Tuesday, March 9:
almost to bonneville. i’ve now driven 314 meters, and i’m finally getting into some interesting terrain. lots of rocks. it’s getting kind of steep, too. if i fall over i know i’m never going to hear the end of it.
who can recommend some good ‘cresting the rim of a crater’ music? nasa’s selections are getting kind of weird…
Yes, it’s the Spirit Rover LJ. Riotous.
It’s been a while since I updated my reading list. I’m now enjoying Zodiac, a vintage Neil Stephenson. I really like his early work. I’m the only person I know who’s read The Big U.
I’m currently munching rice cakes. While people might surmise that this might have something to do with shaping up my physique for my annual body-skimming superhero costume, it’s nothing so health- (or fashion-) conscious: I just like the little spiced styrofoam disks. I’m weird that way.
Speaking of superhero costumes, I found the wickedest red satin spike heels with ribbon lacing today at the Le Chateau outlet. I also found the perfect top and skirt to kit-bash to make my costume, which I will pick up when the bank thaws my money at the beginning of May. (Yes, “thaws;” Ceri and t! came up with the term as an alternative to “unfreezes”). Hey, if it cuts down on the amount of sewing I have to do, and the cost ends up being approximately the same as material plus sewing-machine hours would be, I’m all for pre-fab costume elements. I’ll actually be picking up two skirts, one to wear and the other for extra material to with which to do other nifty costume stuff. Everything will require modification, but modification will take significantly less time than kit-bashing a pattern and sewing it from scratch.
The shoes are just so damn funky. The heels are hilarious. The idea of me in spike heels just makes me giggle helplessly, especially woven satin spike heels with ribbon lacing all the way up the calf. I’ll never wear them again, but for nine bucks, I couldn’t resist.
By the way, go to CBC’s Great Canadians contest and vote. Canadians are cool. Molson says so, but we knew the truth long before the commercials told everyone else, didn’t we.
It appears that I only hate Strauss when I can’t play it. Once I’m comfortable with a Strauss piece, and I can settle into the rhythm of it, it’s actually fun to play. The only problem with it now is holding the celli back – we keep wanting to spin the waltz faster to keep it moving!
I’m also guilty of being very pleased that the incredibly disturbing individual who sits behind me hasn’t been to rehearsal in two weeks. It upsets me that he affects my enjoyment of playing with the orchestra so much. He’s a bit hyper, and he can’t stop talking; he also plays too loud. Three rehearsals ago he drove me right to the edge, forcing me to grit my teeth through the first half. I couldn’t hear anything but his voice and his mishandling of the rhythm and dynamics. When Douglas called break, his cello was down and he was out like a shot for his cigarette. My old stand partner turned around and smiled at me, asked me how I was, and I did something I rarely do with acquaintances: I said, “If he doesn’t stop talking, I’m going to kill him. I’m going to turn around and plunge my bow right into his chest.”
“Qu’est-ce-qu’elle a dit?” our principal cellist asked. My stand partner relayed the information, laughing, and the principal turned around to look at me and say with all sincerity, “And I will sharpen your bow.”
It wasn’t nice, but it felt good to know that others were just as fed up as I was.
Now, I know that words have power. They hurt, or they heal. Sometimes, though, words have to come out so that they stop hurting you. And yes, he hasn’t been at rehearsal for the past two weeks now. No one has said anything, but I know that we’re all relieved. And the dynamics are better, both musically and otherwise.