Catching Up

I've been away from here for quite a while, with the end of the semester and moving into a new apartment. I've got a series of half-finished posts but I just haven't gotten around to finishing them. They will get finished, but until then, here's an earworm I can't get out of my head:

On the Turning Away

I heard this song while riding in the car with [Львица] on our drive back to Lakeville one Friday. It's so rare to hear a song on the classic rock radio stations that I've never heard before, so when this song came on and I couldn't name it or the band, I was rather ecstatic. I really love it though - I really need to find more Pink Floyd stuff like this, with this folksy sound. What a beautiful, poignant piece.

Florence

I want to be this woman. Seriously. If I were a vocalist and I wrote music, this is what would be like. This is BRILLIANT.

A Little Something for the Solstice

Can't go wrong with some Mumford and Sons...

Polly Oliver

The other night in campus band rehearsal, our very adorable student teacher told us about the background of one of the pieces we're playing - "Polly Oliver." It's based off an English folk song, about a girl who disguises herself as a man and joins the military. However, while serving, a captain - her love, is injured and she nurses him back to health. The doctor remarks, "You have cherished him as if you were his wife." And our student teacher read us the last stanza of the song:

O then Polly Oliver, she burst into tears

And told the good doctor her hopes and her fears,

And very shortly after, for better or for worse,

The captain took joyfully his pretty soldier nurse.

CUTEST SONG EVER. I liked the piece before - it's so beautiful and I'm an absolute sucker for folk songs. And now, knowing the story it's based off of, I absolutely love it.

You can check out the full song lyrics at this Wikipedia link.

And what is it with girls falling in love with captains? Oh yeah, that's why... ;)

A Night at The Opera

Last night, I participated in an event I intended to brag about, as only a culture vulture can - I attended the world premiere of a new opera. Silent Night is a new work based off of the French movie by the same name, about the seize fire in World War I held over the Christmas of 1914. It's about the French, Scottish and German forces in this battle who came together over this holiday and found peace amongst the chaos of war.

Honestly, the Minnesota Opera couldn't have chosen a better night to premiere it than the day after Veterans Day. It was absolutely fantastic to see all of the service men and women in their dress uniforms at the show - it added an added element of importance and significance to the event.

Now, when it comes to opera, I'm very wet behind the ears. I've actually only been to the opera once before and all I know about the art form comes from my combined knowledge of musical training and Italian. That's not to say I know NOTHING about opera - I know a bit. I'm just not an aficionado. Broadway shows will always be my preferred form of musical theater, but this show certainly gave me a new appreciation for opera. The scenery, the storyline, the portrayal itself - it was all brilliant. Karin Wolverton, the soprano who played Anna Sorensen, sang wonderfully and performed an absolutely marvelous aria towards the end of the first act - it was truly my favorite part of the show.

Unfortunately, the tenor who sang the part of Nikolaus Sprink, William Burden, contracted laryngitis the day of the show and couldn't sing. So, while he walked the stage, a former resident of the Opera, Brad Benoit (an audience favorite, it seemed) sang offstage. It was a little odd to see someone acting and having the voice reverberating from stage left, but it worked. The two worked well together and, while I feel dreadfully sorry that Burden couldn't sing for the premiere, I'm glad he was still able to perform the part.

Being able to attend a world premiere still boggles my mind. Walking in and seeing the spotlights shining into the night sky outside, seeing a group of kilted bagpipers walk outside to perform for the arriving audience, being surrounded by people impeccably dressed (more so than any other theater show I've attended) and hearing accents of those who had traveled a long way to see a premiere all emphasized that this was a special night in Twin City theater. But what really hit home for me was the singing of the national anthem at the beginning of the show. Afterwards, [Львица] turned to me and said, "That was the best I've ever sung in my life... I feel like I was a part of the opera there." I felt exactly the same.

Under the Spotlight

I've been writing a bit out of order, so a little bit of time travel here and we're going back to BEFORE I spoke to Mr. L.A. last night. Because, before all that, I had a band concert. 

I had forgotten how much I enjoy being onstage. Not onstage in the theatrical sense - I've never done that, actually. But being onstage in a musical sense. There's something about sitting underneath all of those lights, with the prim black stands and perfectly aligned rows of chairs with a collective group all wearing black that's...purely magical. It's one of the few times where I dress up in my life, in a dress and hose and heels and don't stand out as over-dressed. There's something so regal, so artistic, yet so simple about concerts I always love experiencing. It makes me wish all parts of rehearsal and music studying were so grand.

When I started college, I'd come here to be a music major. It's easier for me to forget that now, after a year away from band and now that I've stopped taking flute lessons. But I very much wanted to be a music teacher. I actually really, really wanted to be a good enough to be a performance major, in order to play in a pit orchestra, as that had been my favorite part of performing in high school. But I knew I didn't have the talent for that. So I thought going for a music education degree would be easier. I was wrong of course - it takes talent, and fortitude and a hell of a lot of patience. And a music department that gives a damn.

