Muaahahaha.

Even with two cuts inflicted by “safety orange peelers” on my left hand, a swollen left lymph node, and particularly badly cut bangs, I managed to not crash and burn on my audition.

Actually..

Scales=badly singed; needed bandaging
Pieces=singed on the edges
Sightreading=not burnt to a crisp! :D


I remember last year, on the first day of school, I had to carry my books around the whole day because I couldn’t find my locker.


Did you know that there’s an African lion in the Cornell gym?

..well, not really, but…

http://www.alltooflat.com/pranks/lion/

:D


Recent happenings

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This summer I ate:
1. Egg salad
2. Camel meat
3. Donkey meat
4. Goose liver?
5. And lots, and lots of pig ear, except it’s been given the name of “Thousand crunchy layers.”


I was complaining to my mom today about my utter lack of creativity and elicited this very entertaining and liberating response:

“Oh, then just be a doctor. Memorize stuff and make sure you don’t operate on the wrong part, that’s all.”

Look out folks, here’s Harmy comin’ at you, wielding a scalpel.


Gasp–Yesterday, I decided to open up my brand new Henle edition of Bach’s English Suites. The spine broke. Cracked like Africa (you know, because it’s on 2 diverging plates.) Split like the Church in 1517. Crumbled like a mung bean cake. Maybe it didn’t like being on an airplane.

Maybe it needs a chiropractor.

So Pluto got demoted to a dwarf planet by the vote of a panel?

Seems almost like how Jesus was promoted to Godliness by a vote, a la Dan Brown.

According to the article I found, Pluto has been demoted after “years of intense debate.” 

How come no one ever told us about this? We learned that the protein jackets of viruses have been found to reproduce themselves without genetic information, and may be the first of that sort that we’ve found; we learned that Thomas Jefferson may’ve had an affair with “Dusky” Sally Hemmings, and that he might not be the pristine character upon the white pony.

Though I became fascinated by a book called The Planets in 1st grade and felt like an absolute expert when they properly “taught” us the planets a year after, no one’s ever mentioned the debate regarding Pluto’s planet-worthiness. Why not? It’s fascinating stuff. There’s planets, and then there’s dwarf planets. It would’ve taught us another lesson in diversity: not all rocky things in the solar system are like Earth, plantety planets. Some can be smaller, less powerful, be really “far out” or “eccentric” and be classified as dwarfs, but they revolve around the same sun as us and deserve recognition.

And now, I hear that kiddies won’t really learn about Pluto’s change until 2010, when schools can finally cough up enough to get new textbooks. Even then, teachers may still speak with a skeptical nostalgia about “the planet that used to be” without mentioning the distinctions between various icy lumps in the universe.

On my penultimate day of summer vacation*, I’m procrastinating the writing of my Jungle essay. How? By reviewing my English books, and by reading Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Though said to be Victorian and obsessed with purity and such, it’s all…Romantic. “Angel?” passionately kisses Tess’s curdy, whey-flavored wrist, on lovely cheesemaking day. I know that people put trousers on piano legs and went “ooo!” when some damsel gave them a peek of her wrist, but gees. Cheese?

*Yesterday and the day before were Link Crew training. Tomorrow is the Freshy Orientation, to where I must arrive at 7:00 am; Tuesday is the first day of school. So there’s only Monday left, making today the penultimate.

I get to have a girl who listens to Jessica Simpson on her IPod shuffle while in orchestra rehearsal in my link crew group. May the remnants of her brains be blessed with the goodness of St. Julian, patron saint of travelers, then sucked out through her nose and offered to aliens. You know, to appease them. So they’d stop injecting CO2 into our puny atmosphere and using O3 as their tablecloths.

One thing we learned in training is to “Yes, and..” every negative comment. No “No, but..”–not even a “Yes, but….” 

In one of the exercises, we had to make a story among our group members, saving the protags, the Whites, from certain disaster with the power of the “Yes, and.” When it was my turn, the Whites had just been refused employment at a small convenience store in the Rockies. “Yes, and suddenly, congress passed and Dubya signed legislation that would raise the mininum wage to 15.25. Seeing that his two trapped and hapless vacationers had no clue about his, he fired the 2.8 GPA teenager he once kept and hired the Whites at 7.00 apiece. In no time at all, the Whites had earned themselves a case of Vitamin Water, 3 cans of Red Bull, 10 power bars, and other accessories to get them safely down the mountain.”

Freshman: “This sucks!”

Model Link Leader: “Yes, and so do you!”

El engordar no es tan horrible como a soggy dumpling.

I went Chinese megabookstore-ing yesterday. It was at one of the most famous shopping streets of Beijing, so there were hordes of white people. They were starting to look funny, and I realized that French and English people look about as different as Chinese and Korean people. (The preceding sidenote has no relevance to the bookstore experience.)

First of all, there’s people selling little other, non-bookrelated stuff everywhere. Cellphone charms, trinkets, electronics, light-up gyroscopes, you name it. The salespeople’s pitches added to the din of thousands of interested people, all busily flipping through books.

We made a poor guy from Foreign/Imported books dig up a copy of The Jungle for me–I think he found it under a stack of Wuthering Heights. He looked like Professor Spit-a-lot from That’s So Raven. (again, irrelevant) That aisle must’ve had all the “good literature” that anyone could read, displayed more efficiently than any Barnes and Noble I’ve ever been to; too bad there were about 9 copies of Ethan Frome hanging out in plain sight, staring at me with their sleddy, lopsided eyes.

Then, we went to the music section, cuz ya know-that’s why I went back. On a really prominently displayed shelf, there was a row of four Henle edition books–Bach and Chopin. But there was only a tiny bit of Bach, and an equally tiny bit of Chopin! All the other editions were impossibly tiny and difficult to read–they made the 2 part inventions look totally foreign–so I asked made my mom ask a salesperson where there’d be more Henles.

She said, “That’s it.”

I thought, “WTK??”

Igitur, Harmy did not buy much music. However, she did notice that there was more Czerny than anything (major gag and minor cringe), and that there were a whole lot of music theory/”sightsinging” books that were incomprehensible, cuz ya know, the illiterate one learned her theory in English. Reminds me of how I heard that the Quebeckan violinist from camp kept looking exasperated during the theory placement test.

Then we went imported-disking. They were legal, all of them, but still cheap, except for one. Apparently, classical CD’s are sold full price, USD x8 style, so it’s not quite worth the airfare to transport them. Besides, that’s what the Bibliotheca Pontis-Materiae is for. Also, all the Bruckner symphonies they had were conducted by Karajan, and he goes kinda fast.

Anyway, mine eyes saw a disk. Then it saw passacaglia. Then it saw Webern. Then the brain said, “Whoa, that’s the one where you pluck around and make a whole lot of noisy jumbalaya!” Besides Webern, there was Berg and ..Schoenberg. I started listening to it this morning. The odd intervals, strangely, make me want to dance, and there’s some really poultry-sounds that I’ve never heard before. Like playing with the stick of the bow, or a weird metallic scrape.

Strangely, I can like Webern but not Chopin. Romantic-era music makes me want to hide, if you make me play it. Actually, I’m pretty certain that it’s because my physical technique and ability to decipher rhythms and accidentals becomes woefully inadequate after Beethoven.