sigmastolen: (ter'angreal)
omg i had the most traumatic dream this morning

so for whatever reason i was going to play bassoon and contra with ucla for this concert (not at the hollywood bowl but at a venue not unlike the bowl) -- the first piece was some kind of partially-staged concert version of la boheme which they didn't need me for, then, like, a strauss and a mahler? i don't actually know. anyway. because this was a dream, my parents were coming to the concert and so we were all driving together and also i think i hadn't been to any rehearsals and was going to be sightreading in the concert (which maestro generally wouldn't permit in real life).

anyway so we get to the venue and find our seats (in the second or third row, but on the end -- this was due to some complex seating algorithm involving how close to the concert date you purchased your tickets) and i take out my contrabassoon reed to soak it and realize at that point that i don't think i brought my instruments, and i start to freak out. so i take the car keys and run back to the car and, yep, they're not there. so then i run back to my parents to give back the keys and it's a few minutes after 8 (when downbeat was supposed to be) but on my run i saw "rolling hills" curtis in the audience and i might be able to borrow his instruments, so i tell that to maestro and promise to be right back. i go and find paul and ask to borrow his horns, i have my own reeds, and yeah, i can borrow his bassoon, it's right here, but he doesn't have his contra on him (because who would, honestly), and so i say thank you thank you thank you i can make it work (and i see dan a few seats away and he looks hurt that i'm not asking to borrow his bassoon but he doesn't even have a contrabassoon and two birds with one stone, man) (and i'm also mentally swearing and thinking i'll never get a gig in this town again) and i grab his case and start to run back to the stage

and then i woke up in a cold sweat
sigmastolen: (ter'angreal)
something is very wrong when a hallmark ad can trigger a breakdown

and i'm not even sure if it's wrong with me, or the world

i mean, surely society is at fault for embedding these feelings of wrongness, and loneliness, and inadequacy in me just because i don't have a significant other

right?
sigmastolen: (Default)
i know i'm not always the most engaging person to be around -- i am fundamentally pretty quiet, and i tend to fall silent if i am uncomfortable, unhappy, or if i feel like i don't have anything to contribute. but it's just -- so. awful. to to be in a room with someone and feel completely invisible. and tonight wasn't the first time and it won't be the last.

and i feel bad for having been less than sparkling because it really, honestly, was not about me, and i feel guilty for being in such an awful, fucked-up place when i have a guest who i only see about once a year, because i don't want to waste our time together moping and i don't want to be a drag on the even shorter time she has with other dear friends, but i also can't help feeling awful? and the invisibility is kind of out of my control. and then also mountain goats and too many feelings and is it weird that music triggers major mood alterations? are there people for whom that is not the case? is there a way to avoid that happening? because it would probably be nice if i didn't start shaking every time i hear certain songs, or lose control of my hands and start wringing them and compulsively toying with my scarf and shit. that would be really, really nice. because i'll say i'm fine -- i'll always say i'm fine -- but agitated hands and, you know, occasionally blinking back tears tend to make people think that isn't the case

and all this is stupid, so, so stupid, because wasn't i just saying that i wanted someone to notice? people are noticing. but i don't want to rock the boat

and it's just so, so fucked all of it is so fucked this is terrible i need to go to sleep.

image
sigmastolen: (ter'angreal)
i didn't call you tonight. today was horrible and all i wanted was to ask if i could come see you and have a hug and pretend that i'm not so isolated and that people remember that i'm here and a person. but someone asked me to get a drink with her and a bunch of her friends that i'd never met and i was in the city where you live and i drove right past your apartment and i didn't call and i didn't text even though my thumb was hovering over the button and i had three separate crises about it and i almost cried. and i went to a new place and i met some new people and i had a fine time and i didn't call you and i can't tell if that's willpower or if it's just more crippling insecurity but i didn't call you and i had fun and tomorrow i'll do it all again.
sigmastolen: (dalek-o-lantern)
that 90s x-men cartoon, part the first )

that 90s x-men cartoon, part the second )

full disclosure time: most of my "classic" x-men knowledge probably came from this cartoon. i didn't buy the comics until middle school, and i have not by any stretch read a great deal of the "x-men canon". trufax.
sigmastolen: (Default)
In the absence of enough brain for actual content, have a meme!