I'm sure the U has a great music department... somewhere. It did, several years ago. But now... I don't know. I went through the audition process here to join the School of Music and found it very... not what I was expecting. There wasn't a focus on growth; there was a focus on perfection coming in. Which I felt was all wrong. Music isn't about perfection, it's about working through changes, practicing, arriving at greatness. Not all of us should have to be instant prodigies. But I felt that's all they wanted - prodigies. Not to mention they totally messed up - one of the people who was supposed to watch my performance part of the audition couldn't make it, so they taped me (something I had thought was NEVER supposed to be done for an audition) in order for the professor to watch me later. Except I think something went awry there, because after six weeks, I hadn't heard whether I'd been accepted or not. I emailed the school and they said something about the tape not being watched yet. Then two weeks later I found I hadn't been excepted. I didn't want to at this point; I hadn't been treated very well by the school's faculty. But it was like adding insult to injury.

I'm still quite bitter about it and things are just strange now, playing with the bands here. It's different, now that I'm not playing for a career - better, actually, as I'm a stronger player now. But there's less incentive for me to take band, especially as the music is far too easy for me and it's just not the same experiences as I had in high school (I'll never have a director better than the one I had at Lakeville South; it just won't happen. Trust me).  But for a moment, the magic and wonder I have of making music returns during the concerts... the sort of magic I get when a curtain rises on a play, when a movie begins. The moment a creation is unveiled to an audience, an audience that could hold anyone in the world. I'm not doing this justice but I wish I could put into words what I feel when I walk onstage, the lights glimmering off my silver flute and my pathetically pale skin. If I could just explain it, maybe then I could start to understand why it means so much to me. Because I know, even though I don't enjoy band much anymore and loathe having night classes, I still feel drawn to have concerts and to perform. It puts me in a quandary. But perhaps, for the sake of music, it's worth it. 

Haunted by Sondheim

This seems to be a week about Broadway and hauntings. Seriously, this is the second post in two days about Broadway taking over my mind. Watch this video below to see why:

What do you know... it's John Barrowman again. What are the odds of that, right? barrowmanilove on Tumblr posted this the other morning and I watched this and nearly fell out of my chair. Because I love Sondheim. And I love John Barrowman. And George Hearn is pretty freaking amazing. So this is a total win. It's also from Sweeny Todd, which just happened to be my favorite musical/ movie in my junior year of high school (it was the first R rated movie I saw in theaters... ah, fond memories). And I love this song. Though in the context of the show, it's a totally whack - Todd, which is the part Barrowman is singing, is about to kill Judge Turpin, the part Hearn is singing, because Turpin seduced his wife, kidnapped his daughter, and totally ruined Todd's life in general. So yeah. Though I have to admit, seeing Barrowman and Hearn play those parts would be pretty wild, though I do like the much more amicable version of this. :)

And while listening to "Pretty Women," I stumbled across this video:

Melt... just... melt. This song is SOOOO beautiful. But I felt like there had to be a catch (especially as people kept commenting that the song was so lovely out of context). Then I saw that it was from Assassins. And I knew we were in trouble.

This will be another example of how everything in my life comes full circle. Assassins was mentioned in a class I took last semester, taught by [tedesco]. In fact, on the first day of class, two students acted out part of the play the musical is based on as a mind-blowing way of starting the class. And then when watched a clip from The Producers (the bit with John Barrowman singing "Springtime For Hitler," but I didn't know that was him yet :P). Because the class was a study of how history is made, we spent a lot of time talking about history being made in not-so pretty ways, like assassinating and killing people. Which is exactly what Assassins is about.

Here's a short description about it, via Wikipedia:

It uses the premise of a murderous carnival game to produce a revue-style portrayal of men and women who attempted (successfully or otherwise) to assassinate Presidents of the United States. The music varies to reflect the popular music of the eras depicted.

And...

By developing the characters of historic assassins out of the slim biographical information found in the daily news, Assassins prompts us to consider their motivation. "(Sondheim) confronts pain in order to cauterize the decay and heal the sicknesses which lurk at the core of our society". Departing from the humanism of his previous musical Into the Woods, Sondheim suggests that political murderers are a product of the American political culture (Joanne Gordon).^[18]

At this point in the musical when "Unworthy of Your Love" appears, John Hinckley, the man who attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan, is visited by Lynette Fromme, a woman who tried to kill Gerald Ford. Here's how Wiki describes it:

John Hinckley sits in his rumpus room, aimlessly playing a guitar. Lynette Fromme enters and tries to convince him to play her a song (asking for "Helter Skelter"), but he refuses. Fromme notices a picture of Jodie Foster, who Hinckley claims is his girlfriend. When Fromme realizes the picture is a publicity photo from a film, she pulls out of a picture of Charles Manson and mocks Hinckley for being in love with a woman he's never met, which makes him throw her out in a fit of rage. Alone, he swears that he will win Foster's love "with one brave, historic act" and sings a love song to her while Fromme individually does the same to Manson ("Unworthy Of Your Love").

