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You Scored as HOUSE TULLY

You hail from House Tully. Your house seat is Riverrun in the Riverlands. As your motto says, you are all about your family and honor. You confide in friends and family first, and keep strangers at a distance. You cant always stand up for yourself, but you would never betray your friends to get ahead. A true good guy in this world. Your house motto: Family, Duty, and Honor.

Picture is Copyright © RMB





















I've taken this quiz twice now, once before reading the books, and both times it's called me a Tully. Lysa is cray and Edmure's a total failboat, but Cat and Brynden are pretty cool?
sigmastolen: (dalek-o-lantern)
I just called the police on a group of people setting off fireworks the block over.

sigmastolen: (bassoonists do it with their thumbs)
Dear whoever writes episode blurbs on

"Dance troupe" ≠ "ballet company."

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 :\


sigmastolen: (Default)
300? Yeah, I'm down with that. (Except for, you know, the uncomfortable sex and oracle scenes. And Gerard Butler's speech impediment.) I mean -- kickass fighting + epic historical setting + David Wenham + hordes of ripped, scantily-clad dudes. Duh. Granted, Zack Snyder is responsible for the movie and I have not yet read the graphic novel, but I've heard good things.

Sin City? Sure, okay. I mean, it's adapting his own graphic novel, which I liked well enough, and as much as it's not "my thing" as much as, say, superhero comic adaptations or Movies! In! SPAAAACE!, I totally dug a lot of things: how faithful it is to the look of the comic, the way the three stories aligned, via the bar and the farm, to take place in the same night (is it like that in the comic? I've only got the first one so far), the hordes of hot, kickass chicks (especially you, Rosario Dawson. You go, with your big guns and your BAMF sort-of-mohawk, and being the leader of all the awesome, deadly hookers), how utterly creepy Elijah Wood is, how we never in fact learn anything at all about Josh Hartnett's character. While I found the gratuitous violence torture porn distasteful, and I was really not all that into Bruce Willis and Jessica Alba's May-December romance, I did find myself really emotionally engaged with the movie.

But, oh god, The Spirit -- not so much. The comicification felt really stilted, instead of natural, the way it did in Sin City. And, sorry Will Eisner, but OH GOD THE NAMES WHY, WHY THE NAMES. "Silken Floss." "Sand Saref" (which I totally heard as "sans serif" for her first ten minutes in the film). Worst of all, "Plaster of Paris." GOD the Spirit sounds like such an IDIOT sensually murmuring "Plaster." I could almost go along with the hamminess -- it worked well for everyone except for the Dolans and Sand, and sometimes the Spirit started to take himself seriously and that jarred me out of it, too. Just.... oh god, it was so idiotic. Seriously, the bright spots for me were Samuel L. Jackson (because it's Samuel L Jackson, motherfucker), Scarlett Johanssen (because I will always love you, Scarlett. You complete me. The gorgeous hilarity of this role might even make me forget He's Just Not That Into You and Match Point (nope, sorry, Woody Allen, didn't like it. I think I'm just really not into infidelity. Because that was also what pissed me off about HJNTIY and Glee, although, oddly enough, I do love The Scarlet Letter)), the clones' shirts, and, most of all, that adorable tabby cat that follows the Spirit around. God, this movie was so... bizarre and nothing. It was totally a non-event. Except for Scarlett (and her phenomenal tits). Scarlett was definitely an event.

(I'd kind of like to know what real-life city Sin City's "Basin City" is a stand-in for. Because The Spirit's "Center City" is obviously Chicago, as Gotham City is obviously New York.)

To conclude: The Spirit = So mediocre it was bad.


Jun. 9th, 2010 07:50 pm
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My least favourite Ethno TA of FAIL just returned 34 books. 15 minutes before closing. Only three of them belong here in the music library.

p.s. this TA of FAIL missed our final today. The other TA of FAIL and the professor of FAIL wandered in 10 minutes late. WTF ETHNOMUSICOLOGY WTF


May. 20th, 2010 06:41 pm
sigmastolen: (mallow)
I hate it when people ask me to make exceptions to the rules for them.

I hate it.

Whiny Pianist just spent five minutes babbling at me about all the reasons he was unable to make the program copy deadline for the contemporary chamber music class, presumably because I am nominally in charge of the program team and if he explains to me all the reasons why his notes are six days late (*ahem* irresponsibility, i suspect) I will put his notes in and therefore his grade will suffer no consequences?


In other news, I had a really good pep talk from Heuser and am now primed to suck it up and do the work for the credential project because I honestly am this close. But then I spent two hours playing with the new computer and all the toys it comes with instead of working. I wrote two sentences! Surely that is enough. Also, I definitely don't have enough to say to fill 5-8 single-spaced pages, times four.

Plus, I forgot that I was supposed to be working tonight until it was fifteen minutes into my shift. Whoops. At least I was just downstairs in a practise room instead of in my faraway, traffic-obstructed apartment.

And apparently in the Music of Asia class I don't particularly care about and today elected not to go to, we had a special guest to talk about Japan. Which I have considerably more interest in than the music of China, which is unforgivably shrill (no srsly it has no native bass instruments, and I had miserable headaches after both of last week's lectures on it). Whoops again.

Please, I'd just like to make it through the next few weeks....


Aug. 13th, 2009 11:21 pm
sigmastolen: (mallow)
I'm pretty sure that, two days ago, I had 2/3 of a large bag of grapes in the fridge. I know this because when I got back to my apartment and tried to figure out what food I had to eat, I put a sandwich baggie of grapes in the freezer, because frozen grapes are the perfect summer snack.

The rest of my grapes? Nowhere to be found.

Maybe I left them out accidentally, or maybe they were growing stuff in the fridge, or something, and Flatmate thoughtfully got rid of them for me, idk. But, I mean... my grapes. I wasn't done with them yet. I had plans for those grapes -- frozen, delicious plans.

Things which are not okay:
- sodden paper towels still in the sink from when Flatmate broke a bottle of wine (neither of ours, apparently) on Tuesday morning
- dirty knives on the counters
- stuff congealing on the cutting board and the countertop
- old food in the dishwasher (having fallen off of unrinsed dishes) making it smell inside
- canned food still sitting out from yesterday's grocery run
- fully 3/4 of the fridge being devoted to the uncontrollable sprawl of Flatmate's food
- garbage disposal. 'Nuff said.
- me potentially having to have the "no trash in the sink" talk for the -- third? fourth? -- time

I am not my housemate's keeper. I cannot clean up after her. I will not clean up after her. I'm going to keep my things as fastidiously tidy and clean as I can, and I am not going to tidy the messes she makes.

At the same time, I can't let my kitchen be a pit of filth. And also -- My kitchen will make sense if it kills me, dammit.

Am I self-righteousing myself into an impasse?

I think this is me, and I think it may be showing. :\ Lawful Neutral picspam. )


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