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)
however: the last six days are the longest stretch i have gone without feeling intensely awful and crying suddenly about nothing/everything for at least two months, so there's that.

to absolutely do tomorrow: begin aldeburgh application; spend some serious quality time with contrabassoon
to maybe do tomorrow: comic shop?

idk it's still been a little rough, a little like i'm experiencing the world from a great distance, but for a few days, at least, i was feeling like i'd maybe taken a step into the light. i was feeling... galvanized? like i had Things To Do and, finally, the ability to actually do them without being overwhelmed or falling apart or being too afraid to begin. yesterday and today, i'm still trying to do the things but my burst of energy seems to have dissipated; i'm not sure how to go on from here.

also all the gratuitous boozing on bsg is making me really want a drink. or to maybe buy a secret bottle of whiskey or some such just to have on hand and also to have something to put in the flask. no no that is the worst idea ever i won't actually but man i really could use a drink.
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: (Default)
Okay, so I'm reading John Green's Looking for Alaska -- YA book, brilliant outcasts at a boarding school in Alabama, recommended by my brother -- and in the scene I just read, the narrator and his friends play a drinking game: Best Day/Worst Day, in which:
Everybody tells the story of their best day. The best storyteller doesn't have to drink. Then everybody tells the story of their worst day, and the best storyteller doesn't have to drink. Then we keep going, second best day, second worst day, until one of y'all quits.

Because it's nearly three and I get more introspective in the dead of night and I get most introspective when I spend all my time by myself all day every day (except for my parents and my cats, basically), I tried to think of my best and worst day. And plenty of terrible days leap to mind (the day my nana died, the day she fell and broke her hip coming to my band concert, breakups, failed exams, horrific awkwardness, goodbyes), but I have a really difficult time trying to think of "best days." I know I'm not sad all the time; I know I have friends and family who love me and do fun things with me and I know I have accomplished a lot of things to be proud of. But what does it say about me, that "best days" don't spring to mind with the same readiness as "worst days"? What does it say, that my memory glosses over good times into a haze of "yeah, that was all right;" that I have to unpack "best days" from boxes and dust them off before I know them for what they are, but "worst days" are poised for immediate recollection and polished to a high sheen?

And why is it that the absolute happiest memories are but fleeting moments of shining perfection (a kiss at sunset; the applause during a curtain call; a gripping performance; reaching an overlook and seeing the world spread out before me), but the worst memories and drag out and cast their pall over days, weeks, or even months? Even the "best days" that gradually drift to the surface are tempered with moderate-to-large amounts of melancholy, sorrow, or frustration.

But I guess the point of this post is that I have such difficulty thinking of my "best day," and I find that unspeakably sad.
sigmastolen: (octopus)
so potter 7.2 was pretty great. i was basically only annoyed by the things that annoyed me in the books -- no new annoyances, yay! and there were a lot of things that turned up in the film that i really appreciated. and i shed many tears (as usual). so. good film, all told. i guess i'll sleep on it and see if i have more to say tomorrow?

it really feels like the end of an era.
sigmastolen: (bassoonists do it with their thumbs)
30 Days of Classical Music
Day 06 - A classical music piece that reminds you of somewhere

Last Tango in Bayreuth | Peter Schickele (yes, he did publish this one under his own name!)
(video above: Tennessee Bassoon Quartet: Keith McClelland, James Lotz, James Lasses, Michael Benjamin, bassoons)

This one was a stumper, actually.  I don't strongly associate classical music to places, apparently?  Or at least, not that I was able to think of.  After much pondering, I decided to settle on a piece that reminds me of Idyllwild, CA, and the summer music festival.  My experiences at Idyllwild are completely tied up in the friends I met there -- we were called (or perhaps called ourselves?) the Bassoon Mafia, and our pastimes included reedmaking, crossword puzzles, Scrabble, Hearts, hiking, stargazing, being inappropriate in the library, and playing quartets (and other bassoon ensemble pieces).  This was one of the first pieces I heard "the guys" perform, and a couple years later I played it with the three other bassoonists I have stayed closest to.  Even after we stopped attending the festival, the four of us went up to Idyllwild just to be together in that place again.  I played a lot of music there, and I've played a lot of music elsewhere, but whenever I hear this quartet, I think fondly of Idyllwild and my beloved friends.

Wow, that was sappy.
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: (bassoonists do it with their thumbs)
In which I critical media studies it up and end up panning Puccini. Oops. )

But yeah. Sumptuous set and stunning costumes, though with a preponderance of Generic!Asian details and the colour red (BECAUSE THE ONLY WAY WE'LL KNOW IT'S IN CHINA IS IF EVERYTHING IS RED); very well performed by orchestra, singers, and dancers alike (EXCEPT YOU, CHORUS. YOU WERE NOT SO HOT.); and enormous problems re: racism, sexism, consent. THANKS BUT NO THANKS, PUCCINI.

