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.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
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.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Waldstein
"How do you feel about this piece, level-wise?"
"I feel like I can perform it without bungling it and make it more than note after note."
That was my response. What piece? The first movement of the "Waldstein Sonata" . OK, that probably means nothing to you. It's opus 53 of the Beethoven sonatas. Still doesn't ring a bell? It's one of Beethoven's greatest sonatas of all time. Cool, huh? And I'm playing it tomorrow, in the piano recital. Still cool? Sort of, except that I've only had it for 7 weeks.
That may seem like a long time for non-musicians, but for a piece that takes 10 minutes to play? That is not long. Oh, and did I mention I'm doing it memorized? It's 14 pages long, I think. I'm not trying to brag, but do you see the freaking-out factor here? I really shouldn't be even doing it, but I pushed all week to get his ready, and by golly, I'm going to do it.
I know I'll be OK. In fact, I think it will be rather beautiful. I hope. Hope. Pray.
The point I'm trying to make is that I should be freaking out right now. Or should I say, usually would be. But I'm not. I'm leaving it up to my brain tomorrow. It's weird, not being freaked out. If I ever had a reason to, it would be this. Playing it in a hall with a big, lively piano? Not the prettiest thing in the world, but I'm actually looking forward to it. I'll have to let you know how it goes.
"I feel like I can perform it without bungling it and make it more than note after note."
That was my response. What piece? The first movement of the "Waldstein Sonata" . OK, that probably means nothing to you. It's opus 53 of the Beethoven sonatas. Still doesn't ring a bell? It's one of Beethoven's greatest sonatas of all time. Cool, huh? And I'm playing it tomorrow, in the piano recital. Still cool? Sort of, except that I've only had it for 7 weeks.
That may seem like a long time for non-musicians, but for a piece that takes 10 minutes to play? That is not long. Oh, and did I mention I'm doing it memorized? It's 14 pages long, I think. I'm not trying to brag, but do you see the freaking-out factor here? I really shouldn't be even doing it, but I pushed all week to get his ready, and by golly, I'm going to do it.
I know I'll be OK. In fact, I think it will be rather beautiful. I hope. Hope. Pray.
The point I'm trying to make is that I should be freaking out right now. Or should I say, usually would be. But I'm not. I'm leaving it up to my brain tomorrow. It's weird, not being freaked out. If I ever had a reason to, it would be this. Playing it in a hall with a big, lively piano? Not the prettiest thing in the world, but I'm actually looking forward to it. I'll have to let you know how it goes.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Something's Changed..........Again
Day 3 of piano camp was better than the first. I didn't know that was possible.
I had a lecture with Dr. Minuet today. Oh, how I looked forward to it. I knew I had questions, and boy did she have answers. She asked us what we wanted to talk about. Well, nobody else was "brave" enough to ask questions, and so I thought, "Self, if they ain't gonna ask no questions, then heck! You're gonna get some of them questions answered!" Yes, that's my hick thinking. So I did. I asked her about breathing at the piano(she'd mentioned it before), and she taught about posture and being at the piano. Then, she talked about finger alignment and such. So interesting, and so helpful. I'm not sure what she did or said, but in the process of this lecture, something clicked. That click that I felt that first day? Not the same kind.
On the first day, I felt something different. Something, but I wasn't sure what. Today, I felt this new depth to piano. Something above notes. Something better than articulation. Something far superior to just plain pretty sounds. It was something emotional; something meaningful. The recital that night had new meaning, and new life.
I also learned many technical things this week, but nothing, nothing will ever be as meaningful as Dr. Minuet's contribution.
The bonus to being the "Snack Lady"'s daughter is that my mom and I got to talk to Dr. Minuet a bit more afterwards. Oh, how inspiring she was. She talks of how reading great literature, learning about the world, etc. is key to piano. Emotional attachment is key.
A week ago, I had no motivation to get school done. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. And I was in a world of hurt. Now, I really cannot wait for my chance to learn. Maybe not because I want to spend time studying, but because I want to learn anything to improve my playing.
There is this new depth to piano, and I can't wait to explore it. I will never forget Dr. Minuet. Ever. I hope I can show her how much she means to me.