>>>SPELL YOUR FULL NAME WITHOUT AN E, F, R, S, K, I, M, L, C, A, Y, N
My (first, middle, and last) name becomes u h o.

[livejournal.com profile] tubamaphone1, I know you're laughing right now.
sigmastolen: (Default)
This post brought to you by: Drano! (meaning, I'm typing this while I wait for the Drano to sit an hour to work on whatever is making my bathroom sink so slow)

In which I complain. Again. ) WORST PLUMBING ADVENTURE EVER.
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
The semester is ending at last, and now it's crunch time for real. And yet, there's no sign of my usual sudden ability to get shit done at the last second. I don't know what it is, but my ability to focus on anything (except for playing bassoon, apparently) is nonexistent. I can't even concentrate on my distractions -- it's all, let's read something! let's draw! let's do the dishes! let's check schedules! let's watch music on youtube! let's look up song lyrics! let's wiki dead actors! let's read something else! let's have some tea! let's snack! let's draw! let's check facebook! let's fix some old drawings with hairspray so they don't smear any more! let's daydream about paper topics! let's sing! let's daydream about knitting! let's hug the cats! let's post to lj!

Just now I actually walked away from the computer in the middle of typing this and did something else for a minute. I'm on the verge of making myself a cocktail. Or drawing. Or something. I don't even know.

Maybe it's that the semester is so long? Maybe it's lulled me into complacency? Or am I just rationalizing my shortcomings, as usual?

let's talk about all the things that are about to screw me over! :D )

Also, today it has been pouring. It might snow later this week. WTF.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS PLAY BASSOON AND SLEEP
WTF HOW DID IT BECOME AFTER MIDNIGHT
sigmastolen: (Default)
Dear women whose pictures appear on The Sartorialist:

Can someone please explain to me the thinking behind the massive-heels-while-bicycling phenomenon? I don't understand. It seems highly impractical, and perhaps even dangerous -- like you're inviting some kind of grievous injury. I worry for your safety.

love,
s
sigmastolen: (Default)
After my second viewing, I can safely say that I liked it (shut up you guys, you know it's hard for me to tell with the HP films! I'm still flip-flopping on the fourth one!).

(FYI: I am in Chicago, spending the Thanksgiving holiday with my dad's cousins who live here! They're super cool. One has a baby named Malia who is pretty much the best thing ever: 1.5 years old, adorable, loves music, and so, so smart. She blows me away. Pictures later, maybe. Also: Today the two babyless cousins took me to the Art Institute of Chicago, which. Amazing. Pictures later, definitely. But omg my feet. And all this after an extremely fruitful two-hour shopping trip this morning -- things I now have: a winter coat (OH THANK GOD); warm, fuzzy, tall boots that actually fit my calves omg)


okay now the movie )

Things for which I am hoping in HP 7.2:
-- lots of flashbacks to cover all the plot they've skipped in the films so far
-- lots of flashbacks of young Snape & other grownups <3
sigmastolen: (Default)
1. AWKWARD STORY!!! So remember bull-like percussionist (BLP)? Okay. So, rehearsal goes from 3:30-6 with a break in the middle. The Tuesday before the concert, we had been rehearsing Mozart 39, on which I played first bassoon and he played timpani. When Maestro Z let us go to break, he released the trumpets and timpani because we would be working on the slow movement for the rest of rehearsal. So I was sitting in my chair, maybe noodling? probably just sitting, and BLP comes over and is all, "So, how about getting drinks after this concert? You're not going to space out again, right?" Which, BY THE WAY: THIS IS EXACTLY THE WRONG WAY TO APPROACH A WOMAN. Because I didn't see him coming, and he got all up in my personal space, and the wording and tone conveyed a sense of entitlement and resentment failing to pass itself off as a joke, as well as left me no way to tactfully decline.

So I did the only thing I could do: "Suuuuuuuuure," I replied. Cue awkward conversation that I don't want to be in, in which I also misunderstand about half of what he says because he mumbles. *eyeroll* Aaaaaand then he left and I spent the rest of the rehearsal having a small "OH GOD THE AWKWARD" freakout.

The rest of the week I was polite when he initiated conversation but honestly I avoided him a little and exaggerated my natural social awkardness because I really wanted him to take a hint.