And now I have to be done because, damn, it's late, and my cat has dandruff.
sigmastolen: (WDCH)
There are a lot of ideas that have been germinating in my head for a few weeks, and so I'd just like to get them down, I guess.

Maybe it started with a conversation I had with Steinmetz when I visited UCLA? It may have started before that, in various conversations I had with various people about CMU and how different it is from UCLA and how much I miss Los Angeles's peculiar focus on new music.

Cut for EPIC RAMBLING! )

So yeah. Contemporary classical music, relevance of. Guerilla chamber music. Jazz bassoon. Summer chamber music concerts. Thoughts? Because I honestly have no idea how feasible all this is, or if I would be fruitlessly fighting the tide of classical music's (already steep) descent into elitist obscurity.
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: (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)
Music that is love:
- Sting singing John Dowland (the album is called Songs from the Labyrinth. Check it out, there's a YouTube playlist.)
- The Kronos Quartet playing John Adams: John's Book of Alleged Dances. (1) I love Kronos. (2) I love John Adams. I want John Adams to write something this wicked (and omg wicked hard, it sounds like) for woodwinds. I could maybe expand my "Woodwind Quintets That People Might Actually Want To Listen To" list to use two hands!

p.s. Have more YouTube: Kronos Quartet on Sesame Street OMG HILARIOUS UNISON SPEAKING! HILARIOUS 80s HAIR AND CLOTHES! PURPLE HAZE! ILU SESAME STREET! (duuuude this was the year I was born how cosmic is that?)

.... okay, have some more Sesame Street on YouTube:
- Geometry of Circles (and also the ending bit with higher-quality video), with music composed by Philip Glass* specifically for this segment.
- Law & Order: Special Letter Unit OH GOD THIS IS GOLDEN. ALSO: RICHARD BELZER AS DET. JOHN MUNCH, IN EVERYTHING EVARRRRR
- Big Bad Perpetrator Wolf FEATURING STEREOTYPICAL IRISH-AMERICAN COPS! YAAAAAAAAY
- RSI: Rhyme Scene Investigation Not that I even watch CSI but, oh, Sesame Street <3 <3 I kept expecting to hear The Who during the "opening credits" bit. Also, how was I not aware that Sesame Street had carved out a niche for itself in the parody business until recently? The list goes on: Desperate Houseplants, A's Anatomy, 30 Rocks, Outrageous Makeover Home Addition, Dirtiest Jobs, Mad Men, True Mud.... Oh, so much love. A large part of me wants to go all CRITICAL MEDIA LITERACY!!!! on it.
ALSO ALSO ALSO Neil Patrick Harris is the Shoe Fairy! SESAME STREET + NPH + SHOES = EPIC EPIC WIN. Oh, NPH! Oh, Sesame Street! ILU FOREVER. (Oh, shoes...... *swoon*)

.... Dudes, I forgot what this post was originally going to be about. Happy YouTubing!

*There was a composer named Glass
Philip Glass Philip Glass Philip Glass
Philip Glass Philip Glass
Philip Glass Philip Glass
Philip Glass Philip Glass Philip Glass

edit;; While I'm showing you the internets, I just read this:
What Batman taught me about being a good dad
You guys, I'm crying. I could blame it on the martini I just finished, but I'm pretty sure it's because I'm an enormous girl. I... don't want to have children. Or at least, I don't want to raise children. Or at least, at this point in my life, I'm pretty sure I won't -- I can't even imagine having a spouse, having a sprog, having a house... It doesn't compute, for me. But I hope this guy's kid grows up to be a superhero. I really do.
sigmastolen: (Default)
Tuesday was another concert (it seriously feels like concert after concert here, and I'm not even in them all) -- Beethoven 7, in which I played second bassoon and I swear to god, I've never felt so insecure about my intonation in my life. Not even when Maestro has called me out, not even on uncontrollable contrabassoons. I don't even know. But they're so exposed, the wind parts in that symphony, and playing second bassoon is a big responsibility in terms of intonation. (And I wish more bassoonists I've played with would understand this. Playing second isn't a consequence of "not being good enough to play first" and it doesn't mean you don't matter, jesus. You are the bass voice. You control the pitch.) But anyway, my sources in the audience tell me that the woodwind intonation was excellent (certainly better than the brass or the strings), so I guess I count that one as a win despite my anxiety. (but seriously there were a few chords where I just didn't even play because I had no idea where the pitch center was or where I was supposed to be. it was so upsetting.)

