listening to: edgar meyer/joshua bell – concerto duo #1

random amusing quotes: “I’m Beethoven! Without the wig!”

“Hey! She’s Mary Poppins! Maybe she’ll pull a cello out of that carpet bag!”

“Will, what are you supposed to be? A can of beer?”

Cello class was amusing. I arrived at the choral room the same time as Amy, and almost died! She was Mary Poppins! It was great! She even had a parrot-headed embrella handle! Her 3-year-old son, Paul, had requested it, but was apparently freaked out that she actually did it. Nelle was a bear, which I also enjoyed muchly. There were a few other costumes, but not so notable as those.

Hannah was dressed in all black, and then pinned actual cello strings to her shirt, so she could be a “cello fingerboard”. That wasn’t a bad one, either. It was just…really weird when she was messing with one of the strings, and suddenly said, quite loudly and blatantly, “There goes my g string“. It was just so…un-Hannah. We all laughed.

Other than that, not much. Five people played. Nobody gave commentary. I decided that I’m going to play the entire first Bach suite next week. I’m almost there, so I think I should definitely give it a go. Go me. So this will be the third time of the two required for playing in cello seminar. Only one other freshman has even played once. Come on, cellists!

Now I have to go back to Calvin Hall to see if they’ve in any way resolved this trascript thing the way they said they would. Then I have er…another errand or two to run. And then after orchestra, I’m FREEEEE! FREEEE! FREEE!

Aside: my foot twitches sometimes

Nyghyaah. Seriously.

listening to: stravinsky – petrouchka

I stayed up until something like 2 this morning, listening to Nick and Gary on WGN, with Richard Crowe, famous Chicagoland ghosthunter. Aaah! I’m a really big dork, but I loooove stories about ghosts and hauntings! And Chicago is such a vast and diverse city in so many ways, there are so many excellent haunted places there. I can imagine this guy’s tours are really interesting. It involves a lot of history, a lot of history. I think that’s part of why I’m so interested.

There was an article about NaNoWriMo in the Daily Iowan, yesterday. There are a lot of Iowa students who are doing it, too. I’m getting really excited. Of course I am aware of the fact that I could spend a day writing, and then realize I’m far too lazy to write obsessively for a straight month. But then I keep telling myself that all I’ve really been doing for most of the summer and up until now is write obsessively, anyway. In any case, I think I’m mostly ready. I just need to pick out a good name for the main character. That’s really important to me. I need to find a name that works, because it’s not really possible for me to be able to write about a character until I have a name to complete my mental portrait. It all starts tonight, at exactly midnight! WOOHOO!

I am actually starting to question my sanity. I’m not talking blogging Russian music, but it’s hard for me not to. Seriously. I am obsessing in a way that actually scares me. It doesn’t help that I warp my own sense of reality when I’m alone with myself for long periods of time. And hey, guess who’s almost always alone with herself, here. Me. Buah. I can’t just ban myself from Russian music right now, though. It wouldn’t work. NYGHYAAH!

Who Cast The Final Stone?

listening to: hooverphonic – electro shock faders

What the craaaap?! Stupid blogger. Things are obviously not what they seem.

Today was so meh. Indescribably meh. I actually can’t remember very much more than I had an excellent two-hour nap. I think then I practiced for a while, and realized that while Shostokovich is the shiznit, I have this absurd amount of doubt in my mind that I will be able to play it. I wonder if Tony knows what kind of a player I really am? I don’t feel like he’s measured my playing the way I wish he would. Then again, I don’t even know what kind of a player I am. I was under the impression that I would perhaps be able to start learning about this during this most excellent and important “college experience”.

I went to the admissions people, to see why they couldn’t accept U-High’s transcripts. I tried to explain to them that I had taken Japanese at ISU, but that I knew I had signed up for it as high school credit. But they couldn’t get over the fact that “ISU” was typed before “Japanese” on the transcript. The lady I talked to is going to call ISU to see if THEY can send a transcript. I’m sure this is all more complicated than it seems to me. But I’m just antsy because I need to register for second-semester class, which I cannot do until they clear this up, for whatever reason that has not been explained to me.

I was frustrated when I left Calvin Hall, so I stomped back in the direction of Currier. But on the way, I ran into Brett, a guy from my rhetoric class, and we exchanged stories for a while. He actually had like…something moderately close to a near-death experience, but the way he told it was freaking hilarious. I felt kind of bad, almost falling over with laughter, over a story of this guy’s near-death. Anyway, Brett is cool. I have an awesome rhetoric class. Well…at least…generally.