(fun fact: at the next rehearsal, Maestro Z tried to correct something BLP was doing and instead of accepting it (or at least pretending to accept it, as musicians WHO WANT TO KEEP THEIR JOBS do all the time), he said, defensively, "I'm just trying to accommodate everyone else," or something to that effect. And honestly, if I had been interested before that, I definitely wouldn't have been afterwards. PROFESSIONALISM/REHEARSAL ETIQUETTE FAIL. NEGATIVE POINTS.)

So anyway, I contrived to bring Comrades K and R along and possibly some other people as well and make it clearly a JUST BUDDIES OKAY kind of outing. We played the concert (and BLP and I definitely didn't discuss this having of drinks during the intervening time) and I was chatting with the clarinets going offstage and while packing up. When we made our way out of the hall, I found my bassoon comrades, but BLP was nowhere to be found. The clarinets asked if we wanted to get frozen yogurt (I really like saying "fro-yo" but it looks so silly in writing), but Comrade K wanted booze, so we went to a nearby bar instead. Crossing the street on the way there, we saw BLP walking ahead of us with a cellist (who, hilariously, has a very similar build to mine, but she's blonde. well, I was entertained, anyway). I guess he got the hint? Which I guess also makes me a bitch, but I'm actually pretty okay with that. My Comrades and I had a beer with the grad conductors, who are all precious. BLP and I have had zero interactions since. Oops.

2. Grad Conductor J is Czech, and he is conducting the Stravinsky Septet, which I am playing in, for this Contemporary Music Ensemble concert cycle. His English is not great, and he mumbles a little, and makes hilarious faces when he conducts, and for some reason thinks it's okay to wear a white bow tie and red cummerbund with his black tux when he is conducting a concert... But it's kind of awkwardly charming, mostly because of his accent (and because he's pretty sweet, and definitely well-intentioned). Anyway, I'd really only spoken with him very briefly in class, plus one awkward mumbled conversation on a crowded bus, so hearing him talk as much as he does in rehearsal is a novel thing. It fascinates me. He keeps saying the word slowlier -- as in, "we take it a little slowlier" -- which is an adorable word-formation. I don't remember my Origins & Nature of English Vocabulary as well as I would like, and I left all my old notebooks in Long Beach (how's that for cutting the cord, yo? except I didn't get rid of anything, it's all in a box in my parents' house...), so I don't know exactly what neologistic processes are going on, but it's clearly a conflation of "slowly" and "slower," yeah? Cute. Also, he says "bassoon" with a fun accent. It's a little like "bassyoon" -- not pronounced enough to be umlaut-u, maybe a little like French u? As well as "wiolin" and always "celli" (never "cello"). It's fun.

3. The Stravinsky Septet is a lot more fun (and a lot easier to read) with more than four parts accounted for. No joke, for the first rehearsal last week (at 9 a.m.), I was the first person to show up, at maybe 20 of? Grad Conductor D, the CME manager, arrived soon after, and we set up the chairs (as we were doing so, someone from the rehearsal crew, which I guess is a work-study deal? they do set-up and tear-down for all the "large ensembles" -- orchestra, wind ensemble, and CME -- poked his head in but we were all, "we got this" so he left), and then Grad Conductor J came as well, and I warmed up. The violinist and violist were also essentially on time, so Grad Conductor D covered the piano part, and we started reading (we'd only gotten the parts scores (the parts are on back-order, bah) the night before, okay? I only remembered to pick mine up that morning). The pianist arrived 45 minutes late. The clarinetist and cellist never showed up at all, and Grad Conductor D had forgotten to put a horn player on the roster. This morning's 9 a.m. rehearsal had everyone but the horn, which, eh, not cool, but it was still much easier to put things together and get shit done. Yesterday's 8:30 a.m. rehearsal of the Stravinsky Concertino for 12 players was also pretty pathetic -- four people (violin, clarinet, oboe, trumpet 1) never showed up, trumpet 2 arrived halfway through the rehearsal, trombone 1 even later, and we started about 10 or 15 minutes behind schedule because we were waiting for people to trickle in.

I understand that this is college and it's hard to get up for things that early, but we are musicians and this is rehearsal. This shit? Is how grownups get FIRED. Dammit.

