In the land of college
Where coffee flows like water
Strange things happen
Like why did I stay up 'til four
Watching the Grand Budapest Hotel
With roommates and tea
Only to fall asleep ten minutes in?
Or spend close to ten hours
In two days
Dancing ballroom
Or walk to a cemetery
And run back to watch a show
And then another show
Or accidentally sleep for twelve hours straight
Only to sleep for three the next day?
(I suppose that works out to seven and a half
On average)
In the land of college
Where jazz plays on sunny work days
And identity crises loom
What impending doom.
Nah, it's chill
Just keep p-setting.
Sunday, 26 October 2014
Monday, 6 October 2014
Dialogue Snippets
It's been four weeks in Vancouver now. I mean, on top of the nearly nine hundred weeks preceding that. I have plenty of time to be blogging, so here's a few overheard snapshots of all the weird things that go on at college.
Our library has couches. Aw yeah. You know we real high class, got that library so fly, 'cause we got them sweet couches. They're green.
I was sitting on one of these couches the other day and across from me sat a girl and a guy. The girl was wearing red, and the guy was... wearing clothes, of some sort. To be honest, I wasn't really looking at them- but I was listening, and what I heard merited writing down.
"Is he gay?" says she. "Can he be gay? I'd like him more if he were gay."
Other quotes include "Koreans are good at everything!" and "I left my five dollars in my other pants."
We also have couches in our hallway. Swag. They're grey. Or gray. I don't know which one Canadians are supposed to use.
Today's overheard quote: "My only goal became to get milk and sugar in this coffee."
And, from an unrelated teacher walking briskly by: "...because Windows 8 doesn't work..."
I think that sums up college life pretty well.
~TheSequenceKitten
Our library has couches. Aw yeah. You know we real high class, got that library so fly, 'cause we got them sweet couches. They're green.
I was sitting on one of these couches the other day and across from me sat a girl and a guy. The girl was wearing red, and the guy was... wearing clothes, of some sort. To be honest, I wasn't really looking at them- but I was listening, and what I heard merited writing down.
"Is he gay?" says she. "Can he be gay? I'd like him more if he were gay."
Other quotes include "Koreans are good at everything!" and "I left my five dollars in my other pants."
We also have couches in our hallway. Swag. They're grey. Or gray. I don't know which one Canadians are supposed to use.
Today's overheard quote: "My only goal became to get milk and sugar in this coffee."
And, from an unrelated teacher walking briskly by: "...because Windows 8 doesn't work..."
I think that sums up college life pretty well.
~TheSequenceKitten
Tuesday, 9 September 2014
Episodes in Derp: Voting
It's been four weeks in Cambridge now. I really don't have time for long posts as I usually like to write, so here's a snapshot of a derpy frosh moment:
Today I went to Memorial Hall to hand in my study card. It's essentially the only time I'll ever get to enter that building, unless I commit some serious grievance and get in major trouble.
I handed in the form finalizing my courses for the semester, and as I was leaving I was stopped by a lady.
"Do you want to register to vote?"
Surprised, I replied, "Oh, I'm not old enough. I'm still seventeen."
"Will you be eighteen by November 4th?"
"Uh, no. December birthday."
She looked surprised by that, and then let me leave.
Halfway out of the building, as I mulled over the awkward exchange, it suddenly occurred to me:
Why didn't I just tell her that I'm Canadian?
-cookielime
Today I went to Memorial Hall to hand in my study card. It's essentially the only time I'll ever get to enter that building, unless I commit some serious grievance and get in major trouble.
I handed in the form finalizing my courses for the semester, and as I was leaving I was stopped by a lady.
"Do you want to register to vote?"
Surprised, I replied, "Oh, I'm not old enough. I'm still seventeen."
"Will you be eighteen by November 4th?"
"Uh, no. December birthday."
She looked surprised by that, and then let me leave.
Halfway out of the building, as I mulled over the awkward exchange, it suddenly occurred to me:
Why didn't I just tell her that I'm Canadian?
-cookielime
Sunday, 24 August 2014
Klopp's Quotes, Part I
(Pre-script:
I recently watched Guardians of the Galaxy, being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and I'd like to take a moment to just rave about how awesome it is, but I'm not really great at reviewing movies. There's something I really like about Drax; he's so refreshingly honest in a way that somewhat makes him as innocent as Groot.
Oh, and I'm hooked on "Hooked on a Feeling.")
So here's how today's blog post is going to work. I have a thirty-three-page list of quotes saved on my computer. I'm going to use a random number generator to give me five pages and pick my favourite two quotes from those pages. My pages are organized by source, meaning you'll might see two quotes from one particular book (or movie, or famous person, etcetera.)
Why am I doing this? I have no idea.
Page 18 (Pokémon page)
"I like shorts! They're comfy and easy to wear."
(Youngster Ben)
I recently watched Guardians of the Galaxy, being a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and I'd like to take a moment to just rave about how awesome it is, but I'm not really great at reviewing movies. There's something I really like about Drax; he's so refreshingly honest in a way that somewhat makes him as innocent as Groot.
Oh, and I'm hooked on "Hooked on a Feeling.")
So here's how today's blog post is going to work. I have a thirty-three-page list of quotes saved on my computer. I'm going to use a random number generator to give me five pages and pick my favourite two quotes from those pages. My pages are organized by source, meaning you'll might see two quotes from one particular book (or movie, or famous person, etcetera.)
Why am I doing this? I have no idea.
Page 18 (Pokémon page)
"I like shorts! They're comfy and easy to wear."
(Youngster Ben)
"Life is a serious battle, and you have to use the tools you're
given. It's more important to master the cards you're holding than to complain
about the ones your opponents were dealt."
(Grimsley)
Page 29 (miscellaneous page)
"I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt until I think
they're insane."
(I'm not entirely sure who said this, but I think it was Kevin O'Leary)
"A substance so corrosive that prolonged contact can result in
physical alteration... disability... possession... death..."
"So basically, it's made of this coffee."
(Elvin Gadd and James McCloud, Brawl in the Family)
Page 18 22 (wow, that RNG though)
"You must be truly desperate to come to me for help."
(Loki)
"Regimes fall every day. I
tend not to weep over that; I'm Russian."
(Natasha Romanoff)
Page 20 (a movie page)
"I told you my compound would take you places. I never said they'd be places you wanted to
go."
(Jonathan Crane)
"You know the Greeks
didn't write obituaries. They only asked one question after a man died: Did he
have passion?"
(Dean Kansky)
Page 18 4 (SERIOUSLY WHAT)
"Do
you know what vegan chicken and rice is? RICE!"
(Rajesh Koothrappali)
"Under normal
circumstances I'd say I told you so. But, as I have told so with such vehemence
and frequency already the phrase has lost all meaning. Therefore, I will be
replacing it with the phrase, I have informed you thusly."
(Sheldon Cooper)
Page 8 (Gilmore Girls page)
"So, Grandpa, how's the insurance biz?"
"Oh, people die, we pay. People crash cars, we pay. People lose a
foot, we pay."
"Well, at least you have your new slogan."
(Rory Gilmore, Richard Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore)
"I'm the perfect storm of caffeine and genetics."
(Lorelai Gilmore)
Well, there's ten quotes from my collection. Go out of your way to use them in a sentence today. It'll make life just that much more interesting.
And I feel a little obligated to post this here, after that random number generation.
~TheSequenceKitten
Thursday, 14 August 2014
Living the Dream
It's my first day in Cambridge, MA.
I'm exhausted. It takes a flight to Toronto, customs, and then a connecting flight to get to Boston from Vancouver. The first flight I was sandwiched between two larger people who really loved their arm rests.
