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BassoonBeauty
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Name: Bridget
Birthday: 3/4/1987
Gender: Female
Interests: I close my eyes when I know things are going to be loud. Because of that, I got a B- in percussion. Elephants are my favorite.
Expertise: Barely scraping by
Occupation: Student
Industry: music
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  BassoonBeauty2
Member Since:
5/8/2005
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| So, I guess I should be honest.
I've been secretly blogging.
I was curious about why I blog; if it was something I really wanted to do and who for and what I wanted to say. But I felt bad (read: Dana made me feel bad) about not keeping folks updated about my life. I realize now that I do live far away and I don't see most of the people I love anywhere near often enough, so you guys deserve to know what I'm saying. And despite the fact that blogging is what I was thinking about, it wasn't what I was blogging about--that's far too dull and introspective, even for me--so if you really want to know the trivialities of my days, I suppose you can read them.
But I'm tired of saying it here. Which is maybe foolish, but this whole new xanga business is frustrating to me--why is everything new? I'm not a fan of new facebook, either. I just don't like change. Anyway. I was secret blogging over at blogger, and that's where I'm staying. You can peruse what I've been saying for the past...almost year... though little of it is exciting. I like that they keep my drafts automatically; it lets me rant without having to post it but I can still revisit what I felt about various dramas. And while I am still very attached to the middle school-esque "bassoon beauty," I like the ridiculousness of my Don Giovanni-pirated name. The whole catalogue aria makes me giggle, and while it is in ABSOLUTELY NO WAY autobiographical I still had it stuck in my head for quite some time while starting my secret blog. So, here I am now:
http://lapiccina.blogspot.com/
Sorry to make you update your bookmarks... I hope you stop by anyway. | | |
| - AP English Exam: You know AP tests are a bitch. I got a 4. In a couple of the practice tests we did in class to prepare ourselves for the AP test, I scored higher than the teacher. Owned.
- The Johnson Poetry Test: We were given ten little-known poems by up to, I think, around 15 well-known poets, with the names and titles removed. We had to write a paragraph-or-so about who we thought wrote each poem, and support our claim by describing each poet's style and idiosyncrasies. And these were LITTLE KNOWN poems. As in, The Johnson just might have asked each of them to write these poems just for her. People with doctorates in these poets haven't read these poems. I don't know where she found them, except for maybe HER DEAL WITH THE DEVIL. But, I did ok on this test because we were allowed to guess at what the titles were for extra credit, and I got 7 or 8 of the titles right. I ended up with one of the highest grades in the class, cause I'm awesome like that.
- Music Theory I Midterm: this wasn't an outstandingly hard test, but I overslept through the first half of it. Despite finishing it in about 20 minutes, I scored well above the class average.
- Junior IDEA Humanities Final: The general history, as well as the histories of art, music, architecture, literature and philosophy from, I believe, 1750-2004. Ummm... that's a lot. Studying for this was final was made a lot harder by the fact that the class had no textbook and lectures were from four different teachers of varying competency.
- My Houghton Audition: For my audition, I asked Houghton if I could play on one of their bassoons because I was pretty sure I wasn't allowed to leave the state with my high school's bassoon. It didn't occur to me that a fancy-pants private college with tuition nearly $30,000 a year would have worse instruments than my government-funded public high school. Oh, how little I knew back then! I played more notes during my very first bassoon lesson than I could get out of the piece of crap Houghton loaned me for my audition.
- Aural Skills IV Exams With Dr. Newborough: These tests essentially consist of virtuoso pianist Dr. Newborough plunking any note he feels like out on the piano in any rhythm he feels like. And without looking, we have to write them down. We occasionally got a starting pitch; often, we would only get a reference pitch (as in, he would playing middle C, and then begin begin plunking random notes and we had to figure out where he started just from that C). In previous levels of aural skills, such exams would be tonal (that means they would sound like music you might actually want to listen to), generally nice SATB chord progressions (kind of like a hymn). Aural skills IV, however, is non-western and atonal music. This means most notes had very little to do with one another. And, oh yeah, sometimes there were still multiple parts. Wee! (And yes, for reference--this is the Aural Skills class that I almost failed last spring. I would still say I did better on these tests and quizzes. All of them. Including the ones I failed.)
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| Kirstie and Chia-Chen had been speaking in English, but then they started talking in Chinese. I wasn't 100% listening but I was pretty sure things had stopped making sense. I looked up to see if it was actually a different language... Hannah: "They stopped speaking english, I think." me: "Ohh good. I thought I was having a stroke!" Name Withheld: "I'm sure Hannah will stroke you!" | | |
| Yesterday, as I was rolling up the (black and green) carpets so I could mop in the lounge, an older couple came in. The gentleman said something to me, so I unhooked my headphones. "Were they supposed to be red?" I blink in my morning-induced stupor. "What?" "The carpets. Were they supposed to be red?" I caught on and played along. "Yep. When I found out you were coming I had to switch them. You got here too soon." It was a cute old-people moment. | | |
| Listen, it's not like you (plural. As in, "anyone") read this anymore anyway. So, in all honesty, it's for things I think I should write down, but I don't want to waste paper or hard drive space on. But then I fill in the gaps so you (again, pl.) can understand? Because I figure, since it's on the internet, someone might one day read it. So. Think of them as pictures, but I wrote the story on the back (if you're lucky). But they probably aren't new. So. Completely random moment that I thought of and wanted to tell someone about but I never did, complete with background stories. Background Story Number 1: My mom's name was Sharon. Is Sharon. She just doesn't respond to it anymore. She went by Sherry. I just wanted to tell you, because I recently decided "Sharon" is, in fact, a pretty name (I used to think it wasn't, and "Sherry" is just a drink. Don't tell my mom.) Background Story 2: The same week my mom died, some people from the-church-I-go-to-at-home (which was not my church yet, and is maybe not my church now, but for convenience I'll call it mine for the rest of this) had a baby. She was a girl, and she was not healthy. They named her Sharon. She lived for a few months (I honestly don't remember much of anything from this part of my life), and she was on oxygen for a great deal of her life, if not all--again, I don't remember. Sorry. I only remember (clearly) seeing her once, and it made me very uncomfortable because her name was the same as my Mom and because it's always hard to see babies who aren't healthy, even aside from the grief I was already in. This Sharon has two older brothers. So anyway. Real story: Last-Last summer (as in, '06) my friend Kara drowned, and it was terrible and... uncomfortable. And at her funeral, I was in the... receiving line? To pay my respects to her family, and this family from Story 2 was in line behind me. And one brother asked his dad why we were in a line, and his dad said some answer that I don't remember as poignantly. And then, to illustrate whatever point he had just made, he said, "like at Sherry's funeral," and my blood ran cold and my heart stopped beating and I think I had a panic attack or passed out or went into shock, and my stomach hit the floor so hard it left a crater, because I was trying so desperately not to think about my Mom (and the way human brains work, whenever you think of one sad thing your brain automatically reminds you of every other sad thing ever--I learned this in Ed Psych. It's not the same when you think about happy things or indifferent things. Only sad things and maybe angry things. But I didn't know this for real yet, because I just took Ed Psych last year and this was a year and a half ago. I just knew I was sad and trying not to think about my Mom) and then all of a sudden this man who I was pretty sure didn't know my mom at all was reminding his son about her, and I don't even remember us having a receiving line. It seriously took me the better part of a day to figure out why he was talking about my Mom.... or rather, that he wasn't talking about my Mom at all, but about his baby girl. But I wanted to tell you (the no one reading this) that story because I'm afraid I'll forget it, and for some reason it seems important. | | |
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