I had a lecture with Dr. Minuet today. Oh, how I looked forward to it. I knew I had questions, and boy did she have answers. She asked us what we wanted to talk about. Well, nobody else was "brave" enough to ask questions, and so I thought, "Self, if they ain't gonna ask no questions, then heck! You're gonna get some of them questions answered!" Yes, that's my hick thinking. So I did. I asked her about breathing at the piano(she'd mentioned it before), and she taught about posture and being at the piano. Then, she talked about finger alignment and such. So interesting, and so helpful. I'm not sure what she did or said, but in the process of this lecture, something clicked. That click that I felt that first day? Not the same kind.
On the first day, I felt something different. Something, but I wasn't sure what. Today, I felt this new depth to piano. Something above notes. Something better than articulation. Something far superior to just plain pretty sounds. It was something emotional; something meaningful. The recital that night had new meaning, and new life.
I also learned many technical things this week, but nothing, nothing will ever be as meaningful as Dr. Minuet's contribution.
The bonus to being the "Snack Lady"'s daughter is that my mom and I got to talk to Dr. Minuet a bit more afterwards. Oh, how inspiring she was. She talks of how reading great literature, learning about the world, etc. is key to piano. Emotional attachment is key.
A week ago, I had no motivation to get school done. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. And I was in a world of hurt. Now, I really cannot wait for my chance to learn. Maybe not because I want to spend time studying, but because I want to learn anything to improve my playing.
There is this new depth to piano, and I can't wait to explore it. I will never forget Dr. Minuet. Ever. I hope I can show her how much she means to me.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
I'm a Little Tired.........Had You Noticed?
This piano camp is really wearing me out. A good kind of wore out, but wore out nonetheless. Thus, my emotions are a bit......crazy, without real reason. Or more so than usual.
Which moves me to my story. But first, a question. Have you ever been really tired, and then, something very bad happens? Or so you think. A few seconds later, you find out that everything is OK. Yeah, well that just happened to me.
I was a bit concerned when Mom screamed, in her fiercest battle cry, "SOMETHING'S ABOUT TO DIE!", and I then heard a huge TWHACK!, followed by my mom screaming something practically intelligible, but to my muddled mind, it sounded like, "I broke it! I broke my wrist! AHH!!!" I freaked out, and got up to run to the kitchen. But I saw her first. She was holding her brand-new fancy 1 dollar fly swatter, which she had utterly totaled in the process of trying to kill the giant bee flying around. I hate to admit this, but I cried from relief. Relief and freaking out adrenaline.
Oh, and yeah, the HUGE bee is now in the house. I'm outside, on the laptop.
I'm a little tired.
Which moves me to my story. But first, a question. Have you ever been really tired, and then, something very bad happens? Or so you think. A few seconds later, you find out that everything is OK. Yeah, well that just happened to me.
I was a bit concerned when Mom screamed, in her fiercest battle cry, "SOMETHING'S ABOUT TO DIE!", and I then heard a huge TWHACK!, followed by my mom screaming something practically intelligible, but to my muddled mind, it sounded like, "I broke it! I broke my wrist! AHH!!!" I freaked out, and got up to run to the kitchen. But I saw her first. She was holding her brand-new fancy 1 dollar fly swatter, which she had utterly totaled in the process of trying to kill the giant bee flying around. I hate to admit this, but I cried from relief. Relief and freaking out adrenaline.
Oh, and yeah, the HUGE bee is now in the house. I'm outside, on the laptop.
I'm a little tired.
I AM NOT SHY
Some people might tell you that I'm shy. Don't listen to them.
I like the word "reserved", but it doesn't really suit me. Sure, I might not laugh at your inappropriate jokes, and I may not be in-your-face clingy, but I ain't shy. Farthest thing sanely from it.
This week has been proof of that. "Who is going first?" is the inevitable question in a master class, private lesson, etc. All the girls in my group are shy. Just plain shy. So, guess who goes first? "ME! PICK ME!" Ok, no, I'm not obnoxious like that, but I do volunteer to go first if no one else wants to. I don't mind.
Oh, and lectures. OH. MY. GOODNESS. Talk about a lack of class participation. I mean, every minute tons of questions are being directed at us, the listeners. And who, out of the whole group of 9 people is answering them? Myself, and one other girl, and I do believe I talked more than she did. I have always been like this. I've got answers, and by golly, if no one else does, I'm going to answer the question. My answer may not always be right, but at least I'm learning. That's the point, isn't it?
I am a "teacher's pet". Yep. I don't try to be, but I work hard and try my best at most everything I do(note the most; I'm not even close to perfect), and that seems to be good enough for my teachers. It's sad that simply trying has become the standard of excellence. But that's neither here nor there, nor in the air, or on a bear, or by the chair. Sorry for that.
Back to the outgoingness. Maybe it's because I'm not afraid to be wrong. Here's a quick conversation with a friend about a lecture:
Me: I felt like I was the only one talking.
Friend: You were.
She meant this in jest; maybe half-jest; OK, maybe she meant it. The truth is, I'm not afraid to be wrong. Perfection is boring, therefore, I provide myself with plenty of material. Always trying to be right is a dangerous thing. Step out of that comfort zone for once. Be wrong. It can be fun.
I am not shy.
I like the word "reserved", but it doesn't really suit me. Sure, I might not laugh at your inappropriate jokes, and I may not be in-your-face clingy, but I ain't shy. Farthest thing sanely from it.
This week has been proof of that. "Who is going first?" is the inevitable question in a master class, private lesson, etc. All the girls in my group are shy. Just plain shy. So, guess who goes first? "ME! PICK ME!" Ok, no, I'm not obnoxious like that, but I do volunteer to go first if no one else wants to. I don't mind.
Oh, and lectures. OH. MY. GOODNESS. Talk about a lack of class participation. I mean, every minute tons of questions are being directed at us, the listeners. And who, out of the whole group of 9 people is answering them? Myself, and one other girl, and I do believe I talked more than she did. I have always been like this. I've got answers, and by golly, if no one else does, I'm going to answer the question. My answer may not always be right, but at least I'm learning. That's the point, isn't it?
I am a "teacher's pet". Yep. I don't try to be, but I work hard and try my best at most everything I do(note the most; I'm not even close to perfect), and that seems to be good enough for my teachers. It's sad that simply trying has become the standard of excellence. But that's neither here nor there, nor in the air, or on a bear, or by the chair. Sorry for that.
Back to the outgoingness. Maybe it's because I'm not afraid to be wrong. Here's a quick conversation with a friend about a lecture:
Me: I felt like I was the only one talking.
Friend: You were.
She meant this in jest; maybe half-jest; OK, maybe she meant it. The truth is, I'm not afraid to be wrong. Perfection is boring, therefore, I provide myself with plenty of material. Always trying to be right is a dangerous thing. Step out of that comfort zone for once. Be wrong. It can be fun.
I am not shy.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Voice Lesson
I also had a voice lesson today. I think it was the best one yet. I've actually surprised myself with what I hear. The practicing is definitely paying off, and that makes me extremely happy. My break is starting(and let me emphasize the word starting) to even out, and that makes me very happy.
I don't think Dr. Singalot is one to throw compliments without meaning it. In fact, I know he isn't, which is why I am rather pleased right now. "You really have been working." Yep, he actually said that. I am very very pleased, and have much motivation to keep it up.
I like practicing, but I don't always want to go as long as I need to. But then I think about what it would be like for my break to be even(you have no clue how amazing that would be) and I keep going. Lessons give me the motivation to get my butt into gear. I like it.
I am liking Dr. Singalot more and more with each lesson. I'm getting his humor. He's very funny, very funny indeed. The whole lesson is like a comedy show. He's really really funny. Have I mentioned that?
Voice lessons make me want to.....sing.....alot.
I don't think Dr. Singalot is one to throw compliments without meaning it. In fact, I know he isn't, which is why I am rather pleased right now. "You really have been working." Yep, he actually said that. I am very very pleased, and have much motivation to keep it up.
I like practicing, but I don't always want to go as long as I need to. But then I think about what it would be like for my break to be even(you have no clue how amazing that would be) and I keep going. Lessons give me the motivation to get my butt into gear. I like it.
I am liking Dr. Singalot more and more with each lesson. I'm getting his humor. He's very funny, very funny indeed. The whole lesson is like a comedy show. He's really really funny. Have I mentioned that?
Voice lessons make me want to.....sing.....alot.
Something's Changed
Today was one of the best days...........ever.