4. So I'm working with Tall Composer on a project for Research Seminar (which is something that happens to All Masters Students Everywhere, I'm told), because his joined-at-the-hip roomie is working with his new bestie, the oboist from my quintet. And it turns out he's kind of a douche (so props to you for calling it, Jeff). Best of all, it's in a way that reminds me unpleasantly of DIAF. Now I'm extra glad I decided I don't actually want to date anyone.

5. I am crocheting! I am crocheting "convertible" gloves -- the fingers are full-length, but they have a slit about halfway up, so you can stick your fingers out and be dextrous while the top of the finger flops around behind, and then when you're done you can be warm again! But you guys, I have remembered why I switched over entirely to knitting: crocheting sucks. Completely aside from the fact that I had to RE-LEARN EVERYTHING (except for how to chain, I guess), it is very slow going, and I have to look at what I'm doing all the time because I can't find where I'm supposed to stick the hook through by feel, and while the left-hand glove feels warm when I try it on indoors (it's the finished one; I've only begun the cuff on the right-hand glove so far), it is rather bulky and I'm sure the wind will cut right through all the GAPING HOLES that crocheting creates. Ah, well. I'm enjoying it well enough, I guess. And I LOVE the yarn I'm using! It's Elsebeth Lavold BAMBOOL (so named because it is 80% bamboo viscose and 20% merino wool) in midnight blue, to match my corduroy blazer (that it's probably already too cold to wear YAY). AND AND AND it's only $6.99 per 50-gram ball at the AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME yarn store near my flat, Knit One. It's deliciously soft (one of the owners confided to me, while I was checking out, that she had passed it off as cashmere in a hat for a friend, because they had no cashmere yarn in the colour he wanted), and pretty, and warm (I hope). MY NEXT PROJECT: convertible mittens (this is where it's "fingerless" (properly half-fingers, here) gloves underneath and a big mitten flap over the top) in a grey tweed wool, to go with my peacoat. And my trench. And, you know, everything. (Freedom Spirit by Twilleys of Stamford, $5.95 per 50-gram ball, score! srsly some of the yarn there, like the silks or the actual cashmere, was upwards of $30)

6. So it turns out I might be good at what I do? I always feel awkward when people compliment me. Which happened after pretty much every rehearsal for Mozart 39, be it from the clarinets, the grad conductors, or Lipstick Lesbian Horn Player (I like her, she's from NorCal and is pretty cool, even though Comrade P and Metal Oboist say she's a bitch. I suspect this is almost entirely because she does not like the cock). And now it's happened after a couple wind ensemble rehearsals as well (OH GOD WIND ENSEMBLE HERE KILLS MY SOUL. AS ANNOYING AS IT WAS AT UCLA, AT LEAST DR. DIRECTOR OF BANDS STILL LOVES HIS JOB), and Wind Ensemble Directator tossed off an awkward, "I love your playing," in rehearsal once (SO AWKWARD). And, while I am reasonably happy with the quintet I was assigned to this semester, I have been propositioned for next semester by three other groups so far: a trio wanting to become a quartet, the quintet that Comrade P is leaving, and a quintet that is trying to form (this one probably has the least chance of being graced by my presence, because the clarinetist is douchey and the oboist, though excellent and hot like burning, was one of the people who didn't show up to the Stravinsky Concertino -- although to be completely honest I really don't like the way the oboist in Comrade P's quintet plays. at all). So, uh. I seem to be in demand. Which is actually a little uncomfortable. But I really shouldn't be complaining, because, hey, the more I get to play, right?

7. Uh....... was there a 7? idek. WHATEVER, YO, IT'S 0040 AND I WANTED TO WATCH SOME BSG TONIGHT :\

8. OH BTW I WATCHED WHIP IT AND I LOVE LOVE LOVE ELLEN PAGE AND ALSO I WANT TO PLAY ROLLER DERBY AND BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF OTHER GIRLS IN FISHNETS AND QUAD SKATES.

9. DEAR APPLE: Photobucket WTF DOES THIS MEAN??? D: YRS, SIGMA
UPDATE: Photobucket WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
sigmastolen: (mallow)
edit: so first I had this as a public entry and then i was like oh god people will freak out if they read this so i made it private but now i'm making it public again because i'm kind of on an openness kick and just, don't worry, okay? it was a really fleeting moment this morning afternoon and it freaked me the fuck out but now i'm cozy at home with the kitties and i finally think i can make headway on the paper so i'm gonna go finish that fucker all right? all right.


