The greatest stories come out of “what if” questions. Personally, I really like speculative fiction, especially parallel universe and time travel stories. They usually come out of the biggest “what if” questions. What if the Axis powers had won World War 2, or the Confederacy had won the Civil War? What if JFK were never assassinated? How would the world be different?
“What if” questions are also why I write romance, when I write anything non-academic (an increasingly rare occurrence). Since most of my what-ifs revolve around my love life (or lack thereof), my story writing is a way for me to come to terms with my own what-ifs. The biggest one is, of course, the summer before I went to Slovakia. What if I’d stayed in the US instead? My life would be incredibly different right now.*
What-ifs often present themselves right away. You walk away from a situation thinking, “Oh, I should have done x or said y”. You torture yourself for minutes, hours, or days with different variants of what you could have done or said to make things turn out differently. But the thing about what-ifs is that you can’t really evaluate them until time has passed, until your life has progressed beyond that turning point. I don’t want to get all fatalistic about stuff, but if things are meant to happen, they will happen. What-ifs suck at the time – and for years afterward in some cases – but in the end you may end up where you are supposed to be, even if it’s not where you planned and imagined.
And that’s why I write romances based (loosely) around my what-ifs. I love my life right here, right now, but I need to explore my what-ifs, and give myself a chance – even if it’s a fictional chance – to live out the life I am not leading.
*Of course, the what-if in that case has nothing to do with my actually going to Slovakia, since that was all in place before the what-if moment. But it’s complicated to explain without going into details, so it’s easier just to blame the what-if on Slovakia.
23 May 2009
04 May 2009
Scenarios
I really need to learn how to be ruder. Maybe ruder isn’t exactly the right word, but I really need to learn to speak up for myself, even when people say things that they think are innocuous, innocent, or helpful.
Scenario: I am getting ready to go to a ball. I am wearing a charcoal, shimmery dress. My toenails are painted bright green. I do not have a problem with this. I think it is unconventional, kind of creative, and honestly, I don’t care. My flat mates take one look at my toenails and inform me that I must change the colour. They will not take excuses. They give me their own nail polish. They do everything except paint them for me. They tell me that if I wear green, it will ruin my outfit. They do not listen to my statement of, “I don’t care.” They do not listen when I say that hardly anyone will be looking at my feet (“You’d be surprised.” “….I don’t care.”) They insist. I give in.
Scenario: I have hurt my foot, six days previously. It still hurts a bit to walk, and I want to get better quickly, so I am trying to stay off it as much as possible. A friend is having a birthday party at an unknown place in town. I decide not to go. I have warned the friend whose birthday it is that I might not be able to go. I text her before the party to tell her that I am not coming. She understands. My flat mates listen to my reasoning and tell me that I am stupid for not going, that I could go and “just sit” the whole time. My flat mates tell me that I should not “give up socializing” just because of the stress and pain.
Scenario: I have just started dating a guy I really, really like. Because of the aforementioned injury and our busy schedules, I am not going to see him for about ten days. I mention this to a flat mate. She tells me I should call him and invite him over. I say that he’s busy that night. She says I should invite him over after his rehearsal. I say that he’ll be tired. She says that if I won’t call him and invite him over, she will. I say no. She threatens to steal my phone and call him. I say no. She asks if my phone is in my room. I say no. She says that she’ll find it anyway and call him. I say no. Something of my anger must get through, because she stops then.
I suppose the main thing that I don’t understand, about any of these scenarios, is why my flat mates - all of whom are between five and eight years younger than I am - do not think that I am capable of making my own decisions about my appearance, my activities, and my relationship. I need to come up with a way to ask that question that doesn’t make it sound like I am attacking them - even if I am.
Scenario: I am getting ready to go to a ball. I am wearing a charcoal, shimmery dress. My toenails are painted bright green. I do not have a problem with this. I think it is unconventional, kind of creative, and honestly, I don’t care. My flat mates take one look at my toenails and inform me that I must change the colour. They will not take excuses. They give me their own nail polish. They do everything except paint them for me. They tell me that if I wear green, it will ruin my outfit. They do not listen to my statement of, “I don’t care.” They do not listen when I say that hardly anyone will be looking at my feet (“You’d be surprised.” “….I don’t care.”) They insist. I give in.
