applesauce

My man has left for his parents’ house. He will be staying there for the week, while he works the first third of his practicum with a construction company based in that particular town. He will be back here for the weekend. Then he will leave for Winnipeg, and do the same thing. Then he will come back. And then he will leave again, for who knows where. And then he will come back.

And if all goes well, and things work out, he will have a permanent job with this particular company for the next few years while he finishes his apprenticeship. If that goes well, he will become a Red Seal carpenter (if that’s how you say it) and will be able to work anywhere in Canada. (And then he will leave, and build things in various places, and I will stay, and I will sing.)

He walked out the door thirty minutes ago. (For those of you who can’t read between the lines: I miss him like you wouldn’t believe.)

So I’m sitting at his computer, eating applesauce, trying to decide if I’m going to follow him to his parents’ place for the afternoon (a forty-five-minute drive), and spend the next few hours with three raucous children, his very British parents, and his even more British grandmother (who will no doubt ask us very bluntly, but with the best of intentions, when we’re finally planning on getting married), and him.

It’s been an iffy weekend. The chances of my getting a job that will allow me to take time off for my prior commitments (a couple days in May, a week in June, possibly two weeks in August) are looking more and more slim as the days go by. I’ve not been sleeping well. He and I have been snapping at each other more often than not. I spent 90 minutes dancing last night (and I don’t dance), so my legs and feet are killing me (but my heart is thanking me!).

I’m tired and I’d really rather have a nap. But on the other hand, this applesauce, though it cheered me up considerably yesterday (I love applesauce), is simply not doing the trick, and spending Sunday afternoon on my own is more likely going to send me into a spiral of depression than give me any real rest. I have no idea whether spending the afternoon in a house which will possibly be very loud, and will certainly have two dogs in it (I don’t like dogs), will be much better, but there will at least be him …

Does that make up for everything else? Some days it does. Some days I wish he could read my mind. Some days I wish he would go far away (and then come back). But more often than not, as the years go by (four and a half last week), I wish I had him right beside me.

yeah yeah, I know, mushy crap, blah blah.

“You’d think people would have had enough of silly love songs.”

“I look around and see it isn’t so.”

“Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs … “

“Well what’s wrong with that, I’d like to know - ‘cause here I go again … “

Internet-famous

I talked about being famous on the Internet ages ago, here on my blog.  I've been pondering it again lately.

Wil Wheaton discussed, here, some of his thoughts on being Internet-famous.  One of his thoughts particularly struck me:

I’m incredibly grateful that I get to do more with my work than just make things, and when she meets a real celebrity, instead of someone who’s just Internet Famous like I am, I hope they’re awesome to her.

And I have to disagree with him just a little bit.  I think that people who are famous on the Internet are the real celebrities.  This is because they are considerably more real.  There are a handful of people whom I follow on the Internet - Wil Wheaton, Neil Gaiman, Amanda Palmer - who I would certainly consider 'celebrities', but I wouldn't consider them 'fake' celebrities.  

I feel incredibly special when I have a chance to interact with any of these people.  I feel very encouraged by the fact that these people, whom I respect both as people and as artists, take the time to reply to people on Twitter, or take the time to reply in the way Wil did.  

An example from my own life.

Earlier today, I tweeted the following:

pondering how to walk toward the mountain. sometimes @neilhimself is an inspiration, sometimes a bit more "well now what do I do" ...

in response to this:

Just make sure you’re walking towards the mountain, all the time.

I'm currently two years into my undergraduate degree in vocal performance.  I'm trying to find a job for this summer, so I can pay for a place to live.  I've landed an unpaid week-long internship at a drama/improv camp, which is wonderful for me and teaches me LOADS, but the rest of my summer is pretty open.  It's very difficult for me to do 'gigs', per se, because I am a classical singer ... I sing Schubert, Verdi, Britten, Fauré, etc.  I sing big, classical pieces in languages that aren't spoken where I live.  This isn't exactly something that's in huge demand.

What else do I do?  I love to act.  I have no credentials.  I live in a teeny little town.  I love to write.  I should just DO it more often.

/endwhinybit.  Sorry.

So I'm feeling stuck.  I need a job that will fund my studies; I need to walk towards the mountain.

Neil replied to me about an hour ago:

@Kaylotta Nobody said it was easy. But as advice, it might help...

to which I replied:

@neilhimself Sure, never easy. It shouldn't be easy. :) just figuring out how can be a bit of a mindbender.

I've never been under the impression that my life would be easy.  (Some days I would sure like it to be, but hey.)  It just seems to be a big fight to do what I love (classical singing) and still eat.

someday.  someday.

Anyway!  My original point with that was that even though Neil's advice was hard for me to take, as I've been trying to land jobs that really had little to do with what I want to do for a living, I still felt very special that he would take the time - not more than thirty seconds - to reply to me.  Especially when my tweet would have been buried four hours down his timeline!  To my mind, that sort of thing shows an incredible devotion to the people who care about one's art, and that is, I think, one of the best qualities that a 'famous' artist can have, whatever the medium.

This still leaves me in the difficult position of not quite knowing whether I'm taking good steps with my life.  *ponders the mountain*

IMC, day 4

Wednesday started to get crazy.  I spent a lot of time running around, and got inducted into a group as one of the campers had to return home.  I also rehearsed with my pianist, who only seemed to get fast or slow tempi (a bit annoying but she had all of a day to get the piece down), and then performed in the evening.

The performance went rather well.  I did not sing as well as I had in rehearsal (I think I was nervous), but in the recording my running out of breath just sounds like a really, really effective decrescendo/crescendo.  So that was nice.  I got a lot of compliments from the campers, some of whom were just stunned by my vocal ability, which was really touching.  I'm not the best by any means, but open praise from people who admire me is a great boost for me.

I also taught some really simple vocal technique to the kids yesterday - the natural position of the spine, what your diaphragm does, how your head should sit on your shoulders and where your shoulders should hang ... the really, really simple stuff.  Apparently I did a good job, because the kids' vocal production got at least three times better in the space of about half an hour.  Sometimes it's nice to teach ... 

The one-man performance by one of the drama instructors was really interesting.  It was an autobiographical story involving himself, NFL quarterback John Elway, and the instructor's alcoholic father.  It was profound, funny and touching, and I really enjoyed it.  

Ach, I think I have more to write, but I'm forgetting in my haste.  I have work to do before the next session starts at one, and I'm leading that session, and then my boyfriend is coming out to visit ... go go go, Emily, and don't melt in the heat!