I feel really unhinged today. Like, anxious and moody and my stomach is weird. Last night and all this morning, I couldn't concentrate. I think I've finally figured out how I'm going to finish my paper (or at least tack another source onto it jfc), but I couldn't make myself sit down and type -- instead, I did the dishes. On my way to school today, I was waiting at a crosswalk. The cross-traffic was rushing by and, just for a moment, I imagined really vividly what it would be like to step out into the street: the way I'd be thrown through the air with the force of impact; the way my spine would be bent at an impossible angle. For that moment, I really thought about it. And then I was properly terrified and I practically ran across campus to the CFA once the walk signal turned green, and then I had to sit in convocation and listen to brass chamber music while I really just wanted to run around or sit and shake or call someone or hide. And my hands are still twitchy and I feel a little hysterical and in an hour I have to play Mozart and I've barely practiced at all this week because I keep going home early to "work on my paper" except then I don't work on my paper. And on Tuesday even though I felt like shit because of allergies and I could barely hear anything in the rehearsal hall and I could not find the place where I was in tune with the other woodwinds, all the graduate conductors were really impressed. And I just don't even know anymore. I feel a little crazy and it doesn't feel good.

But anyway Anthony Plog's "Four Sketches for Brass Quintet" is really awesome and I dig it.
sigmastolen: (Default)
Q: How is it that time passes so quickly during the day and most of the night, but when it hits around 4 a.m. suddenly the minutes draaaaaaaaaaaag by?

Q: How is it even possible that I still have not written that fucking paper? Fucking fuck fuck.
sigmastolen: (Default)
- Chemical Party Carbon is the hottest bear ever. (haha fucking hipster noble gases)

- An absolute gem from a site that has me screaming with laughter

- uh.... actually, that's all I got. BUT IT'S A GOOD ALL, AMIRITE?
sigmastolen: (Default)
I have less than four hours to write a handful of journal entries for Eurhythmics (not a problem except for remembering what we did in each class), and a 5-page analytical paper on whether animal noises are music for Music an Nature (problematic, especially considering that I haven't read the relevant articles because I'm a lazy shit).

I have only myself to blame, for doing absolutely nothing the last five days except for playing bassoon and epically fucking around (oh, just one more chapter of this novel-length Inception fanfic) (oh, just one more episode of Battlestar Galactica). I still can't figure out why I do this to myself, except that I am, at the heart of things, a lazy shit.

Well at least the coffee's on now. Here goes nothing.

----

update - 9:40 a.m.

fuck how did the eurhythmics journals take forever? less that 1.5 hours now to hammer out 4-5 pages about animal noises, citing at least 4 articles which I have not read, using Chicago style which I have never really learned, only pretended to know.

Q: WHY THE FUCK DO WE SPEND SO MANY YEARS LEARNING GODDAMN MLA IF EVERYONE AFTER HIGH SCHOOL WANTS US TO USE CHICAGO STYLE?

also, i appear to be allergic to my own goddamn apartment again. FUCK EVERYTHING
sigmastolen: (Default)
first: nature documentaries = BEST FOR REEDMAKING. I started watching The Blue Planet, and to discover I can simultaneously learn shit, be soothed by David Attenborough's dulcet tones, nerd out about how much I love the BBC's composers, and feel like I'm being a good little music major -- it's pretty damn great.

second: Tonight's feature presentation: Little Ashes, starring Javier Beltrán, Robert Pattinson (omg hahaha), Matthew McNulty, and Marina Gatell. According to IMDB, it's "About the young life and loves of artist Salvador Dalí, filmmaker Luis Buñuel and writer Federico García Lorca." Mostly it was about García Lorca being totally in love with Dalí, Dalí being crazy like a crazy jerkass fox, and Buñuel being, well, kind of a dick but ultimately not a terrible dude.

True confessions time: I put this in my queue because of RPattz's promotion of it in that GQ interview from a few years back, and because I like Dalí, and RPattz as Dalí was something not to be missed, obvs.

The jury is still out on whether I might actually have preferred to have missed it.