Totally changes your feelings about the song, right? I felt... kind of disturbed, to say the least. Which is the point. It's how I feel every time I listen to "A Little Priest" and am like, "hey this song is great. Hold on, it's about CANNIBALISM." And then I get this wonderful, terrible sense of cognitive dissonance. Sondheim is very, very good at making me do this. Not that all of his music is dark; it's not. He's just really good about making things dark and disturbing - and yet sympathetic.

So, I can't help liking the song as a traditional love song (if a very intense, emotional one). But it's kind of weird and unsettling to know how it's performed in the musical. That's the vibe I get with a lot of Sondheim's music - it could fit into a lot of scenarios, but the one's they actually apply to are sometimes totally unexpected. Which makes them all the more powerful and beautiful and disturbing. And haunting.

And thus I've had "Unworthy of Your Love" stuck in my head for the last two days. And it kind of freaks me out. But, you know, I always feel a bit freaked out when I get a song as powerful as this one stuck in my head. Because there's no getting it out. I'm just stuck with it for now, so I might as well revel in its power. Sondheim, you win again :)

Good And Evil

Yesterday, while I was at home, I had the sudden urge to add all the albums that I have of musicals onto my iPod. I haven't done this before because of space issues on my computer but now that my iTunes is on a back-up drive...well, I can add as many songs as I want.

So after this epic upload, I was listening to the music from one of my favorite shows, Jekyll and Hyde. I got obsessed with it in 2002 when I discovered Linda Eder (a Broadway performer who was raised in Minnesota). I seriously listened to this soundtrack for nearly the entire winter, so now that whenever I listen to it after not hearing it for a long time, the first thing I see is snowfall and Christmas lights. I was also lucky enough to see it performed by Burnsville High School, who has one of the most incredible theater programs in the south suburbs. They were even doing a showing of it somewhere in Scotland as I saw ads for it in Glasgow and regretted the fact that there was no way I was going to be able to go. Despite the fact that it's not that well-known and the music isn't quite as spectacular as some shows, I suppose, I'm still a fan. Perhaps because it's based off of one of my favorite creepy stories by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Man is not one but two/ He is evil and good/ And he walks the fine line we'd all cross if we could. That's part of the chorus in one of the main songs, "Facade." If Henry Jekyll were working today, he'd probably be a psychologist trying to understand human nature. Unfortunately from him, that probably wouldn't save him from spiraling into taking experimentation too far and using himself to release his evil side. Which doesn't work out so hot. Because now he's just a normal man, both good and evil (leaning more towards good) with a totally evil maniac trying to escape from him. The musical of this saga is dark and powerful and really chilling (especially when you're listening to it amongst a misty October afternoon). This is one of my favorite songs that just haunts me:

I love the voice of the actor that sings this too - it's so emotional. Also, you can hear a bit of the voice he uses for Hyde lingering in some of the words, and it's super eerie.

This show is just tragic and utterly Byronic, I'm sure. A good man being corrupted by his faults though he intended to do good with his work - how much more of a tortured hero can you get? I also like that this adaption takes into account the women in Jekyll's life, something I always wondered about when I read Stevenson's story (because there were no women in that story and nothing make me wonder more about something than not addressing it all). There are some REALLY great pieces for the women characters in this show and I could share all of them, because some of them are SUPER FANTASTIC. I'm not, though, because that'd probably be tedious and annoying. Instead, I'm going to recommend two - "A New Life" and "In His Eyes." And I'm going to play the one that, for some reason, I just can't get out of my head today. It's really short, not super spectacular, but I just keep singing it to myself. So here it is - "Emma's Reason," a song where Emma, Jekyll's fiance, stands up for wanting to marry him even though everyone thinks he's bonkers. This isn't the whole song, but I can't find it in it's entirety, in English and without any extra weird stuff. So this'll do:

I don't know what makes this show so obsessive for me, but now I can't stop listening to it. A great soundtrack for Halloween, though, I must say.

A Ballad for Who

Doctor Who Fans - watch this. Trust me.

Disbelief

Another late night blog, because I was woken up by a saxophone player. Yes, you read that right. A man with dreadlocks was playing the saxophone, standing outside the house across the street, in the dark, loudly playing the opening of George Michael's "Careless Whisper" while a guy in a Gumbi costume danced around him.