IMC, day 3

Today had a bit more movement to it.  

I helped out with image theatre and stage combat, fitting in where the groups were odd-numbered, and I kept order during the rehearsal for the musical number.  I pressed Play often during the Silent Scene rehearsal, and wrote notes during the poetry rehearsal, and planned my warm-ups for Friday.  I went over the warm-ups once, to make sure they were 20 minutes, and I found a pianist for tomorrow night.  

I don't count as faculty here, so I can't perform at the faculty recital, and I didn't bother asking if I could perform at the student talent night (I'm not a camper, it's their place).  The drama instructors think I ought to perform somewhere, so they've asked me to perform tomorrow night when one of the instructors does a one-man show.  So yeah!  I'm singing The Girl in 14G - hopefully I'll be awake and warmed-up enough to hit the high notes in quick succession.  :)  Even if I don't I'm sure they'll think it's good.  I'm feeling pretty confident.

I also helped out a bit with the choosing of the groups for the showcase, and I will be doing sectionals for the musical number to help with simple vocal technique.  I'm looking forward to that, although I'm a bit nervous about it.  I don't want to teach too much, but I don't want to let them go without things that will help them.  Fingers crossed ... 

I am very, very tired, so I think I am going to go to bed early tonight.  Maybe go read for a bit ... 

IMC, day 2

Monday was pretty calm.  Woke up a bit later than I meant to, but it worked out okay.  It turns out that there are more people here at camp who remember me than I thought there would be - there are at least five or six campers who were at camp when I was, which was pretty cool.  A couple of them did a bit of a freak-out when they saw me in the breakfast line, which I found kinda touching.  :)

After breakfast, I met up with the instructors one-by-one, and we all touched base, said hello, nice to see you again, etc.  This morning, I ended up helping out with the stage combat workshop, and then being a tech for a large group activity (I pressed Play, and Stop, in succession).  Good to learn the ropes ... and to find that I haven't forgotten all the stuff I learned when I was here, three/four years ago ... sheesh, I feel kinda old now.  That's weird.

I had lunch with my friends, feeling distinctly at-home in the drama-camp atmosphere (about time I came back here, it feels so good), and then had a short break where I untangled all my necklaces.  The afternoon consisted of helping out with an image theatre workshop (acting with senses and such, exploring the human mind as it relates to the body) and then observing another large group activity.  I then stapled music together, figured out part of the piano accompaniment to said music, and went to dinner.  Dinner is served absurdly early here ... the faculty eats at 4.45, the campers at 5.  It's so that we have one more hour of class/rehearsal before the evening activities, but still, you end up hungry again ...

I had dinner with the faculty (which is really weird after you've been a camper ... not waiting in line?  what?), and then went to the staff lounge (sheesh, it's like I work here or something) to see if I could get some Internet going.  My laptop's wireless card is dead as a doornail, so I have to plug a LAN cable in somewhere.  Luckily I managed it, and it really only depends on whether or not someone is using the communal desktop, which is easily worked around.  So many people here have laptops - there are nine in the room right now, as I type.  It's crazy.  We're all connected, even out here.

I found out, during my brief stint on the Interwebs, that I may have a job lined up for July and August, living with my grandmother a couple hours north of where I am now.  It's probably my best bet for a job right now, as I kind of doubt I will be able to land anything when I go back to Winnipeg at last, but I was given so few details that I don't want to say an unqualified yes.

The final hour of class today was the introduction and learning of the group musical number (the music which I stapled earlier), which went quite well ... not too surprising, as probably 90% of the drama kids already knew it rather well.  It's Seasons of Love, from Rent ("Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes ... " etc).

After that final hour of class, I went back to the faculty lounge (where I sit now) and called my grandmother via Skype (long-distance pay-phone fees are exorbitant) to get more details about this potential job ... and of course she was not there, or did not hear the phone.  I left a message and said I'd call back.  So I will.  Soon.  I'm not exactly looking forward to the reaction of my younger sisters, if I end up getting this job - they will not be impressed that I may not be coming home this summer ...

VISI, day 24/IMC, day 1

Sunday was crazy on several levels.

The airport in the morning was terrible.  I arrived an hour and a half before my flight - cutting it close, but who's flying early on a Sunday morning?  Answer: everyone who takes forever to go through a line.  I waited in lines and got rerouted until 9.10 ... which was ten minutes before my plane was supposed to take off.  During that time, I had to make a frantic phonecall home, as I was going to be stuck if I couldn't pay the fine for my extra bag (which was more than I had originally been told to pay, which was the number I had planned for).  I ran to security, waited another five minutes, and then of course had my bag searched, because it was full of electronics.  I bolted to the gate.  They'd held it over for me.  I boarded the plane a few minutes after it was supposed to take off, and of course I happened to be sitting in a wing seat, so they had to take a minute to explain the emergency exit procedure, and then we finally took off.

The flight was uneventful, apart from the very friendly Japanese man beside me who thought that everything in the movie he was watching was hilarious, and therefore never stopped laughing or sighing or making little noises of approval ... you know.  Which is fine.  In moderation.  He never stopped.  I had my headphones on most of the way, but it was still a bit of a sticking point ...

Upon arriving in Winnipeg and greeting my family (and friends who had come), I was informed that my luggage had not made it onto the plane that I had boarded, and was coming on the next flight from Vancouver.  Sigh.  I decided to wait, rather than have it shipped to me out at the border, so we waited until six ... and then left Winnipeg at seven ... for a three-hour drive.  My boyfriend had agreed to take me out to the camp I was working at for this week, so that we'd have time to talk - that way, my parents didn't have to pile the kids into the car for a six-hour drive, nor did they have to use extra vehicles ... it worked out.  Also, my boyfriend lives relatively close to the camp (closer than my parents anyway), so there's that, too.

On the drive, he and I had a two-hour conversation about the ethics, philosophy and theory of artificial intelligence - from a purely theoretical, mostly non-scientific standpoint, since neither of us are experts in the actual scientific field.  Ethics made up a large part of the conversation - questions about the ethics involved, questions about human-AI interaction, and so on and so forth.  Not many answers to the questions, but plenty to think about.  Lots of hypotheticals thrown around, and many references to various science-fiction scenarios, ranging from the inimitable Asimov all the way to Mass Effect, Halo and Portal.  Fascinating, fascinating stuff.

Upon reaching the camp, I checked in at the main office and found my little room.  I unpacked as quickly as possible, as my roommate was rather tired, and went to bed.  I'm rooming with the creative writing intern.  She's far more qualified than I am.  XD  Oh well.