Okay so they're all at university in Madrid together. Federico is our protagonist, and thank god, because Javier Beltrán pretty much carried the entire film. Marina Gatell, as his fag hag lady friend & fellow writer and revolutionary, Magdalena, was also damn good. McNulty was decent but forgettable, and RPattz was of course unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. Luis calls Federico "bourgeois" and has a massive hard-on for Paris and is a big big homophobe. Salvador starts out as a dorky maladjust and then he gets a makeover and tries being a fashionable alcoholic revolutionary before apparently settling on moderately insane, moderately homosexual egotist. Federico doesn't quite fit in, at first, as tortured artist or as revolutionary student, but he hangs out with the cool kids anyway, has his Big Gay Revelation in the form of Salvador Dalí, suffers his Big Gay Heartbreak at the hands of Salvador Dalí, and then becomes a BAMF revolutionary poet/playwright Of The People! And then he stirs up a little too much trouble (which coincides, conveniently, with reunions with all the other main characters) and gets abducted by the government and shot. And his friends cry and drink to his memory, and Dalí covers himself in black paint, wears a cape, has a crazy mustache, and is a crazy motherfucker. Also, between the Castillian accents (hello, lisp!) and mumbly actors, this was one of the few things I've ever watched where I had to put on the subtitles just to understand the dialogue.

So.... what did I like?

- The costumes (oh god, 1920's period dress! The trilby hats, the waistcoats, the neckties, the trousers, the flapper dresses and fascinators... <3)
- The music (even though sometimes it was inappropriately prominent -- mostly when the movie was taking itself Very Seriously Indeed, you know, the high-drama scenes like Dalí and García Lorca's moonlit makeout sesh in the ocean) (and even though I wanted them to please step away from the Chopin Revolutionary Etude, because it is my favourite one and I would rather it not be tainted by memories of a meh film. I prefer to recall Raskolnikov when I hear it, thanks ever so.)
- Javier Beltrán

so today

Sep. 18th, 2010 09:16 pm
sigmastolen: (Default)
1) I saw a CHIPMUNK! At first I thought it was a rat, because, well, UCLA.... But then it was a CHIPMUNK and it was scurrying around getting ACORNS because my school has OAK TREES and it came REALLY CLOSE TO ME and it was ADORABLE! !!!!! :D :D !! :D !!!111!!!!ELEVEN
and then I texted like five people about it. YAAAAAAAYYYYYYY

2) I was putting my bassoon away and I noticed that it is hella tarnished. Well, I mean, it's been tarnished for a long time, and I wasn't shocked or anything, but in rehearsal this week (or maybe last week) I glanced to my right (as I was playing contrabassoon at the time) and noticed that nobody else's bassoon is as tarnished as mine. So I spent half an hour going at it with a gold-and-silver polishing cloth (mum put it in my christmas stocking once. she thought i'd use it for actual jewelery, haha) and now instead of intensely black tarnish, the tarnished parts are a kind of gleaming brown. but I asked my teacher about it anyway, and she.... didn't really have any answers. Because my instrument is only about 6 years old, which is not old enough to have tarnish like it has, and my bocal definitely shouldn't be this tarnished because Heckel uses some kind of fancy finish, right? the bocal is a little pitted, as well, which seemed to worry my teacher, and which has niggled at me for a few years, I must admit. and the weirdest part of all this? the parts that should be the first to tarnish -- where my fingers go, duh -- are spotless. FUCKIN WEIRD EH? must ask John.

3) As I was standing in the hall playing Bejeweled on my phone, a percussionist -- one of my fellow first-year MMs who I've had a few conversations with, we have a class together -- nodded hello and ducked into his practice room. And then a few minutes later, came back out and asked, "Why is it that sometimes, you look different?" Apparently there have been occasions when I just... look really different. Like today, he almost thought I was someone Not Me. Um, what? The only answer I could provide was that, today, I had my hair in a ponytail, but I usually have it down (especially since our classroom is pretty damn chilly). And my eye makeup changes from day to day, but I didn't mention that part. I think it might be my duty to wear contacts this week and see if he still recognizes me, though. ALSO FUCKIN WEIRD EH? surreal.