Scenario: I have hurt my foot, six days previously. It still hurts a bit to walk, and I want to get better quickly, so I am trying to stay off it as much as possible. A friend is having a birthday party at an unknown place in town. I decide not to go. I have warned the friend whose birthday it is that I might not be able to go. I text her before the party to tell her that I am not coming. She understands. My flat mates listen to my reasoning and tell me that I am stupid for not going, that I could go and “just sit” the whole time. My flat mates tell me that I should not “give up socializing” just because of the stress and pain.
Scenario: I have just started dating a guy I really, really like. Because of the aforementioned injury and our busy schedules, I am not going to see him for about ten days. I mention this to a flat mate. She tells me I should call him and invite him over. I say that he’s busy that night. She says I should invite him over after his rehearsal. I say that he’ll be tired. She says that if I won’t call him and invite him over, she will. I say no. She threatens to steal my phone and call him. I say no. She asks if my phone is in my room. I say no. She says that she’ll find it anyway and call him. I say no. Something of my anger must get through, because she stops then.
I suppose the main thing that I don’t understand, about any of these scenarios, is why my flat mates - all of whom are between five and eight years younger than I am - do not think that I am capable of making my own decisions about my appearance, my activities, and my relationship. I need to come up with a way to ask that question that doesn’t make it sound like I am attacking them - even if I am.
13 April 2009
Is “instant communication” destroying literature?
There was a column on the Huffington Post today, referring back to a column in the New York Times, about that very question. I went back and read the NYT article and it struck me as kind of whiny. “Poor me, I can’t use my contrived plot device in the cellphone era.” The basic argument is that many moments in great literature are born out of misunderstanding and miscommunication, and these moments can no longer happen in the technologically advanced world that we live in today.
I call foul on this argument. It assumes is that the communication medium is the communication, and that is simply not true. Just because it is easy (well, easier) to get in touch with someone doesn’t mean that you will.
Let’s take the examples that the writers give, one by one. Casablanca – Ilsa could have sent Rick a message (presumably either text or voicemail) explaining why she stood him up at the train station. OK, fine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Casablanca, so someone will have to remind me. Did Victor Lazlo come to Paris to find her, or did she just find out that he was alive? If he came to Paris to find her, when exactly would she have left Rick the message? “Sorry, honey, glad you’re not dead, but give me just a second to finish texting my new boyfriend.” If she was going to do that, she might as well have just gone to the train station and explained to Rick in person. [Actually, the same argument applies if someone else told her that he’s still alive.]
Misunderstanding in Shakespeare’s comedies could be cleared up with an IM – are you a boy or a girl. Again, if that is a possibility, what is stopping the character from asking straight out? Besides, in most of the cross-dressing comedies that I can think of, it doesn’t even occur to anyone that cross-dressing is happening until it is revealed at the end.
Romeo and Juliet could have texted each other about the faking-the-death plan. That one is a little bit trickier to get around, but just as technology could “solve” the problem, technology could make it continue. Juliet’s mother could have confiscated her phone. Romeo was in exile and “out of service area”. The phone had run out of battery (it’s not like they had any time to charge their devices in the three days they spent together).
And the one that is so clearly not a technological communication issue: Pride and Prejudice. If only Lizzie had been able to get in touch with Mr. Darcy! But to do what, exactly? “Sorry I turned down your proposal…now that I’ve seen your house I’ve changed my mind?” Clearly Pride and Prejudice would never work in the modern world. It’s not a story that has been redone over and over and over again, including 21st century versions at all.(/sarcasm)
I suppose my point is that good literature is character-based, not technology-based. Even in this world of almost instant and constant communication, misunderstandings and miscommunications are going to happen. Phones die, or get stolen, or run out of credit. Calls are dropped as you travel through a tunnel or through an old stone building. You travel out of the country without international service. You don’t have access to a computer to check your email or facebook or other messages. You don’t pick up on the emotional nuances of an email or a text. Voicemails are delayed. But what the story comes down to is character. If the character wants to get in touch with someone, they will find a way, whether it’s 2009 or 1809 or 509. Complaining that today’s technology makes writing good literature impossible just shows a lack of creativity.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/12/weekinreview/12richtel.html?_r=1
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kim-stolz/is-the-internet-ruining-e_b_186041.html
I call foul on this argument. It assumes is that the communication medium is the communication, and that is simply not true. Just because it is easy (well, easier) to get in touch with someone doesn’t mean that you will.
