tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-181526522024-03-23T14:28:18.143-04:00it's a process.<br>
for·ma·tion (for-'mA-sh&n)
n.
<br>
1. The act or process of forming something or of taking form. <br>
2. Something formed.sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.comBlogger183125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-727599251514628482009-05-15T21:34:00.001-04:002009-05-15T21:35:15.157-04:00movingI'm moving! Why? Well, it has the semblance of being productive.<br />http://estherhasablog.wordpress.comsequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18163890274580748559noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-68747382799774952272009-05-02T03:26:00.002-04:002009-05-02T03:30:11.690-04:00in search of a metaphor<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Is trusting God like:</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">1. waiting for a ride,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">2. jumping off a bridge and hoping that something saves you before you hit the ground, or</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">3. digging a tunnel without knowing for sure whether it leads somewhere?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;">I'm officially done school and need to figure stuff out!</span>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-37654100083888418472009-05-01T00:06:00.005-04:002009-05-01T00:45:56.035-04:00blotches on my monitor make things less clear<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I must start this blog with a picture:</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXXk8JopLWs-llCJXZjbK09HJax7kJSm3Nc3AIUeQlO_4JCH4aPHbPoE2a89DLgiDGJGF2fnBZdgH2QLB_5iQH-zb1XCigEbhe5FpVoBvlfbSCilPUBNNwLJnMwnwYhii4vJC/s1600-h/Photo+62.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCXXk8JopLWs-llCJXZjbK09HJax7kJSm3Nc3AIUeQlO_4JCH4aPHbPoE2a89DLgiDGJGF2fnBZdgH2QLB_5iQH-zb1XCigEbhe5FpVoBvlfbSCilPUBNNwLJnMwnwYhii4vJC/s320/Photo+62.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330702231898905058" /></a><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was moving my parent's van a short distance so I left my the side doors open. My backpack fell out and got caught under the wheel. For </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">some</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> reason, that morning, I decided to bring my laptop (I think I was considering applying for jobs in my down time, which ironically, I now need more than ever.). In a flurry, I moved the car, and checked my laptop, which seemed fine, but when I turned it on, I found the screen looked like this. I am now writing this blog on with the above blotches on my screen (mirrored, of course). </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So this, of course, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">sucks</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. To emphasize the blow, my camera was in the bag and so the display doesn't work, so I cannot see the pictures I have taken (It's like I'm in the 90s.) and I can't change the settings (or I could change them, but I don't know what I'd be changing them from or to.). Furthermore, this is just one week after I had to replace the windshield of my car after some random thing coming off a car or truck on the highway hits me. For the first time in my life, I will be incapable of paying off my credit card bill in full - just in time for the start of my new life.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But the weirdest thing is I'm not too stressed about it. I initially freaked out and cried, yes, but I soon concluded that it's all just </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">stuff</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">money</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Could this be evidence of growth? Or just does this happen to be a good day for Esther's insides? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This has been a weird week for your friend, Esther. It's the first week without shows, yet with dispersed activity, and a LOT of introspection. Mostly </span></span><a href="http://formationisprocess.blogspot.com/2009/03/wheels-on-bus.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">the old stuff</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, but also a new question: Should I go to Korea again this summer? I would be doing the same job, and making the same money. On one hand, the money would be nice, but on the other hand, it kinda feels like selling out - doing a job I don't like for the money, while I escape the responsibility of pursuing my dreams. I'm not saying I'll never go back, but right now, when I'm trying to begin, it seems cowardly to delay that. But with all this cash draw, maybe I'm being forced into a decision. Does God work that way?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Also: This is the first blog I have done with importing to Facebook. I think I'm shy, but right now, it's important for me to share my journey.<br /></span></span><div><br /></div></div></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-50243499216077800832009-04-21T23:39:00.002-04:002009-04-22T00:23:22.661-04:00a big ball of horrible questions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today I finished my vocal jury, which is the last thing I will be evaluated on at Sheridan College. Basically, for the last few months, I've been putting these 4 songs together to sing in front of my class and about 10 vocal teachers and I did that today, ending in a rewritten verse to They All Laughed dedicated to my class. Now, I'm not totally finished. I still have to go to school to finish Grease, watch other juries, talk to my teachers, go to prom, and go to an awards night, but the work itself is done. School will just peter out as I try to transition into something rather than nothing. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This end of school is supposed to mean something: like, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">now</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I should be ready to face the industry as a young professional. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, it's up to me to believe in myself, and not depend on the spoon-feeding of my teachers. I remain unconvinced. I almost feel less prepared than when I first came, because now, I'm more aware of my insufficiencies. When I first came, I thought everyone was amazing, and though I knew I wasn't a crazy singer or an experienced actor, I believed myself to be good enough. Now I often find myself watching people with jealous critique, and giving myself equally harsh criticism. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You know what? I think I'm more disappointed with this seeming decay in character. That piled onto this "What to do with my future?" crizap. Oh, but maybe it's all the same thing - a big horrible ball of questions that come at the same time </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(i.e. Have I grown? What am I doing with my life? Why am I single? Can I do what I want to do? Am I in for disappointment? How do I ever pay my student loans? How will I make money? Will I ever make enough? Will I ever move out of my parents house? Am I wasting my talents?)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Writing out that ball made me feel better. It almost looks ridiculous this way.</span></span></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-74550576194187727412009-04-03T10:33:00.003-04:002009-04-03T11:26:47.894-04:00i'm not very good at making plans.IFor some reason, I'm very reluctant to make plans when I know I have a day off. Now, it doesn't help that I don't actually know what my schedule is until the night before, but even so, I find that my usual response to any plan is "maybe." For example, today, I have the day off (until 4) and I woke up and realized that I made any firm plans at all - I had two or three potential plans, but they were so vague that at this point they weren't likely to materialize. In my horrible way, I feel like if I make plans, I might miss out on something better. But what sometimes happens is that I miss out on anything.<div><br /></div><div>Now, for the larger implications: I'm now graduating, and here is this block of time that I have dubbed The Rest of My Life. I have no plans. I have not looked for a non-performing job in case I get a performing job. I have not looked for a place to live in case something pulls me somewhere else. And this seems reasonable, but it just adds up to doing nothing right now. </div><div><br /></div><div>Or maybe I should be waiting. I wish things were more clear.</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-83823326026530408402009-03-03T16:59:00.003-05:002009-03-03T17:57:48.160-05:00the wheels on the bus<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hate to say it but I've been on this bus for about 8 hours now, and I don't totally hate myself! The bus has wi-fi so I've internet-bugged a lot of people, watched Early Edition and Scrubs... Actually this bus ride is kind of what I do on my days off. That's sad for every other time but now. (Yay!)</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, it's no secret that I've been doing my typical angst-about-the-future thing. Right now, I can talk about it in a logical manner. The questions running through my head are:</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1. "What am I going to do with the rest of my life?"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm deciding to disregard this question because it is far too general to answer, and it also tends to lead to despair. The only answers I can think of that are true always sound a bit trite.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2. "Will I ever be able to work in this industry?" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This can also be an unproductive in the question because it is inherently pessimistic. If this was an SAT question, I would instruct my students to not answer "No" because that would be too extreme. A less extreme answer would be "Yes", because sometime down the line I should be able to work. An even less extreme answer (and therefore, the best answer) would be "Maybe." </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And this is, of course, guessing strategy. With the information I have, however, the answer is "Probably." This may seem overly confident to some, and a little too careful for others, but I think this is the most correct answer. It's a hard industry, and realistically, I don't have a lot of experience, I'm not a dancer, I'm not the strongest singer, and I'm not the best actor (yet). Also, even with the reassurances of many of my teachers, I don't believe being a non-white, non-skinny girl is an asset (yet).</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But to neglect the other side of the story would also not be honest (though tempting, because at least with one side of the story, we can be conclusive). I've been to Sheridan, and on top of the training I've received, I have many great friends who I want to collaborate with. I can pick up dance combinations better than I ever could, and in a show situation, I can even pull it off. My voice is still growing, but furthermore, I like the way it sounds sometimes. And despite whether I'm a good actor or not, I believe in it. I work hard and I can be funny and thoughtful. I've been writing songs that I like, and I think I can tell some good stories. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you've been keeping track, these arguments lead us to a very strong "Maybe," but here's where I'll push into "Probably." I </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">want</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to do it. I </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">want</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to tell stories. I </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">want</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> to share my songs and expose God's narrative in my life. So that's why I tentatively say "Probably."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">3. "How am I going to make money?" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I'm on a bus to NYC. Who does that? People trying to squeeze every penny at the expense of their own comfort. I'm planning to go to see shows, but I haven't bought any tickets hoping that I'll get some rush tickets. When I come back home, I think I'll have about $100 to my name. I feel capable of many things, but getting jobs that I didn't hate has never been a skill of mine.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I need a job that is flexible so I can audition, and that I wouldn't feel too bad leaving if I got a performing. Or maybe I need to put something on hold.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;">Anyway, that's what's happening in my brain. Maybe NYC has something to tell me, and I'll have interesting and insightful things to say for my ride home.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-67589987040682217322009-02-28T12:15:00.004-05:002009-02-28T14:44:38.872-05:00my exodus<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Here's a rough version of a new song. I'll probably record it better when I have more time, but I just wanted to share.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:13;" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:13;" ><br /></span></div><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nipSKquZOuA&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nipSKquZOuA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-18820076929505600372009-02-15T22:40:00.003-05:002009-02-15T23:52:58.670-05:00lonely is an illusion<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good Christians often start introspections with "I was reading in my Bible..." and then go on to make some enlightened connection from a seemingly out-dated book to their lives. Well, this is no claim to being a "good Christian," but I gotta say, there's something about these Genesis stories that connect. There's someth</span></span><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh08BOH3oLXpObhc7KrKz_3CHf_NZehNS6-xWvqYY5OUMYcGljyfxOjfJS9gZI_zH2fgFP_sfrtkcCxfQs2D3mUcaGck4DXrsHm-_eXJP8l8F8VXI77QZxkyPreeqa_myFVnNlQ/s320/325px-3D_glasses_istock.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303253477424362034" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ing lonely about these stories of people going on big journeys.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The connect? Well, I don't know. I'm about to graduate and I'm scared. I don't have a job, an agent, or any real plan. I have dreams but they are all smoke right now. I would love to keep on writing music, but it's hard to bank on inspiration. I would love to get a job performing, but I have to get someone to hire me first. I wonder how I'm going to pay for rent, food and OSAP. I wonder if I should move out of my parents' into Toronto, like I always assumed. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I guess that's the loneliness. With all these questions, it's easy to think that I'm in this by myself - any luck or disaster that befalls me will be solely mine. And it IS a lot like that when I'm trying to "market myself" to casting directors, artistic directors, and agents. I guess that's also why performing is fun. All the glory's yours too. But maybe that explains why performers are often egotistical and moody.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I suppose being lonely is an illusion. Even your character is a product of so many relationships. I know being at this moment would not be possible if not for so many friends and family members who have supported me and challenged me. And then there's the promise that God keeps on speaking to all these journeyers - "I will be with you."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe lonely is an illusion, but I still try to touch the pictures at the 3D movies.</span></span></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-44143058233541347432009-01-09T22:42:00.002-05:002009-01-09T22:46:34.039-05:00pop music is okayHey. Maybe I'll do this again. <div>What I learned: It's much faster to make a video of you playing music than recording it.</div><div>Enjoy, friends!</div><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WKzzFdaQyMQ&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WKzzFdaQyMQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></div></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-48923221165317894022008-12-31T18:34:00.002-05:002009-01-01T01:46:17.808-05:00Happy 2009!Ah, yes. It's that time of year again - the end of it: the wonderful time of retrospect and blogging! This was the end of the year I arbitrarily named Year of Not Being Shy. So I don't know what I really did this year besides change my Facebook profile and go to Korea, which I don't know qualifies as "not being shy" but significant nonetheless.<div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I don't feel so great about YNBS as I did about Year Without Fear. Year Without Fear was a year of great change, and while YNBS did have some lovely moments, it wasn't as slap-in-your-face changing. To be honest, I don't know if I committed to the whole "not being shy" as much as I should have - I don't know if I was totally sold that my being shy was a bad thing. Shouldn't I exercise caution when meeting new people? (Especially cute boys?)</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been avoiding thinking during this very long holiday. So much so that I've even taken up regular exercise. (I know! What is going on with me?) Is there something I'm avoiding? Is there something that I'm trying not to look at too hard? Or am I finally getting over my over-analytical emo phase?</div><div><br /></div><div>2009 is a big year. Graduation, looking for work, making work, moving (where to? maybe Toronto? maybe somewhere else?). I'm really really really scared.</div><div><br /></div><div>May this year be everything it could be, friends. May you become more of who you were meant to be. Happy 2009!</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-3972112610823356812008-12-19T14:18:00.006-05:002008-12-19T14:49:05.490-05:00big e(s)the(r/l)I used to read Archie comics all the time, until I realized how repetitive and politically incorrect they were, but still, I remember always going to the store, sitting on a milk crate by the magazines and reading Archie comics.<div><br /></div><div>One way I think that has affected me is my intrinsic attitudes towards male-female interactions. Now, I realize quite vividly that, even though Betty never gets the guy, she is obviously the better of the two, but my deep-seated issues lie with that sad, other girl, Ethel.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtn3KUuJpKjr25TUsn4_qT70kdi16RD-6P38lWaKrLWmgPRpqB2CIhWdnxmYG_FtXAUMqJ1GszffJNRnBFHjCGJYG24VwzAFJhf_7ydfVOZoixerruPE_Rq_5Px4O0QwxH3Pi9/s320/ethel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281584480794515826" />At my young age, I was able to see the injustice of Archie always going for Betty, especially when Betty and Veronica looked exactly the same, except for the hair, but at that point, it never occurred to me to see how coarsely they were portraying poor Ethel. Now, whenever I think of approaching a guy, I have this fear of being like Ethel - running at him, with buck-teeth and hearts around my head.</div><div><br /></div><div>You know, there aren't a lot of female names that start with 'E'. I know this is kind of out there, but that very fact draws me a little too close to her. Ethel was the only girl who ever approached the guy in those comics (except for maybe Betty, but that never ended well for her either), she's the only non-hottie, and guys cringed when she came around, fearing that she might fall in love with them.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, you know, at least Ethel was happy. She never spent too much time feeling sorry for herself. I don't know. It's just too easy to cop out.</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-1351160879798027942008-12-14T20:19:00.006-05:002008-12-14T21:00:23.819-05:00thank you, friends<div><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6xS6_8ENiv7Rpjutw6refq20kSMXvt-UBHyHH9C_fFDdlehU7TYw0XzO52D79jCwo7G1fp8lqvUryuABnq0o5fsi16HmMKlTgxOBjVRxqemS0j8UOE2LjdkwXRB7kl_mQ1Ge/s320/DSCN1606.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279822538583749778" />sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-86362263076930222592008-12-07T22:16:00.005-05:002008-12-07T22:33:30.025-05:00disappointment intimacy and monsters<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, just as a follow-up to the post earlier today, what happened is I waited for another 2 hours, and then opened the email to much disappointment. Now, that disappointment is gone now, after I have gained my right mind, but at that instant, even with the thankful preparation, I was devastated... well, maybe, I was just disappointed but then we had this feedback loop of being upset with myself for being disappointed, and then it just got out of control.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If I want to work in this industry, I realize that disappointment is something I will have to become intimate with. Disappointment may have to become my boyfriend. But as reasonable as I can be on paper, this monster of emotion comes welling up inside of me saying things like, "You're not good enough to do this!" and "No one believes in you!" or even worse, "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(S)He</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> got a great part and you didn't?!?!" And the strange thing is that these things can contradict each other, but I'll believe all of them.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, with the help of Jesus Christ, the monster's away for now, hushed with promises of peace, songs of love, and hints of purpose. But I can't help but be disappointed (Ha! There it is again.) with how much I let that monster take control.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oy vey. Is this life? Or is this just my life?</span></span></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-88935935510788255762008-12-07T07:33:00.003-05:002008-12-07T07:59:54.918-05:00"give thanks in all situations": an exercise<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So here I am, at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, awake after about 3.5 hours of sleep, checking my email for the casting list. See this week, my class did auditions for the next four shows, and this morning, the head of the program will email us a list of who is playing what. My father (who always wakes up early. Don't ask me when - no matter how early I wake up, he's always up before me.) asks me why I'm up, and I tell the lowdown. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"I just really want a good part, but there are so many talented people in my class," I tell him. "I'm afraid that I'll get left in the dust here."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"If you think that way, you'll always be disappointed," says my father sagely. "Be thankful always..." Then he continues on and explains why, and I have to be honest, I think I trailed off.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, still unable to sleep, and still watching my email closely, feeling hope, but feeling more like I'll be disappointed, I decided to close that window for now, and be thankful in a systematic, list way, because that's how I roll.</span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm thankful for Sheridan. </span></span><a href="http://formationisprocess.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-feel-like-billy-elliot.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Remember what I miracle it was that I got in?!</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I'm amongst the most talented students in the country, and I really am honoured to be working with them and being friends with them. I often get stuck on being jealous of their talents, but that is a waste of energy. </span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm thankful for living at home. I know I often complain about the commute, but I love my parents and these last few years, they've been supporting me so much, and I've gotten to see what amazing people they are.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm thankful that I get to do a pop critique! I get to play the Opera House in less than a week, with an amazing band. I've seen songs I've written come to life by an amazing band! I've gotten to write songs! At Sheridan, I gotten some great encouragement when it comes to songwriting, especially when it comes to a shy girl like me. </span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Because of my waking up early, I'm watching the sun slowly fill my living room, while I lay in a blanket by the fire. I may be neurotic, but it's opened me up to this moment right now.</span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdtXZSjuVEwPLgEJMo-OF5MNlgHKnAbRmbbar-_2ghx13wIRoWkCerWwtDHHqt7tinhn1sxvt8OvuwTDuZirsW27cIdSM2d0rM7C3p10DjQx_8aFA3izcQmGiVcAAS8tkee_T/s1600-h/Photo+37.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdtXZSjuVEwPLgEJMo-OF5MNlgHKnAbRmbbar-_2ghx13wIRoWkCerWwtDHHqt7tinhn1sxvt8OvuwTDuZirsW27cIdSM2d0rM7C3p10DjQx_8aFA3izcQmGiVcAAS8tkee_T/s320/Photo+37.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277030501482260322" /></a></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm thankful that the show closed last night but with so much energy and life. It's, of course, sad, saying bye to things like that, but it was really fun and even though I had a small part, it was a good part. I got a song, I got to play the guitar, and I got to express myself mostly through dance!</span></span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I suppose I could go on forever. I have forgotten to do this so often lately. I am so blessed, so I resolve to be thankful, no matter what the casting. I'm going to check my email again. Wish me luck,</span></span></div></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-4166012313877725982008-11-30T16:50:00.002-05:002008-11-30T17:03:48.399-05:00lazy sundayIt's weird, the images that stay with us. Today the image I'm recalling is from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0115580/">The Associate, starring Whoopi Goldberg</a>. There's this scene after everything has gone wrong for her, and so she's locked herself up in her apartment. When Dianne Wiest comes to convince her to fix her life, we see her apartment filled with completed jigsaw puzzles. <div><br /></div><div>Every Sunday, I don't do work. Now, the reason for this is that I think I work really hard the rest of the week, and according to the bible, I'm entitled to one day of rest... Right? Writing that down, I realize the bible doesn't really say that. It says that I should keep the Sabbath holy. It's not about my version of resting (which is watching seasons of tv shows) but it's about re-dedication, re-focussing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes I feel like I have all the answers, if I just sat and thought things out. But that's certainly not true: I think it's more like I can't stand having unanswered question in my head, so I make up incomplete answers.</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-62316708204318060332008-11-27T11:16:00.004-05:002008-11-27T11:29:55.889-05:00an academic discussion on the surface.One of my sister's professors at Mac studied marking essays, etc., to see what the "best way" to mark is. How should you mark so the students learn as much as possible? Apparently, the prof's conclusion was the best way to mark was "really high," meaning my sister got 110% on an essay that she felt luke-warm about.<br /><br />So, right now in I'm in school for performance - something that is very subjective, unlike engineering, where the right answer is very clear. I wonder what the best way to mark would be. In engineering, I know it would be impractical to give easy tests so everyone gets a good mark, or to give marks where wrong answers are, but in performance, sometimes I feel like it would be nice to get consistent As. If it's so subjective, then why not tell me I'm awesome all the time, so I feel encouraged and work harder.<br /><br />Of course, I understand the value of getting lower marks - I have to know where I can improve, and as much as everyone says that I have to measure my own journey, I have to know how I compare. Maybe you've guessed by this point that this academic discussion is just the movement on the surface. It's just tough to try to not consider yourself a B-level performer, when despite your best efforts, that is your mark.<br /><br />No, no, NO. I cannot define myself that way. John always referred to himself as "the one whom Jesus loved." I must strive to do the same.sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-33678712710608839322008-11-26T23:59:00.002-05:002008-11-27T00:06:39.242-05:00learning to be helplessMy brother has been saying that his blog-a-days have been producing insincerity, which, I suppose, is the risk of any artist trying to produce art. For me (for today at least) I feel like there are always things bubbling over the top that I never really get a chance to express. Sometimes it's "I'm really tired. I want to whine." but I guess that whole hope for honesty is what I'm aiming for.... well, maybe something more than that - interesting honesty.<div><br /></div><div>So on Sunday I heard a sermon on love, and the speaker said that the best love comes when you feel completely helpless. I don't really understand that fully, but I'm finding myself in situations where I am at a loss at how to love my friends. I can try to do what I can for them, but sometimes, I just feel helpless. When I heard the sermon I thought that the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">receiver</span> of love is supposed to feel helpless, not that the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">giver</span> might need to be. I guess none of us are true givers of love, but channel-ers of God's love, and we need to get the f out of the way for that to happen.</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-41356264028125164732008-11-24T23:36:00.001-05:002008-11-24T23:37:43.785-05:00i'm not a milkmaid, i just play on tvToday we performed our show for the rest of our class, and I think the show is kinda good! Hurray!sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-45577050299026894802008-11-23T21:33:00.003-05:002008-11-23T21:42:02.007-05:00imperfect polaroidsI came across a picture yesterday of myself when I first came to Sheridan. It's a horrible Polaroid of me at the audition. I looked at the picture and thought "Wow, have I changed!" Is that true? And if it is true, has that change been growth?<div><br /></div><div>I feel like some parts of my growth have been figuring out what I'm not, which is painful and humbling. But sometimes, maybe I need to differentiate between what I'm not and what I'm not <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">yet</span>. I'm not an ingenue, and probably never will be, and I'm also not someone who has tact and grace coming out of every pore, but hopefully, someday, I will be.</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-25771220084602385632008-11-23T00:50:00.002-05:002008-11-23T00:57:20.479-05:00Even though it's past midnight, I still consider it Saturday. Today we did our first dress rehearsal, and I remember why I love this so much. It reminded me of SkuleNite! I think no matter where I get to in life, I'll always remember SkuleNite, and even though it was a non-professional show done by engineers, it was really something extraordinary.<div><br /></div><div>I'm tired. Inviting lots of people on Facebook is hard. I'm actually going through every person to see whether that person is 1. a good enough friend or 2. would like live music. I have too many non-friends on Facebook. It's a little weird.</div><div><br /></div><div>e out.</div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-11787088739214265692008-11-21T09:33:00.003-05:002008-11-21T09:51:09.506-05:00it's friday!You know what that means! It means I failed my blog-a-day task! I have a good excuse, though - Blogger was seemingly not working, giving me a chance to play my favourite computer game, Hearts! One thing I'll miss about PCs is the awesome games, like Hearts, Spider Solitaire, Chip's Challenge*, Minesweeper, etc. I realize I can probably download those things, but that would defeat the purpose. I can't go out of the way to get those things - They are meant to be incidental distractions. Those kinds of things eat my life away.<div><br /></div><div>Today, to mix things up.... a picture!</div><div><br /></div><div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEY_uptt8VKIsjBSkD-emPLbRDvSWrfvTCiVYmEnaogL_1-u0tcC0e7R9xRFehBTxmIeZPWBv_CoCBTPTkQ3lcQRLmrp2nIsy4bzm-Icw0e235GuHIW6fPDsPmRgWtNN9T-udp/s320/Photo+1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271121165484459554" /></div><div>This is my friend with a vocalise book in the G-basement, the place where I spent the last two years. I had a singing test this morning which I could not study for more because I'm at school until 10 and have to be back for 9. I'm not complaining though. I've already done that. Honestly, the fun people around me are making even the boring stuff fun.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>*Chip's Challenge is more of a memory from Windows 95.</div></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-64442867211312420032008-11-19T11:08:00.002-05:002008-11-19T11:22:54.127-05:00day 2I almost gave up on this whole blog-a-day thing. Day 2 is an important day for me. I'm a big dreamer, and that gives way to many plans - too many plans to actually follow through on everything. So often I'll, in my mind, make these very well-intentioned plans that will inevitable lead me to be a better performer/musician/student/person, that never come to fruition.<br /><br />I had a conversation with my friend Lucas* about how frustrated we were. I believe I have worked hard, but often I sometimes take a break from working hard because it doesn't seem to show anything. I know I'm supposed to trust the abstract concept of "the process" while I just optimistically trudge along, but sometimes that doesn't seem like enough.<br /><br />*You wanna hear something embarrassing? Lucas and I have to kiss in the show, but I'm really bad at it, so yesterday we were practising. Of course, we got caught in the most embarrassing way possible. Our choreographer called us onstage telling us to stop having so much fun. GA!sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-1300120700323810452008-11-18T19:00:00.000-05:002008-11-18T19:00:01.556-05:00taking my own advice/following my brother's exampleI was talking to my sister on the weekend, and she was talking about when we were kids. If Danny would act up, we had completely different approaches to it. Gloria, in all her 11-year-old wisdom, decided that the best way for us to help him was to set an example. My response, according to her, was "That won't work!!" so I decided to yell at him while Gloria acted how she thought he should act.<div><br /></div><div>Today, the trend continues. I still yell at my brother (though not as often, and much subtler), and my latest piece of "advice" to my brother was to write in his blog daily. He wants to be a writer, and it seemed like good advice. What I didn't really anticipate is that <a href="http://dannyhuh.blogspot.com/">he would actually do it</a>. Instead of waiting for inspiration, he's just writing down his uninspired thoughts, and the result is wonderful. So, now, by some weird combination of things, I am following my brother following my advice. I'm going to try and write a blog everyday. Maybe the result won't be very good, but at least I'll be consistently getting things down. Like my brother, I want to be a writer someday (I'd like to write a play someday.), also, I want to be a songwriter, but lately the inspiration doesn't seem to be there. But maybe I just need to practice. Or maybe it's not what I'm meant to do. Or maybe that's being pessimistic. Sometimes I can't tell.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm in the theatre right now, doing mic checks for <a href="http://www1.sheridaninstitute.ca/theatre/season.cfm">Two Gentlemen of Verona</a>. I keep on missing my turn to go up. Everyone is a little grumpy or a little down. I'm trying to muster up some sunshine. That's not easy.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-33781773242067476592008-11-15T22:40:00.002-05:002008-11-15T23:18:54.228-05:00gossip is a funny word<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Relient K has this great song called "Who I Am Hate Who I've Been," and I really don't need to tell you more that, because I think it's pretty clear what it's about. But that feeling of remorse is a good thing, I think, because it means you're changing.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">However, lately, I've been feeling degenerative. I've spent the last couple school years with roughly the same thirty-five people, and while, I understand and cherish the benefits of a bunch of people growing together, I feel like lately, I've been feeling the disadvantages, hardcore. I've totally fallen into the trap of gossiping and judging my peers. And I don't really know if this is true, but I feel like it's especially hard to avoid in a performance program, where we are constantly watching each other and critiquing so our own performances can get better. But I think we forget to stop when the person stops performing and let that person just exist.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once, at church, we were talking about gossip, and something very wise was said about often Christians will gossip under the mask of Christian concern. At school, our gossiping is all in the name of human study/performing arts. It all seems very right, very proper, to dissect the behaviour of our friends, so we can understand how to view their performances with better context. But even if the people never find out how much I discussed them, I know that I'm not really seeing people for who they are, but for who I've concluded they must be.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But then again, sometimes, I just feel like I need to vent. But is this venting letting go of these thoughts inside me, or necessitating a need for them? Maybe if I didn't "vent" all the time, I would just stop getting so frustrated or judgmental. Is this the case? Someone talk to me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*I'm on my new computer. I thought I should christen it with a blog entry. This is the start of my new life: I spent 6 years on my old PC desktop, and now I enter the professional theatre world with this pretentious piece of plastic under my arm.</span></span></div>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18152652.post-67223641114072822862008-11-09T20:42:00.003-05:002008-11-09T20:52:54.140-05:00my contribution to the internet this week<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">is a song. I know I haven't been blogging very well, but whatever, you all are reading this over a feed anyway. I got recording equipment this week, and as a result, realized that my computer is too old and I need a new one. I might get a Mac, but I just hate Mac users. They're all so effing* smug!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So I recorded a song and put it up on </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://myspace.com/estherwroteasong">my my my myspace: http://myspace.com/estherwroteasong</a><span style="font-family:verdana;">. It would be cool if you had 2:42 to listen to TES. I spent all Sunday afternoon on it, and I'm cautiously proud.<br /><br />Peace, friends!<br /><br />*I believe that "effing" of "f" (as in "what the f!") is the funniest way to not swear.<br /></span></span>sequestheredhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00473434873689256684noreply@blogger.com2