VISI, day 23

The final day of the fun ... 

I went for a short shopping excursion this morning, to find two more gifts as well as a baggage scale.  My time is very short tomorrow morning, and I do not want to spend unnecessary time repacking bags ...  My shopping was successful, and I returned home to pack.  The morning was very, very rainy, and so my hopes of going to the beach one last time were dashed ... 

... except that when I got home, the sun came out.  I rethought my schedule, and decided I had time to go to the beach.  Off I went - so quickly that I forgot my sunscreen.  Oops.  Upon arriving at the beach (the third one I chose, and the nicest), I went and walked in the water a bit.  I didn't really want to go swimming, and then try to get the seaweed out of my hair, so I just walked.  It was rather cold, and the sky had clouded over again.  I went back, leaned against a log, and read for half an hour; at that point, the sun came out, and I just lay in the sun for another half hour.  I then bussed back, did a little bit of packing, and hurried off to the music building to run through staging ... 

... only to find that they were an hour behind!  I decided to go have a shower, which I had meant to do earlier, but when I returned an hour later, I only just got there in time to rehearse my song.  Luckily it went quite well and no one seemed particularly annoyed that I hadn't shown up in time.  Oops again ... 

I stayed in my gown to make dinner, and then eat it, and then do my hair and makeup.  It's a bit of a hassle to get into, so I didn't want to have to do so again ...   The gala was wonderful.  Rather long - three and a half hours - but every minute was packed with interesting interpretation and excellent acting.  The first act was the first half of our art songs; the second act was a short staged production by several of the students in a parallel program to my own; and the third act was the second half of the art songs.  Almost all of the songs were staged (only three or four were performed in recital fashion), and they were all brilliantly conceived.  Some were hilarious, some were heartbreaking, some were somewhat disturbing ... and all were so very artistic.  :)  We had drunk men, cocktail lounge singers, marionette masters, blind women, amorous pining from both sexes, and then little moments like reminiscing about one's grandmother ... yes, that was me.

Now, after the gala, everyone else has gone off to party, and I, alas, am not old enough ... besides, I still need to finish packing.  So here I am.  Packing.  ... blogging.

VISI, day 22

Yesterday was not terribly eventful.   I thought about going shopping in the morning, but decided the schedule would be too rushed, so I stayed home and packed a bit.

Concert of French and Quebecois song at one; quite good.  Coaching at two; not bad either.  Lost my pencil, commented on it, used one of the pianist's pencils, not a problem.  A loss of a pencil is not important.

Went home, packed more, made supper.  The concert yesterday evening was a presentation of art song theatre: a performance of Songs from Spoon River, where long-dead residents of a small town talk about their lives; and a performance of That Way Goes the Game, a hilarious romp through Shakespeare where a graduate student comes to understand women by having to deal with Katherine, Lady Macbeth and Ophelia over the course of a night.  Both performances were very well done, and That Way Goes the Game was absolutely gut-busting, using Shakespearean langauge alongside modern English in ways that were really very funny.  (For instance, after Lady Macbeth pours out her soul in a re-enactment of the night of Duncan's murder, and is being comforted in her grief and guilt by Ophelia, the graduate student announces, "That is some messed-up shit."  Ba ha ha ha ha ... )

After the concert, I scurried back to the dorms, and spent an hour listening to Portal 2 quotes before falling asleep.  Yes, this was a silly idea, but it caught my brain ...  

VISI, day 21

Yesterday was mostly fun.  After breakfast, I hopped on a bus and went to Granville Island, where I spent the morning shopping ... or, well, looking.  It's a beautiful place - a bit like the Forks in Winnipeg, but several times larger.  It's that lovely little oasis of foliage in a metropolis.  :)  

I wandered around several craft stores, contemplating the best gifts to buy for my family - and having a heck of a time, actually.  It would be much easier if I were 19 - I'd just buy some BC-specific brews and bring them home to Mom and Dad.  Alas, I am two months short ... 

I ended up deciding that I needed to go back home and think about things, and besides there was a student marketplace on-campus that day and I knew there were some things there that I could get for my siblings.  I had gotten something for my brother, and wandered around an umbrella shop (I found the perfect umbrella.  unfortunately, it costs $65), and had eaten a marvelous crêpe with pears and brown sugar for lunch ... so I declared the morning a relative success, and headed home.  

Warning: rant ahead.

I knew there were some shops along the street where I would need to get a bus, so when I saw that the next one wasn't due for another fifteen minutes, I decided to walk a bit and see what I could see.  That turned out to be somewhat of a mistake.  About two or three blocks in, I was stopped by a perfectly friendly young man, probably in his early or mid-twenties, who asked what I was listening to, and then started a conversation with me about the charity he was working for.  I listened politely, as I was indeed interested, and he was friendly - but when it became clear that they were looking for monthly donations, I had to find a way to demur and politely refuse ... not because I wouldn't want to, but because I don't have the means.  

Unfortunately, he was rather insistent.  He wanted my banking details, and when I said I didn't have them (which was true), he said he could call them on his smartphone, he'd pass the phone to me and I could negotiate the transfer.  At this point I was rather turned off.  I asked if I could take a form home with me, and he said they didn't want them to get spread around for fear of being copied (which I don't quite understand); I asked if there were a website on which I could sign up, and he said no, it had to be now.  At this point I apologized, said I really had to catch a bus, and asked if there were a number I could call.  He said no, but he could take my number and call me back.  

Really, dude?  Sigh.  I gave him my name and number.  I caught the bus.  I went home.

Once home, I Googled the charity, and it turns out that it is indeed quite easy to sign up online for monthly donations, or, if you'd rather, to give a one-time gift.  I had already planned not to answer his call, but now I want to answer even less.  If he'd given me the option of signing up to a mailing list or even just given me the website, I would have considered it - but his attitude was frustrating and rather rude, so, no thank you.  

Rant over.  

Upon returning to UBC, I went to the student marketplace and bought souvenirs for my sisters, and then came home to have a nap.  I had been out from 9.30 and it was now 2.30.  I was quite tired, so I slept a bit, and then went off to my coaching with Erika Switzer at 4.00.  This was quite good - she helped me figure out this whole "find meaning in the words" thing, and she worked with us on diction and direction and things like that.  We were all very, very tired ... 