Let’s take the examples that the writers give, one by one. Casablanca – Ilsa could have sent Rick a message (presumably either text or voicemail) explaining why she stood him up at the train station. OK, fine. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Casablanca, so someone will have to remind me. Did Victor Lazlo come to Paris to find her, or did she just find out that he was alive? If he came to Paris to find her, when exactly would she have left Rick the message? “Sorry, honey, glad you’re not dead, but give me just a second to finish texting my new boyfriend.” If she was going to do that, she might as well have just gone to the train station and explained to Rick in person. [Actually, the same argument applies if someone else told her that he’s still alive.]
Misunderstanding in Shakespeare’s comedies could be cleared up with an IM – are you a boy or a girl. Again, if that is a possibility, what is stopping the character from asking straight out? Besides, in most of the cross-dressing comedies that I can think of, it doesn’t even occur to anyone that cross-dressing is happening until it is revealed at the end.
Romeo and Juliet could have texted each other about the faking-the-death plan. That one is a little bit trickier to get around, but just as technology could “solve” the problem, technology could make it continue. Juliet’s mother could have confiscated her phone. Romeo was in exile and “out of service area”. The phone had run out of battery (it’s not like they had any time to charge their devices in the three days they spent together).
And the one that is so clearly not a technological communication issue: Pride and Prejudice. If only Lizzie had been able to get in touch with Mr. Darcy! But to do what, exactly? “Sorry I turned down your proposal…now that I’ve seen your house I’ve changed my mind?” Clearly Pride and Prejudice would never work in the modern world. It’s not a story that has been redone over and over and over again, including 21st century versions at all.(/sarcasm)
I suppose my point is that good literature is character-based, not technology-based. Even in this world of almost instant and constant communication, misunderstandings and miscommunications are going to happen. Phones die, or get stolen, or run out of credit. Calls are dropped as you travel through a tunnel or through an old stone building. You travel out of the country without international service. You don’t have access to a computer to check your email or facebook or other messages. You don’t pick up on the emotional nuances of an email or a text. Voicemails are delayed. But what the story comes down to is character. If the character wants to get in touch with someone, they will find a way, whether it’s 2009 or 1809 or 509. Complaining that today’s technology makes writing good literature impossible just shows a lack of creativity.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/12/weekinreview/12richtel.html?_r=1
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kim-stolz/is-the-internet-ruining-e_b_186041.html
20 March 2009
Socialisation
Social groups are interesting. In one of my favourite books, set at a college, the main character thinks at one point about how you become “friends with people you can't even stand half the time, and can't understand even when you do.” [This may not be the exact quote – I don't have the book in front of me.] I did not understand this in high school, or in college. “Why,” I thought, “would you be friends with people you don't like? Surely friendships are one form of relationship that depends on mutual liking? After all, you can't choose your family and you can't choose your co-workers, but you can choose your friends. Why would you choose to socialize with people you don't like?”
After the last few years, I understand it a little bit more. I still don't have people that I don't like that I would consider friends, but I do have social groups made up of people I don't like. This was especially true in Slovakia. Good Lord, anyone who knew me in 2005-06 knows that this is true. It is one of the reasons I left Tisovec. It is starting to become true again here, although I'm trying to avoid it or counteract it as much as I can.
I love my flatmates, I really do. I am so grateful that I got this group of girls to live with. I know how rare it is to actually get along with and socialize with your flatmates in randomly assigned university accommodation. Some of the most fun times I've had this year have been with my flatmates. My flatmates' social group is also made up of a majority of lovely people – when they're on their own. I do have a few problems with my flatmates' social group – which is, by extension, my social group. For one, it's flipping huge. A lot of them went to the Easter Formal ten days ago, and there were twenty people there. And that was not all of them. The other, more significant problem, is that when they drink, they are loud. And they drink a lot. And until last week, they would come to ours after the bars closed. I cannot think of a time that I was woken up or kept from falling asleep by loud drunk people in our hallway, bedrooms, or kitchen that it was not this particular group. They do always say that they are sorry – well, my flatmates always say that they are sorry – but I have reached the point where that's not good enough any more. “Sorry” involves not just acknowledgement that you've done something wrong, but an implicit agreement to at least TRY not to do it again. They usually realize that they've done something wrong, but the next time they go for a night out the same thing happens. The worst night yet was after the aforementioned Easter Formal, when I was kept awake until nearly four, couldn't hear the music two inches from my head because of the music coming from the absolute other end of the flat, people were literally throwing each other around the hallway, the “attic” was discovered, and three of my flatmates got noise warnings on their room. It was the worst night not just because of these things – although those would probably be enough – but just because it was the last straw for me when it comes to socializing with these people as a big group.