I’ve been weird lately. Just weird. I think I’m living vicariously through poeple’s blogs. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m glad other people have lives. Hmm. Meh.

If you’re in Chicago, and somebody offers to sell you bricks having something vaguely to do with Al Capone, DO NOT BUY THEM!

This Is Not

Nnn. I can’t help feeling at least a little miserable after spending almost three hours locked in a practice-room, writing out voice-parts off of an unfinished bass line.

I would really like somebody to talk to, occasionally.

Well I, I Am A Time Bomb

listening to: dismemberment plan – the face of the earth

I will share with the world an idea I had for NaNoWriMo. It will, most definitely, have something to do with the idea that sleep is expendable. That much I will say. The rest isn’t important. I actually have had some really cool ideas during *gasp* music theory, in the past couple days.

I wonder if I’m going insane. Like, really truly crazy in the schizo-type way. Last night was just too weird. This Russian music thing is out of hand. That entry below only proves the insanity. I don’t know anymore. Oh well.

I Got Completely Stuck In A Door With My Cello, Earlier

Okay. I totally have to get a blog in while I’m still in this mood. We just played our Petrouchka concert. It was…wonderful. I mean, we’re not the best orchestra. But…the winds and brass are great. They’re what made it happen. The strings can’t compare, in any way at all. And seriously. Russian music. It’s wonderful. Rob and I used to talk about music that makes us shiver. This is it. But aside from that, in certain places, when the cellos have these blaring, loud unisons, my blood boils! In a good way! Nothing beats feeling feeling so alive and on fire and…crazy rhythmic. I don’t know. Russian music. Damn.

Anyway. Rrr. I suffer from post-concert sads. This is no exception. It’s sad when you’re done with a really great concert. Any concert that there is pleasure or excitement in. Admittedly, it’s also sad when that concert only means something to you. I love it when I can get my family and friends to come and understand why I do it. To feel the music the same way I do, and see, even the awesome visual effect of a full orchestra, playing together. It’s a lot less meaningless to me when nobody can be there. And, you know, that’s nobody’s fault. It’s hard when all the people you care for are generally…not in the vicinity. I mean, the only people there that I really wanted to be there were my teacher, and a few people in the music dept I have vague respect for (generally faculty). You know, that’s why I got a little sad over the fact that nobody ever wanted to come see CYSO. And, you know, I have to comment, now, Uhigh music dept concerts, as much fun as those were, are not the same. You won’t know a full-orchestral experience until you experience, really.

I don’t know. I walked out of Voxman rather alone. Nobody to talk to. I felt bad. Weary and nostalgic and wondering what the heck I just spent the last hour and a half doing. But then I was walking across the river, and I felt this…not really autumn, more like a winter-chill hit me, and I looked up into the sky and saw that it was black, not gray or brown like in times when there’s light-polution. Black. With prominent, lonely stars. It seemed so right. I felt better at that moment. I love winter nights so much. Somehow even more than summer nights.

So now I’m…weird. I’m still in the strangest mood. I want to go off on a walk by myself across the Western part of the campus, and contemplate Russian music some more. I’m in the perfect mood to just sort of…I don’t know. Lavish being by myself. Dance around and sing and not think about anything but my own existence. It’s fun to do that when I’m like this, and it makes me feel better. Nothing beats finding solace by yourself. But I have a speech proposal to do, and I need to call my parents. Maybe calling my parents will help. They know this stuff better than I do. Better than anyone does. I love other musicians. I also hate other musicians. Currently I’m mostly doing the loving thing, though.

What I think would work out best for tonight is if I change out of my glorious concert black (it is glorious. my black blouse rocks. and i’m still in it because i wanted to blog EXACTLY what was going on in my head, because I’m rarely like this and I’d like to look back and think “hmmm. interesting”), call my parents, do my speech proposal in five minutes, and then read until midnight. That sounds perfect. I realize this will not happen, though. I’m not even in the mood to do easy-work, like speech proposals.

I’m confused. Because I’m lonely but I’m content. Stupid concerts. Stupid brain weirding itself out over a concert. If I haven’t weirded people out enough already, here’s the current conversation going on between my head and my body.

Brain: Oooh, I’m sad.

Body: Stop it! You’re not sad! You did three weeks of productive work and you had fun. FUN, dammit.