I went back to the dorms and made dinner, then got a little bit dressed up and went back to the music building, for something called "The Concert of Your Wildest Dreams".  This is one of the director's ideas - after three weeks of being nitpicked, nagged, directed, corrected ... you get to perform in a concert where everything you do is absolutely amazing.  The audience is allowed and encouraged to comment on bits of the performance that they find amazing - while you are performing.  Now this might sound distracting, and on occasion it was, but most of the time it was extraordinarily encouraging.  There's nothing quite like hearing, "Schubert would be proud," as you perform one of his Lieder.  It's this incredible reassurance of self and of purpose, and it's so very freeing.  

We had some hilarious performances, too - once people kinda got into the feel of "anything goes as long as you're having fun", we really opened up.  Some of the performances had us just about falling off our chairs laughing - some of the performances had us nearly in tears.  And no one was allowed to stop clapping until the performers actually told us to stop - jump to your feet and applaud and applaud and applaud!  It's so empowering, both for audience and for performer.  You really get to discover the creativity within yourself, and to see everyone else's creativity, as well.  It makes you very, very happy.

After the concert, I talked with the director briefly about her travels to Rwanda, and about mine a little bit, and she gave me some leads as to who I could contact to return as a musician, and really use my talents and gifts to help the people I care about so much.  That was a nice little conversation.

I walked back with a bunch of VISIers, and even though they were all heading off to party and enjoy themselves (where I, alas, would not be allowed to enter), we had fun walking together.  It spiralled, as these things do, into Monty Python quotes and random singing of art song and just being goofy in general, and I felt the closest I have to these people in three weeks.  (I'm strange, right?)  I broke off from the group and went home, warmed up some food, and relaxed a bit before bed.  

Today, I was planning on heading to a Sears outlet and buying a baggage scale (you know, the little thing you clip onto your bag and then lift to find out how heavy the bag is), but it turns out the nearest one is downtown - so I'm going to do that tomorrow, when I have more free time, and when I will go back to Granville Island.  I don't have to be anywhere until four tomorrow, and while of course I have to be home earlier than that in order to get ready and warm up and things like that, I have more thought-time to travel downtown, get the baggage scale, bus back a bit to go to Granville Island, pick up the things I want, and head back home.  It's just a more relaxed schedule.  

If the sky clears, I might walk to the beach - but to a beach with sand this time, so it's a longer walk than Wednesday, so I might do that tomorrow, too.  I'd actually like to go in the water (I haven't yet), so I'd have to have a shower when I get back, which is another variable to consider in timing ... I don't know.  We'll see! Right now I'm going to do some preliminary planning of packing.

VISI, day 20

The second half of today was uneventful.  I went to the beach - a closer beach than the one I went to the first time - but it had no sand, really, just a bunch of rocks.  I moved some rocks around so that I had a relatively smooth place to sit and lean back, and I read for an hour and a half or so.  Very, very quiet - next to no one around.  Steep incline from the main city, quiet waves.  A Wednesday afternoon - the only people at the beach are the ones trying to relax.  :)

I then went home, made some dinner, and hung out on the Internet for a bit before bussing to a concert about 20 minutes away - a lovely miscellany of art song, rounded out with a second act consisting of Ralph Vaughan Williams' Songs of Travel, a cycle I had never heard all the way through.  I quite like it.  

And then we all bussed back to UBC, and hilarity ensued as several of my VISI-mates began reading the program of the night's concert in a sort of tone-imbued English, substituting alternate phonetic pronunciations of consonants, creating diphthongs or taking them out (or, goodness, triphthongs), speaking in a very singsong fashion (hence the choice of the term "tone-imbued"), and just generally mangling the language so that it sounded nothing like English at all.  It was incredibly funny, and some of them were really very good at doing it on the spot.  

Now I am home, and snacking on cereal while getting ready for bed.  G'night world ... tomorrow I shop.

VISI, day 19

Yesterday was a day full of movement.  Performance psychology first thing, then the final lecture (about Paul Verlaine's poetry - interesting, but got a bit dull and repetitive - I left a little bit early), then lunch, then a coaching ... 

and then the adventures started!  We all bussed downtown to attend a concert in an office building - June 21st is the Fête de la Musique in France, and Vancouver is trying to start its own tradition.  There was music everywhere, of all kinds.  It was very neat!  The concert was all French music, very traditional, very pretty.

A smaller group of us went to dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory, which was very yummy, and then we walked over to the Orpheum Annex theatre, where the VISI faculty was going to give another concert of French music.

It started with very traditional French mélodie and chanson, but then got very funny.  Real French humour!  It was roll-in-the-aisles hilarious, with spoken-word song, immense amounts of wordplay (I'm so glad I speak French), little pokes at composer styles by setting words from a Raisin Bran box to music ... and then an absolutely hilarious performance of Erik Satie's Je te veux - performed, eventually, by everyone who had sung!  The program was written as if one soprano was going to sing it, which is the traditional way of performing the song, but the two very French baritones took over and started singing to her (which is very funny because the song is from the perspective of a mistress talking to her lover) ... and then she replied ... and then it just got insane because everyone started singing.  

It was truly the best concert I'd been to in a long time.  Finally, a concert proclaiming that the French repertoire is not boring, is not old, is not passé - but that the French themselves are hilarious, love poking fun at themselves and their history, and aren't offended by it!  It was glorious - like a return to high school, in a very good way.  

Bussed home, talked to my boyfriend for a bit (which was nice), and then went to bed ... 

So far today, I have discovered which muscles I am overusing to create a posture that isn't even right, and I have been enlightened as to the interpretation of Duparc's L'invitation au voyage.  Now I am eating lunch, and then I will go to a concert, and then the beach, and then shopping, and then another concert!

VISI, day 18

Also a fairly uneventful day.  Woke up feeling absolutely lousy, so I texted my pianist saying I would be late to the first coaching.  Had a shower, felt marginally better, headed over.  The coaching was quite good actually.  

I brought my dress and some lunch along, so I ate quickly then changed and brushed my teeth, as I was singing in a concert at one o'clock.  I sang Die Mainacht and Les chemins de l'amour.  It went quite well, I thought: not a perfect performance by any means, but I managed to stay in the moment, focused, got over mistakes and went on, and was overall happy with my performance.  Yay!

I had one more coaching at four, so I went home and ... watched more My Little Pony.  A good pick-me-up after a somewhat-depressing missive received from a good friend. 

My second coaching was a staging session, so it was alright.  I like to work with this sort of thing.  

After that coaching I headed back to dorm, made some food and had a chat with my mother, which was good.  Tomorrow looks vaguely complicated but I'm sure it'll all get figured out.

Oh!  Bird story!  While I'm thinking about it!  So this is Friday morning, and I'm asleep, and I'm dreaming, and suddenly I think I hear one of the cats making a strange sort of coo/meow noise.  It sounds a bit like a bird, but I associate it with a cat, since I've grown up with cats.  Except then I start to wake up, and the sound's not going away, and I remember that I'm in Vancouver, and there is no cat in my room.

oh my gosh.  It's a bird.  It has to be a bird.  There is no screen on the window of my room, and I have been keeping it open.  It's a bird.  There is a bird in my room.

It's not flapping around.  I open my eyes, and look around a bit.  I don't see it.  I sit up.  Still don't see it.  Look at the window.  Oh, the curtain is flapping a bit, maybe it's just standing on the ledge.  Maybe if I twitch the curtain it'll fly out the window.  I slide forward in bed a bit, toward the window, and suddenly there's this great flapping and a coo, and I scream out of surprise as the bird flies up from where it was standing beside my bed (on the floor) to my desk.

We both stop.  I take a look at it.  It's a decently big bird - maybe two and a half times the size of a robin?  Not the size of a seagull, though.  A medium-sized bird.  It's a steely, muted greyish-blue, and looks like it has some speckles on its tail.  But I don't have my glasses on, so it's a bit hard to tell.  

I'm nervous - if it gets mad at me, it's a lot faster than I am, and I don't have anything to defend myself in easy reach (I suppose a pillow might have worked).  I can't really get to the door.  The curtain is still closed.  I have no idea (duh) what this bird is thinking.  Maybe it just doesn't know how to get out.  I inch over, reach and grab the curtain, then pull it open.  I wait.  It flies to the ledge, then hops out the window.  I lean over, carefully, and wait for it to hop a bit along the ledge before pulling the window mostly shut.

Luckily, I did not wake anyone, and luckily, the bird did not decide to be mad at me.  

So that is the bird story!

VISI, day 17

Very little happened today of note.

I went to church.  I missed the bus to church and so I walked.  It was not far.  I walked in just as the service had started.

I bussed back and made lunch.  I played games most of the afternoon.  It was gray and rainy, and I did not really want to go out.

I considered not going to the concert tonight, but reasoned that since I had been inside almost all day, it would be good for me to get out a bit.

Except that I thought I had to leave at 7.15, when the bus left at 7.06.  I booked it out the door at 7.00 after bolting down food and pulling on a dress and hose ...  and missed the bus anyway.  I decided knew that the next one would get there only slightly late, so I elected to stay.  Something was nagging at me that I shouldn't bother, but I put that up to just wanting to not do anything ... so I stayed aboard.

I got where I needed to go, only to find that the theatre I was aiming for was, in fact, locked.  I don't know why.  It was ten after eight; the concert started at eight.  I decided that the area looked a bit sketchy and the last thing I wanted was to look lost and helpless while wearing a dress in a sketchy area, so I decided to head off and find a bus stop.  When I left, I'd been in a hurry, so I didn't know the nearest bus stop back.  I ended up walking in the wrong direction, getting help from an outside source, and walking back.  All in all it took forty minutes to find a bus stop.  I may as well have been at the concert.

I want caffeine.  I'm stressed.  I'm tired.

But at least there's no bird in my room.  I keep forgetting to tell that story.

VISI, day 16

Another late night means another morning post.

Yesterday was mainly uneventful, though I sent an email or two that needed sending.  After posting about Friday (in which I forgot a story, which I shall have to tell in a minute or two), I hung out for a bit on the Internet, then did laundry.  I also made lunch.  After lunch, I scurried off to participate in the art and conflict resolution workshop, which was interesting if perhaps a bit esoteric.  We examined art and conflict resolution through the lens of the four ancient alchemic elements (fire, air, water, earth).  This actually wasn't that weird as it might sound - it was really just categorical names for passion, mind, emotion and the world, all of which come into play in conflicts (and therefore their resolution).  There was not a lot talked about that I didn't already know, instinctively or not, but there were interesting bits and bobs tossed around.

I have been thinking about typing out all my notes and posting them here, as attachments.  I don't know if that would interest people.  I would scan them when I got home, but I worry a bit that they would be illegible to other eyes.  I write well, but ... not that well.  Anyway.  If you read my blog, and you'd be interested in reading notes from lectures, or coachings, or performance psychology/Alexander Technique sessions ... give me a shout in the comments (here or Facebook or Twitter or whatever).

After the workshop, I went back to dorm to get ready for the Schubertiade - an evening of music and song and fun, in fancy dresses, with alcohol.  Except I couldn't have any alcohol.  sigh.  I wore my bright-red grad dress, which was a serious hit - I was told by a complete stranger that I looked exquisite, and several students of the VISI program thought I looked really good, too.  As I mentioned on my Twitter, though, strangers telling you that you look exquisite are only ever time travellers ... I wonder why someone came to the Schubertiade simply to tell me I looked wonderful?  Hm ...  :P

The VISI singers sang at the beginning and the end of the three-hour concert (Im Abendroth and An die Musik), which was a good way to open and close the evening.  The first hour was a sort of Schubert 'séance', where the artistic director was purportedly from another planet (not the only time traveller, it would seem), and they had technology enough to bring people who had passed from this dimension back for brief periods of time ... except there wasn't good enough reception in the hall, so we had to settle for someone in the audience channeling Schubert.  This resulted in hilarity as no fewer than ten people claimed to be Schubert, but they were winnowed out (all plants, of course, from the Songfire Theatre program) by means of a Schuberti-off (yeah they went there) with Schubert-testing questions.  The remaining Schubert gave some small tidbits of information in between performances of Schubert Lieder, and it was an amusing time, if a bit boring by the end of it.  It could have been much more interesting, somehow ... 

The second hour was the Canadian-content portion, and I was not certain whether or not it would prove interesting ... but I needn't have worried.  Many of the composers and poets of the repertoire were actually there that night, which was an experience I had never really had before - not just applauding the performer, but actually applauding the composer and the poet, sitting right there in the audience.  Very neat.  Plus there was some hilarious repertoire, including a pair of love songs written by a composer-poet couple who had gotten married the day before, and the songs had been performed by the same duo performing them that night as a wedding gift.  The first song was called Something Like That, and was this wonderful little musing on "you're beautiful ... or something like that, anyway".  It was just so sweet.  The second song was called Hanky Panky, and was an ... well, I'm not sure how to describe it, but you can only get away with that sort of a song if you're over 60, which Stephen Chatman is.  It had the house rolling on the floor laughing, it was so funny and risqué.  Not even trying to hide it, either.  There was also a performance by Chincilia Bartoli and Sumi Jaw ... yes, yes, I know, it's Cecilia and Jo, but not in this case - this was a pair of singers who laid on a table with their heads to the audience and had dresses on the top half of their heads and sunglasses on their chins.  Take a minute to imagine that.  Yeah.

The third hour was a performance of Brahms' Liebeslieder, a set of 18 songs about love and all sorts of little tangents, all performed by the same quartet.  It was a lovely way to end the evening.  I walked home after (the theatre was on-campus), and basically went to bed.  

Today is gray and rainy, so I will not be going to the beach after church - instead, I will play games and read, and perhaps write, and maybe even have a nap.  There is a premiere performance this evening of art songs written this week, so I will find my way over to that for eight o'clock, but from 11.30 till then, I shall relax.  What a concept!

VISI, day 15

Yesterday (for it is yesterday now) was fun.  After breakfast in the morning, I went to my performance psychology class, and we rounded off the two weeks of classes with talk of exercise, nutrition, medication, and more quasi-meditative techniques.  It was very relaxing, and I'm glad I went.

We only had one lecture yesterday morning: an overview of 19th-century French poetry.  After my French classes in high school being alternately very dull and very interesting, I was sceptical as to whether I wanted to go, but I got up and made myself go because I knew it would have information I would find useful, whether or not I found it interesting.  Sure enough, it was both dull and interesting in places, and there was indeed useful information.  It was truly an overview, as an hour and a half is not enough time to delve into 19th-century French poetry, but we were able to look at the major movements and their figureheads, which was enlightening.  We also looked closely at a poem of which I am performing a setting, Baudelaire's L'invitation au voyage, and so that was very useful.

I then hopped over to the student union building to get some lunch, and in so doing, get change for the bus.  I finally had a matcha frappe ... oh man those things are good.  :D

I scurried off to the first of the VISI participants' concerts, which was a good concert - varied repertoire, plenty of expression, a sense of being in a community that understood where each interpretation was coming from and where the technique might still need work.  

After the concert was an hour-and-a-half session on French diction with Mme Landry, which did not teach me very much that I did not already know, but the things that I did not know turned out to be rather important - such as the fact that harmonizing the vowels in a certain word can turn it into an entirely different word ... sometimes with grave consequences.  It's a matter of slang, and it's a good thing we find these things out!

I then went to my only coaching, which went well - a well-rounded coaching dealing with marrying consonants and legato, richness of tone with phrasing, etc.  After that, I hurried out to catch a bus, to go meet a very good friend of mine ... an hour and a half away.  

The bus/train/bus ride passed fairly quickly, but she was caught in traffic so I was about half an hour early.  When she got there, we went for dinner at a Japanese restaurant, wandered a bit, went to her boyfriend's (parents') apartment, said hello, went to the taekwondo school at which her boyfriend teaches ... and then, when he was finished, we all chatted and hung out.  I was finally introduced to My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, which was just as hilarious as it had promised to be, and ... yeah!  We talked and laughed.  The neat thing about it is that we all know each other from way back, and though I didn't know her boyfriend as well, he remembered me (we all met on the same forum), and so we did have that in common.  It was a pretty sweet time actually, and I ended up staying two hours past when I was originally going to leave.

I hopped on a bus at 11.30 and got home at 1.30, safe and sound - if a little bit unnerved.  Some people were kinda sketchy on each of the legs of the trip, but no one was inappropriate or anything.  So it was fine.  

And then I went to bed, and slept in till ten.  Now I have to go to laundry, and then I should go to a workshop on art in conflict resolution, and then I should get ready for the Schubertiade tonight ...  bright red grad dress, here I come.  :D

VISI, day 14

I had breakfast in the dorms this morning.  It was a nice break from the warmth and people of the cafeteria.  I can only take so many people in the morning ... I much prefer breakfast on my own.

I went to performance psych, which wasn't as scary as I expected it to be - we did a lot of concert visualization, figuring out what makes us feel comfortable on stage and distilling that into phrases we can use as process cues, sentences that bring us back to a place in our mind and body that feels as we want it to.

The ten o'clock lecture was a two-hour forum on translation, which passed in a flash.  It was truly interesting to hear and talk about the art of translation from so many viewpoints: there were people on the panel concerned with poetry, creative writing, French, German, musicology, translation in itself, distribution, and audience/singer/reader understanding.  It was fascinating.  We talked about a Goethe poem (the basis for Schubert's Wanderers Nachtlied) and a Paul Verlaine poem (Clair de lune).  

We talked about the inconsistencies of language, how poetry uses language, the purpose of metaphors, how to be faithful to a poem (rhyme scheme? ideas? metre? words? meaning? intent?), word choice, purpose, audience ...  like I said, truly fascinating.  It could have gone on for hours, and the thing is there really aren't solid answers to many of the questions that translation poses - just stances, and sometimes your stance can change depending on why you need a translation, or why you translate a piece.

My first coaching this afternoon was with Mme Rosemarie Landry, a true top banana (that expression cracks me up) in the world of French song.  I was nervous about working with her, but she was absolutely adorable and so much fun.  She was very kind, if very insistent.  She pointed out errors in my French that were caused by my speaking Canadian French (I have very sibilant fricatives, for instance), and helped me find a way to interpret the Poulenc piece I am working on so that it is not old-fashioned, nor is it unduly sad.  She was very encouraging, and said only time will fix some of the issues - time and practice, of course.  

The second coaching was with Dr Cameron Stowe, a pianist and interpreter.  We worked on a Brahms piece, one that I'd coached several times before in the past week and a half, with varying degrees of success (but always something learned).  There were several long phrases on which I was holding back for fear of a lack of breath, and as such were suffering in tone quality and vowel depth; he said to make it spin, I did, it used more air but ... I didn't run out.  We also fixed some problems of register changes by adding depth to the vowel, which was caused by relaxing the muscles on the bottom of my head (I think it's the geniohyoid muscle, but I'm not sure).  I think those were being kept closed (and still are - I keep catching myself at it) while I had my braces in.  I may have to spend some time with my mouth open at all times to break the habit.

After coachings, I went grocery shopping, and found out how to manage getting to Surrey tomorrow.  Tomorrow is adventure day!  I get to go meet a good friend of mine for the first time.  It'll be sweet, even if it does mean a bus ride of an hour and a half either way.  Oh well.  Worth it.  Also time to relax and read.

Now it is time to have a shower, and then go to bed.

VISI, day 13

Today went pretty well, considering last night went quite horribly.  

I decided not to go to performance psychology class, so instead my day started at 10 with presentations from Emily Ezust, webmistress of the Lied, Art Song and Choral Texts website, and Robert Crawford, the owner of the site and a musical artist in his own right.  I had been very interested in hearing Ms. Ezust speak, as I've used her website for a long time; I would have enjoyed more details on the computer-science side of things, but then, I have the background in it ... most of the people in the room wouldn't have cared much.  Mr. Crawford's presentation was not, I thought, as interesting: he works on software that is basically enhanced supertitles, pushing the notion that the audience needs to see the text in order to fully appreciate the music.  I don't disagree, but he was a bit aggressive and repetitive.  Oh well.  I would have also liked to hear more about why Ms. Ezust does what she does - what her philosophy is.  Why does she care enough to put this database out there and work on it full-time?

After that lecture was an hour about Peace it Together, a summer program uniting teenagers from Israel, Palestine and Canada in a month of filmmaking about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  I was all teary in about ... five minutes.  I don't know very much about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict beyond the very, very basic sides, but still.  The work this program causes is inspiring and impressive.  What I found most striking was that no one, either staff or participants, is under the impression that peace may be reached in the near future (much less be caused directly by this program): they are concerned with initiating dialogue and connecting with the other side of the conflict, finding common ground and hoping for peace in the further future.  I don't quite know if that makes sense, but I'm not sure how else to say it right now.  Maybe I'll come back to it.

I then made lunch, and since I didn't have a coaching until 4, I relaxed and then took a nap.  The coaching today was the polar opposite of yesterday's: we worked with Tyler Duncan, a Canadian singer.  He was very encouraging (sometimes I thought he was perhaps too much so, but that could be a combination of personal self-deprecation, a tendency to put my talent above other people's, and the aftereffects of both yesterday's really tough coaching and the horrid evening), and yet still, somehow, we managed to work through a couple things that I hadn't been able to fix for a long time.  In some ways, the no-holds-barred encouragement and steady praise worked wonders.  Hard to believe, sometimes, but little bits of it got lodged in there somewhere.

After coaching, I checked on the score of the hockey game, figured there was time for it to turn around in our favour, and decided to head to downtown Vancouver.  I took the SkyTrain.  :D  It kind of made me sad to see how many people were drunk even just on the bus - and this was about one period into the game.  Once I got to downtown, I managed to walk seven blocks in the wrong direction, threading my way along Granville among all the people smoking (I have never seen so many people smoking at once in my life) ... and then realized I was going the wrong way, turned around and walked back.  I ate dinner in a food court, watched a very little bit of the game, decided we were definitely not going to win and I didn't want to be there when it was official, and went to catch a bus.  The bus pulled away at 7.53, just after the game ended and just before the fairly small-scale riots started.

I got ice cream on the way home.  And now here I am!  It is time to turn off the computer and relax ... 

VISI, day 12

Today was overall pretty good.  It started off, after breakfast, with a session on the Alexander Technique, which was enlightening, if a bit frustrating - how do you know when you've found a good poise?  It's all about trust ... 

After the Alexander Technique session, which took an hour longer than it was meant to so I missed the poetry lecture (which I think is okay ... I mean, it would have been good, but I needed to hear the Alexander Technique stuff).  After that was a shorter lecture on how artists can engage with their communities and why we should; this was somewhat empowering, and certainly a bit challenging.  Our art is not for our sake ... 

I then scurried off to make a quick lunch, and then to an hour-long concert which, honestly, I could have skipped.  It was a lecture-concert, so it was nice to have explanations of the songs, but I didn't feel particularly engaged ... just informed.  

Then we had a workshop on world harmonies and rhythms, which was pretty cool.  We did some Afro-Cuban, some Afro-Brazilian, some Sacred Harp (where the notes are shown by shapes on the staff, and sun using modified solfege - I was skeptical at first, but it somehow made singing in parts right off the bat much easier, which has always been difficult for me ... ), and some Serbian music.  Fun to hear all the different harmonies, and to try to get all the rhythms together.  It's difficult, even as a decent musician, to get three rhythms going at once - feet, hands and voice!

The only coaching we had today was one I was really looking forward to - an acting coaching with Dean Paul Gibson, a Canadian actor.  He was not what I was expecting - very abrasive, very honest - but also extraordinarily true to his art and ... he really does care about you, I think, but he's not afraid to ask the really tough questions or to tell you flat out that you're not connecting, you're not performing, you're inside yourself.  The audience doesn't care about what you're feeling - they will only care when you draw them in, make them care, make them feel.  Two of the people in my group (one had to miss today's session) seemed very turned off by his manner, and so it was really tough for them to open up to his admittedly abrasive methods of teaching, but I thought I'd be a bit better since I really want to learn to act better, and, well, I thought I was pretty good at it already.

Ha ha ha.  we're all so deluded aren't we.

Dean didn't work on the same things with me as he did with the others.  With the others, he was driving them out of themselves, getting them to connect.  With me ... he made me see that I was Acting.  I was pushing the song to the audience, driving it into them.  I'm not afraid to meet his eyes, to battle away my discomfort and nervousness.  But he saw them, saw what I was trying to do (which was, in essence, prove that I could do this and wanted to make it better), and said, basically, that I wasn't doing it right.  Except he didn't say that.  

He almost immediately got me to sing the song (which is about lost love and seeking it again but not finding it) where I couldn't stop doing things.  He got me to pretend to sew a jacket.  Smell the jacket.  Give up on it.  Check dinner.  Check the souffle.  Check the potatoes.  Make bread.  Go to the door.  Look for him.  Is he there?  Go to the window.  Go back to the chair.  Go back to sewing.  Check the clock.  Never-ending.

It was exhausting.  It connected me more with the actual situation.  I felt like I had a connection to the song already (feeling like love isn't quite what it used to be, and wanting it back), but this was very visceral.  We talked about it for a bit, and then he told me to just sing the words.  Nothing else.  Just sing the words.

That was incredibly difficult.  I wanted to focus on the words, on singing them the way they should be sung, paying attention to the diction, to the sounds, to the colours.  But every time I tried, he said to stop, no, just sing the words.  Just the words.  So I tried.  Just thinking about the words.  What's next.  What's next.  What am I saying.  Not in any deep way - just the words.  

I felt entirely disconnected.  I felt like it was a dead performance.  Like there was nothing there.  My vocal technique worked, and that felt pretty good, but I wasn't focusing on it, so that's not a big surprise.  (It's kinda funny how well your body works when you just leave it alone.)  