Piano camp has started. I was very excited. I'd met "Dr. Waldstein" before. In fact, I participated in a master class with him. He's Dr. Terminator's old teacher from graduate school. He's phenomenal, and a Beethoven expert(hence the name Dr. Waldstein- it's a famous sonata from Beethoven). He's so nice, and very inspirational. Naturally, I was excited about his friend from Chicago that was also coming down. I'll call her Dr. Minuet. You'll see why.
I had no idea that Dr. Minuet would be so fantastic. I can tell that music is her real passion- her life. I've never met anyone who could explain things like she can. I asked her about how she learned how to put emotion into music. Her response was the same as Renee Fleming's when she was asked the same. "You must learn to live. You must read, you must experience the different cultures. You must think. You must show the audience what the music is about." Wow. Just wow. A light bulb went off. Something just clicked. And an hour later, sitting at the piano, I felt something different. Something very different. Something I've been searching for. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it's different. It's a lifestyle.
I saw a sign in one of the rooms. "A work of art is the result of a great struggle." So true, but the struggle is worth the work of art. I think something changed today.
As all this is going on in the space of a few hours, a recurring thought is going through my head. To be able to study with masters of the art like this would be absolutely life-changing, but to go off on my own, to be independent in 4, 5, or even 6 years? It's a scary thought, and I wonder if the quality of instruction is worth the stress. I'm not sure.
The professors are inspiring, and I can't wait for tomorrow. I hope to make the most of my time. Something is changing, and I'm going to find out what.
Piano camp has started. I was very excited. I'd met "Dr. Waldstein" before. In fact, I participated in a master class with him. He's Dr. Terminator's old teacher from graduate school. He's phenomenal, and a Beethoven expert(hence the name Dr. Waldstein- it's a famous sonata from Beethoven). He's so nice, and very inspirational. Naturally, I was excited about his friend from Chicago that was also coming down. I'll call her Dr. Minuet. You'll see why.
I had no idea that Dr. Minuet would be so fantastic. I can tell that music is her real passion- her life. I've never met anyone who could explain things like she can. I asked her about how she learned how to put emotion into music. Her response was the same as Renee Fleming's when she was asked the same. "You must learn to live. You must read, you must experience the different cultures. You must think. You must show the audience what the music is about." Wow. Just wow. A light bulb went off. Something just clicked. And an hour later, sitting at the piano, I felt something different. Something very different. Something I've been searching for. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but it's different. It's a lifestyle.
I saw a sign in one of the rooms. "A work of art is the result of a great struggle." So true, but the struggle is worth the work of art. I think something changed today.
As all this is going on in the space of a few hours, a recurring thought is going through my head. To be able to study with masters of the art like this would be absolutely life-changing, but to go off on my own, to be independent in 4, 5, or even 6 years? It's a scary thought, and I wonder if the quality of instruction is worth the stress. I'm not sure.
The professors are inspiring, and I can't wait for tomorrow. I hope to make the most of my time. Something is changing, and I'm going to find out what.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Dizzy
I'm on a roll. Blog posts are coming easily. Yay for less writer's block! And I didn't even have to bring in a guy with a gun.
Right now, I am trying not to think about howfreaking dizzy I am right now. I don't know what to make of it It's not low blood sugar. I know what that feels like. This is different. The world is kind of floating. The symptoms sound like low blood sugar, but it's not. I just know it isn't.
This sensation is weird. It's like the computer screen won't come into focus, and every move I make takes an enormous amount of effort. I feel like I'm living under water. I feel as if, were the house to catch on fire, I wouldn't budge. Moving is kind of hard right now. I got up earlier, and held onto the counter- just in case. It felt like I was staggering when I walked, and I think I was. I could feel the blood rush to my head.
As bad as it sounds, it's not too terribly handicapping. I'm just staying situated with the laptop until the sensation goes away. I'm dizzy.
Right now, I am trying not to think about how
This sensation is weird. It's like the computer screen won't come into focus, and every move I make takes an enormous amount of effort. I feel like I'm living under water. I feel as if, were the house to catch on fire, I wouldn't budge. Moving is kind of hard right now. I got up earlier, and held onto the counter- just in case. It felt like I was staggering when I walked, and I think I was. I could feel the blood rush to my head.
As bad as it sounds, it's not too terribly handicapping. I'm just staying situated with the laptop until the sensation goes away. I'm dizzy.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
I Wanna Rant
I desperately want to rant right now. Desperately, but it is my own private though, and no one needs to know. So, just so you know, I wanna rant.
