1:30, Two Counts

There is something very powerful about that quote. To be immersed so deeply into a piece of art, choreography, or music: passion at its best.

People obviously perform better when there is passion attached. The incompetent begins passing as a competent; the competent begins passing as a master. The strokes, the steps, the notes all become secondary to the emotion, the feeling, the integrity.

We all need a little bit of integrity in our actions. Our talk shouldn't be just talk, nor should it be some attempt to glorify, or falsify ourselves. Our action should be limited to the act, with the intent of accomplishing the act, for the sake of the act, and not to put up an act.

The remedy? Passion. Passion for what you believe in, passion for what you fight against.

So get out there, love some, hate some, justify killing some. Condemn the condemner, and deny the victim.

This is not a blog post pt2

Event name: Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends

Event subtitle: I slept with a member of Fall Out Boys and all I got was stupid song titles stuck in my head

Event sub-subtitle: Adagio in B flat for bass clarinet

Whimsy, coming to you 10.10.09.

My 19.5 Birthday

This is not a blog post.

So, I've decided that for my next birthday celebration, I will celebrate my half birthday and not my birthday. Reasons why this'll be is because:

• It'll be during midterm season and not second final season!
• I can drink, gamble and eat meat this time!
• It'll be on a Saturday!
• There things that you just can't do in April. (like extreme puddle jumping!)
• It's another excuse to party =D
• and give me gifts =D

What kind of gifts? I'm going to divide into individual and group gifts:

Individual:

• Bandanas!
• Ties! (Either wacky or solid coloured (a white one if you got it))
• Dark blue dress shirt (or a dull red)
• Black socks!
• Long shorts!
• "Vintage tees" - will explain in a far off in the future post
• Things I can plant for next summer (Chrysanthemum!)
• Things I can grow in my room

Group:

• One of those cheap cars!
• An iPod classic!
• Or a new mac book and the free accompanying iPod classic!
• A realistic way to apply ORB/OGB

I repeat, this is not a blogpost. I will update this later on as I think of new things to want.

Up close and Personal

I have never really thought about this until lately, but have you ever realized that when you kiss someone, you are really close to them? You are literally in their face.

Of course once I had that thought in my head, it makes things so awkward.

Try it. Kiss someone and think about just how close your face is to theirs.

The Curse of the Big Heavy Instruments

Since I don't have any idea what I'm going to writing about for my Sociology T1 (named of course after our beloved term 1 project), I've decided to write about what I wanted to.

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Like everything else - hierarchy, get-rich-fast schemes, Egyptian burial places - a balanced band is constructed like a pyramid. At the bottom you have the bass line (for all intensive purposes I'm grouping the percussionists in here), and the higher up the pyramid/pitch you go, the smaller the sections. This has something to do with that whole higher frequency gets heard more clearly/they get more solos and less need for a section/who really need more than 2 flutes. If you want that explained more clearly then talk to Chris. However, most (especially younger) bands have an inverted pyramid where a gazillion flutes sitting on top of a few euphs.

Since you would never need that many flutists, streaming occurs. Band teachers subtly poke students that are in the lower echelons of their section to try to pursue a different (lower) instrument. Of course occasionally they aren't even that bad, just no long term potential (I mean, I was solo clarinetist before I switched =p).

With this however, comes the realization that the music we play are not very challenging once we got used to our respective instruments. This isn't like the whole Pachelbel debacle where, OMG, you get 8 quarter notes repeated over and over again. Try a bass clarinet part for Mars; we get one note where every bar is repeating the same rhythm as before; or even worse, I've had a whole page of the same dotted half notes.

Of course, if we reapproach our band teachers, they would do anything for us not to switch back to our original instruments. Of course if you're in the school band, that means only a max of 4 years of the instrument and you're out of there. If you're in a community band, you're stuck there until someone else comes along playing the same instrument. Imagine my shock when the kid I was mentoring quit half way through the year? I mean, the guy I replaced fled the continent ffs (although he has been doing it a LOT longer than I have, and is a LOT more talented than I).

Because of this, people struck by the curse are a lot more prone to settle. I mean, if you don't submit, comments like "Oh, so you play quarter notes" are going to sting more and more as time goes on.

Love is like a lemonade

Not so much the kind that's squeezed from the heart, but the bad kind.

The kind that isn't so much tart, but downright sour, but heavily sugar coated to try to hide the undeniable fact.

You try to convince yourself of the value of the vitamin c contained within, trying desperately to ignore that it only contains 5% real juice. As it wears away at the enamel, upsets your stomach, and wreck havoc on your intestines, you start seeing the real picture.

Why do we put ourselves through this? We try to obtain what little pleasure we could from it, always wanting more, never getting it. Why do we bother?

First Dates

My sociologists prof had us in a discussion about what makes up a first date. Somewhere between the tried and true "dinner and a movie" and the innovative "shoulder counting", I started thinking back to my last first date.

We've decided to meet at Burrard station earlier that day. Since I was a bit late (seems like a trend lately), we've started playing marco polo in Royal centre with texts. After about 5 minutes, we saw each other and proceeded. First we went to Pacific centre, checked out hoodies and tablets, while visiting friends. Without much plan, we've walked around downtown before deciding to go down to English bay. 

It was a cloudy day with the occasional sprinkles; great weather for the both of us really. I could never get people who would wish for sun every day; FFS just move to California then if you're just going to complain about the weather. We had a great walk down the length of second beach, before stopping at a playground to sit on the swings. We talked about everything that popped into our head: the weird tree on top of the apartment building, the swine flu, having an apartment downtown so it'd be possible to bike around everyday. I felt great, since I haven't been able to have so much fun since most of sci one scattered a couple of weeks back.

When we were pretty tired from walking, we decided to head up Davies in search of food. I was pretty surprised when we ended up in front of Stepho's, as that's kinda where I wanted to go (Stepho's being where my lab supervisors took me for my last meal with the Granvillites). The atmosphere is great, although a bit quieter than the last time I went, which made it seem slightly less authentically Greek. The food was great; generous portions and yummy. Conversation led to our five year plans: software engineering and micro-bi-ochem (one combination or the other). I obviously made fun of the CompSci degree, which earned me quite a few punches throughout the afternoon. Of course, the guy picked up the cheque. 

After dinner, I showed off St Paul's (probably the most eye opening month for me) before trying to catch my last 491 home. In my hurry, I got completely drenched by a bus passing over a puddle, which of course earned me quite a bit of laughs and ridicules. 

That afternoon had everything that should happen on a first date: mindless wandering, open conversation, great food, and a bit of humility. 

There was nothing that seemed scripted like the Westminster dog show or Ryan Seacrest. 

There was nothing that was uncharacteristically extreme like back hair laser removal or tattoos.

There was nothing that seemed threatening like a crazy hobo or an ex-child molestation attorney.

It was perfect.

Except that I didn't realise that it was a date.

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Maybe it wasn't. Maybe I'm just being incredibly presumptuous. 

I saw and had dinner with a mutual friend at UBC the next day. She and I chatted about courses, then out of the blues, an awkward question. I panicked, although, was quite confused. Revelations and lies were exchanged, and I started thinking about what the night before meant. I made an excuse to leave due to class (which was true, but not really the reason I wanted to get out of there). 

Moral of the story? 

I hate how girls gossip and are generally confusing.

And that I feel like I lost someone after that night.