Tonight, those people are all out. It's a joint birthday party for one of my flatmates (the one I have a relatively low tolerance for) and one of the guys in the group, and it is also a celebration of the end of term/beginning of Easter holidays. I am not there. I am okay with this decision. There are lots of reasons why. I've had a very busy few weeks, and I need some time to myself. I'm not feeling completely well, and I have a job to do tomorrow (an actual paid one!). I don't enjoy nights where the goal of going out is to get trashed. But most of all, I don't deal well with huge groups, and I really don't like this particular huge group. Especially right now, when it hasn't been long enough for me to get over my complete and total anger and frustration at the sheer gall of how inconsiderate they are every single time they come over. I can hold grudges for a very long time, and I was very angry. I'm sure that I will get over it in another week or so and be able to enjoy their company again, but tonight is not that night.
After the last few years, I understand it a little bit more. I still don't have people that I don't like that I would consider friends, but I do have social groups made up of people I don't like. This was especially true in Slovakia. Good Lord, anyone who knew me in 2005-06 knows that this is true. It is one of the reasons I left Tisovec. It is starting to become true again here, although I'm trying to avoid it or counteract it as much as I can.
I love my flatmates, I really do. I am so grateful that I got this group of girls to live with. I know how rare it is to actually get along with and socialize with your flatmates in randomly assigned university accommodation. Some of the most fun times I've had this year have been with my flatmates. My flatmates' social group is also made up of a majority of lovely people – when they're on their own. I do have a few problems with my flatmates' social group – which is, by extension, my social group. For one, it's flipping huge. A lot of them went to the Easter Formal ten days ago, and there were twenty people there. And that was not all of them. The other, more significant problem, is that when they drink, they are loud. And they drink a lot. And until last week, they would come to ours after the bars closed. I cannot think of a time that I was woken up or kept from falling asleep by loud drunk people in our hallway, bedrooms, or kitchen that it was not this particular group. They do always say that they are sorry – well, my flatmates always say that they are sorry – but I have reached the point where that's not good enough any more. “Sorry” involves not just acknowledgement that you've done something wrong, but an implicit agreement to at least TRY not to do it again. They usually realize that they've done something wrong, but the next time they go for a night out the same thing happens. The worst night yet was after the aforementioned Easter Formal, when I was kept awake until nearly four, couldn't hear the music two inches from my head because of the music coming from the absolute other end of the flat, people were literally throwing each other around the hallway, the “attic” was discovered, and three of my flatmates got noise warnings on their room. It was the worst night not just because of these things – although those would probably be enough – but just because it was the last straw for me when it comes to socializing with these people as a big group.
Tonight, those people are all out. It's a joint birthday party for one of my flatmates (the one I have a relatively low tolerance for) and one of the guys in the group, and it is also a celebration of the end of term/beginning of Easter holidays. I am not there. I am okay with this decision. There are lots of reasons why. I've had a very busy few weeks, and I need some time to myself. I'm not feeling completely well, and I have a job to do tomorrow (an actual paid one!). I don't enjoy nights where the goal of going out is to get trashed. But most of all, I don't deal well with huge groups, and I really don't like this particular huge group. Especially right now, when it hasn't been long enough for me to get over my complete and total anger and frustration at the sheer gall of how inconsiderate they are every single time they come over. I can hold grudges for a very long time, and I was very angry. I'm sure that I will get over it in another week or so and be able to enjoy their company again, but tonight is not that night.
10 March 2009
There is a spider in my room, somewhere. It is a medium-sized black spider that scurries quite quickly. First it was on my duvet, then on my actual bed, and then I lost it.
Now, I am the first to admit that I don't deal well with things that have more limbs than I do (aka insects, arachnids, and things of that ilk. I do okay with 4 legs or 2 legs, for the most part. Just not more). Over the years, however, I have learned to control my sheer panic. I would really like to maneuver the spider onto a paper and release it out the window. Unfortunately it takes a bit of time for me to recover from the startle of seeing a scurrying spider, and by the time that my heart rate returns to normal and my brain resumes functioning, the spider has vanished.
Now, I am the first to admit that I don't deal well with things that have more limbs than I do (aka insects, arachnids, and things of that ilk. I do okay with 4 legs or 2 legs, for the most part. Just not more). Over the years, however, I have learned to control my sheer panic. I would really like to maneuver the spider onto a paper and release it out the window. Unfortunately it takes a bit of time for me to recover from the startle of seeing a scurrying spider, and by the time that my heart rate returns to normal and my brain resumes functioning, the spider has vanished.
21 February 2009
My seventh Carmen
I think my standards are too high. After having seen this show so many times, and listening to the album even more times, it really takes something special to get my attention. This wasn't it. It wasn't a terrible production of Carmen last night at the Theatre Royal. It just wasn't that great either.
I am afraid this post is going to seem really harsh. There were a lot of things that did not work well in this production. But, honestly, it wasn't a bad production. It was just average.
One of the things that was advertised about this production was the amphitheatre staging - creating a bullring on stage, won't that be exciting! - and the flamenco dancing. This is one of the things that could have been so, so cool. It wasn't. Before the Prelude started, a brass choir came out and played something I didn't recognize as bullfighters of all kinds (matadors, picadors, etc.) walked around the stage. They kept doffing their hats to the audience - I'm not sure if they expected us to cheer or not, but we didn't. And that was all for the bullring. The flamenco was a little bit more involved in the production, but still not as much or as well as I expected. The dancer was in the Act One prelude during the Fate theme, and then was kind of the representation of Carmen's death, so during Act Three "Melons, Coupons" and in Act Four when she actually dies (and even after - they added a dirge at the end while Carmen's body is being carried out). This is where I think my high standards are too high. If I'd never seen Carmen before, I probably would have thought the dancing was really cool. From my perspective, though, it didn't go nearly far enough. (The bullring, on the other hand, definitely felt more like a "LOOK WHAT WE CAN DO" than something that added to the performance.)
Now, here's where it's going to get harsh. There were serious, serious problems (that I had) with the performance itself. Some of the singers sang too much to the audience - they didn't feel like part of the scene. It was especially bad for Micaela in Act One and the smugglers in Act Two. They're supposed to be interacting with the other characters, not just telling us what's going on. It's something really shows the youth of this particular group. The acting in general was not great - Jose was probably the best.
The seduction scene(s) in Act One were really good, although Carmen was juuuust this side of tasteless and reminded me a few times of the LCO production (see my previous post about Carmen). She managed to pull it off, though. It did help that this Micaela was so clearly a girl from the village who had a hero-worship crush on Jose, and he so clearly did not love her except as a messenger from his mother. It makes it a lot easier for him to abandon her if he doesn't actually love her.
They made quite a few cuts as well, some of which made me go, "But I thought....what?" I can understand cutting the youth chorus at the changing of the guard. I can't understand cutting out the "L'amour"s in "Votre toast" - it's where Carmen first really catches Escamillo's eye! It's kind of an important moment! - or the ACT TWO AND ACT THREE ENTR'ACTES. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE. ACT THREE HAS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FLUTE PARTS IN MUSICAL HISTORY!!!! WHY????!!!!!
Sorry.
Another distracting thing was in "Melons! Coupons!" which is one of my favourite songs in Act Three. Frasquita and Mercedes and Carmen clearly had NO IDEA what "card-reading" meant. They were using playing cards and just tossing them down on their shawls one after another. Do they not listen to the words they are singing? Three cards here, four here. Not fifty-two cards in a pile. And if you're going to use the playing cards, make it consistent. The two or three of diamonds? (A low-numbered red card, at least?) NOT THE DEATH CARD. It's supposed to be serious and ominous and whatever, and I was just going, "Um.....no. This is ridiculous."
But that's not the worst part. The worst part was that the orchestra and the vocalists had the WORST time staying together. I couldn't see the conductor (or the orchestra at all) from where I was sitting so I don't know whether it was a problem with the orchestra or a problem with the singers, but it was definitely a problem. Any time there was a song involving more than a soloist, someone would be off. The worst was, again, in "Melons! Coupons!" when the singers were a full measure ahead of the orchestra. A FULL MEASURE. It was so, so distracting.
It wasn't a terrible performance. It wasn't even the worst performance of Carmen I've ever seen. Actually, no, it probably was, because all the others (except possibly the one here in Nottingham seven or eight years ago that I don't remember any details of) had something spectacular about them. This one was however the most consistently average production that I've ever seen. I'm glad I went - I always enjoy seeing Carmen and it's better to watch opera than just to listen to it - but I wouldn't recommend it, necessarily.
I am afraid this post is going to seem really harsh. There were a lot of things that did not work well in this production. But, honestly, it wasn't a bad production. It was just average.