And then the comments started.  Best performance of the song yet.  Words had nuances and colour.  Feelings were obvious.  I was absolutely stunned.  How on earth could that be?  It was contrary to everything I'd ever done onstage, in a performance.  I didn't feel anything.  I had no inner indication of any of those things but apparently they worked. 

I expressed as much, and he said it was because I'd already done everything.  I had nothing left to do - I was vulnerable.  At that point, what I needed most was to tell the audience just how badly this was hurting me.  It was the only thing left that I needed.  And it came through.  That whole body thing again, I guess.

So this left me in a bit of a tough spot, and I'm still there now.  That experience ran contrary to everything I've ever done, but it worked magic on the audience.  The entire experience of it was not difficult except in turning my training off.  It was less abstract and more concrete.  I felt grounded.  

But how can I know that it will work every time?  That is a very, very hard thing to trust.  Dean said that performing is not 'acting'.  It is being.  Acting is reality.  You have to be in that place.

How do you choose to be in a place?

This is very difficult.

VISI, day 11

Today was not terribly eventful, but good nonetheless.

No performance psych class this morning, so lectures started at ten.  I did a brief warmup at nine and felt like crap, so I decided to leave it.  Tired plus vocal fatigue plus just ate breakfast.  Felt much better in the afternoon, as I expected.

The lecture this morning was about Schubertiades; very interesting, rather enlightening.  Schubert was not well-known enough, nor were Lieder a popular enough art form to be played at big public concerts (plus there was the fact that if a concert was organized to showcase one specific composer, the composer had to pay for it ALL himself, and while Schubert wasn't destitute, he certainly couldn't handle that), so his music was mainly played, during his lifetime anyway, in middle-class salons and, surprise surprise, at Schubertiades.  (that was a long sentence.)  The aristocratic salons were not, for the most part, interested in Schubert's music, though a few songs would have been played through his meager connections with the aristocracy; the middle class was far more interested in his style of music, since they were very serious about the Biedermeier concept of Bildung, or the self-culturing through art.  And, of course, there were the Schubertiades; parties organized (or not) solely for listening to Schubert's music ... and having a heck of a good time.  (Apparently they even engaged in tossing people in blankets.  Y'know, like that movie.  I can't remember it now.  But really.  Also they drank a lot.)

So yeah, interesting lecture ...  The masterclass was not as interesting.  The girl performing didn't emote very well and so much of the masterclass was devoted to that.  

I headed back to the dorms and made both lunch and supper, then went to coachings.  The first coaching was work on staging one of our art songs; I picked a particularly difficult one to understand, and so didn't get to work on it as much this time - but I will later in the week, so that's okay.  The second coaching was led by VISI's director, and so we spent some time staging and some time really digging into the songs.  I worked on a song I've done several times in coachings now, but it was only really today that I managed to connect with it and sing it like I never had before (it has some wickedly long lines for someone of my early stage of training). It was pretty cool.

I then headed off to catch a bus, and proceeded to go to downtown Vancouver.  I ate supper looking out over the harbour, and then watched the last 15 minutes of game six (Stanley Cup finals, in case you're A) living under a rock or B) don't follow hockey) at Canada Place.  That was pretty cool.  The series is now tied 3-3, so I'll head back on Wednesday to see the last period or so of game seven, which is at home in Vancouver, and so should be entirely mad.  that'll be fun.  :D

And then I found a way home, and here I am.  Kinda sleepy.  Tomorrow is a new day - or something like that.

VISI, day 10

As promised: 

I went to church.  

I bought laundry detergent, and sunscreen.  (and cheese and meat.  I`m going to have to buy more vegetables soon, too.)

I went home, made lunch, and put sunscreen on.  (I think this is the first time in my life I've actually applied sunscreen 30 minutes before sun exposure.)

I walked to the beach.  The route I took was not as direct as I expected it to be, and so it took me 45 minutes instead of 30, and my feet hurt.  I am not used to doing quite this much walking.  Anyway.  I plunked down on a grassy bit for an hour, reading a book (Red Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson; Dad, I hope you haven't been wondering where it is).  I then picked my way along the rocks to the actual beach, where I spent the next hour.  

I then walked back, and elected to take a scenic route through Vancouver's forest preserve - a gorgeous ten/fifteen-minute walk through nothing but trees.  I couldn't hear the city for most of the time.  It was beautiful.  (It was accented by the fact that I was playing Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess music on my Zune, and I totally felt like I was on a heroic quest all the way across some fantasy land.  super cool.  yes I am a nerd.  but most of the time it was gentle town/forest music and so it felt really peaceful and not so heroic.)  When I came out of the preserve, I wasn't quite sure where I was - neither of my first contacts could help me out, so I just went in the direction of the university, and was delighted to realize that I was far closer to it than I thought I was.  As such, it was only another twenty minutes to home - and that was walking slowly.

(I now have blisters on my feet, and again, they hurt.  Sheesh.  I feel like such a spoiled ... I dunno.  city kid.  The next few days will be interesting.)

On returning home, I made supper.  One of the downsides of A) not having much money, B) not having a lot of room to bring things home, and C) only being here for three weeks means that I have bought no spices, and so my meals are somewhat bland.  But!  At least I have food, and it is not cafeteria food.  That is nice.

I then went on an extended Wiki wander through the unsolved ancient and modern mysteries of the world, started by an article on the Hum (which I swear I've heard at home ... but only a few times in a very short period ... and Mom has too.  it was really weird.  We chalked it up to the transformer, but, you never know), which then proceeded to the Julia unidentified sound, and ended up (after a large ballooning) at The Starving of the Saqqara.  Normally when I do Wiki wanders of this type I feel rather small and frightened of the world, feeling like something's watching my back, but this time I'm a bit better.

Oh!  I also did laundry.  They have multiple washers and dryers here - I got all my laundry done in an hour.  Granted it was only two loads, but even two loads at BU takes me three hours.

Now I am going to relax, eat some cheese (I like cheese, it's yummy) and play a video game.  and then sleep!  ... and back to the lectures tomorrow, sigh.  They're so interesting ... but it feels like this day just started.  I'd like some more days like this one, where I don't worry about anything at all.  I may not have necessarily done much during May, but the frustration of not having a job kinda took over.  (I realized several times today that I don't have a job to come home to.  I need to start applying ... but that's a little bit hard to do from Vancouver.  Notably because I hate calling people.  But that's another story.)

Anyway.  Cheese.