Anyway. Afterwards, the bull-like percussionist I mentioned the other day came up to me while I was packing up, and asked me if I was doing anything after the concert. "I don't know," I answered honestly, and at point I needed to dump my reed water, so I excused myself for a minute. He didn't really continue the conversation when I came back, and I was frazzled enough from the performance and the pressing need to go find my teacher and see what she thought of it, that I wasn't totally aware of anything except for making sure I had all my stuff (and you know me, I always have an epic amount of stuff). Anyway, after I had managed to put my coat back on, he kind of mumbled a farewell at me, and I must have looked back at him wild-eyed, because he said something about how I had a lot going on or something. I didn't realize until later that, oh, oops, he was trying to ask me out, and I was so flustered and distracted that he just kind of gave up.

I mentioned it later to Comrade P and the principal oboist and flautist, because we ended up going for a drink (there's a bar near my apartment with AMAZING winter drinks -- apple cider with rum, which was what I had, and some pretty excellent-sounding coffee drinks and chocolate and/or caramel flavoured things. Must remember to return), and while the girls were advising me to just accept dates if I'm undecided because, hey, free meal (I love musicians. So pragmatic about food), I realised that, completely aside from not being remotely into him, I kind of don't want a relationship. I'm quite accustomed to being totally starved for touch by now, and while it's now awesome, I'm not that desperate -- I can handle it for a while longer. Honestly, I don't want to try to make space in my life for someone else right now; I have enough going on with my bassoon and my cats and just trying to make friends, and not lose the ones that are scattered around the country. (but a hookup or two wouldn't be the worst thing ever, i mean, a girl has needs, amirite?)

So yeah. Whatever. I do feel like I should apologize to the poor dude for being such a spaz, but in one of those weird twists of kismet or something, I haven't run into him even once since Tuesday. *shrug*

(Subjects this entry has had: "Hmm," "Single McSingleton," "Perennially Single")
(Also: I am once again contemplating my singleness while baking cookies. WTF is this? I blame texting with Will, he always makes me get all romantically introspective. It's a knee-jerk reaction from high school when we were both pretentious and I wanted to impress him with how deep I am. Talking is much easier now that we both understand that he takes things at face value and means exactly what he says, and that I almost never say what I mean. Hah.)

(In other news, I think I have discovered How Not To Eat All The Cookie Dough Before It Becomes Cookies (or How Not To Eat All The Cookies You Just Baked): improvise a disturbingly sweet but still boozy cocktail from whatever is on hand (in my case, gin, dry vermouth, and creme de menthe syrup (not proper creme de menthe mind you -- just sweet minty syrup), stirred) and drink it while you're baking. It effectively removes any desire to consume anything else that is sweet. (OH MY GOD THE NESTED PARENTHESES, LET ME SHOW YOU THEM. HAVE I CLOSED THEM ALL PROPERLY? I HOPE SO, JFC.))

(In other other news, today the rice cooker arrived in the mail (yeah, mum mailed me the one I had at the apartment last year. Mum mails me a lot of things lately. I'm so glad she loves me.), so tonight was TOFU CURRY OVER RICE EXTRAVAGANZA!!!!!! Because I tried tofu curry over pasta before i found the rice at the grocery store, and it was DISGUSTING LIKE A DISGUSTING THING. I made the curry sauce myself. It was weirdly bland, though... I am not sure what it needs. The recipe is here, and I added some ground ginger because ginger is the shit, okay? Anyway, I'd appreciate thoughts on this recipe. MOAR FLAVR: WANT. HOW I CAN HAS??)

(@ 3:43 -- Cookies: finished. My sleep schedule: officially fuxx0red! :D !!!)
sigmastolen: (Default)
I'm thinking that it's not Pittsburgh('s plants) that I'm allergic to, but my apartment. Because it always seems to be worst on days that I don't really leave the house... like today. I stayed up too late, woke up sneezing, fed the cats, took some meds, ate some peanut butter, took a nap, sneezed some more, took another nap, and finally got up, had tea, made pancakes for tomorrow morning, and have just taken a shower.

What was I supposed to do today? Laundry, cleaning my apartment, and shopping. Not necessarily in that order. But the shopping definitely needs to happen this weekend, because I need closed-toe flats and some warmer/longer coats, and cat food. (God, I really hope the Petco closeish to me has Science Diet, because the Petsmart that for sure dies is hella far away.) The laundry also definitely needs to happen.

I plan to attempt the vacuuming and mopping (well, not proper mopping, but Swiffer Wet Jetting) tonight after I come home from the Symphony (Don Juan, Bartok's 3rd Piano Concerto, and Mozart 39, which I'm playing in a few weeks). (I hope there are student rush tix available.... There were last week, and Beethoven 5 + the first concert of the season (after the opening gala) was probably a bigger draw than any of these things, although Yefim Bronfman is in fact sort of a big deal.)

But yeah. I hate being this sneezy. It makes me tired and my eyes puffy.
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

Profile

sigmastolen: (Default)
sigmastolen

April 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526 272829
30      

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 23rd, 2017 02:33 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios