I haven't blogged in a while. I apologise. I suppose that the fact that my life has been completely boring of late isn't an excuse, because although my life has been frighfully ho-hum, world politics is getting marvellously fruity, and I like nothing more than dispensing political analysis.
Because I'm cool like that.
I'm trawling youtube for decent music to listen to, and so far I've got nothing. So I've gone to my fallback - Sacra by Apocalyptica. Any piece of music which features phasing between 12/8 and 4/4 is bound to be something I'm willing to listen to over and over again.
I have a feeling that I'm drawn to music with fruity and/or questionable time signatures. That's probably why I like Suicide and Redemption by Metallica. It starts and ends in 5/4.
There is one flaw with this reasoning however - by my above logic, I should like music composed by Ross Edwards. Which I most unequivocally do not. It's as if the man opens up Sibelius or whichever music writing software he uses and then selects notes and beats at random and then just formats time signatures around whatever drivel appears on the screen and then calls it avant-garde or whatever he happens to call it.
I'm so apathetic at the moment that I can't even be bothered to rant about modern art. For those of you who haven't uttered the name Ross Edwards in my earshot, I have a very good and angry rant on the subject of modern art/s. I'm just feeling too blegh to put it on the internet.
Suffice it to say that The Promised Land was a bitch to perform and didn't even sound any good. Don't even get me started on David Malouf's lyrics therefor. Not only did they not make sense, they didn't scan well. And if I learnt nothing from Latin, it was that it's not that difficult to get stuff to scan well. Seriously. especially if you've just chosen random words and stuck them together. If you've done that (as Malouf indisputably did) there is no excuse for bad scanning.
My, my. That was a mildly pointless stream of consciousness. I was only motivated to blog so as to test whether or not my interface between my blog and facebook works. Theoretically, when I publish my post, my facebook profile will be automatically updated to reflect that fact. Gosh I love technology.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The Times, They Are A-Changin'
Come gather 'round, people wherever you roam
And admit that the waters around you have grown,
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone;
If your time to you is worth saving
Then you'd better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Come writers and critics who prophesise with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won't come again,
But don't speak too soon for the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'.
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Come Senators, Congressmen, please heed the call:
Don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he who gets hurt will be he who has stalled,
The battle outside ragin'
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
And don't criticise what you can't understand:
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command,
Your old road is rapily agin'.
Please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand
For the times, they are a-changin'.
The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast:
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past,
The order is rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now will later be last
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Today was one with more reflection over the past than usual.
Following an average day (swimming then school), I headed off to the State Library to see what they had on the My Lai massacre (HEX). With that accomplished (for the record, they didn't have much of what I was looking for - but then they never do... Fisher Library all the way!!) I was in the city with nothing to do. And since it was a wednesday, I decided it would be an idea to drop into SCC (Sydney Children's Choir) for a visit.
With the annual Christmas choral extravaganza taking place in a week, rehearsal was fully in swing. During the first half I helped the supervisors sort the red choral robes (so unspeakably bad, but yet so good - it's kind of like Stockholm Syndrome: you find yourself inexplicably attached to them) into height order so as to facilitate the allocation thereof.
As the allocation took place, I had an opportunity to chat with choristers whom I hadn't seen since the choir's 21st anniversary concert back in late june. Sitting in on the rehearsal for part of the second half showed me how much had changed in the 18 or so months since I aged out of the SCC - there were new kids everywhere, all the male soprani I remember were now off in the marvellous magical land of Alto 2 (guess which section I was section leader of back in the day...), and about to leave because they no longer really qualified as trebles... It was somewhat depressing. It made me feel old, and I thoroughly dislike feeling old.
I then happened to spot an old friend waiting outside the rehearsal room (Vox, the Sydney Philarmonia's youth choir has rehearsals wednesday evenings after SCC), and so I exited for a chat (but not after Lyn (our fearsome and awe inspiring conductor) noticed me and had everyone say hello... I love getting the alumna treatment).
Angus and I started in the SCC back in 1999 when we were in kindergarten, and both about two feet tall and blond. Now of course, he's still blond and significantly taller, and I'm still stunted and short... And my marvellous Jew-fro is gone... But seriously. He knew me back when I did things like turn up to a rehearsal and announce loudly, and in a tone of indignant socialism "Did you know that they're putting a GST on breast pumps?!" (In my defence, I was five or six. This of course didn't stop Lyn bringing that little anecdote up at the 21st anniversary concert... Luckily she didn't name me. It was only after that I found out she was talking about me. I must say I had completely repressed that gem of a memory). Good times... Good times.
It was great remembering the old days of Opera House christmas concerts with the horrid red robes and the nauseatingly kitschy electric candles we all had to make us all look angelic and such... the days when supervisors stood waiting in the wings to drag the bodies of the choristers who passed out from heatstroke off the stage... back in the day where there were only seven choirs in the SCC structure... as compared with the current 20 or so.
It made me realise just how much I miss being part of choir. Bloody expletiving HSC.
And then this evening, whilst on facebook, I was facebook chatting with one of my friends from my latest hospital stint, and the following was said:
Kelsey: ADELA I thought of that song the other day
You know the times are changing song
And almost cried because I realised how much I missed you
She was referring to Bob Dylan's "The Times, They Are A-Changin'" which I spent a lot of time singing whilst we were stuck in hospital (I had a ukelele with me, and I had a repertoire of about six songs... stuff got repeated.), and even ended up calligraphising on a 2 metre piece of paper which now hangs above the door in the classroom (hospital sucks, and it helps to have a reminder that everything is transient, including medical incarceration).
And to be honest, the song affects me the same way. Every time it comes up on my ipod, I remember all the girls I spent 8 weeks living with and how much I miss them.
It also reminded me of just how quickly things change. Change is scary and unfamiliar. To be honest, I wish everything would just stay the same.
I wish I were still a cute little blond six-year-old with socialist tendencies, I wish my blood still did what it was meant to, and most of all, I wish my dad were still alive. The times, they are a-changin', but I really wish they weren't.
And admit that the waters around you have grown,
And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone;
If your time to you is worth saving
Then you'd better start swimming or you'll sink like a stone
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Come writers and critics who prophesise with your pen
And keep your eyes wide, the chance won't come again,
But don't speak too soon for the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'.
For the loser now will be later to win
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Come Senators, Congressmen, please heed the call:
Don't stand in the doorway, don't block up the hall
For he who gets hurt will be he who has stalled,
The battle outside ragin'
Will soon shake your windows and rattle your walls
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Come mothers and fathers throughout the land
And don't criticise what you can't understand:
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command,
Your old road is rapily agin'.
Please get out of the new one if you can't lend your hand
For the times, they are a-changin'.
The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast:
The slow one now will later be fast
As the present now will later be past,
The order is rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now will later be last
For the times, they are a-changin'.
Today was one with more reflection over the past than usual.
Following an average day (swimming then school), I headed off to the State Library to see what they had on the My Lai massacre (HEX). With that accomplished (for the record, they didn't have much of what I was looking for - but then they never do... Fisher Library all the way!!) I was in the city with nothing to do. And since it was a wednesday, I decided it would be an idea to drop into SCC (Sydney Children's Choir) for a visit.
With the annual Christmas choral extravaganza taking place in a week, rehearsal was fully in swing. During the first half I helped the supervisors sort the red choral robes (so unspeakably bad, but yet so good - it's kind of like Stockholm Syndrome: you find yourself inexplicably attached to them) into height order so as to facilitate the allocation thereof.
As the allocation took place, I had an opportunity to chat with choristers whom I hadn't seen since the choir's 21st anniversary concert back in late june. Sitting in on the rehearsal for part of the second half showed me how much had changed in the 18 or so months since I aged out of the SCC - there were new kids everywhere, all the male soprani I remember were now off in the marvellous magical land of Alto 2 (guess which section I was section leader of back in the day...), and about to leave because they no longer really qualified as trebles... It was somewhat depressing. It made me feel old, and I thoroughly dislike feeling old.
I then happened to spot an old friend waiting outside the rehearsal room (Vox, the Sydney Philarmonia's youth choir has rehearsals wednesday evenings after SCC), and so I exited for a chat (but not after Lyn (our fearsome and awe inspiring conductor) noticed me and had everyone say hello... I love getting the alumna treatment).
Angus and I started in the SCC back in 1999 when we were in kindergarten, and both about two feet tall and blond. Now of course, he's still blond and significantly taller, and I'm still stunted and short... And my marvellous Jew-fro is gone... But seriously. He knew me back when I did things like turn up to a rehearsal and announce loudly, and in a tone of indignant socialism "Did you know that they're putting a GST on breast pumps?!" (In my defence, I was five or six. This of course didn't stop Lyn bringing that little anecdote up at the 21st anniversary concert... Luckily she didn't name me. It was only after that I found out she was talking about me. I must say I had completely repressed that gem of a memory). Good times... Good times.
It was great remembering the old days of Opera House christmas concerts with the horrid red robes and the nauseatingly kitschy electric candles we all had to make us all look angelic and such... the days when supervisors stood waiting in the wings to drag the bodies of the choristers who passed out from heatstroke off the stage... back in the day where there were only seven choirs in the SCC structure... as compared with the current 20 or so.
It made me realise just how much I miss being part of choir. Bloody expletiving HSC.
And then this evening, whilst on facebook, I was facebook chatting with one of my friends from my latest hospital stint, and the following was said:
Kelsey: ADELA I thought of that song the other day
You know the times are changing song
And almost cried because I realised how much I missed you
She was referring to Bob Dylan's "The Times, They Are A-Changin'" which I spent a lot of time singing whilst we were stuck in hospital (I had a ukelele with me, and I had a repertoire of about six songs... stuff got repeated.), and even ended up calligraphising on a 2 metre piece of paper which now hangs above the door in the classroom (hospital sucks, and it helps to have a reminder that everything is transient, including medical incarceration).
And to be honest, the song affects me the same way. Every time it comes up on my ipod, I remember all the girls I spent 8 weeks living with and how much I miss them.
It also reminded me of just how quickly things change. Change is scary and unfamiliar. To be honest, I wish everything would just stay the same.
I wish I were still a cute little blond six-year-old with socialist tendencies, I wish my blood still did what it was meant to, and most of all, I wish my dad were still alive. The times, they are a-changin', but I really wish they weren't.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The Aftermath of Spec
Schools Spectacular was week. For marching band, that meant 55 hours of band from Tuesday through Saturday.
Not only that, it also meant crazy sunburn for everyone.
I'm doing a recap of spec on the MMB blog: Loud and Proud.
For anyone still enrolled in a NSW state high school who is interested in joining, I totally recommend it. Marchign band is by far the most enjoyable activity I do, and not only that, the Department of Sports and Recreation classifies marching band as an extreme sport.
So join up! Google: "Millennium Marching Band apply 2011" and fill out the webform. Ignore where it says that applications are closed - they're still open for a while.
Not only that, it also meant crazy sunburn for everyone.
I'm doing a recap of spec on the MMB blog: Loud and Proud.
For anyone still enrolled in a NSW state high school who is interested in joining, I totally recommend it. Marchign band is by far the most enjoyable activity I do, and not only that, the Department of Sports and Recreation classifies marching band as an extreme sport.
So join up! Google: "Millennium Marching Band apply 2011" and fill out the webform. Ignore where it says that applications are closed - they're still open for a while.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Success and Mad Skillzzz
I finished the vest. It is so grandma-esque that I think it's the epitome of cool.
Next stop: beanie. Then gloves, then another three daleks.
I need to find something better to do with my life.
Next stop: beanie. Then gloves, then another three daleks.
I need to find something better to do with my life.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Ce Qu'a Passé Recennement
I would make such an amazing 1950s housewife. I knit, I sew, I bake; I can organise charity fundraisers like you wouldn't believe; I can write with exceeding prettiness; and I am totally HBIC.
For example, recently, I've been knitting a vest, the pattern for which I got off of the Vogue Knitting website (VogueKnits - my new favourite magazine). It's going to be pastel pink and Bitchen as.
The colour choice has apparently surprised some people (by whom I refer to my benchmates in rollcall, George and Taylor). This is because I looked through my closet recently and realised that I have very few colours when it comes to my clothing. The majority of my T-shirts are black, my jeans are dark, I have a grand total of 4 brightly coloured shirts, 3 of which are long sleeved, and of them, two of which are so low cut that I can only wear them in the depths of winter lest I sustain cleavage burn - an incredibly irritating area to get sunburnt.
This monochromaticism, combined with the fact that the suburban Soccer-Mum look is one that I seem to be able to pull off (Pam from TrueBlood is totally my style icon - although only with regard to what she wears that isn't made of black leather), has inspired me to get knitting. I haven't knitted and actual garment since I made a cardigan a couple of years ago ofer the course of two hospital admissions (a cardigan which, for the record, I have never worn, but which makes my sisters the envy of all their friends when they wear it. I don't see why, in my opinion it makes them look like a horizontally striped gumdrop from the eighties... but I digress) and so I decided to get back on the figurative horse, and return to knitting, this time using patterns that I like.
Also, with Sarah's (the one who continually gets referenced in The Week) 18th coming up, I knitted her a Dalek stuffed toy. It's about two feet tall, and replete with plunger, whisk and eye stalk. Not to mention, a hell of a lot better looking than the ones on the link. There are bound to be photos from Sarah's party, I'll upload one if I remember. I'll be making another one for Sophia (also of The Week) when her 18th rolls along.
Finally, with regard to knitting, I'm finishing off a fuzzy beanie for Koby, who soon after Formal will be heading off to America for a while, and being somewhere up north (Iowa I think??) will be neading much external warming paraphenalia. I had started some crazy bobbly socks, also c/o VogueKnits, but they've gone to the back burner, along with my white gloves, which I had initially made somewhat shoddily, so I undid them and started afresh. The second run of them is an improvement, but I probably won't be motivated to finish them before winter rolls around again. Perhaps I'll get them done in time for formal... No matter.
Just today, I got around to looking at the blog of my marvellously talented friend Anne. You can find it here. I heard that she had a blog after seeing the amazing nails she had created for Sam, and let me just say that she blows my skillz right out of the water. I mean I'm impressed with myself if I manage to paint my nails whilst not getting nailpolish on my skin. Dayumm.
For example, recently, I've been knitting a vest, the pattern for which I got off of the Vogue Knitting website (VogueKnits - my new favourite magazine). It's going to be pastel pink and Bitchen as.
The colour choice has apparently surprised some people (by whom I refer to my benchmates in rollcall, George and Taylor). This is because I looked through my closet recently and realised that I have very few colours when it comes to my clothing. The majority of my T-shirts are black, my jeans are dark, I have a grand total of 4 brightly coloured shirts, 3 of which are long sleeved, and of them, two of which are so low cut that I can only wear them in the depths of winter lest I sustain cleavage burn - an incredibly irritating area to get sunburnt.
This monochromaticism, combined with the fact that the suburban Soccer-Mum look is one that I seem to be able to pull off (Pam from TrueBlood is totally my style icon - although only with regard to what she wears that isn't made of black leather), has inspired me to get knitting. I haven't knitted and actual garment since I made a cardigan a couple of years ago ofer the course of two hospital admissions (a cardigan which, for the record, I have never worn, but which makes my sisters the envy of all their friends when they wear it. I don't see why, in my opinion it makes them look like a horizontally striped gumdrop from the eighties... but I digress) and so I decided to get back on the figurative horse, and return to knitting, this time using patterns that I like.
Also, with Sarah's (the one who continually gets referenced in The Week) 18th coming up, I knitted her a Dalek stuffed toy. It's about two feet tall, and replete with plunger, whisk and eye stalk. Not to mention, a hell of a lot better looking than the ones on the link. There are bound to be photos from Sarah's party, I'll upload one if I remember. I'll be making another one for Sophia (also of The Week) when her 18th rolls along.
Finally, with regard to knitting, I'm finishing off a fuzzy beanie for Koby, who soon after Formal will be heading off to America for a while, and being somewhere up north (Iowa I think??) will be neading much external warming paraphenalia. I had started some crazy bobbly socks, also c/o VogueKnits, but they've gone to the back burner, along with my white gloves, which I had initially made somewhat shoddily, so I undid them and started afresh. The second run of them is an improvement, but I probably won't be motivated to finish them before winter rolls around again. Perhaps I'll get them done in time for formal... No matter.
Just today, I got around to looking at the blog of my marvellously talented friend Anne. You can find it here. I heard that she had a blog after seeing the amazing nails she had created for Sam, and let me just say that she blows my skillz right out of the water. I mean I'm impressed with myself if I manage to paint my nails whilst not getting nailpolish on my skin. Dayumm.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Bugger. And hurrah?
Due to the mildly frightening array of tests I must undergo on friday, I can't go to the Reclaim the Night march. At least I still got the free shirt.
On the plus side, these tests might actually find shit out about why I keep getting so sick... Just think, I may never be hospitalised again.
Wouldn't that be nice.
On the plus side, these tests might actually find shit out about why I keep getting so sick... Just think, I may never be hospitalised again.
Wouldn't that be nice.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Mild Fail On My Behalf
I haven't been posting lately, and for that I am sorry.
Anywhom...
Today I went to a forum on feminism. Apart from a Feminazi teacher from NSGHS, it was quite interesting.
So onto the reason for this post: this friday evening (29/10) is the evening of the Reclaim the Night march which aims to help to eradicate sexual violence towards women.
It's a non-autonomous march, which means that men who believe in respecting the rights of women can join the march and show their support.
It's 6.00 pm on friday, going from Town Hall to Martin Place. Join us as we aim to reclaim the night.
Anywhom...
Today I went to a forum on feminism. Apart from a Feminazi teacher from NSGHS, it was quite interesting.
So onto the reason for this post: this friday evening (29/10) is the evening of the Reclaim the Night march which aims to help to eradicate sexual violence towards women.
It's a non-autonomous march, which means that men who believe in respecting the rights of women can join the march and show their support.
It's 6.00 pm on friday, going from Town Hall to Martin Place. Join us as we aim to reclaim the night.
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