4) So one of the first things that happened in my lesson was my teacher profusely complimenting my contrabassoon playing. We played Mahler 6 on Wednesday and she came to the concert, and afterwards she had hugged me about my contrabassooning, so I was really awkwardly flattered that she brought it up again. She asked if a contrabassoon job was something I would consider. And... I guess I would. I really, really do enjoy playing contra, especially for things like Mahler 5 or Mahler 6 or Petrushka where the part is just SO MUCH FUN. And I like the power and playing Lower Than Thou and I even like the breathing-muscles workout, despite the inevitable consequences of a sore back, knotty shoulders, and clicky wrists. So then we talked about options for buying a contrabassoon: apparently the school sometimes gives loans for these things? But I'd still better start saving if I want to be the proud owner of a contrabassoon.
4a) And then I called my mum and she was like, "well obvs we'd help you, you don't have to save all the money yourself" and I really can't figure out why it makes me so uncomfortable for my parents to offer me contrabassoon-sized sums of money. I mean, they're my parents, it's their job to take care of me. And yet, I'm legally an adult and I should be able to be responsible for my own finances. And also, I'm a student and should therefore be living frugally? Especially as I am a student without a source of income, at the moment. And also, maybe, it's a holdover from when we lived in Davis and really didn't have much money to spend, because daddy was in med school and therefore draining money instead of earning money. But now daddy has a job, and my parents are clearly comfortable spending money... But I'm still feeling weird about it. anyway.
4b) SPEAKING OF CONTRABASSOON: Maybe this is just me, but it seems like trumpet players are super fascinated by contra. As at UCLA, I sit directly in front of them when I play it, and as at UCLA, they were all, "dude that's so cool." After our concert on Thursday (also Mahler 6: same piece, different venue), I turned around and said, "I kind of love you guys," because they have been consistently AMAZING playing all loud and high and they have a really fantastic section sound, and being awash in it is just so. good. and the principal replied, "we love you more" and I giggled. Is this an all-contrabassoonists-and-trumpet-players-everywhere kind of thing, or is it just me/the trumpets I play with, or what? I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE MORE INSIGHT ON THIS MATTER.

okay dinnertiem nao, i has a hungr
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
you guys. the CIA does an information session/recruitment thingie at my school.

what.
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
Last night I joined for Netflix (the 31-day free trial, but I'll likely pay them their $10 a month afterwards). I have been signed up for less than 24 hours and I have already spent several hours browsing DVDs, rated 184 movies, added over 200 DVDs to my cue, and watched one movie on Instant Watch. THIS IS GOING TO DESTROY MY LIFE YOU GUYS.

Anyway. That movie was G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra, and it was epically, hilariously bad. It was literally So Bad It's Good*. It is, in fact, the first example on the So Bad It's Good: Film* page. And if I'd known this, I would have watched it so much sooner -- except I probably wouldn't have appreciated it as much before this exact moment in my life. I mean, the hilariously improbable plot and relationships between the characters and stilted dialogue and slightly impossible action sequences, yes, but OMG THE CAST which includes: The Ninth Doctor as the Fake!Scottish Big Bad, Arthur as the Evil Disfigured Mad Scientist, Gaila as the Hero Chick, Darth Maul (or Toad if you prefer) as the Silent Masked Ninja Hero, Governor Swann as the POTUS, Sienna Miller as the Hot Mind-Controlled Villainess Who Happens To Be The Protagonist's Ex, A Wayans Brother as the Sidekick, A Victoria's Secret Angel as the Hot Secretary, and oh by the way Brendan Fraser in an uncredited cameo during the Training Montage*??? I just. What. How could I possibly resist this movie? We all know I often sort of love things that are bad. Like Torchwood. And Cheetos and Mountain Dew, together, during D&D. And John Barrowman's ACTING!!!

I guess to make amends for how hilariously bad this movie was, and for linking to TV Tropes and IMDB so much in the preceding paragraph, and because I feel obliged to counteract the potential of the G.I. Joe movie to be Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Dethroning Moment of Suck*, have a video! This may actually be JGL's Crowning Moment of Awesome*... performing "Make 'Em Laugh" while hosting SNL. Complete with pratfalls and wall kicks! AWESOME.

WARNING: LINKS MARKED WITH * GO TO TVTROPES.ORG, WHICH IS LIKELY TO SUCK YOUR LIFE AWAY. IT HAS ALREADY DESTROYED MINE.

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