I've never done drugs, but I got the feeling like this might be one of the crazy hallucinations 'shrooms might cause. Don't do drugs, kids. This was whack - and I WASN'T HIGH. I SAW THIS, SOBER, WITH MY OWN EYES. OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.

I just can't believe it was REAL. I mean, yeah, it's Halloween weekend, but I was in bed, half-asleep, and then I heard the saxophone (and was beating myself up for not remembering the name of the song it was from) and then I tried to figure out where it was coming from because it was SO LOUD. And then I saw Gumbi. And then they and two other guys made their way down the street, while the saxophone player continued to blast the song which my searching for its name was calls "the song they play when people start having sex in movies" as they made their way across 35W into Dinkytown.

Really, I'm writing this right now because I've got the sax solo stuck in my head and I had to figure out what the fucking song was! And also, I want evidence that I just saw what I saw... because this was weird enough to have been a dream. And by tomorrow morning, I might just think it was. Thus, here is the evidence that it was not so. It was real. I just saw Gumbi dance to George Michael. I need to get some fucking sleep.

Ode to October

So, as we reach the end of October (obviously), I'm sharing two songs named after the month. One is by Eric Whitacre, a composer I'm familiar with from high school band (ah, fond memories):

 

(There's also a great and terrible band joke on the comments for this video: How do you tune two flutes? Kill one. Sad, but somewhat true. I play flute, I know the pain.)

And another video from one of my all-time favorite bands: U2.

La Cage Aux Folles

I finally saw La Cage Aux Folles at the State Theater last night.

OH. MY. GOD. I LOVED IT. LOVED LOVED LOVED LOVED LOVED IT.

There's a trick to going to Broadway shows, I've learned. - walk in there knowing the bare minimum about the show. That makes it SO much more exciting. Like Cabaret, which was my favorite musical (up until now) - I knew very little about it walking in. I didn't connect that, even thought it was Berlin in the 1930s, there would be Nazis in it. So when they showed up, I was like, "Holy shit." The plot twists are also a lot more spectacular without knowing the whole show. Which just makes it fun in general.

So I walked into La Cage Aux Folles knowing that it was about a gay couple in the 1960s, one of who owns a nightclub where men perform dressed as women. And that my most favorite Broadway song of all time is in it (which I'll post below, even thought it's elsewhere on this blog. But this version is sung by John Barrowman, so naturally I could post it a thousand times and never grow sick of it):

What I didn't know is that IT'S THE BEST BROADWAY SHOW I'VE EVER SEEN. Seriously. It is. Albin is the cutest, most wonderful, most interesting character I've seen onstage ever. And the actor who played him, Christopher Sieber, was PHENOMENAL. And he's from Minnesota. So yeah, win-win. Plus the storyline is just so... emotional. And kind of personal. Like, I didn't realize that "I am what I am" was sung right after Albin is told by Georges that who he is isn't what their son Jean-Michel wants around to meet his to-be in-laws. I cannot even fathom how painful that must be. I'm generally moved to tears by the performance of this song, but I definitely teared up big-time last night seeing it live. And kudos to me for sending it to [uber gay] when his family told him to change himself around relatives and he was totally upset. I made the perfect connection without even realizing it.

This show is just so.... feel-good. Much more so than Cabaret, which is probably why La Cage has now replaced it as my favorite (sorry, Cabaret, you're wonderful, but you're just kind of a downer). I mean, I walked out of there feeling on top of the world, feeling great about myself and feeling great about entire world and just wanted to run out and start volunteering for the HRC or the No H8 campaign or something (I would be already, except a little something called school has gotten in the way). But now I have serious motivation to do so. I mean, four... okay, five, because FINALLY we learned that one of our friends from high school, [save the panzer], is gay - so five of my closest friends are gay. So it's kind of a personal topic for me. And I'm beginning wonder if I can't identify as a gay man in a straight woman's body (okay, queer theorists of the world, is this possible? I seem to have a thing for gay men, but I'm a straight woman? Or am I just a straight woman with unlucky taste? How exactly would I discern if I act somewhat like a gay man? How would you know? How would anyone know? What if all women are just gay men in women's bodies? Whoa, that's going a tad bit too far... And this is one hell of a tangent...).

Barrowman... heels... sparkles... I am both envious and a little turned on. What the hell does that mean?!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... As a perfect way to end the evening, we went to The Saloon, a popular gay bar in the area. Despite the fact that it got some bad reviews from the people we went to the Gay 90s with last year, it was nicer than the 90s. And they played sweet music. And had some nice Halloween decorating. And damn, boy - [save the panzer] can dance. And I realized I LIKE CLUBBING. At least at gay bars. Well, it was great until a strange man older than my father asked me if I wanted to dance. Then it got a bit weird.  Otherwise, a great way to end the night.