Head: Oh, shut it up, body! You weren’t the one wishing everyone could have been there to understand the Russian-ness of it all!

Body: And you’re not the one whose back hurts like hell, who sat in those damn “cello-chair’s” of pain for something like five hours total, today!

Brain: But I wanna be saad.

Body: But I won’t let you be. I’m too full of energy to let you. Besides, you have absolutely no reason to be! now MOVE IT!

Dag, yo.

You In Motocross

listening to: beck – steal my body home

I love Beck.

Today was kind of exciting. I was incredibly tired through most of the morning, and only barely managed to get through music theory without wanting to gouge my eyes out. But then I had a cello lesson, which I thought would suck, considering I was most definitely not prepared with Hungarian Rhapsody, as I would have wanted to be. However, I worked through a Popper etude, and then a lot of Bach which was nice. I plan to play the entire 1st Bach Suite in class next Friday, which is acceptional, for me, since I’ve been notorious for starting pieces and never playing all of them.

Anyway. I’d been talking to Tony about how I love Russian music, so much, and how great it is, and somehow we got onto the subject of how I’m not playing a concerto, but should be. So guess guess GUESS what Talia’s gonna play, as soon as she finishes Hungarian Rhapsody?! The Shostokovich Cello Concerto! I was practically bouncing around all day because of this. In fact, I went to Eble to get the music for it. I had also wanted to get the Piatti caprices, but then I realized I’m stupid and had no clue what edition would be best. But really, I wanted to seem a little less obsessive and have more reason to be there than one concerto.

Orchestral concert tonight. I love Stravinsky terribly. If Dr. Jones doesn’t decide to completely be weird about tempo in certain spots, I’m sure it’ll go fine.

Everyone’s Sleeping Or Pulling A Longhaul

listening to: beck – fuckin’ with my head

Hooooooly crap. I am completely tweaking out right now (which is ridiculous because I never ever drink coffee). I am so full of pent-up energy that doesn’t know where to go. And it was not helped by like…five minutes in which everything went right to hell. So now I’m like…antsy, embarassed, and kind of lonely. Aaaah! Teehee. As for my five minutes, in fifteen-minute-later retrospect, it’s actually kind of amusing.

I think I know what I’m going to do for NaNoWriMo. I mean, my story. I have a general idea. It’s kind of…what I always tried to write before, but with a few more ideas. I’ve started writing ideas down. Like, ideas for a general setting and plot. Nothing big. I know it would probably help if I give myself a little direction in advance, but somehow, I just sort of want to go at it from nothing. I want to see how I handle it. If I do what I always did while writing fictions, fizzle out before things get started, or if I can somehow keep myself going. Augh. NaNoWriMo will not be helped by the paper and speech I have to work on in rhetoric. Fortunately, the speech will be out of the way by next Thursday, and it’s over a topic I’m relatively well-knowledged over. Anyway. I will not be stopped. I made my own account!! BUAHAHAHAHA!

I actually must say I enjoy the completely random voice-mail messages I recieve. Even when they’re in Japanese, about beating Super Puyo-Puyo, “igmoring” me, or just yelling at me for *shove*ing people around.

Sleep? Why, no! Booking! The other (non-computer) blog! Why don’t I ever stop trying to write myself out? What is this, entry number five, today? And then I go off and book?! Maybe I need a heavy “lourde” dropped on me. Yes. Lourde.

Me Blog

listening to: phish – the roses are free (live)

Has anybody heard the original version of this, by Ween? Just wondering.

I made another blog-me list during rehearsal. I think to have effective “blog-me”s, I should probably discuss them less in the blogs, and write more about what I’ve put on them. Yes.

So…I was walking to Voxman this morning after rhetoric. It was nice. I had somehow managed to outrun my fellow theory-rhetoric-mates, and walk by myself. Mmm. The weather was blustery, the clouds were these big clumps of gray, with patches of bright blue intervening. And…there were people washing Hancher’s windows! It was perfect! I think that would be a great job, on the right autumn days! Washing windows of cool buildings like Hancher. Damn cello playing!

