teacher. In the course of the conversation, he said something that has been running through my head a good while. "Three of you" refers to myself and my two friends who are my age and both take from him. "Out of the three of you, ********** has the natural talent, ********** takes longer to learn pieces, but once she gets them, they're amazing, and you're the hardest worker."
That's really stuck with me. And makes me want to work harder. It also reminded me of something that Dr. Minuet said. I will reveal her real first name. Here's what she said: "My teacher told me, Ludmila, you have not got talent. Zero.",Dr. Minuet made a zero with her fingers, "but when you put in hard work, you have a 1", and she made a one with her finger, "and when you have one and zero, you have ten." Wow.
Back to the recital story. So, it's my turn. I think I smiled(hope) and walked out. Small, very small audience. I could do that. I sat down, and my heart rate sped up. "Beep........beep........beep..........beep....beep...beep.beepbeepbeepbeep." You get the idea. My thought was. "Well, crap, I have to play now." And so I did. It was OK, I thought. I messed up many times, but I kept going. It was a 10 minute piece. I walked off feeling like it was kind of.....awful, and I was prepared for a "That was a good practice run" kind of statement from Dr. Playalot, but instead, I get a very Dr. Playalot, typical hearty, "That was the best you've ever played it!" OK, I'll go with that. Everyone else(even my mom! And she does NOT make that stuff up) thought it was great. I'm anxious to see the video, and yet, not so much.
My friend told me that I threw my head up at one point. SHOOT. I did NOT mean to be dramatic! I can't stand it when people are dramatic. I was honestly just trying to get the stupid note to crescendo! Oh well. I was dramatic looking. Ugh. It'll be OK. Surely people will forgive me.
Did I mention that I wore a pretty black dress? I rather liked how I looked. That is rare that I like a dress. It's pretty.
This was a good concert.
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