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: (bassoonists do it with their thumbs)
Dear oboist who I don't like that much who wants to stay at my apartment when you are in town for auditions,

When I grudgingly tell you you can stay at my place and ask you, two weeks prior to your dates of travel, to send me your itinerary (including when you plan to drive your ass to a city in another state to take an audition there, while still using my apartment as your "home base"), you should probably DO THAT. You know, instead of not responding to my message in any way, whether it be to tell me your goddamn itinerary, or to tell me that I'm off the hook and you're booking a fucking hotel. You're supposed to be arriving in two days, am I supposed to house you or not? Are you even still coming??? UGHHHHHHHHHH.

Decidedly ungraciously,
Sigma
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
Let me start by saying I don't often remember my dreams. Everyone dreams. Just, most people only remember dreams if they are awakened while dreaming, which I guess I haven't been very often, lately, because I used to have better dream recall. And, of course, somewhat unfairly, the most notable dream I've remembered of late involved being cockblocked. Twice.

That said, I've dimly remembered two dreams lately -- one the other day, and the other this afternoon (at the end of a 5-hour nap. Don't judge me, I was sleepy and angry and it wasn't productive for me to sit in a practice room and have temper tantrums every few minutes, so I went back to bed) -- that involved chicken cordon bleu.

I don't even know, you guys. I'm pretty sure I've only even had it once, maybe? But I just read something about it on the internet when I wasn't even trying to find stuff about chicken cordon bleu, and it freaked me out a little.
sigmastolen: (Default)
Things Netflix Thinks, Bizarrely, I Will Like Because I Like Battlestar Galactica
- Iphigenia, about -- guess what? -- Euripides' tale of Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter, Iphigenia.
- Breaking Bad, a TV series about a chemistry teacher-cum-meth cooker.
- My Neighbor Totoro, about fantastic critters and country life.
- Howl's Moving Castle, which. Um. I'm not sure I understand what this is supposed to be about.
- John Adams, about the founding father John Adams.
- Band of Brothers, about Easy Company. This one kind of makes sense. I guess John Adams might, too.
- The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, based on a book series that my mum reads about a sassy lady detective in Botswana.

Other Bizarre Netflix Ideas:
- The Blind Side because of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
- Good Hair because of Milk
- United States of Tara because of Milk
- Twelfth Night because of The Princess Bride, Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, and Doctor Who?

Oh, Netflix. What.

Also, strangely specific genres:
- Suspenseful Space-travel TV Shows
- Gritty Suspenseful TV Dramas
- Mind-bending Supernatural Fantasy
- Critically-acclaimed Visually-striking Cerebral Movies

Good job, Netflix.
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)
SO REMEMBER HOW IT WAS 75° OUT THE OTHER DAY?

TODAY THE HIGH -- THE HIGH -- WAS 48°.

YEAH.
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)
Because apparently right now I can write prodigiously on any topic... except that of the measly four-page midterm paper that is now a week late. For serious, guys, I couldn't even get that shit done sitting in the quiet study section of the library.

1. The accent. I can't get a handle on it, you guys, and you know how I am about accents. The thing is, the people I hear on the street either sound like The South, or they sound like they could be from Anytown, USA. It's freaky. And the people I see day-to-day are from, like, all over the world, so that doesn't help me get a handle on the Pittsburgh accent. I'm actually pretty disappointed by this, it's supposed to be quite distinctive. (The girl in the unit next door is from West Virginia, but when mum and I met her I would have placed her as Texan. Then again, Comrade P actually is from Texas, and he doesn't sound it at all. So I dunno, maybe it's just me. But still!)