I just can't get over how good this show was. Like, I went out to dinner tonight with my parents and it was all I could to keep from talking about it the entire time. Why did I like it so damn much? A brief analysis:

1) IT WAS AMAZING. Fantastic costumes, choreography, comedy, romance - it tour de force of Broadway excellence. No matter what Star Tribune said: screw you guys. I hate your website anyway. Although you were right about George Hamilton.

2) It made me proud to be a woman. Yes, a show about gay men made me proud to be a woman. Why? Well, when I was younger, I was terrified to be girly. I didn't think it fit my personality, I felt like people judged me for wanting to be girly - like they just thought I'd be another dumb appearance-absorbed chick (not to mention I was friends with some girls who either didn't care about how they looked. At least they pretended to not care), and I didn't think a lot of feminine clothes would fit my not super-skinny, somewhat-boyish frame. Somewhere between high school and college I decided, "Fuck that shit," and went all out for girly clothes. Like dresses. And heels. OH MY GOD. Do I love wearing heels, no matter what [X] or anyone else says. Heels make you feel like the shit. Ones you can walk in and still look hot? They rule. They make you feel like you can kick total ass. Anyway, my point is, seeing men wear heels and having them totally understand that it takes a bit of still to stay afloat in those babies makes you feel... well, understood. Seeing men totally rocking sequins and feathers and sparkles and all the things women are supposed to like but often get made fun of for liking - well, it was damn nice to see men looking great in them, relating to women, and being their own person, being so comfortable with their own bodies. It made me feel glad to have worn heels and made me feel way less self-conscious dancing at The Saloon later. I could go into a bunch of theories as why this might be, but I don't need theories right now. I'm just glad it had that effect.

3) I found this on another Youtube video: I am what I am - George Hearn, a comment from "peerkbh":

One of the reasons why this IS a gay anthem is the fact that it helped give us a sense of pride in the eighties at a time when thousands and thousands of our friends and lovers were being wiped away by AIDS. Half of the original Broadway cast of La Cage had died before the show ended its run in 1987. And the composer Jerry Herman himself found out that he was infected as well. This is 'lump in the throat' music for me and always will be. Thank you George, thank you Jerry. Thank you so much.

This is mind-blowing to me. Half of the original cast DIED?! That is so terribly, terribly sad. I guess you could say the effect of this show was like the Rent of the 1980s. And now I feel like it wouldn't be a bad time for people my age to see this show, especially given the bullying directed towards GLBT youth. Especially since it's so upbeat. An "It Gets Better" campaign before "It Gets Better" campaigns? For the win, La Cage, for the win.

So, anyway, the take home message: see the show. But enough of me talking about the show - why not have John Barrowman, who starred in one of the revivals, tell you about it? (Trust me, it's worth it :D)

Progress

So this was my least favorite U2 song until I heard it live, in the middle of the pouring rain at the TCF Bank Stadium this summer. And then, suddenly, it hit me how great this song is. Probably because it summed up exactly how I was feeling. And U2 is just fucking incredible live.

I've spent a good part of the last few months stuck in a moment. I didn't even realize how stuck I was until I started getting shaken loose from it. For some wonderful but unknown reason, I started getting out of my blue funk (baking cookies helped. I should remember that that's a great new therapy for me). And then Wednesday night, the news I'd been expecting for months finally appeared - [No-Mr-Darcy] is in a relationship, back together with his ex-girlfriend. Thank God. I don't even care that I was kind of a rebound girl. I'm just glad that poor girl gets a second chance. And that my chance is totally nullified. Finally I can move on. So, I went from U2 to something more like this...

"Let it go, this too shall pass" - thank you, OK Go, for those simple but sage words of wisdom. Finally I can do just that.

And now, I'm more at this point (I swear, I have a song for everything. I could just make my life into an entire musical out of pop songs, show tunes, and classic rock):

Yes, I feel "Violet." Let's call this progress :)

As I Lay Dying

I finished reading Faulkner's As I Lay Dying yesterday, while sitting in this little study hall/ cafeteria that reminds me of my father's alma mater. I got this cool, intellectual feeling sitting there, letting Faulkner's prose flow over me, and began thinking about how much death has come up in my thoughts this month. I don't mean to be overly morbid, but it HAS been a common theme. For one, I'm writing a book about people who can't die. You can see how it would be a common musing. For another, it's the month of All Hallow's Eve and growing closer to Dìa de los Muertos - Day of the Dead. Again, a common theme. Also, people I admire keep dying. And it's terribly depressing.