Meet Dr. Terminator
Meet Dr. Terminator. My piano teacher. Dr. Terminator. How did he get this name? Dr. Singalot gave it to him. Actually, he calls him the Termintaor, but since he went to school for a heck of a long amount of time, I'm calling him Dr. Terminator.
Dr. Singalot thinks a lot of Dr. Terminator. Dr. Terminator and Dr. Singalot collaborate rather frequently, and I think it's funny to see how Dr. Terminator relates to Dr. Singalot. I think his inner hilariousness comes out.
Dr. Terminator is super funny, but reserved. Fun to talk to, especially about piano stuff. He is one of the few people that get excited about a German 6 chord. OK, it's pretty exhilarating stuff. You could high on one of those fancy inversions if you're not careful.
Speaking of which, he is freaky amazing at theory. I, on the other hand, am not. I'm learning. We're about to start this theory book. I hope to live through it. At least I have the best to teach me.
I love my piano teacher.
Dr. Singalot thinks a lot of Dr. Terminator. Dr. Terminator and Dr. Singalot collaborate rather frequently, and I think it's funny to see how Dr. Terminator relates to Dr. Singalot. I think his inner hilariousness comes out.
Dr. Terminator is super funny, but reserved. Fun to talk to, especially about piano stuff. He is one of the few people that get excited about a German 6 chord. OK, it's pretty exhilarating stuff. You could high on one of those fancy inversions if you're not careful.
Speaking of which, he is freaky amazing at theory. I, on the other hand, am not. I'm learning. We're about to start this theory book. I hope to live through it. At least I have the best to teach me.
I love my piano teacher.
Get 'Er Done
I am not a get 'er done type of person. At least, not about everything. I get it done when I want it done, but the motivation ends there.
Today, I sucked it up and put on my big girl panties and dealt with it. You know what I did in about one hour? I cleaned up mytornado debris room. Guess how long it usually takes me? A whole day.
Of course, this whole day is usually spent leisurely picking and examining and organizing with painfully slow movement. This wasn't like this. I was in get 'er done mode.
I like being in get 'er done mode. My mom is like that all the time- my dad, not so much. He's a procrastinator, just like I am. Ugh.
I hope I can make this get 'er done attitude last. I really do.
Today, I sucked it up and put on my big girl panties and dealt with it. You know what I did in about one hour? I cleaned up my
Of course, this whole day is usually spent leisurely picking and examining and organizing with painfully slow movement. This wasn't like this. I was in get 'er done mode.
I like being in get 'er done mode. My mom is like that all the time- my dad, not so much. He's a procrastinator, just like I am. Ugh.
I hope I can make this get 'er done attitude last. I really do.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
On Drugs? I Swear I'm Clean; It's Just Makeup!
For my birthday, Mom decided that I can wear makeup. I was pretty excited, but definitely not thinking of going all out. I knew that I would not be one of those people that wore every single piece of makeup available. Blue eyeshadow in not for me, I knew. Natural tones would be best. I had no idea.
Mom applied some eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara. SCARY. I mean, I looked like I'd been in a fight.
I'm not sure exactly what the eyeliner did for me. Or the eye shadow, for that matter. I was too distracted by the ridiculous looking mascara. My eyelashes are HUGELY LONG! She said that I need to curl them if I wear mascara. Curl? As in, put actual effort into my appearance? I'm thinking not. I can go without. I looked like, well, Natalie Dessay in this picture, but worse.
http://www.amazon.com/Natalie-Dessay-Concert-Artists-Century/dp/B000A2H7W2/ref=pd_sim_m_1
I love her music- her makeup, not so much.
Right now, I'm thinking that my eye definition is just fine, and that my eyelids are just the way they need to be. Yep, I'm going natural.
The thing I really wanted to wear(and still do!) is concealer. That's it. But the ones my mom had made me look awful. A-W-F-U-L. I looked super tired, and it just made it worse. One of them was OK, but I would have had to wear junk all over my face, and it was really obvious that I was wearing it. I can't stand it when a person's whole skin tone is altered by makeup. Nuh-uh.
A lot of laughing went on during this. I looked like phantom of the night when Mom applied makeup to one half of my face.
My overall look with makeup? On drugs. I think I'm going natural for now. I'm still on the hunt for some concealer, but that's it. Maybe Tishmeister will have some suggestions.
