i want to be old and wise

I no longer want to be young and silly, but rather: old, sensible, and wise. Perhaps a total lack of sense would give me the desired result, but as it stands, it is impossible for me to be foolish without realizing it, regretting it, and being totally confused.

So I guess I am very young and very silly.

As it stands, my understanding of everything just must be kind of shallow. I think I want to be silly, but what I really want and need is the very wise, in-depth understanding of when it's okay to let go, so I can actually do it.

Quote of the day: "I'm just worried I won't get to relax this week." God help me.

"i want to be young and silly"

Ever see that episode of Dead Like Me, in the not-as-good-as-the-first-season second season, where George gets all mad at Inigo Montoya for her being dead at the beginning of the episode? Anyway, she says to Inigo "I want to be young and silly," and then sometime after, Inigo says "You are."

Okay, so I realize that obscure quotes aren't usually very effective unless someone, anyone at all, knows what you're talking about. But my life and thoughts, although original in their way, seem to be a collection of experiences and pop culture.* So excuse me for these ambiguous quotes from short-lived tv shows.

Coming back to the point, I want to be young and silly. I want to be able to let go of all this "sense" I have. Often, I find my reason and my emotions at battle with each other, and it's a little annoying when you're crying, and while you know why you're crying, it doesn't seem very reasonable to do so (knowing things like "You wanted a challenge" and "There are bigger problems in the world" and the ever powerful "It's no big deal").

I want to be able to be totally ridiculous and be in a scene where I'm sexy and forget about the fact that I'm so embarrased and actually just have pure, unadulterated fun.

Damn it. Why do I have to be so mature and reasonable?




*I tried writing a song the other day. The hardest thing is to try and make something new, but I quickly found myself sampling from songs I knew, which was totally interesting. It's like it was a ransom letter - using cut-outs from different contexts and make them say what you mean.

writer's blocked

It's Sunday. Breathe.

You know, I never really meant to make this blog a place where I obligingly update the internet about my life. I always meant it as an outlet for the thoughts bubbling over the top. I kind of feel like I am running out of things to say.

Scary.

My life is simple nowadays - school, then school, then more school. For the end of the year, we have to choreograph and perform a dance piece to any song that we want as long as it is 2-4 minutes long. To be honest, I don't think I've ever danced a piece longer than 2 minutes, let along choreograph. I'm totally intimidated, but more than anything, I'm afraid that maybe I don't have enough to say in order to do something meaningful. I want the piece to be a story that's real to me, but, hello, dancing isn't exactly my strength.

I want to make art. I want to write songs that speak truth. I want to write plays that inspire. I want to choreograph meaningful stories. But maybe the question is why.

How does God choose his prophets?

whoever said it was a small world?

People! I have spent the last three hours simply Googling my teachers at Sheridan. I never realized how ignorant I was of everything! There is SO much music out there! And just by searching out four of my teachers, I'm beginning to see that music is a ridiculously large and diverse place.

Okay, look. This is the guy that teaches me Ear Training (and I mean, do-re-mi-so-la Ear Training. That's right. We're still on the pentatonic scale.). And, I should warn you. It's experimental jazz. Really weird, really cool. I mean, the computer is his instrument.

This guy accompanied me on You Oughta Know.

And, last, but not least, the man I refer to as Cool Peter, who helped me rock This Love (Maroon 5).

These guys are ridiculously awesome. They seem to work a lot, yet they're all taking jobs like playing for ignorant college kids like me in their karoake class (i.e. pop performance class). And not only that, they are all just a few of so many artists out there. Follow the cybertrail, and you'll find MySpace after MySpace of talented, talented people, all around Toronto.

I don't know. Is this a problem? I don't go out very often to see live music because I don't have the time or necessarily the money, but we're living in a place where talented, brilliant people are spending a lot of time being less-than-brilliant in order to get by. Weird.

Side note: For every name I googled, I got some PhD's website of the same name. It seems like the internet has turned into a place for intellectuals and artists. Interesting parallel.

word of the day: vitriolic

I've recently been accused of being vitriolic. I don't know what that was, so I, first, got very offended then figured out what it meant. He said this in reference to my Strong Sad-type self-deprecating, isn't-it-sad-that-I-don't-have-a-boyfriend kinds of jokes, and he gave me a definition, saying it was a synonym for acidic, but I'm unsure I believe him.

Here's what m-w.com says.

Main Entry: vit·ri·ol
Pronunciation: 'vi-trE-&l
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French vitriole, from Medieval Latin vitriolum, alteration of Late Latin vitreolum, neuter of vitreolus glassy, from Latin vitreus vitreous
1 a : a sulfate of any of various metals (as copper, iron, or zinc); especially : a glassy hydrate of such a sulfate b : OIL OF VITRIOL
2 : something felt to resemble vitriol especially in caustic quality; especially : virulence of feeling or of speech
- vit·ri·ol·ic /"vi-trE-'ä-lik/ adjective

Okay, so I still don't know what it meant. Assuming that I take the second definition, what does virulence mean?

Main Entry: vir·u·lence
Pronunciation: 'vir-&-l&n(t)s, 'vir-y&-
Function: noun
: the quality or state of being virulent : as a : extreme bitterness or malignity of temper : RANCOR b : MALIGNANCY, VENOMOUSNESS virulence of a disease> c : the relative capacity of a pathogen to overcome body defenses

So let's take 'a' as the relevant entry.

*gasp*! How dare he call me vitriolic! I'm not bitter. Am I? 50 angst-y blogs later, I'm afraid that maybe I'll have to concede. This sucks. I don't want to be bitter.

