This was during a rest break. I'm learning a lot, and I will be happier still when I know what I'm doing. I've discovered how to bring forth different notes and how to make each string sound like the one to its left (a fifth higher). I'm working on bowing correctly and getting a feel for how to make the notes sound the best they can from the instant the bow touches the string until it leaves. There is much to learn!
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Gurgles making friends with my cello
This was during a rest break. I'm learning a lot, and I will be happier still when I know what I'm doing. I've discovered how to bring forth different notes and how to make each string sound like the one to its left (a fifth higher). I'm working on bowing correctly and getting a feel for how to make the notes sound the best they can from the instant the bow touches the string until it leaves. There is much to learn!
Labels:
bow,
cello,
Gurglepurr,
learning,
music,
photography,
practicing
Lucky #13
I attended Patrick's rehearsal with the Tacoma Symphony last night, and after I got up from my seat to leave, I realized I'd picked the one with my birthday on it.
Labels:
music,
Patrick,
photography,
Tacoma Symphony,
theater
Fight Like A Girl
Sorry, I know I should've flipped these, but I edited and saved before I realized it and now they look funny flipped, so just imagine the words are reflected correctly. So tired. My hair is in two big poofy buns at the back of my head à la Foxface in The Hunger Games, which is why it looks kind of weird in the pictures.
I even dreamed about practicing the cello last night. I am exhausted today. I just want to crawl back into bed and wake up tomorrow. But I won't. I will deal with today and then pull that lovely instrument out when I get home and practice.
Because I can fight like a girl.
Labels:
buns,
cello,
Emilie Autumn,
exhausted,
fight like a girl,
Hunger Games,
music,
photography,
practicing,
sleep,
t-shirt,
tired
I have a cello! [updated]
It was ready today, so Patrick grabbed me and we went to go pick it up. I am so excited! I've emailed a teacher about lessons, and hopefully I can begin as soon as possible. The cats are going to wonder what on earth I'm bringing home...
Update: So. I finally got home about 9:30pm tonight. I heard back from the teacher around 4:45, and it turned out he was leaving for Italy on Saturday, so he wanted to know if I could come tonight or tomorrow. He promised to give me enough stuff to work on until he was back on March 10, and he wasn't kidding... This lesson lasted from about 5:20 until nearly 9pm. I am SO TIRED. It was a really good lesson and I learned a lot.
He seems like a good teacher. Now for the Hey Guys I'm Strange part: after I left, I was completely emotionally overwhelmed. New place, new person, new instrument, holy crap so much information, all alone, no dinner.... As I was walking to my car in the cold, I felt so alone and lost. I had sort of the beginnings of a panic attack, but that transformed into this totally pointless and sporadic uncontrollable sobbing in the car on the way home.
I had NO reason to be upset.... It was a great lesson and he's a really nice guy. We got along just fine, and it was fun! I even made a pretty sound on the cello. Yay! I'm just like GAH too much new stuff all at once. Patrick was in Tacoma for his rehearsal, so I texted him and let him know what was up. That poor guy is so patient with my weirdness. I had to pay for a quarter's worth of lessons up front ($60 per hour lesson, 13 of them), but it's not like we couldn't handle it, after we got the tax refund and all. I think I was just so freaked about all the other new stuff that I lost my shit and cried like a slapped baby.
Fortunately said shit was held together until I left! It's a good thing my new teacher thinks I'm fairly normal... Hopefully he will continue to believe that lie. I'm wearing my new Fight Like A Girl t-shirt, and I am FINALLY eating dinner, so I am going to finish that up and go tuck my damn self in bed. I think I have earned some sleep.
Update: So. I finally got home about 9:30pm tonight. I heard back from the teacher around 4:45, and it turned out he was leaving for Italy on Saturday, so he wanted to know if I could come tonight or tomorrow. He promised to give me enough stuff to work on until he was back on March 10, and he wasn't kidding... This lesson lasted from about 5:20 until nearly 9pm. I am SO TIRED. It was a really good lesson and I learned a lot.
He seems like a good teacher. Now for the Hey Guys I'm Strange part: after I left, I was completely emotionally overwhelmed. New place, new person, new instrument, holy crap so much information, all alone, no dinner.... As I was walking to my car in the cold, I felt so alone and lost. I had sort of the beginnings of a panic attack, but that transformed into this totally pointless and sporadic uncontrollable sobbing in the car on the way home.
I had NO reason to be upset.... It was a great lesson and he's a really nice guy. We got along just fine, and it was fun! I even made a pretty sound on the cello. Yay! I'm just like GAH too much new stuff all at once. Patrick was in Tacoma for his rehearsal, so I texted him and let him know what was up. That poor guy is so patient with my weirdness. I had to pay for a quarter's worth of lessons up front ($60 per hour lesson, 13 of them), but it's not like we couldn't handle it, after we got the tax refund and all. I think I was just so freaked about all the other new stuff that I lost my shit and cried like a slapped baby.