I think we might go to the Bobbi Brown counter or something. I'm not sure, but I got money for my birthday, and I'm determined to find the right concealer. Initially, we were going to go and have my makeup done, but I'm kind of a "no-touchy" person. Besides, I didn't want to walk out looking like I needed a pole to match my face(Tishmeister will get this). We'll see.
Natural is the way to go.
Mom applied some eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara. SCARY. I mean, I looked like I'd been in a fight.
I'm not sure exactly what the eyeliner did for me. Or the eye shadow, for that matter. I was too distracted by the ridiculous looking mascara. My eyelashes are HUGELY LONG! She said that I need to curl them if I wear mascara. Curl? As in, put actual effort into my appearance? I'm thinking not. I can go without. I looked like, well, Natalie Dessay in this picture, but worse.
http://www.amazon.com/Natalie-Dessay-Concert-Artists-Century/dp/B000A2H7W2/ref=pd_sim_m_1
I love her music- her makeup, not so much.
Right now, I'm thinking that my eye definition is just fine, and that my eyelids are just the way they need to be. Yep, I'm going natural.
The thing I really wanted to wear(and still do!) is concealer. That's it. But the ones my mom had made me look awful. A-W-F-U-L. I looked super tired, and it just made it worse. One of them was OK, but I would have had to wear junk all over my face, and it was really obvious that I was wearing it. I can't stand it when a person's whole skin tone is altered by makeup. Nuh-uh.
A lot of laughing went on during this. I looked like phantom of the night when Mom applied makeup to one half of my face.
My overall look with makeup? On drugs. I think I'm going natural for now. I'm still on the hunt for some concealer, but that's it. Maybe Tishmeister will have some suggestions.
I think we might go to the Bobbi Brown counter or something. I'm not sure, but I got money for my birthday, and I'm determined to find the right concealer. Initially, we were going to go and have my makeup done, but I'm kind of a "no-touchy" person. Besides, I didn't want to walk out looking like I needed a pole to match my face(Tishmeister will get this). We'll see.
Natural is the way to go.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Birthday
I'd get up every morning around 8 o'clock to start school. It would be awfully early, but still, I'd be in high school. I'd start my Algebra 2, and after I was done, I'd go eat breakfast that Mom made. Then, I'd do more school At night, I'd play on the computer. Being outside probably wouldn't be my thing.
That's what I would have told you that my life would be like in high school 8 years ago. My birthday's tomorrow, and I'll tell you- my life is nothing like that. I'm living on a farm in the middle of nowhere, and as I type, I am watching the cows while they graze.
What am I going to do tomorrow? I'm not quite sure. I know that at some point we are having pizza and cake with the grandparents. I also know that "La Boheme" came. I will definitely be watching that. It's gonna be a good day, and I'm excited that I don't have to milk the cows tomorrow- it's a weekend. My day off :)
One more thing. At one time, I would be able to date 2 years from now. Heck no! I will definitely not be ready. Maybe in 20 years........maybe. Just a thought.
That's what I would have told you that my life would be like in high school 8 years ago. My birthday's tomorrow, and I'll tell you- my life is nothing like that. I'm living on a farm in the middle of nowhere, and as I type, I am watching the cows while they graze.
What am I going to do tomorrow? I'm not quite sure. I know that at some point we are having pizza and cake with the grandparents. I also know that "La Boheme" came. I will definitely be watching that. It's gonna be a good day, and I'm excited that I don't have to milk the cows tomorrow- it's a weekend. My day off :)
One more thing. At one time, I would be able to date 2 years from now. Heck no! I will definitely not be ready. Maybe in 20 years........maybe. Just a thought.
Natalie Dessay
I have a new obsession. Natalie Dessay's music. Oh. My. Goodness.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5pTwRhmRL4
While her interpretation of the above aria(Glitter and Be Gay) is off, it is still my favorite version. EVER. She amazes me with her acting(she was going to be an actress until she discovered her musical talents) and she is fantastic to listen to. Her Mozart concert arias are to die for.
Just a note.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5pTwRhmRL4
While her interpretation of the above aria(Glitter and Be Gay) is off, it is still my favorite version. EVER. She amazes me with her acting(she was going to be an actress until she discovered her musical talents) and she is fantastic to listen to. Her Mozart concert arias are to die for.
Just a note.
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