antediluvian: before the great flood
prelapsarian: before the great fall, like before Adam/Eve got kicked out

trepan: either something to drill/cut skull with, or to a trick (or one who tricks.)

avuncular: relating to an uncle (mother’s brother)
materteral: relating to an aunt (mother’s sister)

sobriquet: epithet, nickname

kopos: fatigue
kopophobia: fear of fatigue

nomos: law
anomy: social instability resulting from a breakdown of standards and values

chthon: world
autocthonous: native, like in your own world

hidros: sweat
hidrosis: condition of sweating too much

oikos: house

xantho: new Latin, yellow
ochros (ochroi): Greek, pale
Xanthochroi: White person with yellow hair! Like..Maestro Kilburn!

pilgarlic: a bald head (..more conductors), a bald-headed man. OR a man looked upon with humorous contempt or mock pity (..Senor Silva?)

coillon: Middle English, “testicle”
cullion: a mean or base fellow.

Greek words are even more intimidating than latin ones, probably because there isn’t a country bordering us where people speek derivatives of vulgar Greek. But if I keep associating words with people, I shall learn them in no time!

I feel older. Being on the “upperclass” side of highschool tends to do that, I guess.

Orchestra was nice last night because I uh..actually practiced my part, listened to a recording, asked French-learners what stuff meant, and dilligently maintained the lydian mode through the little scaley things. And for spanish, I got to bring in Mr. Squishyfish for show and tell. Sina kidnapped him, demanding a ransom of my vote for him as VP of Democrat Club, but thanks to the Secret Australian Ballot, I could promise without any committment. Also, strings class was really good because the advanced people were allowed to seclude themselves in the practice room “corridor” and play chamber music. I got to look at the score, be amazed at its many lines, and be conductorish.

Senor SquishyPez forma un triangulo equilatero con sus aletas!

Then, I had a math meet today! The problems felt easy for me, but they must have been objectively easier because all the other schools did much better. [Logic may be flawed..] There were also some that I couldn’t figure out why I got wrong, and the team round was rather hard. There was one question about people swimming laps at different speeds, and it made me think about triplets against eighths and Faure and all that depressing stuff.

I just spent part of my valuable morning finding the percent composition of the elements in my birthstone, which happen to include Copper, Aluminium, Phosphorous, Oxygen, and Hydrogen, and possibly nitrogen (but I don’t remember).

..Chem is eating my life.

[[Above post was auto-saved from Saturday, hence the present-ish tense.]]

As for now, Monday:

I just got back from my first “gig-ish” rehearsal. The assembled group was to play at a lawyer’s supper, and the lawyer’s wife is the first violinist. The lawyer, who does not appear to speak Polish, is married to his wife, who recently arrived from Poland and is not yet fluent in English. So I was a bit puzzled.

Anyway, we started reading stuff, really easy stuff, like the kind of music school orchestras play, the commercial stuff, the common stuff. Like Eine Kleine Nachtmusic. This reading went on for about an hour, during which the violinist (she had been a teacher) tried to get the 2nd violin to sit up straight and hold up her violin, the cello to something, me to pizzicato “with sound, but not like Bartok”, and all of us to uh..stay on beat. She also shouted phrases such as “Open up!” “Play as if you were going to die tomorrow!” “This is your solo!” at the scrunching Vln2. Really, it reminded me a lot of my old viola lessons, and the whole quartet aspect reminded me of PCP (chamber camp).

But, alas, when we took our break, the violinist decided that as a group, we weren’t up to her standards, or “goals,” as her limited vocabulary stated. I quite admire how she practically taught us music even without complete grasp of all the terms–if I had to circumlocute like that..And so she decided that we weren’t going to perform. Additionally, not having become a citizen of “Praise every jangling, off-tune, unpracticed note that comes out of the student’s instrument”-land yet, she actually…criticized the cellist’s sightreading.

Man. I wanted to get paid!

Now I have to find something interesting to do that Friday night too. Actually, Dr. Liberman’s probably going to give me that interesting thing to do, but still..


Me: Dwee, I don’t wanna go to sleeep.
Dwee: Aw, c’mon, sleep is the best thing ever! I wake up every day just so I can go back to sleep!
Me: o_0 *guffaws*
Dwee: No, seriously!

Oh–the teakettle’s sinuses are fine again. It’s whistling like a champ.

For some reason, our teakettle won’t whistle. It gives more of a whimpy “mmmrrrrrrI’m boiling but I’m too lazy to properly tell you rrrrrrrmmmmm” whirring sound. Poor little guy–probably a clogged sinus or something. I sure know that, if I had a bad nose, I wouldn’t want to whistle everytime my insides rumbled.

I’ve been trying to listen to CD’s of the orchestra music, you know, to get a feel for it, maybe even play along. And I always do really well, until the first page ends. It usually ends at an extended rest or something, and after that, I’m lost like a nomad in Brooklyn. Oh well. My teacher herself said that it doesn’t sound as it looks, though puzzlingly, she suggested that I listen to it. o_0

Today was not my day.

Good news:

I’m principal viola.

Bad news:

I’m the only viola.

Not that I really worry about being all alone, because I know that I can learn the music and then force some sound out of my instrument, but I have a feeling that they’re going to recruit from every viola teacher there and give my chair to someone who’s been playing violin for 6 years and then decided to transfer to viola because someone told them to and therefore has infinitely superior technique/sound. [wow, what a sentence.] I’m passive-self-pitying-competitive, I guess.

Worse news:

My GPA, as it stands, is somewhere (0, 2.5]. I’m doing mediocre (but still in the A range) in math and science, but my..liberal arts? are a different story. I have a B? in history; I take responsibility for that–it was completely my fault. I feel that I can bring it up–I like the class. However, I wrote a horrifically rambling, poorly organized essay for Dr. Liberman today. Usually, essays are difficult in that I can’t get my thoughts into words, but this time, I had no idea what to think. It was not a difficult prompt; rather, I didn’t process it well.

The essay is damning in two ways: 1. Bad impression. Indelible. 2. Dr. Liberman, good teacher as she is, is not scared of failing people. A B or B- can be raised. [I did that last year in Precalc.] An F is difficult, particularly in her class.


Dr. Liberman also says that she rewards good rewrites. Maybe that also means that she rewards improvement? Or an attempt at a spectacular take-home essay. Or maybe I’ll get a D next time, and continue linearly.

Dwee got picked for jury duty. :D That’s funny.

Molybdenum, anyone?