2. The Booze Store. Pennsylvania has ridiculously strict liquor laws, apparently because it was settled by a bunch of Jesus freaks and, you know, Amish and Quakers and shit. Which means that booze cannot be found in the grocery store (well i guess there's some thing about each franchise being able to get liquor licenses for three stores in the entire state but whatevs). There's a Wine & Spirits store (which sells only wine and spirits -- liqueurs and hard liquor -- and no beer) a couple blocks from my apartment, so that's dandy. So far the only places I am personally certain sell beer are the zillion tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza places -- this seems to be the easiest way to get a six-pack, it seems. Supposedly there is a store in the borough north of mine that has a Beer Store where 24-packs can be had for a ridiculous price, but I haven't seen it with my own eyes yet. BUT ANYWAY the Wine & Spirits store. I'm fond of it. The selection is good, even if wines are at least a dollar more here than they would be in California (and I don't know if this is PA's fault, or the shipping distance, because Barefoot Wine should be $4.99 but it is $5.99 here and apparently this is a place where people utter the phrase "three-buck Chuck" (oh Charles Shaw what have you done to yourself :c)); it's organized and the aisles are clearly labeled and there's all sorts of fancy shit that I'd probably have to go to an actual liquor store to find in California, like white creme de menthe and shit. But the employees seem angry or unhappy or something; they're always really brusque. And I don't know why. I don't think it's me.... I'm polite, I'm clean, I'm neatly dressed, I'm of legal drinking age (and I don't look suspiciously young or anything), I say "hello" and "thank you" and "have a good $TIMEOFDAY." So... I don't get it. Maybe they are annoyed that I usually have to fish in my bookbag to find my wallet to show them my ID.

OK GOING TO DO SRS WORK NOW I SWEARZ

edit;; OK MAYBE NOT DOING SRS WORK AT ALL OOPS
a further note on booze: Grasshoppers, which are delicious and minty and green. Equal parts cream, creme de menthe (green hell yes), and creme de cacao (wiki says white but I just used brown and the drink still ends up quite green so I have decided it makes no damn difference). Shake with ice & serve in a chilled cocktail glass. Reminiscent of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream: sweet and full of calories. TASTY!
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: (omgcrab)
This story actually starts yesterday. Saturday I went to see the Pittsburgh Symphony play Beethoven 5 and some other stuff, and I was really keyed up still when I got home (OMG MOTIF! OMG SCHERZO!! OMG MY TEACHER IS SO FABUOUS!!!), so I stayed up late late. (btw, Saturday was v. busy, between practicing, having a lesson, getting an iPhone, and going to the Symphony. I pretty much spent the entire afternoon on buses, or waiting for buses. Which apparently tend not to run on time on Saturdays.) So then on Sunday I woke up about 8:30 or 9, later than I intended, and allergies were terrible so I fed the cats, had some tea and a couple spoonfuls of peanut butter (shut up, peanut butter rocks), and then napped from about 10:00 until 2:30. At that point, either the allergy meds had kicked in or the allergens had subsided, so I got up, had a shower, and made food (tea and grilled cheese and fried eggs. I ran out of Cheerios on Saturday, okay? I'm having to be creative about breakfast). I had wanted to go to DSW to find myself some closed-toed flats (because I don't have any right now and open-toed shoes are really not gonna cut it, very soon), but then the Port Authority website said there would be bus outages along the route I needed to take, so I decided that Fate was against me getting shoes, so instead I practiced for a few hours, then cooked some more (curry with tofu & egg over pasta because I can't find the goddamn rice in the grocery store, and cheesy bread allegedly for today's breakfast). And then I fucked around on the internet because, what do you know, it was midnight and I wasn't sleepy. And I wasn't sleepy. And I wasn't sleepy.

Around 2 I was like, I better go be in bed, because if I stay out here in the dining room I'll never sleep. And then I was lying in bed in the dark, still awake. And still awake. And still awake. Until 5 am.

At 5 I was finally, finally, kinda tired, so I thought, "one hour of sleep is better than no sleep; I'll nap until my alarm goes off at six! Because my 9 am rep class is doing Mendelssohn 3 and Brahms 4 today!"

And then at 9:12 I woke up to Baxter clawing my arm and crying for breakfast.

So I dashed off a quick text to Bassoonist P, my stand partner, took a fast shower, discovered it was raining, dug up my rainboots and a jacket and scarf, repacked my bag (because it got very unpacked this weekend while I was running errands), and dashed out to the bus. I arrived at class around 10:12 and followed along with Brahms 4 for about 5 minutes until they packed up, and then the professor teased me a little about needing a new alarm clock. And then he teased me some more about being late when I ran into him in the cafe (OMG BTW MY SCHOOL HAS A CAFE IN THE FINE ARTS BUILDING. THIS IS HOW IT'S DONE, PEOPLE. Because musicians and artists are probably the most caffeinated people on any given college campus ever).