First it was Steve Jobs (I think I'm still grieving about that, actually. Is that weird? Probably, yes...). And then this weekend during an Indy race, English driver Dan Wheldon died in an accident. This might surprised you that I am a racing fan (only the Indy Series; my parents and I watched NASCAR when I was younger because we used to live in Columbus, IN where Tony Stewart is from, but I don't like NASCAR much. For various reasons that aren't important right now). My fav driver in the series is Dario Franchitti, but I really like Wheldon too - he seemed like such nice, friendly guy. Something I love about the Indy Series over NASCAR is that they seem better able to keep their cool and less... I don't know, Hollywood. They seem more down to earth. And I really respect people like Wheldon who can drive a car like that and be really damn good at it. It's just so sad how he died - something about racing accidents just haunt me. Well, car accidents in general, but especially racing ones. I remember seeing Dale Earnheardt's fatal wreck on TV when I was 10 - it was one of the first NASCAR races I watched too. There's something scarring and terrible about seeing such a terrible wreck on TV with your own eyes, then finding out later that you witnessed a fatal accident. I can't imagine what it was like to actually be at the track... that sort of thing would haunt me for a long time.

And to continue this parade of macabre, my college band is playing a Bach piece titled, "Come Sweet Death." To really get us into the mood of the piece (I think I've got the mood down enough, thank you very much) our director had us rehearse it once with the light dimmed. It was totally eerie and chilling, even if we as a group didn't sound as good as this choir. It's just... grim. I mean, it's more about life after death than just death... but still,  it's a momento mori - a reminder of that death is inevitable.

And because I'm a freak, I get reminded of Captain Jack Harkness every time I play this song (okay, if you want to get to the real passion of a piece about seeking release from pain and looking for solace in the afterlife, but is still a really dark, angst-ridden, tormented song, what better way to illustrate this than our dear Torchwood leader who can't ever die. Even after being blown up - yeah, just saw that in season 3. Holy shit, dude. Holy shit). And to top it all off, I had NO IDEA that Owen and Tosh were going to die at the end of Season 2 and now I'm all pissed off about that and THEN Wikipedia ruined the end of season 3 for me by telling me that Ianto dies and now I just want to crawl in a hole because I freaking love Ianto AND WHAT THE HELL, TORCHWOOD WRITERS WHY ARE YOU KILLING EVERYONE?!

Look, I take my sci-fi TV very seriously, apparently (I got really into Buffy freshman year. I mean, I had a dream that [mind ninja] and I were killing vampires. It was terrifying) and I'm terribly saddened that Ianto is going to die within the next three episodes. And it's just another reminder of our eventual lack of control, that we can't help the fact that we die. And it is terribly, terribly hard to deal with. Nay, impossible.

Yet, somehow, Faulkner makes me feel better. Not that he is comforting - he's really not, with his gritty, complex, grim ideas. But he's honest. And I like that. He doesn't always make complete sense. But neither does life. He wonderfully captures the difficulties of living, of dying, of grieving. And somehow, he makes it sort of beautiful. The same way Bach does with his tragic piece. The way momento moris are - great and terrible and beautiful. I guess what I like about all these things is that they articulate the mystery - the unknown. The fact that we don't know why things happen the way they do, why death is a necessary part of life, why it is so hard to deal with, why we think about death while other creatures don't, why accidents happen, why people like Wheldon and Jobs die too soon. We just don't know. And there's something comforting to know that we as individuals are not the only ones who think about this; it's a sort of strange way of uniting us socially, to know that we worry about the same things, that we are not completely alone. Perhaps thinking about death is important, a way of reminding us that time is limited, that people are important in our lives. Maybe I'm not really being morbid. Maybe I'm just being human.

Promise Me Bold

Laura Marling's "Rest in the Bed" - my new musical obsession. I just can't stop listening to it.

A Little Prelude For Halloween

I came across this article online this morning: 'Corpse bride' and groom stage morbid wedding. Which I found because a Facebook friend posted this pic from a Vogue photo shoot for an idea of what she want to dress up as for Halloween.

And then I looked at more photos from the photo shoot...

And if you're not totally eeried out yet, I've had these two songs by Jeremy Messersmith stuck in my head the past two days that also deal with bones and death and such (because I heard about how he was performing a concert in the oldest cemetery in Mineapolis yesterday afternoon to fund-raise for the historic graveyard and I started listening to his music and now it's totally trapped in my head).

Why is there so much stuff about cemeteries and skeletons and the like popping up in the last few days? Maybe it's just standing out because this stuff really gives me the chills. Or because writing fiction about people who can't die really gets you thinking about death. Or maybe because it's NEARLY HALLOWEEN. 'Tis the season.

Kickin' Back With the K

To further my weird artistic tendencies, I've volunteered to work at Radio K, the campus radio station. Not sure what to expect, I rode the freight elevator up to the 6th floor of the theater building where station is located. The moment I walked in, I was surrounded by kind, smiling hipsters. Okay, I can't guarantee they were hipsters, but the seemed to be from that strain of college student. I got a tour from  the guy who I'd emailed about volunteering, talked to the music director, and found myself recording short ads to be aired on the radio. Apparently, I read like a natural. And my Hoosier accent is detectable when I say "darling."