PLUS, the other day, someone else told me that I worry too much about what people think about me, and it bothered me for days that he thought that about me. Funny, eh? I'm laughing (finally).

So obviously, these are things that I have to change. Way to start the year. So here are the New Year's resolutions*:

1. Not care what people think. Hopefully, this will make people like me more.
2. Stop lying. Start by losing weight so that I'll be the weight I claim to be. After that, I can continue to lie, because skinny people can do whatever they want. (Just joking. Actually, this whole resolution is a joke. I thought it was funny.)
3. I need to find joy, and I think this will come with a better spiritual life. You know, I was joking with all the vitriolic stuff that I say, and I do believe that if I'm feeling it, I should talk about it, and why not in joke form? ... BUT it would be nice if I didn't have this poison (vitriol, if you will) in me at all.**

No name for this year, yet. Year of Joy? Year without Vitriol? Not as catchy, I know. We'll see how it goes.


*I've heard many people say that they "don't believe in New Year's resolutions". Well, fine. Maybe the idea of changing yourself because of the date is contrived, but at least it's part of one's constant effort to self-improvement. The gyms may be crowded now, but at least people are going, and maybe some of them will keep on going in February. Let's not mock their efforts, jerks.

** Even if it makes you sing You Oughta Know really well.

the end of 2006: year without fear

It is three days from the end of the year 2006 -- the year I so boldly declared would be the Year Without Fear. And let me say, that I think this little experiment worked.

My friend, Finer, wrote a lovely little note on Facebook comparing this December with December 2002. He, like me, is an Eng Sci deserter. After going through the 4 years of hell, we decided to not reap the rewards of our labour and decided to do something else. Me, I went to study musical theatre, and Finer, he went to study political science. And he's happy! He took a step into the great unknown, and is happy. And if you don't know Finer, this is something very strange. Four years of Eng Sci honed his complaining skills, which are now going into essays about political conflict and such.

To be honest, I forgot about this whole Year Without Fear thing for the last couple months, but it was going strong until August. Then school started and then I just kept doing new things, which adheres the Year Without Fear rules*, just unconsciously. But before that it would be like, "Should I do this? Why not!? It's the Year Without Fear!" I know I'm a nerd.

But see what it led to! I'm at Sheridan College! Meaning I auditioned for Sheridan College (among other places, with less fruitful results). Funny story, Mimi Mekler, after one very intense class, told me that in my audition, I was fearless, which is why they wanted me. Cool, eh? The overstretching implications of this Year Without Fear.

And in terms of people, Year Without Fear worked less, I think. School ended, I moved, so a lot of connections were severed. I miss people a lot. I miss my Eng Sci bunch, my church lunchers, my common room dwellers, my Living Room.** But on the other hand, I spent the summer just reaching out to friends, and I even was bold enough to date a boy.

Anyway, I think today I was able to end Year Without Fear with a very brave action. It didn't end well, but I'm sure it was brave, and I'm glad I did it.

Today is Old Year's Day for me. Happy Old Year, everyone!



*There weren't real rules. I mean, I didn't write then down or anything, but if I was to they'd be like this:
1. Don't act in fear.
2. Don't not act in fear.

**If any of you are reading this, drop me an email. I'd love to get together.

"i wonder how many blogs that will show up on," says danny

not the shiniest wrench in the toolbox

Only Christians talk about being tools and being used like it's a good thing. But it's not like we're excited about being used by just anyone.

What is it, though? Why, when God has these mighty hands, would he choose to use broken marionettes?

I wrote and performed this piece for a church service that I attended these last few months. It's the first time I've really seriously acted in front of people (Skule Nite isn't serious acting, folks), and to be honest, I think I did horribly. I know I could have acted so much better. I know I was nervous. I know that I probably played the jokes up a little too much. At the end, I was so upset at myself. I guess I kind of expected it to be miraculous, because it was in a church (and I know that's unreasonable), and I felt a little cheated.

But it doesn't matter. If it's good, that could make it better for me and better for the audience, but for God, it just is what it is. And while nothing is good enough, all things are redeemed.

I want to be a good actor, and I think that we should never be content with mediocrity. But I also think that maybe we shouldn't look at our insufficiencies as disappointing failures to God, but as daring challenges from God.

i'm up too early

Every year after exams I'd always have this problem. I'd be all "Yeah! I'm done! I'm going to sleep all day!" and inevitably, I'd wake up early the next day. Even though I do sleep in on weekends, it takes a little longer for my body to realize that holidays have begun.

I'm just about finished my first term at Sheridan College's Music Theatre Performance program.

"Are you being transformed?" Danny asked me in the car yesterday.
"...yeah, I think so. It's more like things are being unlocked inside me."

Seriously, guys. What I'm doing is ridiculous. Do you remember what I was talking about a year ago? Flip through some of the November entries. I was looking for a job, applying to teacher's college, and shyly alluding to my quiet ambitions. Watch out, guys. The next entries are going to be MAJOR reflections. It's that time of year.

news flash!

Guys! I think I'm growing up! I spent a whole day with dear Little Lisa, and something was different than before. Have you ever watched that Looney Toons cartoon where there's a big bulldog and there's a little scrappy dog that's hopping around asking questions? Of course, the cartoon proceeds to the confusion of a wildcat and a tiny kitty, and of course, the big dog always tries to get the wildcat and comedy ensues, because the little dog only sees the tiny kitty and thinks that the big dog is being a wuss.

Anyway, I always got a little bit of that feeling around Lisa before. Not that we weren't good friends, because we were; and not that I couldn't confide in her and have good conversation, because I could. I think I'm just getting a little more comfortable with myself. Cool, eh? Take that, awkwardness!