I'll admit I felt anxious. But on the flight from Toronto to Boston, as I sat in my window seat, the sunrise suddenly broke through and flooded my vision, and I remembered an episode I had almost forgotten about.
Back in eighth grade, my family took a trip to Toronto to drop my brother off for university, much like the trip we're on right now. I remember getting on the plane for the ride home. I sat by myself, my parents together in the row behind me. Of course, my brother remained in Toronto as the plane took off.
I sat there feeling lonely. My big brother had just embarked into a foreign world, full of difficulties beyond the understanding of a high schooler. But as I sat there, I remember staring out the window in a day-dreamy sort of way, the light hitting my face, and all I could think was:
I'll leave Vancouver too.
Prior to that day, I hadn't had any complex plans about university. I thought maybe I would attend UBC, and that's as far as I reached. However, then and there I imagined what my life would be like if I left. Independence, excitement, new friendships and new opportunities... in the warm sunshine it was such an incredibly beautiful dream that for the rest of high school, I couldn't shake off the desire to go beyond the confines of my hometown.
(At the time, I think my goals were U of T, or McGill. How along the way I ended up applying to Harvard is another story.)
And today, as I sat on the tarmac with the sun in my face getting ready to head to Harvard, I couldn't help but feel that I'd caught that light.
-cookielime
I'm exhausted. It takes a flight to Toronto, customs, and then a connecting flight to get to Boston from Vancouver. The first flight I was sandwiched between two larger people who really loved their arm rests.
I'll admit I felt anxious. But on the flight from Toronto to Boston, as I sat in my window seat, the sunrise suddenly broke through and flooded my vision, and I remembered an episode I had almost forgotten about.
Back in eighth grade, my family took a trip to Toronto to drop my brother off for university, much like the trip we're on right now. I remember getting on the plane for the ride home. I sat by myself, my parents together in the row behind me. Of course, my brother remained in Toronto as the plane took off.
I sat there feeling lonely. My big brother had just embarked into a foreign world, full of difficulties beyond the understanding of a high schooler. But as I sat there, I remember staring out the window in a day-dreamy sort of way, the light hitting my face, and all I could think was:
I'll leave Vancouver too.
Prior to that day, I hadn't had any complex plans about university. I thought maybe I would attend UBC, and that's as far as I reached. However, then and there I imagined what my life would be like if I left. Independence, excitement, new friendships and new opportunities... in the warm sunshine it was such an incredibly beautiful dream that for the rest of high school, I couldn't shake off the desire to go beyond the confines of my hometown.
(At the time, I think my goals were U of T, or McGill. How along the way I ended up applying to Harvard is another story.)
And today, as I sat on the tarmac with the sun in my face getting ready to head to Harvard, I couldn't help but feel that I'd caught that light.
-cookielime
Pianissimo Impossible
(I still sometimes catch myself thinking "I should get a blog."
Then I remember: oh, wait...)
You know what I love about the piano? It's easy to be mediocre at it. It's very, very difficult to become great at it- but to be mediocre, that's quite manageable. And at a mediocre level, there's quite a lot you can do.
Let me try to explain what I'm thinking. I play two instruments: trombone and piano. (I've also tried guitar, bass, cello, saxophone, and percussion, but I'm not particularly good at any of those, having played most of them for a few months at most.)
I've been playing trombone for five years. I'm okay at it- I was probably one of the better trombonists in my high school- but that being said, I was okay at the trombone. You know what trombones play? Chords. In jazz band, the only time trombones play melody is when it's a song specifically written for the trombones. Saxophone melody, trumpet melody- that's a default. Trombone melody- that's a keyword you put in the search engine.
The main limitations of the trombone are how fast you can play and how high you can play. If you want to play something awesome on the trombone- you'd better extend your range upwards by about an octave. That takes a lot of work, and a lot of time. Then you gotta get good at sixteenth notes.
I love the piano because it contrasts so sharply with the trombone. Those two problems (range and speed) that plague trombone players are much less a problem for pianists. How many notes can I play on the trombone? Maybe 31? How many notes can I play on the piano? 88. And anyone can play those notes. After a few months of not practicing trombone, I can play about 26 of those 31 notes. After a few years of not practicing piano- still 88.
The piano works wonderfully as a solo instrument. You can play chords while playing melody. If you're skilled enough, you can even sing while playing piano. One pianist can do amazing things.
The trombone... is an instrument. You can play melody. Or you can play bass notes. You can't play chords. You can't sing while playing trombone. One trombone should probably get a backup band.
And that's the problem. As a trombone player- what am I supposed to do by myself? As a pianist- I can do anything, if I practice hard enough.
Oh, and you can play piano right after eating ice cream.
~TheSequenceKitten
Postscript
The title is a bit of a misnomer, now that I think about it, but music students will get the pun.
Okay, I guess I could do this. That's one thing a solo trombone player that no pianist has ever achieved.
Also this. Maybe the world isn't such a harsh place for trombonists.
And for the record: every time you call us "tromboners," we die a little on the inside. It's not funny. I guarantee we've heard it six dozen times before you say it, and it hasn't been funny any of those times. What are you, twelve? Grow up or get out of the gene pool.
Then I remember: oh, wait...)
You know what I love about the piano? It's easy to be mediocre at it. It's very, very difficult to become great at it- but to be mediocre, that's quite manageable. And at a mediocre level, there's quite a lot you can do.
Let me try to explain what I'm thinking. I play two instruments: trombone and piano. (I've also tried guitar, bass, cello, saxophone, and percussion, but I'm not particularly good at any of those, having played most of them for a few months at most.)
I've been playing trombone for five years. I'm okay at it- I was probably one of the better trombonists in my high school- but that being said, I was okay at the trombone. You know what trombones play? Chords. In jazz band, the only time trombones play melody is when it's a song specifically written for the trombones. Saxophone melody, trumpet melody- that's a default. Trombone melody- that's a keyword you put in the search engine.
The main limitations of the trombone are how fast you can play and how high you can play. If you want to play something awesome on the trombone- you'd better extend your range upwards by about an octave. That takes a lot of work, and a lot of time. Then you gotta get good at sixteenth notes.
I love the piano because it contrasts so sharply with the trombone. Those two problems (range and speed) that plague trombone players are much less a problem for pianists. How many notes can I play on the trombone? Maybe 31? How many notes can I play on the piano? 88. And anyone can play those notes. After a few months of not practicing trombone, I can play about 26 of those 31 notes. After a few years of not practicing piano- still 88.
The piano works wonderfully as a solo instrument. You can play chords while playing melody. If you're skilled enough, you can even sing while playing piano. One pianist can do amazing things.
The trombone... is an instrument. You can play melody. Or you can play bass notes. You can't play chords. You can't sing while playing trombone. One trombone should probably get a backup band.
And that's the problem. As a trombone player- what am I supposed to do by myself? As a pianist- I can do anything, if I practice hard enough.
Oh, and you can play piano right after eating ice cream.
~TheSequenceKitten
Postscript
The title is a bit of a misnomer, now that I think about it, but music students will get the pun.
Okay, I guess I could do this. That's one thing a solo trombone player that no pianist has ever achieved.
Also this. Maybe the world isn't such a harsh place for trombonists.
And for the record: every time you call us "tromboners," we die a little on the inside. It's not funny. I guarantee we've heard it six dozen times before you say it, and it hasn't been funny any of those times. What are you, twelve? Grow up or get out of the gene pool.
Monday, 11 August 2014
An Open Letter to a Me I Don't Yet Know
Dear Cookie of 2018,
So you made it through undergrad! (Or maybe you flunked a year, or dropped out to join the circus. Congrats regardless!)
Right now, on the cusp of college (I hope you still love alliteration - if not, please don't think of your 17-year old incarnation as lame), I'm beginning to feel a certain... lightness bubbling up in me. The soda that was high school has grown flat and uninteresting (and remains chock-full of sugar), while a gleaming flute of champagne beckons from Cambridge.
(Don't forget that the legal drinking age is 21 in the States.)
And now I have to wonder what you're like, the champagne flute empty before you as you step away from four, hopefully transformative years.
Are you feeling similar anxiety as you step onward to medical school? Or maybe a different branch of graduate studies, or has that been tossed aside for a jump straight into the work force? Maybe you found love. I'm sure you found friends. Is parting from them as bittersweet as it is now?
I'm a lot of things right now. Anxious and excited. Young and hungry, but hesitant too. It's probably less scary for you now, or maybe even worse? I hope not worse.
...
Reading this, you might wonder: "Did I stay true to my 17-year old self?"
And I know I'm still largely a naive dummy. I've seen so little of the world, and I understand so little of myself and others. So all I ask you to reflect upon right now, all that I hope for myself in the next four years is this:
Keep moving, growing, changing, learning. I'm feeling sad now that an epoch is coming to an end, but I recently realized that there's nothing sad about it. The past can't be changed (as much as that is both a curse and a blessing). The sweet memories and friendship that exist now, will continue to have existed in the future, even if... they fall apart in the time to come. There's no predicting what's to come.
This is real. Right now these friends, this home, this set of beliefs and ideas, they're my life, and soon they'll just be another set of stories trailing behind me.
So Cookie, now 21-years old (and finally able to drink legally), who's the new me? Does she still believe that, and does she still live, teaching herself to embrace change? I can't wait to meet her.
-cookielime
So you made it through undergrad! (Or maybe you flunked a year, or dropped out to join the circus. Congrats regardless!)
Right now, on the cusp of college (I hope you still love alliteration - if not, please don't think of your 17-year old incarnation as lame), I'm beginning to feel a certain... lightness bubbling up in me. The soda that was high school has grown flat and uninteresting (and remains chock-full of sugar), while a gleaming flute of champagne beckons from Cambridge.
(Don't forget that the legal drinking age is 21 in the States.)
And now I have to wonder what you're like, the champagne flute empty before you as you step away from four, hopefully transformative years.
Are you feeling similar anxiety as you step onward to medical school? Or maybe a different branch of graduate studies, or has that been tossed aside for a jump straight into the work force? Maybe you found love. I'm sure you found friends. Is parting from them as bittersweet as it is now?
I'm a lot of things right now. Anxious and excited. Young and hungry, but hesitant too. It's probably less scary for you now, or maybe even worse? I hope not worse.
...
Reading this, you might wonder: "Did I stay true to my 17-year old self?"
And I know I'm still largely a naive dummy. I've seen so little of the world, and I understand so little of myself and others. So all I ask you to reflect upon right now, all that I hope for myself in the next four years is this:
Keep moving, growing, changing, learning. I'm feeling sad now that an epoch is coming to an end, but I recently realized that there's nothing sad about it. The past can't be changed (as much as that is both a curse and a blessing). The sweet memories and friendship that exist now, will continue to have existed in the future, even if... they fall apart in the time to come. There's no predicting what's to come.
This is real. Right now these friends, this home, this set of beliefs and ideas, they're my life, and soon they'll just be another set of stories trailing behind me.
So Cookie, now 21-years old (and finally able to drink legally), who's the new me? Does she still believe that, and does she still live, teaching herself to embrace change? I can't wait to meet her.
-cookielime
Sunday, 10 August 2014
Let's Call It A Car Crash, That Sounds Exciting!
Achievement Unlocked: Collision!
Be in a car accident for the first time
I feel a little bad saying things like "I was in my first car accident yesterday." I know a guy whose brother died in a car accident. I'm still alive and obviously in a good enough condition to blog about it. Some people don't get that chance.
This is completely unrelated to my "accident", but: don't text and drive. I have no personal experience with other people texting and driving, but I'm aware it's caused a lot of accidents. So don't. Don't drink either. And try not to sleep, eat, drink, or be itchy while driving either. Actually, just don't drive. All this traffic freaks us L drivers out.
(If you have no idea what an L is in terms of driving, you probably don't live around here, so you're not close enough to worry about me hitting you with a car.)
The first three terms I thought of to describe bad things and cars were: car accident, car crash, and car collision. I asked Wikipedia and typed "define: _____" into Google a few times, and here's what I've decided:
FINAL VERDICT:
car accident- yes!
car collision- yes!
car crash- probably!
In case you're wondering- there was no damage to either car and all parties involved were unharmed. But we were in a parking lot, so this isn't all that surprising.
The moral of the story is: if you're backing up, at least look through your rearview mirror or window or something.
Also, dictionaries can make for a very divided jury.
~TheSequenceKitten
Be in a car accident for the first time
I feel a little bad saying things like "I was in my first car accident yesterday." I know a guy whose brother died in a car accident. I'm still alive and obviously in a good enough condition to blog about it. Some people don't get that chance.
This is completely unrelated to my "accident", but: don't text and drive. I have no personal experience with other people texting and driving, but I'm aware it's caused a lot of accidents. So don't. Don't drink either. And try not to sleep, eat, drink, or be itchy while driving either. Actually, just don't drive. All this traffic freaks us L drivers out.
(If you have no idea what an L is in terms of driving, you probably don't live around here, so you're not close enough to worry about me hitting you with a car.)
The first three terms I thought of to describe bad things and cars were: car accident, car crash, and car collision. I asked Wikipedia and typed "define: _____" into Google a few times, and here's what I've decided:
- I was definitely in a car accident. Very few people intentionally move their cars into the path of other cars, and I am not one of those people, so this is not surprising.
- I was also in a car collision, because "the scientific use of the word "collision" implies nothing about the magnitude of the forces." If you've ever bumped into a wall- that's a collision. If you've ever walked into a door- that's a collision. My car getting bumped by another car- collision.
- According to Wikipedia, I was also in a traffic collision, the page to which "car crash" redirects. Dictionaries here are divided: by Merriam-Webster I would say I was not in a crash, and by Dictionary.com, WordReference and Oxford I would say I was in a crash (I assume we can say the collision was "violent.") Cambridge could go either way depending on whether or not it was a serious accident, but I'm certainly not being serious about it right now, so probably not.
car accident- yes!
car collision- yes!
car crash- probably!
In case you're wondering- there was no damage to either car and all parties involved were unharmed. But we were in a parking lot, so this isn't all that surprising.
The moral of the story is: if you're backing up, at least look through your rearview mirror or window or something.
Also, dictionaries can make for a very divided jury.
~TheSequenceKitten
Thursday, 7 August 2014
I'm Basically Keanu Reeves
because I age in spurts, or not at all.
The proof is in my school photos. Essentially, there have been a few phases:
0-4: in which I was a baby
5-9: in which I was a slightly larger child, with slightly larger and less round eyes (but more on my eyes later)
10-16: in which I had the same face as before but the body of a chubby preteen
17+: the present, in which, after dropping sixteen pounds of chub and chopping off a foot of hair, I...still have the same face and look to be 14
This realization was brought on by my older brother, who recently came home from Toronto on vacation. He's always had fun teasing me, since I was born, but the classic "Stupid Mei mei" and "You're fat" doesn't really work anymore, so he's fallen back to teasing me about looking like I'm a ninth grader.
(Though I think he's given up on finding a good trait to mock now, as at dinner he he just decided to say "Look at you, all skinny and stuff" in a mocking tone, to which I, bemused, replied "Thank you?")
In all the recent family bonding (read: late night movies and spontaneous laughing fits) I've also realized that I might be adopted. There are seemingly only a handful of traits I have that can be linked to my parents, and they're flimsy proof at best:
1) The Keanu-Reevesness (technical term) might be from my mom who went into her late-20's still passing as a 19-year old.
2) My feet are clones of my dad's
Counter to those two: I'm much more tan than the rest of my family, my eyes don't resemble either of my parents', and I have these super spidery hands that don't match up to the rest of my family's normally proportioned hands.
Maybe I'm a dumpster baby. An age-defying dumpster baby.
-akacookielime
P.S. SequenceKitten, you need my permission to put screenshots in your blogs? Do as you wish! Just get buff.
I hold you to that resolution.
The proof is in my school photos. Essentially, there have been a few phases:
0-4: in which I was a baby
5-9: in which I was a slightly larger child, with slightly larger and less round eyes (but more on my eyes later)
10-16: in which I had the same face as before but the body of a chubby preteen
17+: the present, in which, after dropping sixteen pounds of chub and chopping off a foot of hair, I...still have the same face and look to be 14
This realization was brought on by my older brother, who recently came home from Toronto on vacation. He's always had fun teasing me, since I was born, but the classic "Stupid Mei mei" and "You're fat" doesn't really work anymore, so he's fallen back to teasing me about looking like I'm a ninth grader.
(Though I think he's given up on finding a good trait to mock now, as at dinner he he just decided to say "Look at you, all skinny and stuff" in a mocking tone, to which I, bemused, replied "Thank you?")
In all the recent family bonding (read: late night movies and spontaneous laughing fits) I've also realized that I might be adopted. There are seemingly only a handful of traits I have that can be linked to my parents, and they're flimsy proof at best:
1) The Keanu-Reevesness (technical term) might be from my mom who went into her late-20's still passing as a 19-year old.
2) My feet are clones of my dad's
Counter to those two: I'm much more tan than the rest of my family, my eyes don't resemble either of my parents', and I have these super spidery hands that don't match up to the rest of my family's normally proportioned hands.
Maybe I'm a dumpster baby. An age-defying dumpster baby.
-akacookielime
P.S. SequenceKitten, you need my permission to put screenshots in your blogs? Do as you wish! Just get buff.
I hold you to that resolution.
Egg, Bacon, Egg and Bacon, Sausage, Egg and Sausage, Sausage and Bacon, Egg, Sausage and Bacon
As I write this, I have yet to pick a title for this post. Maybe I'll find one later.
I've started to get excited about university.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I've started to get excited about college.
...I don't know if I'll ever stop being bitter about that.
Anyway, I'm excited!
For example, today I learned that Staples is selling 80-page coil notebooks.
For five cents.
Each.
I guess this is going to be a recurring theme: one sentence, one line break.
What else is new?
I started a Nuzlocke run through in Pokémon Black.
I've taken some screenshots, so I suppose I could start posting them on this blog.
I'll have to ask cookielime, though.
Did I mention I got a learner's licence?
I'm caught between the British licence and the American license and keep trying to spell it licensce or licencse.
I can't wait to watch Guardians of the Galaxy.
This is TheSequenceKitten's brain on drugs.
"He has dreams which he'll tell you all about.
He can speak French.
Or could in high school, anyway.
A little.
His blog has four posts, all apologies for not posting more.
He is
the least interesting man in the world."
http://xkcd.com/621/
~TheSequenceKitten
I've started to get excited about university.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I've started to get excited about college.
...I don't know if I'll ever stop being bitter about that.
Anyway, I'm excited!
For example, today I learned that Staples is selling 80-page coil notebooks.
For five cents.
Each.
I guess this is going to be a recurring theme: one sentence, one line break.
What else is new?
I started a Nuzlocke run through in Pokémon Black.
I've taken some screenshots, so I suppose I could start posting them on this blog.
I'll have to ask cookielime, though.
Did I mention I got a learner's licence?
I'm caught between the British licence and the American license and keep trying to spell it licensce or licencse.
I can't wait to watch Guardians of the Galaxy.
This is TheSequenceKitten's brain on drugs.
"He has dreams which he'll tell you all about.
He can speak French.
Or could in high school, anyway.
A little.
His blog has four posts, all apologies for not posting more.
He is
the least interesting man in the world."
http://xkcd.com/621/
~TheSequenceKitten
Wednesday, 30 July 2014
On Time, and Cycles, and the Impending Move, and
The following blog post comes to you in three parts. Ish.
1. Time:
is frustratingly crinkly during the summer. Like a piece of paper that's been balled up that you can never quite flatten properly, filled with nooks and grooves that catch everything, and long, almost smooth patches. Clocks and calendars are nice but they paint the illusion that time can be cut up into finite intervals, when in human experience it seems to undulate and change. Boredom runs rampant, and the days drag on and on and on and then next thing you know, there are barely any days left. All the forgotten plans, remembered, crowd together in the last couple of weeks and things spiral faster and faster towards the end.
But I'm glad that's how it is, rather than the other way around. It's crazy and busy and loud and memorable, but with friends, that last bit is the best.
2. Cycles:
are terrible. They imply an end that always bumps back into the beginning, only for the entire process to start again. Thinking a lot this summer, so many things people do are caught in various cycles; while some are good habits, it feels like a lot end up being unhealthy, like couples that stay in broken relationships or people that basically destroy themselves.
If people lose goals, stop trying to better themselves, things can only go downhill. Like a stagnant lake that grows septic with time. But cycles are tricky, they fool us into thinking we're progressing when in reality you're just stirring the muddy puddle. The result is the same.
I'm glad time is crinkly and not cyclical. Even if not being cyclical means an end to it all, eventually.
3. The impending move:
is soon indeed. 14 days and counting, and today's practically done. I'm excited though, the anxiety's more or less been replaced with elation at the prospect of change.
It's interesting being on the brink of a move. You suddenly gain tourist eyes, your hometown becomes the most beautiful and fascinating thing you've ever seen. You want pictures of everything, everyone. You have a sense of urgency to hang out with the people you love, and to make sure they know that you care about them.
I think that's the reason people always say to live like it's your last day alive. Sure, moving's not exactly a death sentence, but it opens your eyes the same way. And I love the feeling. Time is crinkly and this transitory time between high school and university will soon be gone, but the nooks and grooves are perfect for capturing memories.
4. And:
here's what I've learned this summer:
I've been frustrated through a lot of it. The beginning and middle were very, well, cyclical: I was stuck in a sort of limbo where I felt like I couldn't start anything new, knowing that the big move was to come. So every day just passed with me killing time.
And yet I was filled with anxiety too. As much as I found the repetitive days tedious, I was terrified of leaving them behind.
But time moves on regardless, even if it moves forward inconsistently, and we can choose to create within its frame, or chew our fingernails in anxiety, or passively let the days slip by. We can spiral forward, fruitlessly try to drag our way backwards, or stew in stagnant cycles.
It's clear now what's the only real way of living, though it's easy to forget and lose the proper perspective. Friends help.
Two weeks left now!
Bring it on, Boston.
-akacookielime
1. Time:
is frustratingly crinkly during the summer. Like a piece of paper that's been balled up that you can never quite flatten properly, filled with nooks and grooves that catch everything, and long, almost smooth patches. Clocks and calendars are nice but they paint the illusion that time can be cut up into finite intervals, when in human experience it seems to undulate and change. Boredom runs rampant, and the days drag on and on and on and then next thing you know, there are barely any days left. All the forgotten plans, remembered, crowd together in the last couple of weeks and things spiral faster and faster towards the end.
But I'm glad that's how it is, rather than the other way around. It's crazy and busy and loud and memorable, but with friends, that last bit is the best.
2. Cycles:
are terrible. They imply an end that always bumps back into the beginning, only for the entire process to start again. Thinking a lot this summer, so many things people do are caught in various cycles; while some are good habits, it feels like a lot end up being unhealthy, like couples that stay in broken relationships or people that basically destroy themselves.
If people lose goals, stop trying to better themselves, things can only go downhill. Like a stagnant lake that grows septic with time. But cycles are tricky, they fool us into thinking we're progressing when in reality you're just stirring the muddy puddle. The result is the same.
I'm glad time is crinkly and not cyclical. Even if not being cyclical means an end to it all, eventually.
3. The impending move:
is soon indeed. 14 days and counting, and today's practically done. I'm excited though, the anxiety's more or less been replaced with elation at the prospect of change.
It's interesting being on the brink of a move. You suddenly gain tourist eyes, your hometown becomes the most beautiful and fascinating thing you've ever seen. You want pictures of everything, everyone. You have a sense of urgency to hang out with the people you love, and to make sure they know that you care about them.
I think that's the reason people always say to live like it's your last day alive. Sure, moving's not exactly a death sentence, but it opens your eyes the same way. And I love the feeling. Time is crinkly and this transitory time between high school and university will soon be gone, but the nooks and grooves are perfect for capturing memories.
4. And:
here's what I've learned this summer:
I've been frustrated through a lot of it. The beginning and middle were very, well, cyclical: I was stuck in a sort of limbo where I felt like I couldn't start anything new, knowing that the big move was to come. So every day just passed with me killing time.
And yet I was filled with anxiety too. As much as I found the repetitive days tedious, I was terrified of leaving them behind.
But time moves on regardless, even if it moves forward inconsistently, and we can choose to create within its frame, or chew our fingernails in anxiety, or passively let the days slip by. We can spiral forward, fruitlessly try to drag our way backwards, or stew in stagnant cycles.
It's clear now what's the only real way of living, though it's easy to forget and lose the proper perspective. Friends help.
Two weeks left now!
Bring it on, Boston.
-akacookielime
Wednesday, 16 July 2014
Debuting the Amazing Race Episode Title
I've been meaning to update this for some time, having returned from vacation last Sunday, but it's slipped my mind until today.
I went down to Yosemite National Park a few weeks ago. It was very, very hot. Then I returned home and, lo and behold, it was very, very hot. I mean, we're not talking Palm Springs hot, but hot by the standards of a city that tends to get a lot of rain, in a country which jokes about its two seasons being "winter is coming" and "winter is here."
I then spent a week volunteering at camp, looking after young children and trying not to trip over any of them. That went surprisingly well.
Now that I'm back, I've finally started to enjoy summer. This enjoyment process mostly involves sitting around all day on the computer, accomplishing absolutely nothing. I've been trying to adapt my schedule to also include periods of sitting around all day at the piano, accomplishing absolutely nothing, but it's difficult because the room with the piano doesn't have a ceiling fan.
I also want to teach myself Mandarin using the Internet. Yes, for those who didn't know, I'm Chinese and I don't speak Chinese. I've already gotten all the shame and disappointment from my family; perhaps you readers could try to interpret it a little more comically.
The U.S. television series "The Amazing Race," and by extension its Canadian adaptation, tends to name its episodes after random quotes said by the contestants, usually ones that seem extremely unusual out of context. For example: "There's a Fish in my Pants*," "My Cheese is Out of Control", and "Funky Monkey." In the absence of clever spoonerisms, I've decided to start naming my blog posts in this manner.
*(and also a platypus controlling me, but he's underneath the table.)
Mmm, watermelon.
I'll update more when something interesting happens, which is to say, probably never.
~TheSequenceKitten
I went down to Yosemite National Park a few weeks ago. It was very, very hot. Then I returned home and, lo and behold, it was very, very hot. I mean, we're not talking Palm Springs hot, but hot by the standards of a city that tends to get a lot of rain, in a country which jokes about its two seasons being "winter is coming" and "winter is here."
I then spent a week volunteering at camp, looking after young children and trying not to trip over any of them. That went surprisingly well.
Now that I'm back, I've finally started to enjoy summer. This enjoyment process mostly involves sitting around all day on the computer, accomplishing absolutely nothing. I've been trying to adapt my schedule to also include periods of sitting around all day at the piano, accomplishing absolutely nothing, but it's difficult because the room with the piano doesn't have a ceiling fan.
I also want to teach myself Mandarin using the Internet. Yes, for those who didn't know, I'm Chinese and I don't speak Chinese. I've already gotten all the shame and disappointment from my family; perhaps you readers could try to interpret it a little more comically.
The U.S. television series "The Amazing Race," and by extension its Canadian adaptation, tends to name its episodes after random quotes said by the contestants, usually ones that seem extremely unusual out of context. For example: "There's a Fish in my Pants*," "My Cheese is Out of Control", and "Funky Monkey." In the absence of clever spoonerisms, I've decided to start naming my blog posts in this manner.
*(and also a platypus controlling me, but he's underneath the table.)
Mmm, watermelon.
I'll update more when something interesting happens, which is to say, probably never.
~TheSequenceKitten
Sunday, 29 June 2014
Anxiety... but What's Really the Big Picture?
It's about two weeks into summer vacation, and I've averaged about 5 hours of sleep each night.
Each night, I delay sleeping until I'm nice and exhausted. I trudge upstairs, turn off the lights, settle into bed in comfy pajamas, close my eyes, lie there.
Lie there.
Think.
Toss and turn.
Lie there.
I think about my day. About what I'll do tomorrow. About what my life will by like in university (45 days left until the move out). About who I will be, what I'll try to change, how scary and stressful and fun it'll be.
Like an endless pattering of rain, thoughts keep me awake.
I end up dozing off around 3:00 am most nights, and I wake up abruptly around 7:00 am or 8:00 after a bunch of muddled, choppy dreams. Last night featured a couple dreams. In the first, I was playing piano (which I haven't actually done in months), sight reading through some song in my Gr. 10 book, when my parents pass by talking about packing. I realize I have one day left to pack and freak out, because I also have plans to hang out with friends. Dream the second featured my friends coming together to tell me that they were coming to Massachusetts too, to help me settle in.
Conclusions? I have serious packing anxiety (this is the third or fourth packing-related dream). And I miss my friends.
All my life I've not been overly anxious, but definitely a wallower. I think, and I think, and I think about trivial things and future things and past things endlessly if I have the time. It's never been a great trait, and most of my hobbies developed to cope with that (knitting and sewing and cooking and studying and other things to block out my incessantly chattering brain). Recently it's led a lot more to anxiety, I suppose since I'm at the cusp of the largest event of my adolescent life, the border between high school and college, life at home and life on campus.
And my anxieties keep piling higher. As much as I'm excited to commence a new life in Cambridge, I know the life I've painstakingly built here will suffer as a result. Moreoever, the expectations, the standards, are higher than ever. My parents, once fairly cut off from the extended family, has gotten back in touch recently, and I know it's out of pride for their Harvard daughter.
But then today, I went to Chapters, and I read part of Marina Keegan's book, The Opposite of Loneliness.
A couple of months ago, an article popped up in my Facebook feed about Marina Keegan. A recent graduate of Yale, had an internship at The New York Times and a job set up for her after her graduation, who believed firmly in pursuing one's passions, and who had been killed in a car crash. It was hard to read.
Today, I stumbled upon the post-humously published collection of her writing, fiction and non-fiction,
including the essay from which the book took it's title:
http://yaledailynews.com/crosscampus/2012/05/27/keegan-the-opposite-of-loneliness/
I read half of the book right there in the store. And though I may be anxious still, Keegan's writings reaffirmed something for me: anxiety might be there, the looming of the future might always intimidate me, but life, and the world, remain beautiful.
But are ultimately, short-lived.
So I'm not sure where this blog post was supposed to go. It doesn't have a set destination, like a lot of things don't.
I think I'll take a nap now.
-cookielime
Each night, I delay sleeping until I'm nice and exhausted. I trudge upstairs, turn off the lights, settle into bed in comfy pajamas, close my eyes, lie there.
Lie there.
Think.
Toss and turn.
Lie there.
I think about my day. About what I'll do tomorrow. About what my life will by like in university (45 days left until the move out). About who I will be, what I'll try to change, how scary and stressful and fun it'll be.
Like an endless pattering of rain, thoughts keep me awake.
I end up dozing off around 3:00 am most nights, and I wake up abruptly around 7:00 am or 8:00 after a bunch of muddled, choppy dreams. Last night featured a couple dreams. In the first, I was playing piano (which I haven't actually done in months), sight reading through some song in my Gr. 10 book, when my parents pass by talking about packing. I realize I have one day left to pack and freak out, because I also have plans to hang out with friends. Dream the second featured my friends coming together to tell me that they were coming to Massachusetts too, to help me settle in.
Conclusions? I have serious packing anxiety (this is the third or fourth packing-related dream). And I miss my friends.
All my life I've not been overly anxious, but definitely a wallower. I think, and I think, and I think about trivial things and future things and past things endlessly if I have the time. It's never been a great trait, and most of my hobbies developed to cope with that (knitting and sewing and cooking and studying and other things to block out my incessantly chattering brain). Recently it's led a lot more to anxiety, I suppose since I'm at the cusp of the largest event of my adolescent life, the border between high school and college, life at home and life on campus.
And my anxieties keep piling higher. As much as I'm excited to commence a new life in Cambridge, I know the life I've painstakingly built here will suffer as a result. Moreoever, the expectations, the standards, are higher than ever. My parents, once fairly cut off from the extended family, has gotten back in touch recently, and I know it's out of pride for their Harvard daughter.
But then today, I went to Chapters, and I read part of Marina Keegan's book, The Opposite of Loneliness.
A couple of months ago, an article popped up in my Facebook feed about Marina Keegan. A recent graduate of Yale, had an internship at The New York Times and a job set up for her after her graduation, who believed firmly in pursuing one's passions, and who had been killed in a car crash. It was hard to read.
Today, I stumbled upon the post-humously published collection of her writing, fiction and non-fiction,
including the essay from which the book took it's title:
http://yaledailynews.com/crosscampus/2012/05/27/keegan-the-opposite-of-loneliness/
I read half of the book right there in the store. And though I may be anxious still, Keegan's writings reaffirmed something for me: anxiety might be there, the looming of the future might always intimidate me, but life, and the world, remain beautiful.
But are ultimately, short-lived.
So I'm not sure where this blog post was supposed to go. It doesn't have a set destination, like a lot of things don't.
I think I'll take a nap now.
-cookielime
Thursday, 26 June 2014
Jam and Ice Cream
Here's the part about jam.
Yesterday I went to my first-ever "jam session," and I must say it is a very fulfilling experience. I spend much of my time trying to find background tracks or trying to arrange my own backup band. The first is almost always impossible if you want to play anything other than a twelve-bar blues, and the second is quite difficult considering I know almost nothing about jazz piano. Or jazz bass. Or jazz drums.
So it's pretty amazing to stand in a room with some great musicians and just be able to say "Hey, why don't we play this?" And then you give them chords and all of a sudden you're playing it.
Jam sessions also give you motivation to work on your instrument. I found that in jazz band, I was challenged so infrequently that I hardly ever practiced. After a couple of tries I could play almost everything I needed to. So why practice? But with a jam session, you have no idea what you'll end up playing. The prospect of future jam sessions encourages you to further your own capabilities, and that's why after finishing this blog post, I intend to go practice trombone, something I haven't done for about a year (despite being in two bands and an orchestra for the past ten months.)
Here's the part about ice cream.
Sometimes, everything just goes wrong. When that happens, ice cream makes things better. If that doesn't happen, you're not eating enough ice cream.
I'm not going to launch into a rant about what, exactly, went wrong. I'll summarize it briefly: because the course registration date for my post-secondary institution was completely unaffected by my grades, I wound up with a very late registration date, and as such I was essentially able to register for none of the courses I wanted to take.
After a little bit of ranting and some internal finger-pointing, I calmed down, did what I could to alleviate the situation, got on the waitlist for everything available, and ate some ice cream.
I suppose what's hard about life is that you don't know what you don't know, and no one ever tells you. Probably because they think you know that you don't know it. I find myself now in a situation that I could have prevented. Naturally, I didn't find out that I could have prevented it until it was too late.
Ask questions. You never know what you don't know.
Given that I just ate an ice cream bar, practicing trombone is probably not a great idea right now.
That much, I know.
~TheSequenceKitten
Yesterday I went to my first-ever "jam session," and I must say it is a very fulfilling experience. I spend much of my time trying to find background tracks or trying to arrange my own backup band. The first is almost always impossible if you want to play anything other than a twelve-bar blues, and the second is quite difficult considering I know almost nothing about jazz piano. Or jazz bass. Or jazz drums.
So it's pretty amazing to stand in a room with some great musicians and just be able to say "Hey, why don't we play this?" And then you give them chords and all of a sudden you're playing it.
Jam sessions also give you motivation to work on your instrument. I found that in jazz band, I was challenged so infrequently that I hardly ever practiced. After a couple of tries I could play almost everything I needed to. So why practice? But with a jam session, you have no idea what you'll end up playing. The prospect of future jam sessions encourages you to further your own capabilities, and that's why after finishing this blog post, I intend to go practice trombone, something I haven't done for about a year (despite being in two bands and an orchestra for the past ten months.)
Here's the part about ice cream.
Sometimes, everything just goes wrong. When that happens, ice cream makes things better. If that doesn't happen, you're not eating enough ice cream.
I'm not going to launch into a rant about what, exactly, went wrong. I'll summarize it briefly: because the course registration date for my post-secondary institution was completely unaffected by my grades, I wound up with a very late registration date, and as such I was essentially able to register for none of the courses I wanted to take.
After a little bit of ranting and some internal finger-pointing, I calmed down, did what I could to alleviate the situation, got on the waitlist for everything available, and ate some ice cream.
I suppose what's hard about life is that you don't know what you don't know, and no one ever tells you. Probably because they think you know that you don't know it. I find myself now in a situation that I could have prevented. Naturally, I didn't find out that I could have prevented it until it was too late.
Ask questions. You never know what you don't know.
Given that I just ate an ice cream bar, practicing trombone is probably not a great idea right now.
That much, I know.
~TheSequenceKitten
Wednesday, 25 June 2014
Growing Up Makes Friends a Heart-Wrenching Sitcom
...is a statement I never thought I would type. (It's also spoonerism-free).
Wart-Hrenching?
Anyway, I couldn't sleep last night, or technically, early this morning, and ended up watching Friends at 1:00 am or so. They were the episodes following Ross and Emily's botched wedding, wherein Ross says Rachel's name instead of Emily's during his vows. Rachel, meanwhile, is going nuts wanting to tell Ross she still loves him.
At some point, Monica tries to dissuade Rachel from telling Ross her true feelings, saying "Do you know how painful it is to tell someone you love them and not have them say it back?"
To which Rachel replies, "I know. And I don't care."
So of course they play the confession fairly comedically, but earnestly, and the gang then gets wrapped up in other affairs as Phoebe's water breaks and they run off to the hospital.
But back to the wart-hrenching part.
Friends is an awesome show. It's hilarious, and manages to create complex characters with genuinely gripping interactions. And it used to just be pure entertainment for me... until the struggles of the characters started reflecting my own just a little too much.
Maybe it's the recent high school graduation talking, the looming fears of independence and adulthood, or a recent unrequited love induced heartbreak, but Friends is becoming a scarier and scarier sitcom.
...Maybe I should stick to counting sheep when I can't sleep.
-cookielime
P.S. To the SequenceKitten:
As an otaku, I feel obliged to recommend the OSTs of the following fantastic animes:
The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya (it's orchestral!)
Wolf Children
Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Wart-Hrenching?
Anyway, I couldn't sleep last night, or technically, early this morning, and ended up watching Friends at 1:00 am or so. They were the episodes following Ross and Emily's botched wedding, wherein Ross says Rachel's name instead of Emily's during his vows. Rachel, meanwhile, is going nuts wanting to tell Ross she still loves him.
At some point, Monica tries to dissuade Rachel from telling Ross her true feelings, saying "Do you know how painful it is to tell someone you love them and not have them say it back?"
To which Rachel replies, "I know. And I don't care."
So of course they play the confession fairly comedically, but earnestly, and the gang then gets wrapped up in other affairs as Phoebe's water breaks and they run off to the hospital.
But back to the wart-hrenching part.
Friends is an awesome show. It's hilarious, and manages to create complex characters with genuinely gripping interactions. And it used to just be pure entertainment for me... until the struggles of the characters started reflecting my own just a little too much.
Maybe it's the recent high school graduation talking, the looming fears of independence and adulthood, or a recent unrequited love induced heartbreak, but Friends is becoming a scarier and scarier sitcom.
...Maybe I should stick to counting sheep when I can't sleep.
-cookielime
P.S. To the SequenceKitten:
As an otaku, I feel obliged to recommend the OSTs of the following fantastic animes:
The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya (it's orchestral!)
Wolf Children
Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Sunday, 22 June 2014
OST OTL
The title of this blog post is not a spoonerism. Although now that I think about it, it could be.
For the record:
"OST" is an abbreviation for "original soundtrack."
OTL is an emoticon, of sorts, which represents a stickman kneeling down, whether in sorrow, apology, or reverence.
You've probably seen or heard dozens of speeches on how instrumental (excuse the pun) music is to movies: how it creates an atmosphere, tugs at your heartstrings... I'm not here to reiterate those points. But I will be discussing the (original) soundtracks of several movies, mostly to fanboy over them rather than talk about how the composer uses certain chords to invoke certain emotions.
I happen to quite like movie music. The most played song on my iTunes is "The Avengers," from the film score for the movie of the same name. If you have two minutes to spare, I highly recommend listening to it! If you don't have two minutes to spare, I wonder why you're reading Flick in the Liver. But of course, what you do with your time is your decision.
But Marvel's The Avengers came out over two years ago, and new movies have emerged since, each with their own epic soundtracks. Recently I've been listening to the soundtrack of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, particularly the track "Taking A Stand." And yes, I am aware that slower music can be equally epic; I've taken a liking to "The Smithsonian" from the same soundtrack. (A third recommendation goes out to "Lemurian Star." I've always thought this blog needed more instances of the word "lemur.")
To be honest, when I began writing this blog post, I hadn't intended it to be a medium through which I blatantly pitched all of my favourite Captain America tracks, so I suppose I ought to get on with the rest of the post.
Inspired by tracks like the ones I've listed, I decided to search Google for tips on how to write orchestral music on a similarly-epic level. I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting to find, but I stumbled* upon George Strezov's guide to "Producing an Epic Orchestral Track," and I read through it. It's a very interesting and helpful guide, and for anyone who, like me, aspires to create something musical one day, I highly suggest taking a look through it!
*it was literally the first Google search result
Anyways, I've begun work on my own original orchestral track, a project the likes of which I have never before undertaken. Announcing that, I believe, was the initial intent of this blog post. But I hope you've enjoyed some of the music, and the one very helpful guide, along the way.
If you have your own opinions on movie music, feel free to... comment?
I actually have no idea if the infrastructure for such a system exists. I probably should know this, considering it's (partly) my blog.
Go listen to some nice music while I figure that out.
~TheSequenceKitten
Postscript:
(A few more recommendations!
Project Insight, from Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Earth to Asgard, from Thor
Captain America March, from Captain America: The First Avenger
I am aware that music exists outside of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but I haven't gotten around to obsessing over those other movies' soundtracks just yet.)
For the record:
"OST" is an abbreviation for "original soundtrack."
OTL is an emoticon, of sorts, which represents a stickman kneeling down, whether in sorrow, apology, or reverence.
You've probably seen or heard dozens of speeches on how instrumental (excuse the pun) music is to movies: how it creates an atmosphere, tugs at your heartstrings... I'm not here to reiterate those points. But I will be discussing the (original) soundtracks of several movies, mostly to fanboy over them rather than talk about how the composer uses certain chords to invoke certain emotions.
I happen to quite like movie music. The most played song on my iTunes is "The Avengers," from the film score for the movie of the same name. If you have two minutes to spare, I highly recommend listening to it! If you don't have two minutes to spare, I wonder why you're reading Flick in the Liver. But of course, what you do with your time is your decision.
But Marvel's The Avengers came out over two years ago, and new movies have emerged since, each with their own epic soundtracks. Recently I've been listening to the soundtrack of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, particularly the track "Taking A Stand." And yes, I am aware that slower music can be equally epic; I've taken a liking to "The Smithsonian" from the same soundtrack. (A third recommendation goes out to "Lemurian Star." I've always thought this blog needed more instances of the word "lemur.")
To be honest, when I began writing this blog post, I hadn't intended it to be a medium through which I blatantly pitched all of my favourite Captain America tracks, so I suppose I ought to get on with the rest of the post.
Inspired by tracks like the ones I've listed, I decided to search Google for tips on how to write orchestral music on a similarly-epic level. I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting to find, but I stumbled* upon George Strezov's guide to "Producing an Epic Orchestral Track," and I read through it. It's a very interesting and helpful guide, and for anyone who, like me, aspires to create something musical one day, I highly suggest taking a look through it!
*it was literally the first Google search result
Anyways, I've begun work on my own original orchestral track, a project the likes of which I have never before undertaken. Announcing that, I believe, was the initial intent of this blog post. But I hope you've enjoyed some of the music, and the one very helpful guide, along the way.
If you have your own opinions on movie music, feel free to... comment?
I actually have no idea if the infrastructure for such a system exists. I probably should know this, considering it's (partly) my blog.
Go listen to some nice music while I figure that out.
~TheSequenceKitten
Postscript:
(A few more recommendations!
Project Insight, from Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Earth to Asgard, from Thor
Captain America March, from Captain America: The First Avenger
I am aware that music exists outside of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but I haven't gotten around to obsessing over those other movies' soundtracks just yet.)
Tuesday, 17 June 2014
Blidnight Mogging
Actually it's past midnight. It's 2:24 am.
Earlier today, well, yesterday, a guy a year younger than I inquired as to whether or not I had any tips on university applications. I told him the simplest, and truest things I had learnt this year about applications, after a lot of inquiry and self-reflection, and was given the following response:
"That's all?"
Three comments. Firstly, why on earth is anyone worrying about university applications during the first week of summer vacation? Though I admit to being a self-proclaimed nerd, I left my CommonApp frenzy until August, at least. The weather has been lousy lately though, so it's better than gaming all day and listening to raindrops.
Secondly, while I'm not making direct criticisms at that guy, there seems to be a vein of common misconceptions the pre-university bunch seem to have. A lot of their questions imply the existence of precise tricks and tips towards an acceptance to one's dream school, secret skills that signal your supremacy over others to universities, code words that let's them know you're in the know.