Volunteering was the BEST IDEA EVER. Less than an hour there, and I'm already loving it. It's like being in the movie Pirate Radio (and if you haven't seen this movie, WATCH IT). They have a great program called Culture Queue that I'd love to write for or report on. I can see myself now, becoming just like Studs Terkel... SWEET :D

Really, I joined because I NEED to find something on campus to get involved in. The CSCL association doesn't meet that often and there's just too many psych majors to feel like I belong over there. This is the perfect place to mix my three passions: music, culture, and under-appreciated art forms (in this case, college radio). Of course, it's a resume booster, which is always a plus. Especially due to another hair-brained idea that's returned to me. But more about that later.

Love Bites - But Bites Heal

My "love" horoscope from Friday:   Your emotional concerns are taking precedence right now, Scorpio, and this may impede your progress with love. You are well known for your intensity, but you are not quite fulfilled in terms of balancing that intensity with the day to day grind. Many of your emotional concerns stem from external forces or people, and you need to remember that you can not control the actions of others, no matter how much you would like to. You are best to stop taking things so personally, and understand that sometimes other people's issues are theirs and not yours. You've put a lot of work into your emotional health, so you should not let the issues of others threaten that.  Yeah, thanks for the heads up. Too bad I didn't read it until too late. I decided to break down and ask [X] about what the hell was going on with [No-Mr-Darcy], if he'd ever so much as mentioned me. She said she hadn't really talked to him about anything more than school stuff and, in a nice motion of trust and sincerity, said she wouldn't ask him about me as it would seem like breaking a friend code. That's a nice way of saying that, if he hasn't brought it up, then he doesn't care.
Unless he does and it just hurts too much to mention...
See? See what this is? This is stupid. This is me thinking that [No-Mr-Darcy] thinks like me. Which is stupid. I think like me - I can't assume that anyone else in the universe ever would. But I do. And it always ends up with me taking things too personally. A lot of the emotional shit I've been bouncing around in my head probably deals with this issue and I just need to let it go. Basically, I need to do this: 

 Thank you, Sara Bareilles, for once again saying exactly what I was thinking :)

Friday Night Paint Fight

A NOTE TO [Львица]: Sorry that there's random shit in here I didn't tell you about as to why I was uncomfortable. It didn't hit me until I was thinking it out. I'm not trying to cover up stuff, I just didn't realize that THAT'S why something was bugging me.

Anyway, continuing for on for the rest of you...

So [Львица], [The Question] and I went to a "paint party" called Dayglo at a joint called Epic on Friday night. I really had no idea what to expect - I must confess, other than a little trip to the Gay 90s on an empty Thursday night last year, I've never been clubbing. At all.

I'd say this event totally made up for it. I spent half of Friday  trying to figure out what to wear. The dress code was supposed to be white shirt, all white if possible, but blue jeans were okay. It's incredible how little white I have in my wardrobe - I actually had to borrow a shirt from [Львица] as all of mine were dress shirts and thus not paintable. The club wasn't strict about the rule but everyone was mostly in white. This was to allow for the full affect of the paint to take hold. See, what happens is everyone gathers on the dance floor and the DJ plays music and, after like an hour and a half of being in the club, you get paint squirted at you, in this weird meshing of several different art forms. It's pretty cool and it was a major life tile experience. Except for one, little tiny problem...

See how dedicated I am? Blogging while still covered in paint :D

Okay, two. Or three. I'm such a schmuck, making something as epic as this sounds grounded in my reality. But you want my take? Here it is. I like dancing - I'm not the best at it, but I do like it. However, I'm not a fan of how in clubs, you never have room to move without being on the edges and then it's just awkward. This was that to the extreme. At the beginning it was totally fine, we had lots of room. Then, as more people came in and pushed forward, we were slowly being squeezed in a vice-like fashion to the front. I escaped to the back for some fresh air, ran into [The Question] and regrouped with [Львица] Then it was back to the dance floor for the same process - more vice-like squeezing, this time with some guy trying to dance with me, which I was cool with at first. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NEVER ACTUALLY DANCED WITH A GUY BEFORE. Unless you would count the uber gay guy who attacked me at a Halloween dance last year. And that was more dancing around each other.  I guess I should mention that little fact since I didn't realize it until just now. Well, another life experience made. And what follows is definitely an experience.

This guy starts dancing with me and I'm fine with it until all of the sudden he leans forwards, sniffs my hair or something, then licks the back of my neck. I realize now that, even if he'd been someone I knew, even if I'd know what he looked like, even if I HAD wanted him to do that, I probably still would have been freaked out. I just don't like people touching my neck - unless I really, REALLY trust them. God knows why; I tend to forget until people touch me my neck without asking and then I flip out (like a friend of mine from high school, [uber gay] used to pretend to strangle me - don't ask - and one day I just tweaked out). Great little imbedded phobia there. So, needless to say, having a random stranger repeatedly lick my neck was not cool. I started to push his hands away and then he grabbed on - hard - and tried to do the same thing again. So then I shoved his hands away and tried to flee, positioning myself near [Львица] and [The Question]. That worked at least. Until another guy came along later and aggressively tried to dance with me, but by this time I was sick of people touching me and I moved away. I realize that this is partly due to the fact that  "Aunt Flo is visiting" and any touching below the waist is totally unwanted. And I had a really unsettling dream the night before to put that sort of thing in a bad light (I won't make you suffer the details; it was creepy, moving on). But also, there is a difference between putting your hands on my waist and putting your hands on that area where my legs meet my torso (whatever the anatomical word might be). Yeah. So, my feeling that men are pig right now is not totally without reason (obviously not true, but I'm worn a bit thin, so bear with me).

Then the REALLY intense mosh pit began, where I fell and got pulled up by my some very kind girls, got my face squished between two bros' shoulder blades (dude, there were a lot of bros there. There were so many bros that they had to dance with each other, I swear) and lost an earring (the second one in a week. Damn it!) Then I got the weight of at least two quarterbacks forced on me as people swayed backwards and forwards in this... well, mob, basically. A big, sweaty, music-obsessed mob. A big sweaty mob that carried a man dressed as an alien in a plastic ball across the crowd (that was pretty incredible; the ball went right over my head). Then I got splattered with paint - which was SWEET - the wet, gluey-kindergardeny smell of the paint sweeping across my face in bold neon pinks and blues as music thundered in my ears and people cheered. Then I fell over and got crushed by people which was NOT SWEET as I had to scream at them until they got up off of me. But I did get the proud honor of walking through downtown Minneapolis with paint smeared across my face, watching the cops slug a guy who was harassing them, studying the long lines of people filing into clubs and seeing [Львица] get mistaken for Kate Winslet (by a possibly drunk man, but nonetheless, an easy mistake to be made :D). Go to paint parties - people will mistake you as someone famous. It can happen.

I fought aliens with Kate Winslet. Win!

Now my body is aching, I can feel the parts in my back that got twisted in weird directions and had weight forced upon them that I couldn't support. I still smell the faint scent of paint lingering in my nose. It wasn't an AWESOME party - it needed WAY MORE PAINT. And more space. Then it would have been fricken amazing. I did have fun and it was definitely and experience. I guess going to events like that just makes me feel like a freak, because I'm not really into clubbing, I'm not into huge parties. I'm not that sort of college kid, and I guess some people think I'm not really experiencing college if I don't go and do that shit. Well, I went and did it. But it's just not... ME. I totally support the people who can whip out on the dance floor and tear the place up. It isn't that I don't feel secure enough with my body to dance, it's that I don't feel RIGHT dancing there. It's like my body wasn't built for those sort of moves - I don't have super curves, my arms hate getting involved, I'm super short. I'm just stubbornly old school - I like swing, tango, waltz - ballroom dancing. I swear I got time warped out of the 1940s or something. I also don't know how to deal with guys like those at the club. I want guys to take the lead, but not to force their tongue on the back of my neck. At least I'm strong enough to push them away - but how someone could put up with that if they didn't want it is beyond me. It was DISGUSTING - and the dude totally needed to shave. In short, I guess I don't feel like myself there. Which makes me feel bad. [Львица] really likes clubbing and she doesn't know anyone who she'd feel comfortable going with. But I feel like I don't know anyone who doesn't want to go clubbing. That's the "college" thing to do - where girls meet guys, where you stay up on hip pop culture stuff. And by not going to that, I feel like I'm missing out on so much.

But college isn't the same for everyone. It's can't be. We were just talking about in my psychology class how we overestimate things, like how many of our peers drink or how many people do certain things. I suppose the people who go to clubs are just more talkative about it than the people who maybe go swing dancing or just go for a pint at the bar. Or maybe it just sounds more exciting and so the clubbing people are more apt to share it than the people who just had a night dancing to big band. I don't know. All I know is that I shouldn't feel like a freak for having these opinions, and yet I still kind of do. Alas, my own weirdness confounds me. But there were elements to clubbing that I liked - the feeling of the bass reverberating in the toes of my shoes, the synchronous movements as everyone on the dance floor moved in the same way, the appearance that I had just fought aliens as I walked home with paint smeared across my face. There are parts of it there that I like, but too much of it feels... not accessible or understandable to me. But that's culture - there's parts I'll understand, and parts I won't. And the parts that don't fascinate me in their own way.