The two and half hour long rehearsal was…actually two hours. It was alright. I’ve decided that I enjoy the saxaphone! Especially in weird quasi-contemporary European music! I mean, hey, one can get a lot of weird sax stuff from any of Prokofiev’s works! Professor Tse is my new hero. The rest of the rehearsal was okay. And I found myself completely distracted by Hancher’s ceiling, a couple times. It’s like this white, triangular design that seems…I don’t know. It reminds me of when I went to an air-space museum when I was really really young. I’ve always had a weird fascination with space-travel and whatnot. Although, I think I really scared the crap out of myself with it. From ages maybe 6 to 8, I was completely sure I would be abducted by aliens in the night. I didn’t question their existence, on bit. I don’t even remember what sparked that little weird obsession. I just know it was unpleasant, and even sharing a room with my sister didn’t comfort me.

Holy crap, sharing a room with my sister would hardly have comforted me in any case. She had a bunch of wildlife cut-outs from calendars, taped to her walls. Apparently one night, she put glow-in-the-dark lipstick over their eyes, and I woke up to find like…weird things staring at me. I was six at the time.


I remember those days when I used to get comments. Yeah, I sure do. Those were good days. Good…days.


Blog Me

I couldn’t find my old blogging list. So I wrote a new one while I was walking to the music building. I will not blog about the things I told myself to, right now. Instead, I shall share with you the list.

Blog me:

window washing



IC running

I’m doing this because I know I will lose the list within 24 hours. Anything smaller than an 8×11 sheet of paper is generally gone or lost within that time.

Okay. Yes

Aside: I win.

So Strange…Thought I Knew You Well

listening to: hooverphonic – innervoice

random amusing quotes: “Before I was a member of the Performing Arts community, I didn’t even know what a piano was!” — Francis, before playing five minutes of improv at the piano

So…my RA was knocking on doors a couple weeks back, asking if anybody wanted to perform for…something later in the month. Me, hearing people turn down the opportunity, and always being told to take advantages of any possible performance opportunities, agreed to it. But it turned out being just Francis and I. Playing for this meeting about dorm learning communities…for which they wanted to showcase us. So it was today. We were both just like…repeatedly asking ourselves “why are we heeeere?!”. So I played the Courante from Bach Suite in G. And Francis opened a can of piano-improv whoop-ass. And they gave us both O.S.C.A.R. memberships (Organization of Stanley and Currier Associated Residents). Francis’s was GREAT. Where it says name, they started by writing “Francis”, and then accidentally wrote my last name, then proceeded to cross it out and write Francis’s actual last name. We were both so amused by this. He actually gave it to me to scan it.

I thought of like…4 random things to blog about while I was walking to music theory from North Hall, this morning. They were all kind of weird and contemplative. I wrote them down on the back of my dictation, which I cannot locate. Oh well. Better for the readers not to suffer. By the freakin’ way, I completely forgot that there was an aural skills part of the theory midterm as well. Guess what I got on my dictation, worth 100 points?

103! A freaking 103 out of 100!!


That pretty much summarizes my morning. Peace.

Spacing In Vienna, Oversea Cargo

listening to: hooverphonic – nr 9

Belgian trip-hop. To which I say…yes.

I got myself all enthused about this a bit ago. I think I definitely want to give it a try! I mean, I realize that I have other priorities in life, and as a college student. But considering what they are, and the ridiculous amounts of time I spend just sitting in front of this screen, I can think of worse things to do with my time. I mean, I used to write fiction all the time. Elfquest-related fiction, mostly, but I wrote like 60 pages of my own cute little fantasy story, that was hardly even started, let alone finished. I’d say around the time I hit sophomore year, the fiction-producing level kind of sauntered down to nothing. So anyway, I’ve collected all these weird and satisfying ideas. And…hell! Come on! I hand-wrote like…90+ pages in my private book over the course of four weeks this summer! I’m nerdy enough that I like this sort of thing. Admittedly, I know I will not get to 50,000 words. But that’s not the point. I think the point for me is to try writing again, and have actual motivation to try, as opposed to just trying my hand at it whenever I spastic-ally feel like it.

Not too many other people seemed to care as much as I did, about NaNoWriMo. But…I realized that I far too often let little things like that discourage me from trying new things, and doing exactly what I feel I want to. So muah. Anyway. I’m just enthusiastic about it. Not really serious the way I could be. I assure everyone this, and if anybody discovers that I am secretly (or…well, openly) obsessing, they have every right to interfere or do whatever they feel is necessary. There.

Orchestra Schmorchestra

listening to: tori amos – mary (librarians version)

random amusing quotes: “What are you doing tonight?” “Why, I am celebrating my twenty-one and five-eighths birthday!”