So I practised for perhaps an hour because hey, we have lessons again today! And then I was hurriedly packing up to go to my noon class when Bassoonist P asked if I was leaving, and so I surrendered my practice room to him. Dashing out the building, I passed a couple other people who are also in my noon class, none of them in the same hurry I was. And yet I thought nothing of it. Until I walked halfway across campus to the building the class is in, and the lecture hall was dark and empty. And finally I was like, "crap. Did I miss a memo or something?" So then I checked my e-mail, and indeed, the professor had cancelled class. At 9:00 last night. And as much as it was definitely a case of me being as big a fuck-up as ever lived, it would have been nice of someone to say, "hey, you know class is cancelled, right?" while I was boogieing out of the CFA (college of fine arts)

So then I trudged back to the CFA and got chips and a bagel in the cafe and we're finally up to now.

Also, you guys:
My Hair: ASASLKDJHFSAHD;K RAIN SWEAT WIND HUMID PRACTICE ROOM A;SDKLFJLK
Me: oh god why. what am i supposed to do with this?
Photobucket

The picture really doesn't do it justice. It is impressively crazy.
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
Yesterday, it was hot and sunny and dry. No, for real, my hair was all flat any everything! I didn't have to be on campus at all, so I took the opportunity to do some errands:

- to the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh (main branch, so the one near school, not the one near my house). I got a library card, as well as parts for the Nielsen wind quintet for my new woodwind quintet. We're going to have our first rehearsal on Friday; on Monday, we had a meeting to, well, meet each other, and talk about what music to get (the verdict: Ibert, Beethoven, D'Rivera (Aires Tropicales), Nielsen, Francaix. NO DANZI, NO REICHA, NO LIGETI. I am only sad about one of those things). GOSSIP TIEM! We're all first-year M.M. students... except the horn player. We had a second-year M.M. horn player, but she had too many other chamber groups and dropped us. (GOSSIP, SECOND LAYER: all the other double reeds call her The Bitch.) So our new horn player is.... a freshman. The clarinet player is really dissatisfied with this. ADDITIONALLY: everyone seems REALLY WHOLESOME except for me and it is AWKWARD. They also don't seem very adventurous. I mean, my quintet wish list has things like Harbison and Carter and Zappa on it, and they're all, Ibert! Beethoven! These sound excellent! Oh, UCLA, how I miss your new music scene. Or at least, I miss how all my friends were into new music. ON THE OTHER HAND I might already be the darling of the composition students, so that's cool.

- to the AT&T store for a new phone (my current phone is slowly reaching the inevitable doom of all flip phones: the hinge is breaking). This was actually kind of a bust. FIRST it's in the Strip District (no, I haven't figured out why it's called that yet), which is like an hour-long bus ride. Then, when I got there, my AT&T Representative, Ron, said I needed to be an authorized user on the family's account in order to upgrade my phone without my mum coming in and providing identification. This was an easy enough fix -- I called my mum and gave her the customer service number and she took care of that in about 10 minutes while Ron took care of someone else on the phone and I browsed the phones on display. BUT THEN when he checked to see if I would be able to get the discounted upgrade price, it blocked him because our payment was past due. So I called mum AGAIN and as it turned out she'd written all the checks on Friday before she went to the Bay Area for the weekend (apparently my uncle in Saratoga had a brain tumor? Don't worry, they cut it out and he's fine and actually friendly for perhaps the first time ever) but then my DAD neglected to put them in the mail on Saturday without her to remind him. So the check actually got mailed on Monday and wasn't processed by Tuesday when I was actually physically standing in the store. The price difference could have been a few hundred dollars, so Ron gave me his card and I'm planning to go back on Saturday to get a new phone for real. Which is okay, because it gives me time to try to make a BIG BIG DECISION: Do I go with my usual MO these past several years and get a phone that only does what I have so far needed it to do (calls, text messages, photos, the occasional photo message)? Or do I swing to the opposite end of the spectrum and shell out for a high-functioning smart phone (an iPhone refurb or something)? TBH I'm leaning toward the iPhone, depending on how much it will cost and what monthly fees they will charge... but any input/advice is welcome.

- to the grocery store for EPIC GROCERY SHOPPING (no, seriously, I had three bags full. That's a big deal when you walk to the store)

SO ANYWAY, that was yesterday. Hot, dry, sunny, errands. TODAY started out bright and hot and muggy. By mid-afternoon it was getting a little cloudy. And then I started to practice and the clouds rolled in, it got breezy, and suddenly there was THUNDER AND LIGHTNING. So I called mum to tell her about it, because I had mentioned how hot and dry it was yesterday. And right after I hung up the phone, there was suddenly a TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR. Like, literally sheets of rain. So much rain that I couldn't see across the courtyard because of all the rain in the way. But by the time I finished practising, perhaps 40 minutes later, and went to catch a bus home, it had stopped, and as I was walking from the bus to my apartment, the sky had cleared enough for the sun to be in my eyes. My poor reeds, they just don't understand! And neither does my hair. (I'm so fluffy right now.)

BUT YEAH. WEATHERRRR!!!!!!1!!!!11!!eleven

TONIGHT: baking cookies and watching Hard Candy. Netflix: it is my new favourite thing.

ETA;; wtf lj changed the buttons on that little bar at the top of the entry. WHAT IS THIS, LIVEJOURNAL. I THOUGHT WE TALKED ABOUT HOW I HATE CHANGE.

ETA.2;; also today: my Music & Nature prof made me read an assignment out loud today (an abstract for an article we read on music as an element of sexual selection, which is pretty interesting stuff, btw) as an example of good academic writing. And then later a girl from class told me -- so sincerely! -- about how excellent it was. I might have died of embarrassment... except I'm too arrogant and self-satisfied for that. *buffs nails on shirt* Yep, still got it. HAY GUISE MAYBE I'M NOT BURNT OUT AFTER ALL

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

meme

Jul. 4th, 2010 01:17 am
sigmastolen: (Default)
because I fail at doing anything right now, including making a real LJ post, responding to intelligent comments, and reading for my classes.

Go to urbandictionary.com
Look up your name
Post the first definition it gives you


but oh god here's ALLLLL of them because LOLWTF (also, as a blanket application for the rest of this post: [sic])

1. Sumner
That guy at school that everyone wants to get with guys girls even teachers he is just so sexy and fucking boss you cant ever fucking touch that kid
Sumner is such a fucking man love i just want to coress

2. Sumner
Sumner's are grangorgeous girls who frolic with gnomes in magical rain-forests in the mountains of Saskatchewan and devour the souls of oompa loompas. She has the ability to turn anything she touches into instant pixie dust; which when snorted makes you shrink 1.337 inches exactly. Sumner's also carry a scent of Uberpixel, which is concocted from Smurf toes, Muppet fuzz, and leftover Lamb Chop hand puppets which when combined smell like Jesus with a hint of chocolate.
"I was on 'The Price Is Right' last week but Drew Carey threw me off stage when I accidentally quoted a Sumner for $50,000,000.. when the correct amount was priceless."

3. Sumner
A small, but groing, suburban town in southern/mid-southern Washinton State...USA
I was in Sumner last weekend... It kinda sucked!

4. sumner
Gordon Sumner is the legendary frontman of the band the police
Yo dude, Gordon Sumner and the Police rock!

(oh god, the best part about the last one is that the tags were don't, stand, so, close, to, me)

uh.

Jun. 30th, 2010 09:19 am
sigmastolen: (Default)
so i think i just had a sex dream with Thirteen and Chase. Uh.

(guh.)


eta;; so.... probably Chase. Maybe Wilson? The thing is, it was definitely Thirteen, though she not as involved in the actual sex, but she was definitely there and touching me and watching. And I don't remember who the man was. Possibly a faceless man with a niiiiiice package. So. What does that mean?? Specifically about my sexuality, really. (Less relevantly, the principals from House and I were taking some kind of trip through a desert in an outsize silver-twinkie RV.)

lol wut

May. 29th, 2010 09:49 am
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
watching Star Trek "Operation: Annihilate!" and, OMG UCLA! ext. of Kirk's brother's lab is Schoenberg ahahaha
and, omg really? Kirk's brother Sam is Shatner with pretend facial hair hahahaha poor Kirk's dead brother.

Shatner can't decide how to pronounce Kirk's sister-in-law's name, which is annoying (sis-in-law's ACTING! is also annoying). Redshirt chick is smokin' hot, I hope she doesn't die! Parasites are super fake! (I love the part where redshirt chick says, "They don't even look real!" LOL TRUTH)

but wait, gender!fail: redshirt chick is the only member of the away party not to have a phaser. WTF, Trek? Women can have weapons, too! (Sure, she has a tricorder, but that doesn't mean she can't also be armed, right?)

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 Sep. 25th, 2017 01:33 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios