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» Click to show Spoiler - click again to hide... «He's King Varian Wrynn from World of Warcraft! In Toa form! Is it OK if you find characters with the same name, but in different realities/fandoms/worlds? I personally think it's fine. Even the music industry finds it OK - google for a song called 'Call Me', or 'Heaven', or really generic titles. You'll find TONS. The industry says that, if you want to argue about copyright, it's that the idea of the song - melody, lyrics, arrangement - are the parts covered under copyright. The other parts of it - titles, for example - are free for use by anyone. (Important note: I took a class about the business of music under a songwriter, formally a lawyer, who was in the biz in the last decade. Therefore, don't use this text to quote or reference, especially for homework! Feel free to correct me if you (think you) know better.) It has happened in Epics, Short Stories, or sometimes the same name used in both - and by different authors, of course. Haven't seen any authors go head to head to say which character was the REAL character, the one true character to be christened 'Xenohelix', so on and so forth, but it's just as much an argument about Avril Lavigne's 'Girlfriend' with 1979 Rubinoos song 'I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend'. *shrug* I still think Toa Varian has the making of awesome, but my mind still fritzes and says » Click to show Spoiler - click again to hide... «He's King Varian Wrynn from World of Warcraft! In Toa form! -<dd>
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Hohoho, what has taken a hold of me the past few posts? It looks like I'm on a Sad Keanu roll, but it seriously is depressing. XD Right, time to plaster a huge smile on my face and be HAPPPYYY!!! And I kid you not, I'm mostly sugar and spice all the time, not Ms. Josey Raincloud. I've met a share of people who seem to have immovable smiles. They're what I call 'sunshine boys and girls', and I'll throw in laughter - very strong and addictive laughter - in for good measure. How they get that personality is beyond me. I'm not sure if I'm one of them (I've been known to be the serious kind, seriously. The thing that makes me smile is a record of As on my transcript o_O), but sometimes having such people help ever-so-slightly in making a bad day good... (except when you're in a super-sour mood and stuck in a certain mental state, then you're on your own O-o) Recently, I've been on rather erratic work days (data entry job, is all *waves madly anime-style*) and been going out frequently. Helps with the mood, really, where I can escape some of the mood-traps at home and breathe some outdoor-air, and do light-window-shopping at cute things every now and then (I am a girl, after all ) And yesterday I had my favourite local hot drink with my favourite company (my boyfriend, who else?) and I was all . And I don't really care (yet) about my lack of piano practice, but I'm much happier not hammering scales with my head. The piano's the current victim of the false (seriously, 'false'!) ceiling falling down, with torrents of rainwater, onto the family piano. It wasn't harmed by it, but it's all covered up as a safety measure from future rain. It's rain season here when the shopping district floods, and the other neighbourhoods too! OK, bweakfast time! The repulsive over-sweet chatter ends here - for today. XD -<dd>
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Sure, I have ECC stuff to do. But I can't do that 5 days in a row! So ask me something! Or else I'll start singing - "Always..." -<dd>
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The piano players here can attest: There are some really nutty piano teachers out there. You get them, or you don't. It's a matter of luck for some. And let me tell you that I was, and am, a very lucky piano student. My first horror teacher was when my mother decided to drop her twins off in piano class. I can't remember for the life of me when did I turn to my mum, with the sweet innocent 4 year old face I had then, and say something that went 'Mummy, piano! Piano!' or 'I piano!' or anything like that. Mum claimed that she enrolled us in because we wanted to play the piano. Maybe we did - but definitely not under that teacher I had. She was bespectacled, she had no ruler but was stern, strict, and almost dictator-material. No wrong note missed her, and she made it a point to correct every single note. Every single note. It was no wonder she scowled - the twins, and the little sister that followed along one day, were absolutely hopeless. It came to a point in time that the lessons stopped - I believe the teacher had enough of us and told my mum to stop the lessons because the girls couldn't play under her anymore. Then there was a new teacher for me, 3 years later. She had started teaching my elder sister, and my mother thought of putting me in too. I used to follow to the teacher's mansionette of marbled floors and leather couches, and watch my sister play under the teacher. She was a bad player (and still is), and the teacher didn't seem so fierce. I decided to try again - and what a terrible time I had. The first piece I got under her was 'The Music Box'. I had barely touched the piano for 3 years, I had practically no experience under me, and the notes on the left hand ultimately did me in. I never made it past the first few bars. I had little to no co-ordination. I started to dread going to class - my teacher was no help either. She loaded me with practice homework, which was never chiseled into my then 9-year-old brain. I left the teacher after feeling too demoralized. Fast forward to now, with training in the electone/electronic organ to Grade 8, and I'm in Berklee. I had no way out from playing the piano seriously. As the lecturer who auditioned me said, "No way can you avoid this here in Berklee. We have the best teachers here, so we're giving ya the best education. You have to learn it!" So I went in to see my teacher, and he was better - and worse - than my previous teachers combined. He wasn't angry when I admitted that I didn't practice (I said 'I couldn't practice' that day, and it was true. I was getting used to the schedule then.), but he had a cunning way of putting a threat across. In the middle of that lesson, he went, "Tell you what, this often works for the students who make many mistakes. For every mistake you make, you'll owe me $10." That put me into a panic, and I really messed the rest of my playing then. He sat behind me in his office chair, laughing, "I'm going to be rich! Jeff's gonna get a free cuppa joe at this rate!" He was not a piano teacher. He was a devilish character. If anything, he made me feel bitter. And when you translate such an emotion into work, it gets you places. I went to his lesson one day with a fully memorized score in my head and decided that if he hated my playing, then I might as well stop learning under him and get a new teacher. I knocked on his door, customary to Berklee instructors preferring their students to knock on time. 5 minutes passed before I rapped the second time. Then a third time 10 minutes later. This being a half-hour class, I thought of giving up and going back. Little could be done in 20 minutes, and I was angry that he had chosen to ignore me. Maybe he hated me that much. The door opened and he asked for a few more minutes to wrap things up with the other student in there before me. When I finally got into the lesson, he then asked to hear the piece. I played what I could. The teacher didn't sit next to me and listen. He got up and walked about, checking his email, admiring the room and the photos in the room, sitting behind me in his office chair and such. Today, when I finished the piece, he was standing at the window, scratching at his jeans and what seemed like... underwear. Eww. He turned to look at me, "What do you think?" Another shot at degrading me? All right. "I think it needs work." He broke out. "THAT WAS BRILLIANT! I LOVED IT!" ... what just happened? He sat down right next to me, "Yeah, it could do with a little work, but you're already there! It sounds nice and solid, little to no mistakes! You really have surpassed my expectations of you!" As he kept babbling on with something about my parents and emailing them personally, I wondered what were his expectations of me in the first place. Probably low, slow and blundering, but that... that expression of his freaked me out. From then on, the work got much, much harder. Now I'm playing a jazz standard with very weird chords, moved into all the different keys in the scale, and he expects certain playing techniques from all of them to be demonstrated to him in class next Monday. I haven't been up to his standards again, and I could tell his patience is starting to run thin again. Then maybe he'll burst again with excitement once I get it. I really am a very lucky student. -<dd>
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So all the hype and hoobla of me going to Berklee is dying down. Good - I haven't been giving that much thought, anyway, because I've been running from school to school, placating kids and admonishing kids - all in a day's work. But last night brought the whole incident back into thought. I had a really 'bad' dream about Berklee. I was already in Berklee. In fact, I was in a classroom in Berklee, doing a proficiency test or interview - it was not very clear. What I did know was that a really rotund Caucasian teacher was standing in front of me, while I was writing on some paper. I looked up at him. I asked him, "Why am I here?" He looked at me quizically. I continued, "I mean, do I really deserve this? Did I really get in by my musical ability and not because my parents had a big pocket?" He replied, "The Admissions and audition managed to get you in here. There's nothing to worry about." I started crying. I really started crying, in front of the lecturer. "Why? I still don't know! It doesn't feel right!" Cue a sudden transition. I was walking out of the classroom or audition room, and there was a table near the entrance. It was giving out a book, an 'Insider's Guide to Berklee' kind of book or something, with blanks to fill at the first page. I found many books filled, flipping through them all. The lady manning the counter looked at me and said, "I'm sorry, but we don't have any more copies." I managed to dig through the stacks and found one untouched book (with its pages printed on recycled paper, meaning the other side had Chinese characters printed behind it) in the stack. I took it with me and walked off. Cue another sudden transition. I sat down somewhere, and began to read that book. I started filling in the answers to those blanks, and my head began to swim. Cue waking up because the alarm went off. I don't know what triggered the dream. Really. And I don't know about interpretation. Maybe I'll have an online look at it, but I still won't trust it. The dream feels weird to me. It feels like a premonition to something to come. Hmm. -<dd>
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Since I'm not married, here're a pair of virtual hongbaos! What's inside - well, chocolate gold coins are what I can offer. Gong Xi Fa Cai! It's the year of the Rat, the start of the whole Zodiac Calendar, and let me wish you all: Ping An Ru Shi: Safety through the year and the situations they bring. Nian Nian You Yu: Surpluses and excessive bounty in every year. Xin/Meng Xiang Shi Chen: The realization of your heart's/mind's wishes. Sheng Ti Jian Kang: A healthy and strong body. Xue Ye Jing Bu: Progress and Improvement in your studies! Bu Bu Gao Sheng: May you progress higher in your goals, step by step. Wan Shi Ru Yi: A thousand good things to come your way (I'm guessing this one, though. ) That's 8 greetings! Well, I don't know how else I can convey the CNY spirit going on around here - it's been busy since morning! We had cousins coming and going; we had to travel out to my grandmother's; my (paternal) grandma stuffed us with too much food that our meal times had to be pushed back; I got a good start in hongbao (red packet) collecting! And there was a lion dance that went through my grandmother's apartment. She was pleased. Meanwhile, eat plenty and be happy! I'll return with news of what happened on the second day once it passes. -<dd>
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School hasn't been lenient on me. It's the start of a two-week break - and a heavy mugging with 7 assignments due when I return!! Yet, I really do miss doing all the stuff I did on BZP. Blogging's one of them, and it's been sporadic. Writing - I haven't touched a thing for two months. I've a record of only one critic review for the past 2 months. So... rather than stuffing myself to death with the assignments, I plan to do a little visit and actually do something here. Sometime soon. Whenever I get some work done. -<dd> (who's tied a ribbon round her finger.)
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Intellectual Property - the laws of copyright and moral rights - should never be taken lightly. My 'Business of Music' lecturer made sure we knew that - by giving us our toughest assignment yet. He made everyone in Never-Ever Land downright criminals, stealing the melody motif (Mi Re Do) of 'Three Blind Mice'. It somehow got so twisted that at least 3 songs have been produced out of it: 'Gold From Straws', 'Gold-i-locks', 'Climb These Locks', and all the planned cover versions of those songs, re-arrangements and reproduction. It gave us all a headache. It's due in two days, and I am way under the word limit. I am frightened - but am going to throw in as much as I know. And I thought I was going to overwrite. It so happened that I was working on the assignment in my Videography Club's club room when the next door neighbour, the Japanese Cultural Club president, walked in to chat with our president and present team mates. I was quiet, listening to the conversation. "How was the MST (Mid Semester Tests)?" "Just got the club letter box keys?" "Spam mail is annoying, isn't it?" I replied, "Yes, it is." The JCC president took a flying leap backwards. "I thought you were a guy!!" I got so distracted by the laughter and commotion afterwards that I couldn't work on my assignment anymore.
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Jamiroquai is some old band that has risen from the dead. No, I'd say that of the band if it hadn't been for a funk-infused classmate who is spreading the Jamiroquai-love around the class. And it was infectious. With an outspoken singer (Jay Kay, with) who had vibes and hats to match his eccentric style on stage and a grooving band, it had lived through the late 1990s till now. Their style is all about groove - and really, it is their style that has remarkably kept going. And, out of boredom, I decided to delve a little deeper into the music that Jamiroquai had to sport. I've been grooving to the disco beats all afternoon. This whole week has been free - somewhat free. It's the e-learning week, but I completed all the online tasks with three to four days to spare. Those days were mostly used to film my MTV project - which has been funny. We're doing the typical love-tale-with-music aspect, with a girl that has broken up and the artiste contemplating - and being her second chance. It's an extremely sappy idea, but it's the best we got. What's more, for once, I'm not taking the helm. It's a chance for me to do my work without so much stress mounted on me. The leader for this crew was running himself to his last bounds of strength - we all did help him and he still went down to his last dredges. Thank goodness for a break today. But I'm bored. Time to find more Jamiroquai.
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To Behead The Pack Leader, To Kill A Mocking Bird.
<daydreamer> posted a blog entry in blogs_blog_510
Imagine a mocking bird in the snowy woods mocking at a wolf that led a dying pack, and the wolf heeds it and drives itself without rest till it collapses. I just realised that this situation could very-well happen in my newly-formed group. We have a really fun assignment lined up for us - we're going to make our own MTV. An original song from our previous assignment will be used as the MTV's main idea, and then the video is slapped on top of it. Duh. Our group was planned as it was, with the creative talents of the class joining together. We really need wacky and inventive input, and I think the guys in my group are fully capable of doing that. That is - once they break out of their lala-land mood. The unfortunate thing is that my group of six is made of two pairs and a pair of individuals (2+2+1+1=6, right?), and those pairs are drifting apart to their own things and their own chatter. The other individual, other than me, knew what this meant: We would be going at a snail's pace, and we would get nowhere. He looked up at me, then just joined one of the pairs in chatter. I tried getting them back to listening to me, but I was getting nowhere. One moment, I had their attention and asked them for what to do, and the next minute they were back in their own worlds. In the end, I had to drag the other individual and get him to persuade the first pair to make some decisions, while I attended to the other. We finally came up with some ideas - but poor ones - and the other suggested that a meeting should be held after a while, to let them get ideas. I agreed. We were nowhere on our first day of a possibly difficult assignment (Making a MTV is not as easy as others think. It's very time-consuming, taking from experience of our first video-related assignment. It was also tedious, and a real death-blow to my creative juices.) I haven't seen any action yet. But, I do know that if the situation worsens or remains the same, I may just behead myself from the stress of a sparsely-scattered group. On a good note, I have ideas in my head for the assignment. The guys had better be worth their creative and hardworking reputation - or else it won't be just one head on the ground. -
Do you ever wonder why cats hate dogs, and vice versa? That question ran past my head when my dog displayed the most bizarre reaction to the television - something he ignored on an everyday basis. My sister and I were watching an animal documentary about cats - a colony of cats that lived in Rome. They were all so fluffy and cute, especially the kittens. Lucky didn't find them so appealing. He laid in my lap, relaxed and breathing softly. Suddenly, his ears pricked up and became agitated by the sounds coming from the television - the sounds of two tomcats caterwauling. Yes, caterwauling. Then his eyes diverted to the screen, just as a scene of many, many cats came onscreen. His gaze transfixed on the screen, he rose from my lap, his body tense, and moved closer to the TV. There, he sat and watched. He watched the television. One of the kittens moved offscreen, and Lucky followed it. When it had disappeared, he gave a growl of irritance. My sister looked at me with incredulity. "Lucky watched the TV!" "Because of the cats," I reasoned, as Lucky came to me for attention and comforting. It's an age-old mystery that had all the smarts around the world wondering, ever since time began. Well, we're still wondering why - but not that we really care. We have homework, assignments, RPGs, days and events to worry about. We've come to accept that cats and dogs are, afterall, life-long enemies and polar opposites. But I can't discount from the story the cases where dogs and cats are, ironically, the best of friends. -<dd>
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Ironically, I'm not referring to the little clownfish that everyone adores, but the song by goth-metal band Nightwish (And, for those in the know, before they changed their lead singer). I can also be referring to the fish. The holidays are coming to an end. I look forward to school and, ironically, work. I want a nice load of assignments to busy myself with, instead of lying on my bed and letting my RPG game run on autopilot. I don't even touch the game anymore. And to think that this was the last span of holidays I could enjoy. I've been warned, before these holidays, that I should play as much as I could - odd words to come from the mouth of lecturers. And I don't think I have done that. I went to California, sure, and had a whale of a time. However, I don't feel satisfied. Maybe, maybe it's been those days of 'work' that I had for the most of this week - the last week of holidays. I had been returning to campus to work on a soundtrack for a friend's film project. I was not ready to return back to school yet, I feel. But, I did. I think it's upsetted my view of the holidays. Well, I'll have to change that. Somehow. But, I guess this rant ends here. I've one last thing to share. I'll just say it once - for the record, and I don't know if it was an accomplishment, or a feat of disaster. I nearly had my first boyfriend this holiday.
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... would be one of the most cruel jokes to play. Description - one of the most important tools to the writer, and one of the toughest to wield. This is where your style is defined, whether you sit with simple writing, or immerse yourself with steepled, yet brief poems. I realised that, while writing the next chapters to my fictions, that description was starting to elude me. It was nastily playing tricks with me. So I stepped back and contemplated. It's easy to use description when you're describing something, it seemed. But when it comes to describing action, emotion and the likes of moving intangible/tangible forces, I can't pull myself back and quarter everything into a brief action that told a lot. Now, there's where the trick laid. How could I do that, yet keep the work detailed? Then, I stepped back even further. Now, I realised where I was mis-stepping. A whole chapter alone would be written with description as default, or most of the time. The problem laid in where I wanted description to be. Action and emotion seem to imply that not much is necessary. Just reflecting an action in a picturesque manner was ideal. Just highlighting an emotion akin to a sensation was all right too. Description did not have to lie all over the place - it just had to make its mark. Though, honestly, that was not a very good tip. That was just my style of thinking. For me to move further on, I'll have to find ways to incorporate description that was uniquely mine, so to say. Or something that would make me stand out. But for now, description, the devil that it is, will be tamed. ~~ (This is the end of the Writer's Tip. Credit to Hahli Husky for the creation of Writer's Tip )
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The holidays have come upon me, during the time when others are still at work and school. Oooh, how much fun you can poke others with this bit of news. Ignoring that, I've purposely set myself a few targets and a few more activities to do during this break. As all our lecturers mentioned and repeated over and over again, this was the LAST time we're going to have a good break during our academic stay with the education institute. The next holiday will be no holiday - it will be work, work, work and... even more work. Sad news of the future aside, onto the present and soon-to-be holidays: 1) I'm so sorry, ECC! I've been ignoring my epic-reviewing duties. Say that this is a good time for me to rake up my notorious reviewing blitz. (Given a good day of free time, I could handle six epics at once. Aiyee.) 2) There were holiday courses promoted by the school (and subsidised. Yay for subsidies!) and I've picked up one on touch-therapy, otherwise known as massage, for the sake of myself and my family members. We have some notoriety for painful backs and shoulders, even more so for poor Mommy. This should help her. I've also signed up for a day of HORSERIDING! (As I said, yay for subsidies!) 3) The US trip is all planned and confirmed. I'm heading out to San Franciso on the 3rd of September - during your school term. I don't know the chances of running into a BZP member during my trip there, as we'll be going to a few colleges for culture exchange. But, hee! My first trip to the US! And a presentation about Singapore to boot! 4) Epics on BZP. 'Nuff said, or else I'll be pushing myself too hard. And a short story. Now that's pushing. 5) <dd> has to exercise. No, I'm not overweight. I'm just overly sedentary - in front of the laptop. 6) Two musical performances to prepare for, one to be done during the holidays. Am prepping up with Copacabana, Girl From Ipanema and that song from my songfic piece, I Hope You Dance. OK, a question out to you guys. You are mostly Caucasian, a fact and not a remark, and therefore qualify to help me out. Give me questions, 1 to 3 questions, about Singapore. Anything. Shoot. I'll need to see what I can add for the presentation because I'm currently lost. -<dd>
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That was the challenge given to me, and it was tough. Y'see, I have my next school assessment coming up: a public performance. Yep. Right. Next Wednesday. A public performance. The hub of the arts in this country (look up the Esplanade if you're interested in depth-knowledge) had a conveniently-placed cafe in the library, and it had conveniently provided a little stage, complete with a digital piano. When our group of merry students made a trip to that library to handle our assignment, the lecturers got really interested. So it was set: an evening performance, a piece per group (of 3 to 4 people) at the library cafe. Bring your own audience. Considering that a guitarist with little experience and an erhu player with some experience had ganged up with this piano player with a little more than 'some' experience, I decided that an easy piece would have to do. Easy, but pleasing. The two others did not want a leader's role, so they ditched all decisions to me. Considering that Play! Video Game Symphony had just arrived and performed Asia's debut concert not too long ago, I decided to follow suit. Piece of choice: Eternity - Memory of Lights and Waves. From FFX - 2? Or 1? Yes, the one with the repeating melody that repeats. Again. And again. And again. It was an easy piece to play, and it was very pretty. However, it could get very boring. Solution? Pretty it up even more. Add in improvisation, re-arrange it, and give it a new twist by the different instruments we were using. So that's what we did. Last we tried, I think we've got the go-ahead to perform that piece. *Writer's Tip* The very same thing goes with writing Bionicle stories. Now, Bionicle is a storyline with the same characters. Tahu, Vakama, or everyone's current interest right now, the Toa Mahri and the titans of Mahri Nui. But, everyone writes the same thing, right? Wrong. Well, not quite. I would be lying if I said there was a great variety. The most common epic-style would be of a new island, new heroes, or canon islands and heroes doing their fighting thing. The most common short-story styles are love, tears and down-right moody. And, after a while of the same thing, won't it get boring? And this leads to another question - I want to write those genres. So, how do I look different? How do I write the tale without making it boring, and make it stand out? I suggest to you to try altering the way you write the story, adding in different elements, and always test and practise what you're trying to show to the readers, just like I did for my music piece. *Writer's Tip Over* And for real life, it sucked. My wallet disappeared, containing not only my money, but my identity card and transport card too. Those will be expensive to replace.
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The evil laugh. For I have nothing better to analyze. Some people can do it. Some people can't. Some people love to do it. Some people get annoyed by it. It's utilized in the world of fandoms and fiction commonly. I've yet to see Bionicle characters (in the books) do it. I've seen it being done in fanfiction a lot, though. A really rotten villain would be brought down for his evil laugh - and choking/coughing halfway in its execution. I beg all writers who read this not to do that. It's overrated and cheesy. With lots of cheese. But, it's awfully funny to poke fun at a character that can't laugh evilly.
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I'm going nuts. BZP's bugs aren't helping. Today, I sat down and thought for a bit while eating lunch. Good friend was doing assignments in the studio, so I was alone for the while. And it was a good time to mentally prepare myself for a long while's worth of havoc. A rather major assignment is due at the end of this week, one is going to be presented this week, one really really big one is due in three weeks and it's still in the works... Do I really have any other life than an academic - and a virtual - life? -<dd>
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Music Theory is a chore It's way much worse than a bore To read each note in the score Like staring at ants on the wall (and you can't squish 'em) ~ Don't ask. Ask my lecturer who was smart enough to load us all with music theory exercises. With the current assignments that are bearing us down, this one is the heaviest and most urgent for now. But... but... music theory! Egads, you don't know how painful it is until you sit down for one hour straight just to work on it - and only be an eighth of the way done. And KayKee (or HH or Windrider or someone who knows what a quarternote is), if you read this, whap me hard. I forgot my cadences. *smacks forehead* Other than that... I'll eat kitsune udon tonight and burn some midnight oil!
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I must honestly admit that at the Voya Nui saga, I totally lost track of what was happening. All I knew were of Piraka, Matoran becoming Toa, and somehow two Titans from the Order of Mata Nui and the Brotherhood of Makuta - though an Umbra appeared somewhere and disappeared. And for Mahri Nui, the Toa transform into new bodies and become Toa Mahri, and we get yellow to replace brown. There's a yellow Matoran, Dekar, green Defilak - two instead of six, and six Barraki - and a freakish creature called Nocturn. Now, it's good to know your Bionicle, especially when everything is moving at a quick pace. I know that now Greg writes the story in the books and no longer do we see the updates on the website. It's safe to say I lost the storyline once Voya Nui's Matoran got hit by antidermis, and it lapsed into the Mask of Life falling into the sea. (I wonder how on earth Mata Nui can still be alive at this rate.) But I must stress still - even if you know so little, it's good to know your Bionicle. I've only one case to show this as proof: A LEGO merchandise promotion went on at a mall and I so happened to be there. There were three boys arguing with their father and a salesman that the Bionicle they wanted was green as was not Nocturn. And no, it was not a Toa (obviously, unless the Toa Mahri came to our shores faster than yours.) Nor a Matoran. The salesman was scratching his head. The father was frustrated. I, however, was in the know. "Do you need help?" The salesman looked at me quizically. "The boys want Ehlek the Barraki, at that shelf over there." The salesman brought the mentioned toy, and the boys happily pulled their father to make the purchase. Know your Bionicle. It could help you one fine day.
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~~ Tahu looked up to the large being above, his Hau Nuva showing his frustration clearly. "Stranger, let me get this straight. You found strange signals on my home and brought your armada here to eradicate a ... De-seep-tin-con threat?" The being nodded. Its voice replied, sounding very strange and wired. Indeed he was, because Tahu Nuva could identify only one thing on that being that stood many miles higher than he: It had wires and glowing optics. That was it. "Yes, that is correct. And I, Optimus Prime, wish to talk with the inhabitants of this island to see if diplomacy could be attained." Tahu Nuva thought that he and that Opti-whatever thing were mad. Optimus Prime couldn't agree more. ~~ Before I go on, I think I'll pause and not continue that story - even though it sounds like a comedy in the making. It's some sort of funny debate that's been going on: Bionicle vs. Transformers. One robot kind versus another robot kind. Both out to protect others from those that destroy. Both have glowing optics. Both have heartlights (just that one has it outside and the other inside) and the-hoo-and-the-hey, they got someone related with flames to be their leader! (Somewhat.) It'll make people rip their hair to put the differences and similarities together. I think that's why some of the topics in GD that mentioned this were closed - it would be way too hard to weigh them down, and may cause an uproar at other forums that see it. But, so as long as I have a Transformer toy and a Bionicle set, I think my childhood -or whatever that's left of it- is well-provided for, and I do not need to trouble myself with all of this. Just that -will the Bionicle Team really decide to copy Transformers and make another movie?
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Maybe you all can help me stop brooding about this bit of life's ironical trivia. Right now, there's an obessesion around the world about one particular culture - Japanese culture. Cultures maybe, seeing as it branches off into more categories than I have fingers. As far as I know, it's literally taking the world by storm. My friend, who digs anime and manga, got me a Death Note notebook as a present (I didn't tell you about that, did I?), I love Japanese cuisine to bits, I do know some anime and know classmates who love cosplay. We have our fair share of Japanese phrases that we learnt via anime, manga or whathaveyou. But why do we find neo-Japanese culture so.... addictive? Happening? Obssesive? If you don't want to think too hard, I'll admit that I didn't think of that as I went to the nearby sushi bar to have lunch. Oh yes, I have used my Death Note book already. It holds a few names. None of them are you. Trust me.
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...big book by big book. Y'see, after my friend treated me for lunch as a birthday treat, I headed over to our country's arts-dedicated library for one sole reason. *Pretend you didn't read the above first phrase* The second 'Y'see' I have to tell you is that even though I'm in holidays for two weeks, there is no rest for the student laden with assignments. And when one assignment requires you to research on a composer of choice - a classical composer of choice - and it was too difficult to get Mozart, I decided to get Gershwin - George Gershwin, the cool guy who composed and played Rhapsody in Blue and 'I Got Rhythm' from An American in Paris. And it requires hardcopy resources. So I l went over and got me a very heavy stack of books. The heavier the better, I was hoping. Six books, each as thick as a fist, were read through and analyzed in a matter of three hours - including kicking out irrelevant details, taking notes of relevant material, thinking of how to put the point across to the class and so on. After three hours, I was not sitting on the high bar-top table but standing on my two feet because of that prickly sensation after a loss of blood. I was swaying on my two feet. But the research was done - at the cost of my depth perception, balance level, and state of consciousness. It was so bad that when I went to the ice cream parlour to get something to alleviate the swirling head, I was visualising the words that the waiter said to me. I nearly flipped - but staved off the swaying till I got some strawberry shortcake ice cream into the system. I felt so much better. Gathering the Gershwin was actually quite fun, though. I knew a lot more about the composer and read all the musical comedies that he wrote. And I read off a section of Rhapsody in Blue that I've memorized. Ooh, I can't wait to try it... Once I get all that information for the three hours down into powerpoint... Ow...
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I bet you face this more than I do, as the people in question are Caucasian. No, no racism. More of kids in general, but I'll explain later. Went to watch PotC, and we got a row that was right in front of a row of little boys. These were Caucasian boys, and before the show they were talking - at unnaturally high-pitched voices. Don't get me wrong. All little boys squeak, sure, but as far as I've observed, those five behind me were the squeakiest I heard. And they kept squeaking - right into the movie. It was horrid. I was trying my best to focus on the movie and not get annoyed, but you know how little boys go - like a motor car, puttling on, and on, and on... 'I saw the second movie!' 'I saw the first and second movie!' 'Me too!' 'Me three!' 'I didn't watch any of them.' 'I hate Barbossa!' 'Me too!' 'Me three!' 'Captain Jack Sparrow!' 'Captain Jack Sparrow!' 'Captain Jack Sparrow!' 'Bad guy!' 'BAD GUY!' 'I like Jack Sparrow!' 'Me too!' 'Me three!' 'Me four!' 'CRABS!' Kissing scenes are the cues for the chorus - 'EWWWW!' Imagine this going on right behind you. If you knew your acoustics well, the violins were not featured at every minute of the movie, and the boys' voices were at that frequency - all the way. If I were to make a proper review about the movie, it'd be with a DVD, in the comfort of home, and no squeaky children! Seriously, I wish some places had a children-ban. No offence to those under twelve reading this. Please tell me you don't act like those uncontrolled things.
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For someone who percolates as much as I do, maybe letting a blog sit and fallow for a long while would not be good for his/her mental well-being. Putting it down straight, I've had too many ideas on what I wanted to blog about. I also partly blame the strange hours I've been returning home from polytechnic for the past week - evening/night time. I rarely do that - it's detrimental to my physical well-being - but it happened. My brain shorts out at night, and hence I feel hardly inclined to blog. Now I feel so, so hyper about blogging about so, so many things... that I'll do them, point by point. 1) Drama-Mamas Many, many writers are going drama-mama on us all. It's no help that films and really-popular-TV-shows are fuelling the drive to be the most drama-tic. I won't delve into the topics, even if LEGO is not so 'innocent' about things anymore and we most certainly aren't. We know what falls into the 'drama' category. Even I'm guilty of it. But everyone still writes about wars. At least something old stays. The debate between drama, war, or both interlocked together under one story will continue when I've seen enough. 2) Transformer Movie View-Date I've confirmed it. Home country Singapore is going to see the Transformer movie BEFORE it opens in the US. I think. The opening date over here is June 28th. 3) *tries to recall*... Something about Gershwin. A new assignment cropped up. Music Theory. Research and present on a composer/composers. My friend and I wanted the easiest one: Mozart. That dude was snatched before I could press the 'Enter' key. We made do with the Gershwin Brothers. All the fans of 'Rhapsody in Blue' and 'I Got Rhythm', cheer with me! We're not quite sure what on earth the lecturers want from us, so a trip to the arts library is planned. 4) Kill the school administration system. I was shortlisted to be a participant of this PolyForum - essentially, a 3-day cruise where the main event is 'debate'. It looked seriously good and cheap, so I accepted the offer. There was an interview. They decided to notify us all with email about the interview that occured the day after. And the problem with emails: You don't have an alert system with an inbox - especially a school-given inbox. So I only found out about the interview TODAY - four days after the interview. It was stupid. Everyone loathed the extra inbox that gave 99.9% of their spamload. I don't know how many people even got to the interview. I knew I didn't. Tomorrow's my last chance to set things straight. If not, I'm going to sink that cruise ship with a few cannonballs and a crew - if I could. Actually... I was more hyped about 'Drama-Mama' than anything else, but I thought it wise to do a bit of research before I pull out the shots. Oh, and now I remember it! 5) Blind Little Boys. While watching the Transformer trailer for PotC3, you all should remember the irritating boys that sat behind me in the theatre, right? You know what they labelled the robots? Bionicle!
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You know how painful it is when terrible, but addictively catchy, songs reverberate in your head incessantly, in repeat mode, not giving you peace or focus? I put the blame on Avril Lavigne's decision to give The Music Industry (TMI) a run for its money - and its life. Her album, though seen by most of us as a change from 'That Rough and Tough Girl' to 'Tween Rocker' and a Hilary Duff with a dash of salt, is seen as me as a shoutout to the people who run TMI and those who gravitate to TMI. She's still the same old Avril Lavigne, who decided to throw us off with pink. What really threw me off, as you could see, was her single. It was so catchy, that it had to be performed at our graduation concert. I was mortified. It got implanted in my head, and it's still ringing. To get rid of this soon-to-be-health-scare, I listened to a roundhouse of 'catchy' songs to clear my head. The Ham(p)ster Dance. Yes, that. Holiday by Green Day. It's catchy, or at least the catchphrase is. Black Betty by SpiderBait. True Colours, by whoever-the-real-artist-is. Really, this song has been 'covered' and replayed to death. It's almost hate-able, but Phil Colins saved it. Rock This Party. Canon in D. Yes, Pachelbel's Canon in D. But what really got that annoying song out of my head? 'Poisoning Pigeons in the Park', by musical and limerick-al Tom Lehrer. Google that, and find an AOL page with the lyrics and melody in MIDI. Sing along. It's way more lovely (and funny) than 'Girlfriend'. I wouldn't mind singing that song over and over again. But, the awful fact stares at us in the face: The song with the catchiest catchline automatically catches the captured audience. 'All the world seems in tune, on a spring afternoon, when we're...'