Grrrr. Frustratioooon. Orchestra was sooo frustrating today. Frowl frowl frowl.

Okay. Pause ten minutes time for fire-alarm and running out into the cold, waiting for loudest freakin’ alarm in existence to go off. There was some guy who had been in the shower and was only wearing a towel. Numerous people offered him jackets and coats, aaw, nice people.

Er, nevermind. Musings come later. After running and practicing. I need to run. I am frustrated at crap. Rar.

I Want Certain Words More Than A Thousand Flowers

listening to: cibo matto – flowers

Hot damn. Sean Lennon is in this band. <3 With a last name like “Lazos”, theory TA John has got to be Greek. Just to confirm my suspicions from that earlier entry where I speculated his nationality and my name. I wish I were actually in his class, as opposed to visiting it once when my not-with-it TA Mary was gone. I just realized that I ought to learn to use permalinks. That would make references easier. And give me one more completely useless thing to do.

I want to make friends with the bassoonists here. There are so damn many of them, and they all (all but one) seem soooo cool. And…come on! I’m like…the heiress to the Fox Products fortune! Well…okay, not really. But my dad does work for them when he’s not teaching.

Whoa. I had no idea that my dad has his own website. Hmm. Not that it’s interesting for non double-reed players. But still.

Corrupt Temptation Speed x Distance = Time

listening to: blonde redhead – speed x distance = time

Rediscovering Blonde Redhead. I think it’s funny that the two bands I’m obsessing over right now both have three members and one Japanese female that sings lyrics of complete nonsense. Good stuff.

Discovering a lot about Jack Kevorkian. Um. Such as this. Really. Take a look. Skip the intro if you feel the need, just look at the art. Other parts of the web page include thorough descriptions of his suicide machine, the Thanatron, which allowed patients to inject themselves with potassium chloride, painlessly. This is fun stuff, truly.

Well, within the span of fifteen minutes, I was laughed at for my liking the Cranberries, and invited to go to a juggling convention. I’m highly considering going to the juggling convention, because it sounds like it might be cool beyond all reason. I’m actually kind of hacked off that I could be made fun of for liking the Cranberries. I’m sorry if they’re “sappy”. I just like their music-making, lyrics aside. Plus, their b-sides rock.

This is me, during a brief interlude of revising the paper.

“I’d die for her with help from Dr. Kevork, oh Bjork, oh Bjork oh Bjork”

A Series Of Meaningless Movements

listening to: blonde redhead – this is not

Stupid Indie/rock I find myself NEEEEEDING more of.

This is me, procrastinating finishing revising my paper due tomorrow at 7:30am. It’s okay. This is how I’ve done so well in the class so far, waiting until the very last minute to do everything with more focus (or at least this is what I’m telling myself). So far I’ve reworded most of the introductory paragraph and added a little information to the…informational paragraph, about physician-assisted suicide. You know, I’m actually a little surprised I’ve done any of this paper so far, considering it’s before 10pm. Usually I start doing stuff between 10 and 11. Craazy.

This is me, counting down the weeks (and days) until Thanksgiving break: approx 4 weeks, 26 days. Aren’t I one sad, pathetic excuse for a college student? That’s okay. I realized I don’t read anywhere near as much as I should. Like, I did a loooooot of good reading over the summer, but since school started I’ve been so overwhelmed with…well, myself (really. that’s the only reasonable excuse. cello and homework haven’t been overwhelming enough to interfere in my usual obsessive reading-tendancies), that I’ve forgotten how much I need to read, especially in my boredom. It’s ridiculous, because I end up nearly gnawing my own limbs off, when I don’t even think about the fact that I have a lot of books I want to read.

This is me, tired beyond belief despite an extra hour of supposed sleep (actually, what happened was it was 2am, and then suddenly my computer told it it was 1am, and I only felt better about staying up until 2am, again. I’m really not fit to stay up late. Or like…seriously screw with my sleeping schedule. Hmm…though, I really have been doing just that). Played a concert today, with Philharmonia. It went well. I was so energetic and joyful to play for the first half of the concert, and then suddenly, we were playing Haydn and my brain practically shut itself down. That was interesting. I was doing a lot of dumb things, though I’m pretty sure I still held together better than my stand partner did.

Nobody seems to know that a piece of music which has no vocals in it is NOT A SONG. Really. You non music-major people out there go “I don’t know the difference”, and think it’s no big deal that other people don’t. No. I’m sorry. This is just…something you should know, especially if you’re a senior in college, about to earn your BA in Music Performance. BUWAH! I relayed this to my mom, and asked if it was alright to like…be completely harsh and ask them why this thing they speak of, which has no singers in it whatsoever, is a song. She said yes. She also said that she was considering pulling me right out of this “institution of music” where nobody knows something that my dad teaches all of his non-music major students. I think she was kidding.

It is 9:01pm. Do you know where your rhetoric is?


listening to: rem – parakeet

I forgot how much I love this song. Okay. I have to admit. I really do like UP. It’s taken a while. It’s not the same quality as REM’s older stuff. I think maybe it means something to me because I was listening to it while I was reading Xanth books and thinking a lot. Like…between the ages of 12 and 13. Anyway. This song needs to find it’s way onto my soundtrack. There are so many little hidden factoid-ous bits that work.

I’m a dork, but oh well. Here it is:

you wake up in the morning

and fall out of your bed

mean cats eat parakeets

and this one’s nearly dead.

you dearly wish the wind would shift

and greasy windows slide

open for the parakeet

who’s colored bitter lime.

open the window

and lift into your dreams

lately, baby

you can barely breathe.

a broken wrist

an accident

you know that something’s wrong

you fold the leavings of your past

no one knows you’ve gone.

the sunspot flares of the early

nineties light up your wings.

and scan the shortwave radio

it’s tracking outer rings.

the tectonic dispatcher shifts

to smooth the ocean floor

and flattens out to warmer winds

of Brisbane’s sunny shore.

where buddhas tend to mending wrists

a tea made from the leaves

of eucalyptus fragrances

and coriander seeds.

you wake up in the morning

to warm Pacific breeze

where mean cats chew on licorice

and cannot climb the trees.

open your window

and lift into a dream

baby, baby

baby starts to breathe

I reitterate, I am a dork. But that’s okay. I heart REM.

Disturbance At The Heron House, A Stampede At The Monument

listening to: the pixies – something against you

Aaaah. Saturday. Lots of sitting around and reading and not thinking about music theory. I’m going to a recital tonight. A composer-somethingerother recital. Which should be interesting. Admittedly, it could also be really boring. But…I’ve heard a lot of good things about the guy in the New Music program here. So I will lend him an hour or two of my time.

Yes. I apologize for the previous post. I wish I were generally more amusing while mad. And admittedly, not everyone sucks. I think my lack of friends is my fault, for simply not putting for the effort to socialize. Damn introverted tendancies *sits in room and doesn’t move* Mweh. Oh well.

Nothing else out of the norm. Linked some new people ^^ Yay, links!

That is all, really.

I Think I Thought I Saw You Try

listening to: yann tiersen – deja loin

So…things are…um…

Things suck.

I thought I had finally broken free from U-High’s completely idiotic counseling center. Oh, how wrong I was. Part of the reason I couldn’t take Japanese was because Iowa never recieved a transcript for any of my Japanese classes. So I told them I’d have a transcript sent to them. My mom called the U-High counseling center, asking them about any transcripts. Well, there are the papers with all the Japanese info on them. Just sitting there in some file. Waiting to be sent to Iowa. They’d been sitting there since about May, apparently. And had my mother not called, they would have continued to sit there.

Anyway. I got a letter a while ago that Iowa had not recieved the ISU transcripts. That was maybe three weeks ago. This morning, after theory, I found a message on the answering machine from the admissions office, saying that they had gotten a transcript, but had not expected it to be from my high school. I tried calling the lady back, but she gave me a wrong number. I’m not allowed to register for fall classes until I clear up this transcript thing.

To top things off, I got an email stating that I’m failing recital attendance. But…I was under the impression (from the syllabus) that the only time they took a real grade was at the end of the semester, at the deadline where they added up all the recitals. I’ve been to three out of fifteen, which is bad, but I’m going to two this weekend. The deadline is December 10th or some such. It frustrates me that I’m supposedly failing a class that I was not aware I had any other deadlines for aside from this December 10th one.

While I’m complaining, I think I’ll just add by saying I’m sick of people. Uninteresting, never-changing, monotonous people. I spend much of my time alone. But I like that.

Pardon my negativity. I’m having a bad…hour? Couple of hours, perhaps. There will be an awesome and positive entry, later.

Nonsense Has A Welcome Ring

listening to: tori amos – honey

I…um…whoa. Okay. I had a music theory midterm last Friday. And it sucked. I had no piano, so I had to spend twice as long on every chord to try and figure out what the hell worked. I kept running into parallel octaves. Like, aaaaall over the place. I was so freaked out by this. And I was pretty sure I had mixed up my V 4/2 and V 4/3 chords. Heck, after a while of checking and pondering over the thing, my brain hurt enough that I just turned it in.

So I get it back today. And Mary as usual handed back my paper turned upside down and folded. And…she doesn’t do this for everyone in the class. So for some reason, I always expect that when I get papers back in this manner, I have done pitifully. But…I turn it over and…

I got a freakin’ 99 out of 100!!

What the hell?!

The only points I did miss were because I forgot to put sharps on all of my labels for V chords. Which…isn’t what I expected. I expected to have like…specific wrong notes! The hell?! Anyway, I missed six points for not labeling, and one for not providing the appropriate key (which is…the dumbest reason to miss a point, EVER). But I got six extra credit points for labeling other random crap. So had I not done those other mindlessly dumb things, I would have gotten a 106 out of 100! WHAT THE HELL?! Was my TA on DRUGS when she graded these midterms?! Or just…like…not able to think?!

But…I can’t find any actual mistakes when I look through. I’m just…in disbelief. I hate music theory! And I was sure it hated me! 99%?!

<–ridiculously, unnecessarily shocked. Shut up, self.

Wait, Wait, Come Back!

Ooooh my gosh! It was the episode! 17 people! The best J/D episode EEEVER! And I finally saw the whole thing!

“I’m just saying that if you were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for a beer”

“If you were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for red lights”


Augh. I hate Amy. Sooooo much.

She Couldn’t Fight The Conformity

listening to: the teevee – west wing

Duuude, Ainsley is listening to the Vivaldi 5th cello sonata! And Josh sent Donna flowers! …But…she told him to shove it. But…we all know she doesn’t mean it!

Dammit! Now me, too!


A – Act your age: Do I act my age? Hmm. The fact that I read Japanese comic books intended for 12-year olds speaks for itself. But on the other hand, I like Opera and politics. So I’d like to say that I am a delicate balance of mature and…youthful? Or just really confused.

B – Boyfriend: Eh, none. Heck, I don’t even have a pretend and/or river-god boyfriend like everybody else seems to. Mweh. Salright.

C – Chore you hate: Vaccuming. Yes. Grrar, dust-sucking.

D – Dad’s name: Michael

E – Essential make up item: Er…really, none. I just…don’t…wear make-up. Ever. Unless it’s for performance purposes, like with madrigals.

F – Favourite actor: Um…I don’t have many particular favorite acting…people. Maybe Tobey Maguire. Or Bradley Whitford. Can’t think of many females, currently.

G – Gold or silver: Silver

H – Hometown: Normal for 17 years. Toledo, OH (birthplace), for 1, but I can’t exactly remember that.

I – Instruments you play: Primarily cello. Others include (and these are serious things I’ve worked on, not just like…random “I’ve touched them and played two notes” instruments) piano, jazz bass, mandolin, voice. I reeeeally hopelessly want to learn to play the accordion. Really.

J – Job title: Er…student?

K – Kids: I…like kids when they don’t belong to my cello teacher, and i don’t have to babysit them.

L – Living arrangements: One incredibly loud and obnoxious performing arts floor, in a not-too-shabby room filled with mine and Hillari’s endless amounts of stuff.

M – Mum’s name: Judith

N – Number of people you’ve slept with: Seeing as I’m me, none.

O – Overnight hospital stays: You know, I’ve never had any weird/serious injuries that have required me to go to a hospital.

P – Phobia: Silverfish. Definitely silverfish.

Q – Quote you like: Long–skip if already bored, which you probably are (fyi, this was originally something I realized as an awesome quote through Jamie and Megan so…just remember that they are far more awesome than I).

“Bastian Balthazar Bux’s passion was books.

If you have never spent whole afternoons with burning ears and rumpled hair, forgetting the world around you over a book, forgetting cold and hunger-

If you have never read secretly under the bedclothes with a flashlight, because your father or mother or some other well-meaning person has switched off the lamp on the plausible ground that it was time to sleep becuase you had to get up so early-

If you have never wept bitter tears because a wonderful story has come to an end and you must take your leave of the characters with whom you have shared so many adventures, whom you have loved and admired, for whom you have hoped and feared, and without whose company life seems empty and meaningless-

If such things have not been part of your own experience, you probably won’t understand what Bastian did next.”

–The Neverending Story, Michael Ende

R – Religious affiliation: None

S – Sibling: Erica, 24

T – Time you wake up?: 6:30 M-T, 8 F, Whenever on Sat&Sun. Usually some time after 9.

U – Unique habit: I make really strange and shrill noises when I’m frustrated or silly. And they make people laugh. Or…stare at me.

V – Vegetable you refuse to eat: I’m not big on asparagus.

W – Worst habit: I procrastinate doing eeeverythiiing. And I have this tendency to obsess with time, a lot.

X – X-rays you’ve had: Only dental stuff.

Y – Yummy food you make: Chocolate-chip banana bread. Oh, how I miss ovens.

Z – Zodiac sign: Virgo. Just barely. But yes.

And that is that.

What’s In A Name?

listening to: luscious jackson – find your mind

Luscious Jackson was so cool before they were popular. Er…more popular.

My theory TA wasn’t in, today. She was in South Dakota, seeing Itzak Perlman. Which…don’t get me wrong, is cool. So she assigned all of the class to different TAs. I ended up with “John”, who I concluded could be one of two people, last night, which didn’t help because I didn’t know which rooms either of them taught in. So upon walking into Voxman (

Well, “John” turned out to be the guy who did my ear-training test at the very beginning of the year, before I was placed into a theory class. I’ve been trying to figure out what country he’s from, for the longest time. I’m actually starting to believe that he’s Greek, based on the following: the moment he found out my name was Talia, he asked me if I knew where that name was from? I replied that it was Greek, but also Hebrew, and maybe something else. Then then told me it was the name of a muse. I said I knew this, before being asked which muse I’m named after (comedy). So yeah. Based on that, and the fact that he could be Greek based on looks, and unidentifiable accent, I’m willing to bet money on it.

Anyway, about my name…because I always forget. “Talia – Aboriginal: Near water. Greek: Muse of Comedy, Flourishing. Hebrew: Dew. Russian: Born at Christmas. From the name Natalya”. Wow. I had no clue my name was also aboriginal. And it did occur to me on some level that it might be Russian, due to the extreme frequency of people thinking my name is “Natalya” (yes, this has happened). Hmm. And apparently, my parents had wanted to name me “Thalia”, but realized that living in the US, everybody would pronounce the “th”, instead of keep the pronunciantion to “Tah-lee-uh”. So…yes. And apparently “Thalia” is another Russian version of the name. Interesting that it means “born at Christmas”.

Anyway. That was a lot of unnecessary discussion on the subject of me. So…it’s over.

The Time To Rise Has Been Engaged, Your Better Best To Rearrange

listening to: shiina ringo – mayonaka wa junketsu

Maaan. I want to produce a single with the Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra, too! Augh. I don’t believe I lost this entire CD, someplace. At first I was certain that my room had swallowed it, but after a year of at least three top-to-bottom room-cleanings, it’s nowhere. And now I just feel like a tool, since I have the whole thing again, thanks to this wonderful little Kazaa platform for Mac OS X, aka, Poisoned ( *hint hint* link meant for Mac users who want music and will eventually end up asking me what I use. Two people have come to me in their Mac woes, just this weekend). Um. Yes.

Crap! There was something specific I was going to blog about! But I can’t remember what it was! Crap!

There was actually a point in time where I would write down anything of note that I wanted to blog about at a later point in time. This worked considerably well for me. Perhaps I should attempt to bring this practice back into daily use. But…this was completely ridiculous! It was mere moments ago that I had whatever it was in mind.

So um. The other night, Hillari was talking with some guy on our floor who I’ve occasionally had a conversation or two with. I think we were remarking upon the loudness of our floor. Somehow I managed to comment about the the volume and insanity I can produce, myself, and…they seemed shocked and appalled at the idea. I mean, come on. It’s me! I’m insane! What I really need, to prove my insanity, is some sort of recording of dear Megan and I singing…um…certain things along the lines of….


Yes. You know, I’ve been feeling so randomly skippy today. Especially considering how freakin’ late I stayed up finishing writing my paper on the subject of physician-assisted suicide. But. Yeah. It’s really hard to share my true little joyous habits with these people who I still don’t know. Sigh. Life is so hard.

I think Wagner calls (*note and shout at Marion–originally typed “Wanger”*)