One of the things that was advertised about this production was the amphitheatre staging - creating a bullring on stage, won't that be exciting! - and the flamenco dancing. This is one of the things that could have been so, so cool. It wasn't. Before the Prelude started, a brass choir came out and played something I didn't recognize as bullfighters of all kinds (matadors, picadors, etc.) walked around the stage. They kept doffing their hats to the audience - I'm not sure if they expected us to cheer or not, but we didn't. And that was all for the bullring. The flamenco was a little bit more involved in the production, but still not as much or as well as I expected. The dancer was in the Act One prelude during the Fate theme, and then was kind of the representation of Carmen's death, so during Act Three "Melons, Coupons" and in Act Four when she actually dies (and even after - they added a dirge at the end while Carmen's body is being carried out). This is where I think my high standards are too high. If I'd never seen Carmen before, I probably would have thought the dancing was really cool. From my perspective, though, it didn't go nearly far enough. (The bullring, on the other hand, definitely felt more like a "LOOK WHAT WE CAN DO" than something that added to the performance.)
Now, here's where it's going to get harsh. There were serious, serious problems (that I had) with the performance itself. Some of the singers sang too much to the audience - they didn't feel like part of the scene. It was especially bad for Micaela in Act One and the smugglers in Act Two. They're supposed to be interacting with the other characters, not just telling us what's going on. It's something really shows the youth of this particular group. The acting in general was not great - Jose was probably the best.
The seduction scene(s) in Act One were really good, although Carmen was juuuust this side of tasteless and reminded me a few times of the LCO production (see my previous post about Carmen). She managed to pull it off, though. It did help that this Micaela was so clearly a girl from the village who had a hero-worship crush on Jose, and he so clearly did not love her except as a messenger from his mother. It makes it a lot easier for him to abandon her if he doesn't actually love her.
They made quite a few cuts as well, some of which made me go, "But I thought....what?" I can understand cutting the youth chorus at the changing of the guard. I can't understand cutting out the "L'amour"s in "Votre toast" - it's where Carmen first really catches Escamillo's eye! It's kind of an important moment! - or the ACT TWO AND ACT THREE ENTR'ACTES. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE. ACT THREE HAS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FLUTE PARTS IN MUSICAL HISTORY!!!! WHY????!!!!!
Sorry.
Another distracting thing was in "Melons! Coupons!" which is one of my favourite songs in Act Three. Frasquita and Mercedes and Carmen clearly had NO IDEA what "card-reading" meant. They were using playing cards and just tossing them down on their shawls one after another. Do they not listen to the words they are singing? Three cards here, four here. Not fifty-two cards in a pile. And if you're going to use the playing cards, make it consistent. The two or three of diamonds? (A low-numbered red card, at least?) NOT THE DEATH CARD. It's supposed to be serious and ominous and whatever, and I was just going, "Um.....no. This is ridiculous."
But that's not the worst part. The worst part was that the orchestra and the vocalists had the WORST time staying together. I couldn't see the conductor (or the orchestra at all) from where I was sitting so I don't know whether it was a problem with the orchestra or a problem with the singers, but it was definitely a problem. Any time there was a song involving more than a soloist, someone would be off. The worst was, again, in "Melons! Coupons!" when the singers were a full measure ahead of the orchestra. A FULL MEASURE. It was so, so distracting.
It wasn't a terrible performance. It wasn't even the worst performance of Carmen I've ever seen. Actually, no, it probably was, because all the others (except possibly the one here in Nottingham seven or eight years ago that I don't remember any details of) had something spectacular about them. This one was however the most consistently average production that I've ever seen. I'm glad I went - I always enjoy seeing Carmen and it's better to watch opera than just to listen to it - but I wouldn't recommend it, necessarily.
19 February 2009
Poetry day! request
I have learned that I work better to external pressure. If I am the one who sets a goal, it's far too easy to say, "well, it doesn't matter that much." Now, I do want to do more poetry analysis - I like poetry, a lot, and think that it doesn't have to be as obscure and difficult as some people think - but I would like suggestions. If it's just up to me, I'll get distracted and overwhelmed by schoolwork and not seek out anything new. So if you have a favourite poem or fifteen that you want me to read and comment on, leave me a comment or send me an email or post on my facebook wall or catch me on Twitter (yes, I'm on Twitter now) and I'll get to it as soon as I can. Cool? Cool.
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