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!

dream of the day: to have a christmas special

I'd love to have a cheesy variety show with guest stars and Christmas banter and songs.

"oh, fie, fie, fie!" #2

I did my Shakespearean monologue again today. It wasn't very good. Last time, I was in the moment, etc., but today I just didn't seem to get it. And that fact was reflected in the multitudes of notes I got from people. Now, they all weren't totally constructive (not to say that they were mean), but the general idea was that there was something missing.

So Mimi Mekler told me to play in the sand with my scene partner, who was supposed to be my brother, like how we did when we were kids. Now, here I am, a little sad that my monologue didn't work.

Side note: These last couple weeks have been a little hard for me. I keep on getting criticism that cuts my heart, even though I reasonably know that it wasn't personal.

Okay, so I'm on the verge of unreasonable tears, and I'm in a scene playing in a sandbox with my brother. So what do I do? I find an excuse to cry. I'm a kid, right? Alex Fiddes ruins my moat so I tuck in my knees and cry until he fixes it. Then we go on building the sandcastle.

Then Mimi says, "Okay, now, start your text."

The rest is a bit of a blur. It all seemed to touch me a lot more. I cried over my brother dying and how I could save him but wouldn't. It was all real. After that, I was upset for the rest of the class.

And I wonder: Is this really how it's supposed to be? Isn't it unhealthy to do this to yourself? I think there's something really big to be learned here, and maybe, today's monologue has been the reason I've been so emotional lately - so I could learn how to use it. Maybe. Does that sound too crazy?

Acting's hard. Being real in a situation that is decidedly not real.

I want to be good at this, even if it drives me crazy (and I think it might).

"if i get up, i might fall back down again"

Sometimes people compliment me. Often, it doesn't really matter, because I refuse to believe it. (Why? I don't know. I think it has something to do with the way my older sisters made sure I was never vain.) I like them though. It would be better if I could just hear "I like you", rather than try and analyze what the complimenter said.

There's a compliment I've heard a few times in the last little while and it scares me. Is it vain to talk about? Who cares. This is my blog, my place to be self-indulgent.

People tell me that I'm strong.

And then I laugh. Me? Strong? That's very nice of you, but I think it's just because you don't know me. Because if you knew how many times I fall apart and how often I'm held together by threads, you probably wouldn't be saying that.

But then, I keep hearing it, from different places - from people who know me. Maybe it's me that's got it wrong. Maybe I don't really understand what strength is.

And maybe, it's not even my strength.

God is made strong in my weakness, right? Maybe, God's strength is that he threads my pieces back together. Maybe, that's what they meant.

I don't know if I understand this yet.

I've always wanted to be strong.