It's more comforting to think that way than it is to accept that all you can do is present yourself, as best as you can. At this point, as much as awards and achievements can help pad an application, grandiloquent language can smooth out an essay and glowing references can shine the limelight on you, well... to quote the last high school play of my life, Fitch and Cabbage, "a whore dressed in silk is still a whore."
Applications are scary because they force us to reflect on who we are. It's intimidating to define oneself, and it's not exactly a skill taught in school or learnt while volunteering or leading extracurriculars. Perhaps the fear is knowing that it's possible that under the silk, there is only a whore.
What would you do then?
...
Woah that got heavy.
Thirdly, never say 'that's all?' after someone gave you advice that you asked for. That's just rude.
-cookielime
Postscript:
I realize now that the advice I give on university applications basically sum up the conclusions I've made in my senior year of high school.
If you're wondering:
1) Be truthful - be faithful to the real product you're trying to sell: yourself
2) Be a person that the school will be proud of to call their alum. - pride is one of the greatest gifts one can give
3) Be earnest, but not maudlin - everyone has a story, and each is of relative importance
Earlier today, well, yesterday, a guy a year younger than I inquired as to whether or not I had any tips on university applications. I told him the simplest, and truest things I had learnt this year about applications, after a lot of inquiry and self-reflection, and was given the following response:
"That's all?"
Three comments. Firstly, why on earth is anyone worrying about university applications during the first week of summer vacation? Though I admit to being a self-proclaimed nerd, I left my CommonApp frenzy until August, at least. The weather has been lousy lately though, so it's better than gaming all day and listening to raindrops.
Secondly, while I'm not making direct criticisms at that guy, there seems to be a vein of common misconceptions the pre-university bunch seem to have. A lot of their questions imply the existence of precise tricks and tips towards an acceptance to one's dream school, secret skills that signal your supremacy over others to universities, code words that let's them know you're in the know.
It's more comforting to think that way than it is to accept that all you can do is present yourself, as best as you can. At this point, as much as awards and achievements can help pad an application, grandiloquent language can smooth out an essay and glowing references can shine the limelight on you, well... to quote the last high school play of my life, Fitch and Cabbage, "a whore dressed in silk is still a whore."
Applications are scary because they force us to reflect on who we are. It's intimidating to define oneself, and it's not exactly a skill taught in school or learnt while volunteering or leading extracurriculars. Perhaps the fear is knowing that it's possible that under the silk, there is only a whore.
What would you do then?
...
Woah that got heavy.
Thirdly, never say 'that's all?' after someone gave you advice that you asked for. That's just rude.
-cookielime
Postscript:
I realize now that the advice I give on university applications basically sum up the conclusions I've made in my senior year of high school.
If you're wondering:
1) Be truthful - be faithful to the real product you're trying to sell: yourself
2) Be a person that the school will be proud of to call their alum. - pride is one of the greatest gifts one can give
3) Be earnest, but not maudlin - everyone has a story, and each is of relative importance
Monday, 16 June 2014
A Penny for the Gold Eye
Kistah Murtz- he dead
A penny for the Gold Eye
~E. S. Teliot
My fellow blogger has already explained the origins of Flick in the Liver, and I suppose she's done a rather thorough job of it. The only thing I'd like to add is a quote by one of our mutual friends, who after hearing "we flick in the liver" quickly remarked "And that's why life is so bitter."
A penny for the Gold Eye
~E. S. Teliot
My fellow blogger has already explained the origins of Flick in the Liver, and I suppose she's done a rather thorough job of it. The only thing I'd like to add is a quote by one of our mutual friends, who after hearing "we flick in the liver" quickly remarked "And that's why life is so bitter."
I am not quite sure what to expect from this blog. In the same way, in those brief seconds between the idea of a spoonerism and its utterance, one is never quite sure what to expect from the wordplay. "Between the idea and the reality... falls the Shadow." You may get something sensible; you may get something disturbing. Play your cards wrong, and you may draw the Spate of AIDS.
Or you may get something so absurd, it's just poetic enough to be used as a blog title.
Now are those scant seconds between the idea and the reality: for both Flick in the Liver, and its two authors. As you probably guessed, I am one of those two Vancouverites of which were spoken, specifically the one remaining in this glorious city of eternal precipitation. And with our lives in a state of flux, it's things like Flick in the Liver which keep us sane in the approaching world of madness, lest we become corrupted like Mistah Kurtz.
Oh, and "Spate of AIDS" is a spoonerism for "8 of Spades (♠)", in case you didn't catch that.
Two final notes about this blog. One, I don't intend for spoonerisms to become a recurring theme, a constant metaphor around which we base our writing. I seek to avoid any such overly-long gags. Of course, if the blog does take this path, I'll be happy to play along.
Two, I'm quite fond of using "they" as a third-person, singular, gender-neutral pronoun.
Now are those scant seconds between the idea and the reality: for both Flick in the Liver, and its two authors. As you probably guessed, I am one of those two Vancouverites of which were spoken, specifically the one remaining in this glorious city of eternal precipitation. And with our lives in a state of flux, it's things like Flick in the Liver which keep us sane in the approaching world of madness, lest we become corrupted like Mistah Kurtz.
Oh, and "Spate of AIDS" is a spoonerism for "8 of Spades (♠)", in case you didn't catch that.
Two final notes about this blog. One, I don't intend for spoonerisms to become a recurring theme, a constant metaphor around which we base our writing. I seek to avoid any such overly-long gags. Of course, if the blog does take this path, I'll be happy to play along.
Two, I'm quite fond of using "they" as a third-person, singular, gender-neutral pronoun.
I hope we can still be friends.
-TheSequenceKitten
-TheSequenceKitten
Live in the Flicker
Heart of Darkness is a novella written by Polish writer Joseph Conrad, detailing the journey of Marlow, an adventurous young man setting into the heart of the Congo in the age of imperialism. Along his journey, he hears whispered rumours of Kurtz, a genius ivory trader who has seemingly gone mad and retreated into the jungle.
"We live in the flicker" (HOD) is the favourite quote of my AP English Lit. teacher. It captures the brevity of life, the momentary glory and the overall confusion of it all. Truly, it's weight in meaning is greater than can be assumed from its appearance short, five-word quotation.
"Flick in the liver," however, is what you get when you love spoonerisms. It, though less meaningful, less aphorism-tastic than its parent phrase, captures the craziness, inanity and silliness that stems from friendship and stumbling through life. Truly, it's an anthem one of the best parts of life: it doesn't have to make sense. And that's ok.
Flick in the Liver is a blog written by two Vancouverites, one of whom is remaining that way, while the other journeys into the heart of the East Coast to Massachussetts in the age of young adulthood. Along their respective journeys, the blog ties them together, captures and shares the madness of life after high school.
Let's make it good.
-cookielime
"We live in the flicker" (HOD) is the favourite quote of my AP English Lit. teacher. It captures the brevity of life, the momentary glory and the overall confusion of it all. Truly, it's weight in meaning is greater than can be assumed from its appearance short, five-word quotation.
"Flick in the liver," however, is what you get when you love spoonerisms. It, though less meaningful, less aphorism-tastic than its parent phrase, captures the craziness, inanity and silliness that stems from friendship and stumbling through life. Truly, it's an anthem one of the best parts of life: it doesn't have to make sense. And that's ok.
Flick in the Liver is a blog written by two Vancouverites, one of whom is remaining that way, while the other journeys into the heart of the East Coast to Massachussetts in the age of young adulthood. Along their respective journeys, the blog ties them together, captures and shares the madness of life after high school.
Let's make it good.
-cookielime
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