Fortunately said shit was held together until I left! It's a good thing my new teacher thinks I'm fairly normal... Hopefully he will continue to believe that lie. I'm wearing my new Fight Like A Girl t-shirt, and I am FINALLY eating dinner, so I am going to finish that up and go tuck my damn self in bed. I think I have earned some sleep.
Holding pattern
Just waiting for my cello to be ready.... We're also looking into teachers. Hopefully I will have one lined up soon. I think I've exhausted my creativity for a few days, so I'm going to lay off the art and let the ideas begin recharging in my mind. In the meantime, Patrick has graciously indulged me by playing F.E.A.R. (First Encounter Assault Recon) for me, which is a fairly old first person shooter but still has great AI and a wonderful atmosphere. I love those kind of games, but I can't play them. I can't separate reality from game, and my hands end up getting so cold from blood loss that I can't feel my fingers and they move stiffly.
I have weird problems.
So instead I watch him play them! I've seen a bit of this game before, but I am enjoying it very much nonetheless. All of us (myself and kitties) pile onto the bed and watch Patrick play the game. He sits in my old computer chair and uses the bed for his mouse. We're running it through the television because when he tried to play it on his laptop it made us both incredibly motion-sick. Something about the refresh rate or the camera. Not sure exactly, but we do not have that problem with the TV, thankfully!
Come on, cello...
I have weird problems.
So instead I watch him play them! I've seen a bit of this game before, but I am enjoying it very much nonetheless. All of us (myself and kitties) pile onto the bed and watch Patrick play the game. He sits in my old computer chair and uses the bed for his mouse. We're running it through the television because when he tried to play it on his laptop it made us both incredibly motion-sick. Something about the refresh rate or the camera. Not sure exactly, but we do not have that problem with the TV, thankfully!
Come on, cello...
Labels:
art,
cello,
creativity,
fear,
music,
Patrick,
tv,
video games
And now for something completely different!
I'm taking up the cello.
I have wanted to for years, and I haven't done it (owing to various reasons, some real and some totally irrational and imagined). At any rate, Patrick is a great enabler of me in all my wonderful and bizarre permutations, so he is encouraging me in this pursuit. I've inquired about obtaining a rental cello, and I should have one by the end of the week.
I can't wait.
I've always wished I'd taken up a string instrument at some point, and I particularly love the deep vibrations a cello makes. It's not as unwieldy as a double bass, and it's much less piercing than a violin. Viola was an option, but I had a strange problem when I took a violin lesson quite some time ago, which was that when I view a string bridge from the angle you must hold them at to play, I see two of them. I have no explanation for this, but it was highly impractical to try learning to play by keeping one eye shut all the time, which was what I had to do in order to only see a single bridge.
I also love how you sort of hug a cello with your legs while you play. I'd thought about an electric cello, since they are much cheaper, but Patrick correctly pointed out that the vibrations wouldn't be there with the big wooden body missing, and that is at least half the point.
Pardon me while I sip some tea - mmmmm...
I've decided to do this instead of ballet classes for the simple reason that we can't easily afford both, and I've wanted to play cello for a much longer time (years) than I've wanted to dance ballet (and I say even that loosely since I weigh too much to ever consider dancing en pointe, and thus would be rather limited in my potential repertoire). I am going to take cello lessons, hopefully once a week, but every two weeks or whatever is affordable will have to suffice. Patrick has some wonderful cello pieces that I can regard as goals in the extremely distant future once I've gained sufficient skill (this is a multi-year task I'm embarking upon, much like finishing The Book of Lost Memories).
I will have to finish relearning bass clef and learn tenor clef to play all cello music. I already know treble clef, and I'm sure the others won't be a problem with sufficient repetition. I also very handily have an expert in tenor and bass clef living right here with me to help me out. *wink*
I am very excited to begin. I'm hopeful I can find some good exercises and very simple pieces to begin with that aren't crap like Hot Cross Buns. If I can't, I will make up my own after I've learned to play scales and then practice those. I can already hear the music inventing itself in my mind. Like the Hogwarts Sorting Hat says, "It's all there in your head." Indeed it is.
I have wanted to for years, and I haven't done it (owing to various reasons, some real and some totally irrational and imagined). At any rate, Patrick is a great enabler of me in all my wonderful and bizarre permutations, so he is encouraging me in this pursuit. I've inquired about obtaining a rental cello, and I should have one by the end of the week.
I can't wait.
I've always wished I'd taken up a string instrument at some point, and I particularly love the deep vibrations a cello makes. It's not as unwieldy as a double bass, and it's much less piercing than a violin. Viola was an option, but I had a strange problem when I took a violin lesson quite some time ago, which was that when I view a string bridge from the angle you must hold them at to play, I see two of them. I have no explanation for this, but it was highly impractical to try learning to play by keeping one eye shut all the time, which was what I had to do in order to only see a single bridge.
I also love how you sort of hug a cello with your legs while you play. I'd thought about an electric cello, since they are much cheaper, but Patrick correctly pointed out that the vibrations wouldn't be there with the big wooden body missing, and that is at least half the point.
Pardon me while I sip some tea - mmmmm...
I've decided to do this instead of ballet classes for the simple reason that we can't easily afford both, and I've wanted to play cello for a much longer time (years) than I've wanted to dance ballet (and I say even that loosely since I weigh too much to ever consider dancing en pointe, and thus would be rather limited in my potential repertoire). I am going to take cello lessons, hopefully once a week, but every two weeks or whatever is affordable will have to suffice. Patrick has some wonderful cello pieces that I can regard as goals in the extremely distant future once I've gained sufficient skill (this is a multi-year task I'm embarking upon, much like finishing The Book of Lost Memories).
I will have to finish relearning bass clef and learn tenor clef to play all cello music. I already know treble clef, and I'm sure the others won't be a problem with sufficient repetition. I also very handily have an expert in tenor and bass clef living right here with me to help me out. *wink*
I am very excited to begin. I'm hopeful I can find some good exercises and very simple pieces to begin with that aren't crap like Hot Cross Buns. If I can't, I will make up my own after I've learned to play scales and then practice those. I can already hear the music inventing itself in my mind. Like the Hogwarts Sorting Hat says, "It's all there in your head." Indeed it is.
I drew a chessboard! Sort of.
This took me several hours. I hope you guys enjoy it! If you right click and download, it is a fairly large version, so it should come out pretty well. Created with new art supplies and copious amounts of tea...
Labels:
art,
ballet,
black and white,
chessboard,
dancer,
drawing,
heart,
music,
red,
treble
Beautiful Friday
I think I'm going to start a tradition wherein every Friday I post pictures of beauty in its various shapes and forms. Some of these I want to wear, some I want to be, and some just make my eyes and soul happy.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
I think I'm going to take a class.
I've been trying to think of a way to make exercise fun for myself, and given that I've already taken classes in tango, jazz, salsa and swing dancing, I might as well add ballet to the mix. If I recall correctly, my aunt took ballet classes at one point in college. I vaguely remember practicing pliés with her when I was very small.
This is only the very beginning level, for all shapes and sizes, so no pointe to ruin my feet. I will need to wait until the next installment of UW's Experimental College is in session, but no big deal. I'd like to take it through them since it's usually cheaper than going elsewhere and the environment is one I'm familiar with. I may have to ask Patrick to accompany me and read outside or something during the class, though, since there have been a lot of muggings in the U District lately and I don't fancy becoming a victim.
I hope there are a lot of other people in the class who aren't in the best of shape. I suppose I'll just wear black workout clothes and that should be fine. That's what I wore for jazz and such. Given that karate is no longer appealing to me, maybe this will turn out to be a fun source of exercise.
This is only the very beginning level, for all shapes and sizes, so no pointe to ruin my feet. I will need to wait until the next installment of UW's Experimental College is in session, but no big deal. I'd like to take it through them since it's usually cheaper than going elsewhere and the environment is one I'm familiar with. I may have to ask Patrick to accompany me and read outside or something during the class, though, since there have been a lot of muggings in the U District lately and I don't fancy becoming a victim.
I hope there are a lot of other people in the class who aren't in the best of shape. I suppose I'll just wear black workout clothes and that should be fine. That's what I wore for jazz and such. Given that karate is no longer appealing to me, maybe this will turn out to be a fun source of exercise.
Sketches 5 and 6
| Sketch 5 |
| Sketch 6 |
I have sort of a vague idea about what to do with all these little bits and pieces. I think I'll get a nice big chunk of canvas, paint it blood-red, then glue these little sketches all over it in a gridlike fashion, with red showing between them. It should be really striking, actually, with many tiny black and white abstracts on top of the red background. I'd do one massive piece in this much detail, but the thought is overwhelming. These little ones are manageable, and I can envision doing a lot of them for cathartic reasons that I later turn into a singular piece.
We shall see how it goes. I also have all these little easels, so I'll probably end up buying a lot more tiny canvases and using those for the ensemble piece while keeping a lot of these still on their own displays. The Widget doesn't care as long as they don't start invading her lounging spot on top of the piano.
TMI - Say it with Song
1. Describe your or a lover’s penis with a movie title.
This is too easy –
The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly
The Forgotten
The Lost Boy
The Incredibles
Shaft
This is too easy –
The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly
The Forgotten
The Lost Boy
The Incredibles
Shaft
2. Describe your pussy or a lover’s pussy with a movie title.
The Swamp Thing
Forbidden Planet
Paradise Lost
Our lips are sealed
Highway to Hell
Land Down Under
The Swamp Thing
Forbidden Planet
Paradise Lost
Our lips are sealed
Highway to Hell
Land Down Under
3. Describe your last sexual encounter with a song title.
On the road again
The Fast and The Furious
Lip Service
Bring on the Noise, Bring on the Funk
On the road again
The Fast and The Furious
Lip Service
Bring on the Noise, Bring on the Funk
4. Describe your body with a song title.
Waisting away in Margaritaville
Smells like Teen Spirit
Waisting away in Margaritaville
Smells like Teen Spirit
5. Describe your sexual appetite with a book, song, or movie title.
Hungry like the Wolf
Only the Lonely
Bonus: Recommend your favorite sexy, sensual or kink oriented book.Hungry like the Wolf
Only the Lonely
I learned the word “Orgasm” from Logan’s Run. I read it and asked my mom what it meant. She said, “it was a good feeling two people got when they were together physically” Boy was she right.
I read “The Godfather” several times for a few key passages and learned that a woman’s vagina changes with age. Since I didn’t know how it started out, I didn’t get it, but, according to the book, the right doctor can tighten it right back up.
I’ve read excerpts of 50 Shades and found it boring.
I masturbated constantly to my mom’s art books, page after page of beautiful women, exotic, nude, romantic, painted in exquisite detail, women that made me love art and my own hand in equal measure.
————-
How to play TMI Tuesday:Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!
Happy TMI Tuesday!
Blessed Sacrament Church
Hey y'all. Patrick had a gig last Saturday at this church with the Tudor Choir, and I got to tag along. I took a few pictures, and you can see more here.
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| Musicians assembling. Patrick is rightmost on stage in the picture. |
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| Sorry for the blur. This window was really hard to take a picture of due to the light behind it. |
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| I tried getting a shot of the Christmas tree next to this that you can partly see, but it turned out blurry. |
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| I love all the lit candles. The flickering is hypnotic. |
Labels:
candles,
cathedral,
choir,
Christmas,
church,
music,
Patrick,
photography,
singing,
stained glass
Living in harmony
I am learning a lot about harmony these days. How it works, why it sounds the way it does, how to improve upon it and describe thematic variations. I am still a girl adrift on a dark sea in a boat I don't know how to sail, but I'm starting to feel my way around the rigging, and pretty soon I'll develop a knack for reading the stars.
I am learning other things, too. How to live in harmony with my own inner turmoil, fighting back against the riptides that try to drag me out to sea, off the edge of the abyssal shelf. The other night, alone in the house, I was consumed with fear, absolutely convinced that something horrible was creeping down the hallway and about to come around the corner. Believing that Gurgles' face, turned away from me, had changed into something nearly human, with dripping black eyes. It was so real to me that I couldn't even look at the back of his head for a few seconds, in case he turned around and I'd be faced with my nightmares seeping into reality.
I covered my eyes with my hands and turned my head away. My heart began to pound as the fear surged inside of me. It isn't real, it isn't real, it's only a feeling, I told myself. Eventually I was able to remove my hands and give Gurgles a sidelong glance. Indeed, his face was the same adorable kitty face it had always been. No trace of my terrible vision had made an appearance. Of course, this sounds ridiculous to anyone who doesn't have an illness. Obviously my cat's face hadn't suddenly changed species. But I tell you, to someone with slightly altered mental wiring, it is real. The dread is real, the visions are real. They are nightmares come to life, to haunt you with chittering echoes of what you know is waiting just outside of your peripheral vision, stalking you until the opportune moment, when it will destroy you from the inside out in one immense scream of fear.
After the terror began to fade, I felt a deep rush of anger. Why should this happen to me? Why am I plagued with these awful feelings and visions? What did I do to deserve it? Why can't I just be normal and feel like a regular person? Well, I can't. I am wired this way, and there is nothing I can do about it other than just try to live with it. So how do I live with it? I ignore it. For the most part. I hold on to something, anything, until the waves are gone and I can start treading water again. Sometimes it is hard not to let it drag me under. But who is it who's already lived through all this crap and dealt with years of borderline-derived emotional upheaval? ME, that's who. I've been living with this garbage for 32 years, and I haven't yet become a washed up wreck of a person. I'm not homeless or addicted to anything, I have a relationship I cherish and family, friends, the works.
So, fear? You can go to hell. I've been facing you for years, and I am only stronger for the experience. You can't break me. I am going to live, and I'm going to do it for a long time. I know I can't get rid of you. But I can most definitely ignore you. And I can be happy in spite of you.
You have no power over me that I do not give you.
I am learning other things, too. How to live in harmony with my own inner turmoil, fighting back against the riptides that try to drag me out to sea, off the edge of the abyssal shelf. The other night, alone in the house, I was consumed with fear, absolutely convinced that something horrible was creeping down the hallway and about to come around the corner. Believing that Gurgles' face, turned away from me, had changed into something nearly human, with dripping black eyes. It was so real to me that I couldn't even look at the back of his head for a few seconds, in case he turned around and I'd be faced with my nightmares seeping into reality.
I covered my eyes with my hands and turned my head away. My heart began to pound as the fear surged inside of me. It isn't real, it isn't real, it's only a feeling, I told myself. Eventually I was able to remove my hands and give Gurgles a sidelong glance. Indeed, his face was the same adorable kitty face it had always been. No trace of my terrible vision had made an appearance. Of course, this sounds ridiculous to anyone who doesn't have an illness. Obviously my cat's face hadn't suddenly changed species. But I tell you, to someone with slightly altered mental wiring, it is real. The dread is real, the visions are real. They are nightmares come to life, to haunt you with chittering echoes of what you know is waiting just outside of your peripheral vision, stalking you until the opportune moment, when it will destroy you from the inside out in one immense scream of fear.
After the terror began to fade, I felt a deep rush of anger. Why should this happen to me? Why am I plagued with these awful feelings and visions? What did I do to deserve it? Why can't I just be normal and feel like a regular person? Well, I can't. I am wired this way, and there is nothing I can do about it other than just try to live with it. So how do I live with it? I ignore it. For the most part. I hold on to something, anything, until the waves are gone and I can start treading water again. Sometimes it is hard not to let it drag me under. But who is it who's already lived through all this crap and dealt with years of borderline-derived emotional upheaval? ME, that's who. I've been living with this garbage for 32 years, and I haven't yet become a washed up wreck of a person. I'm not homeless or addicted to anything, I have a relationship I cherish and family, friends, the works.
So, fear? You can go to hell. I've been facing you for years, and I am only stronger for the experience. You can't break me. I am going to live, and I'm going to do it for a long time. I know I can't get rid of you. But I can most definitely ignore you. And I can be happy in spite of you.
You have no power over me that I do not give you.
Labels:
anger,
fear,
Gurglepurr,
hallucinations,
mental illness,
music,
strength,
visions
Music composition and.... decapitation perfume?
Hello, lovelies. How was everyone's weekend?
Patrick and I spent a lot of time these past couple of days trying to write music using our piano, and we got a considerable amount accomplished. It takes a long time to come up with something that sounds right, so we only have a few measures done for each of two songs (harmony is a challenge!), but it's interesting and I'm really enjoying it. For some parts I have a really definite idea what I'm after, and others I'm not clear on how I want the music brought to life. I'm learning a lot, and I'll share when we've finally got something completed.
In other news, I saw this in an advertisement the other day, and it gave me the wiggins:
Nicki Minaj, the rapper whose name so classily decorates this abomination, has evidently released a perfume (don't feel bad if you don't know who she is; I don't really know anything about her myself other than she's a rapper who wears insane clothes and worse wigs). I don't know about you, but this would scare the daylights out of me if I saw it coldly staring at me in the middle of the night from across the room. Or worse, right next to me. I'm pretty sure this thing would find a way to slowly crawl up next to you while you sleep.
Furthermore, it appears that the spraying part of the perfume bottle is... her neck. So, what, you twist off her head with its creepy plastic hair and spray the mist from her neck stump on your skin?! What psychopath came up with this?
I do not want to know what this smells like, but I'm pretty sure that if it's your cup of tea, the authorities might want to investigate you...
Patrick and I spent a lot of time these past couple of days trying to write music using our piano, and we got a considerable amount accomplished. It takes a long time to come up with something that sounds right, so we only have a few measures done for each of two songs (harmony is a challenge!), but it's interesting and I'm really enjoying it. For some parts I have a really definite idea what I'm after, and others I'm not clear on how I want the music brought to life. I'm learning a lot, and I'll share when we've finally got something completed.
In other news, I saw this in an advertisement the other day, and it gave me the wiggins:
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| The Most Hideous Perfume Bottle Ever |
Furthermore, it appears that the spraying part of the perfume bottle is... her neck. So, what, you twist off her head with its creepy plastic hair and spray the mist from her neck stump on your skin?! What psychopath came up with this?
I do not want to know what this smells like, but I'm pretty sure that if it's your cup of tea, the authorities might want to investigate you...
Vaccinate ALL THE PEOPLE!
This was at my local pharmacy when we went to pick up our prescriptions yesterday:
Patrick will be out Friday evening auditing The Nutcracker (put on by the Pacific Northwest Ballet), which he will be playing on Saturday, so I will take the opportunity to finish off the last gasp of my Christmas shopping. All that remains are some stocking stuffers and gifts for Patrick and my brother-in-law. I kind of hate buying stocking stuffers because it is so hard to get something that isn't tacky and cheap but will fit in a stocking (no ski poles) and won't make you poor (diamond jewelry). And one can only have so much lotion. I mean, I enjoy lotion. But I don't want to fill someone's stocking with it. Or, like, plastic barrettes. Sigh.
Hopefully ideas will come to me as I shop. A girl can hope.
| Amen. I miss you, Allie Brosh (whose art that is). |
Hopefully ideas will come to me as I shop. A girl can hope.
Labels:
art,
Christmas,
Hyperbole and a Half,
lotion,
music,
Patrick,
photography,
shopping,
stockings,
The Nutcracker
THERE IS A GOD.
We once again have a functional sewer line! Dear lord was that a nightmare. Our toilet worked for all of like 3 uses before it started not flushing again, but mercifully the landlady was very responsive and authorized payment for it, so I could set up the repairs the company had told us last night were basically necessary unless we wanted to have a few feet of raw sewage in our house or poop in a bucket.
We had to have the poor plumber guys out again this evening (in the pouring rain, I might add) to dig a 3' deep hole and find out where the horrible clog was. This turned out to be a Y bend in the line which had formerly been capped on one outlet with cement. This had broken, and a whole bunch of dirt had gotten into the line, which I'm sure was exacerbated by the near flood-stage rains we've had lately.
They ripped that thing out and put in the part that is supposed to be there, the cleanout (which by the way is required by code and so we were sort of living illegally by not having one), and fixed everything up.
OUR TOILET FLUSHES, Y'ALL! Mere words cannot express how happy I am about this. You do not truly appreciate your toilet until you do not have it. I kind of want to go hug it now but, y'know, ew.
I love you, Puget Sound Plumbing & Heating. If I weren't already married to an awesome dude, I would consider dating your company. I am THAT happy. (I settled for serving the plumbers hot tea, for which they were very grateful. I would be too if I had to dig a hole in the chilly rain.)
Also, thank god we rent this house. If we didn't, we would be out around $2660 by now. This has been a major learning experience. I now know more than I ever thought I'd need to about showers, sinks, toilets, and sewer line snaking.
In other news, I played through Chopin's Prelude in E Minor tonight while waiting for them to finish (playing kind of calms my nerves, a little), and it wasn't terrible. I've never played it before, so I did my usual learning bit of playing the right hand, then the left, and then putting them together. It was slow going, but it sounded nice. Besides, doesn't largo mean slow anyway? That's what I'm telling myself. It's nice to know I haven't lost it all in the decade and a half or so since I quit really playing.
Thank you, darling parents, for giving me all those lessons and forcing my lazy self to practice. I owe you.
We had to have the poor plumber guys out again this evening (in the pouring rain, I might add) to dig a 3' deep hole and find out where the horrible clog was. This turned out to be a Y bend in the line which had formerly been capped on one outlet with cement. This had broken, and a whole bunch of dirt had gotten into the line, which I'm sure was exacerbated by the near flood-stage rains we've had lately.
They ripped that thing out and put in the part that is supposed to be there, the cleanout (which by the way is required by code and so we were sort of living illegally by not having one), and fixed everything up.
OUR TOILET FLUSHES, Y'ALL! Mere words cannot express how happy I am about this. You do not truly appreciate your toilet until you do not have it. I kind of want to go hug it now but, y'know, ew.
I love you, Puget Sound Plumbing & Heating. If I weren't already married to an awesome dude, I would consider dating your company. I am THAT happy. (I settled for serving the plumbers hot tea, for which they were very grateful. I would be too if I had to dig a hole in the chilly rain.)
Also, thank god we rent this house. If we didn't, we would be out around $2660 by now. This has been a major learning experience. I now know more than I ever thought I'd need to about showers, sinks, toilets, and sewer line snaking.
In other news, I played through Chopin's Prelude in E Minor tonight while waiting for them to finish (playing kind of calms my nerves, a little), and it wasn't terrible. I've never played it before, so I did my usual learning bit of playing the right hand, then the left, and then putting them together. It was slow going, but it sounded nice. Besides, doesn't largo mean slow anyway? That's what I'm telling myself. It's nice to know I haven't lost it all in the decade and a half or so since I quit really playing.
Thank you, darling parents, for giving me all those lessons and forcing my lazy self to practice. I owe you.
Blog made out of raspberry wallpaper
That's kind of what this new theme reminds me of. I was going to go with something wintery since we're rapidly approaching that state of affairs here in the Pacific Northwest, but then I tried an icy background picture and realized that it made me feel cold. I hate feeling cold! So I putzed around some more and came up with this one. It's a bit like the screen is covered in raspberry jam, but at least it makes me feel warm. Opinions?
This morning, all of Shoreline and what looked like most of Seattle was covered in very thick fog. It made for an exciting drive to work! I couldn't even see to the end of my street when I pulled out of my parking spot in front of my house. Visibility was maybe 20-25 yards. It got better a little further south, which I guess isn't surprising. From what I've heard, we live in something called a convergence zone, and we get a lot of weird weather, including weather that is more severe than the surrounding neighborhoods, because of how the air currents mix (or something like that, my understanding is a bit vague). I call such mornings Silent Hill mornings, to the surprise of absolutely no one who reads this blog.
One more day of work, yo! Patrick and I only have Friday to go, and then we are off for a glorious nine days' vacation. We aren't going anywhere, other than down to my sister's house for Thanksgiving. We're just going to relax and chill out, sleep in a lot, and unwind from the stresses of the past few months. Sometimes you just need a staycation, you know?
We may try to work on some sort of Christmas song while we have time off, if we aren't too busy being lazy and eating. I do love classic Christmas carols, by which I mean O Holy Night and It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, not Santa Baby and Baby, It's Cold Outside (which is totally about date rape, look up the words if you don't believe me). Santa Baby makes me gag inside every time I hear it. I think part of the problem is the deliberately fake, grating, semi-little kid voice the singer always seems to adopt, no matter who is performing it. WHY they do this, I don't know. Anyway, Santa Baby, I hate you. There, I said it.
I will miss Patrick tonight. He's off for another rehearsal in Tacoma, and probably won't be home until late. Sigh. I love that he does it, but I sure miss my man when he's gone. I will, however, have a wonderful opportunity to get chores done... Hooray. Hopefully the house will be freshly vacuumed and swept for him when he comes home, assuming I don't fall asleep before I get it all done. I had a horrid time trying to fall asleep last night, and I was so tired this morning when we had to get up for work. I'm tired enough still that I shouldn't have any problem drifting off tonight.
This morning, all of Shoreline and what looked like most of Seattle was covered in very thick fog. It made for an exciting drive to work! I couldn't even see to the end of my street when I pulled out of my parking spot in front of my house. Visibility was maybe 20-25 yards. It got better a little further south, which I guess isn't surprising. From what I've heard, we live in something called a convergence zone, and we get a lot of weird weather, including weather that is more severe than the surrounding neighborhoods, because of how the air currents mix (or something like that, my understanding is a bit vague). I call such mornings Silent Hill mornings, to the surprise of absolutely no one who reads this blog.
One more day of work, yo! Patrick and I only have Friday to go, and then we are off for a glorious nine days' vacation. We aren't going anywhere, other than down to my sister's house for Thanksgiving. We're just going to relax and chill out, sleep in a lot, and unwind from the stresses of the past few months. Sometimes you just need a staycation, you know?
We may try to work on some sort of Christmas song while we have time off, if we aren't too busy being lazy and eating. I do love classic Christmas carols, by which I mean O Holy Night and It Came Upon the Midnight Clear, not Santa Baby and Baby, It's Cold Outside (which is totally about date rape, look up the words if you don't believe me). Santa Baby makes me gag inside every time I hear it. I think part of the problem is the deliberately fake, grating, semi-little kid voice the singer always seems to adopt, no matter who is performing it. WHY they do this, I don't know. Anyway, Santa Baby, I hate you. There, I said it.
I will miss Patrick tonight. He's off for another rehearsal in Tacoma, and probably won't be home until late. Sigh. I love that he does it, but I sure miss my man when he's gone. I will, however, have a wonderful opportunity to get chores done... Hooray. Hopefully the house will be freshly vacuumed and swept for him when he comes home, assuming I don't fall asleep before I get it all done. I had a horrid time trying to fall asleep last night, and I was so tired this morning when we had to get up for work. I'm tired enough still that I shouldn't have any problem drifting off tonight.
Songwriting continues
I've got two so far. I was working on the second one last night before the cold meds really took effect, and managed to revise it a bit. I'm still not any good at rhyming, but I don't think I care... I'll try to figure out some music for this second one. The first one only has a melody, nothing else, and I've got to flesh that out, too. There is so much work involved! Now that our piano is tuned, I can use it to help me decide how the songs should go.
I had a dream that told me if I wanted to write songs, I had to do it while sitting at the piano. Sometimes my brain is very straightforward about stuff. Like when I was little and sucked my thumb. I used to carry around a clean cloth diaper and tickle my nose with it while I sucked my thumb, and that was a lovely combination. My mom wanted me to stop, so she asked me how she could get me to do that, and I told her to take away my diaper. If she did that, I would stop. So she did, I did, and that was it, no fussing or anything. Maybe my brain's got the right idea about songwriting now.
It's hard for me to write songs about happy stuff. Usually I get them coming to me when I'm in the grip of huge emotional waves, and those tend to be negative, so I get writings full of blazing anger and despairing darkness. Maybe if I tried writing while hypomanic I'd end up with more positive stuff? I don't know. Anyway, it's not like anything really tangible has come of this yet. I just thought I'd let y'all know that I'm working on it, and my musical project has not been forgotten.
I had a dream that told me if I wanted to write songs, I had to do it while sitting at the piano. Sometimes my brain is very straightforward about stuff. Like when I was little and sucked my thumb. I used to carry around a clean cloth diaper and tickle my nose with it while I sucked my thumb, and that was a lovely combination. My mom wanted me to stop, so she asked me how she could get me to do that, and I told her to take away my diaper. If she did that, I would stop. So she did, I did, and that was it, no fussing or anything. Maybe my brain's got the right idea about songwriting now.
It's hard for me to write songs about happy stuff. Usually I get them coming to me when I'm in the grip of huge emotional waves, and those tend to be negative, so I get writings full of blazing anger and despairing darkness. Maybe if I tried writing while hypomanic I'd end up with more positive stuff? I don't know. Anyway, it's not like anything really tangible has come of this yet. I just thought I'd let y'all know that I'm working on it, and my musical project has not been forgotten.
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If only all classical music were as accessible
My mom sent me this video, and I loved it. Patrick and I were speaking the other day about how there is so much beautiful, passionate classical music out there, but people tend to think it's boring and unrelatable. A lot of the wonderful stuff is Russian (see Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain and Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, to name just a couple), and I wish symphonies would play more of that, along with pieces like the one shown below, the final movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
All these pieces give me chills for various reasons when I hear them. Beethoven's Ninth with the glorious chorus at the end, Night on Bald Mountain in the beginning with the creepy violins that build into that demonic brass chord series (Patrick played this gorgeously), and Scheherazade for its arrogant sultan's tones (also played to perfection by my very own spouse a while back).
I wish classical music was portrayed in a better light. Maybe more of these flash mob-type things would help. And if classical stations would quit playing that intensely boring stuff that is like one flute and a couple violins for 30 minutes straight. Give us some meat and brass! I never properly appreciated trombones until I married someone who plays one professionally. Now I do. There is no instrument in the orchestra that can deliver power like a trombone.
In other musical news, we finally got our piano tuned. The process was utterly excruciating, but it's now finished and I can play the damn thing without wanting to stab myself in the eyeball because it's so horrendously out of tune.
Along with people sniffles in our house, we have kitty sniffles. Widget has gotten over her cold, but now Gurgles has it. Sigh. I guess it's that time of year. Hopefully all the illness goes away before the holidays. I hate being sick when I'm supposed to be eating piles of food. Kinda makes Thanksgiving dinner a little pointless if you can't taste any of it.
All these pieces give me chills for various reasons when I hear them. Beethoven's Ninth with the glorious chorus at the end, Night on Bald Mountain in the beginning with the creepy violins that build into that demonic brass chord series (Patrick played this gorgeously), and Scheherazade for its arrogant sultan's tones (also played to perfection by my very own spouse a while back).
I wish classical music was portrayed in a better light. Maybe more of these flash mob-type things would help. And if classical stations would quit playing that intensely boring stuff that is like one flute and a couple violins for 30 minutes straight. Give us some meat and brass! I never properly appreciated trombones until I married someone who plays one professionally. Now I do. There is no instrument in the orchestra that can deliver power like a trombone.
In other musical news, we finally got our piano tuned. The process was utterly excruciating, but it's now finished and I can play the damn thing without wanting to stab myself in the eyeball because it's so horrendously out of tune.
Along with people sniffles in our house, we have kitty sniffles. Widget has gotten over her cold, but now Gurgles has it. Sigh. I guess it's that time of year. Hopefully all the illness goes away before the holidays. I hate being sick when I'm supposed to be eating piles of food. Kinda makes Thanksgiving dinner a little pointless if you can't taste any of it.
Labels:
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