Expansion

Something strange has happened in the past few months. I've always enjoyed classical music, some more some less, but it's always been quite a passive enjoyment. My father frequently listens to various movie soundtracks while working away in his office. We used to blast the local classical station with the windows down in my high school parking lot, but that was just for the reaction of the other students. Once or twice we turned on the same station and narrated what we imagined the story of the current piece to be. It has never been a large part of my life though.

Last year we got the Twilight soundtrack. A few months ago we added New Moon. Both include some very lovely piano pieces. Muse's last album has a Chopin Nocturne as a song's outro, and Matthew Bellamy has incorporated classical piano into his songs on several occasions. That is where my craving began. It started with just piano, anything I could get my hands on, be it Rachmaninov, Beethoven, or even David Lanz. From there it has expanded. Last week my Mrs watched Pride and Prejudice while I did chemistry homework and I couldn't stop thinking about the music for days. I downloaded the soundtrack and gave it a number of spins over the subsequent days. I just can't get enough.

Never have I wished more that I could play the piano.

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Now playing: Various Artists - Dawn
By "Various Artists" they mean Jean-Yves Thibaudet
via FoxyTunes

I hate college kids

They drive me crazy. There are 3 main breeds:

The Career Student--
These are the ones who take one or two classes per semester, often working in no particular direction, and who will likely never earn an actual degree. They do this firstly so they can utilize the school as a social realm, mingling with others of their kind, having never moved past the high school state of mind, and secondly so they can avoid any actual responsibility in the world. "I can't get a full time job, I'm in school!" is a common thing to hear from them. They are also more often than not loud, obnoxious, and greasy/foul smelling.

The College Conformist--
These are the ones who live in a strange paradoxical world where nothing is more important than individuality, and individuality means being and thinking exactly the same as the rest of the herd. It is from this group that you find the blind "activist" preaching peace with Mao's Little Red Book in one hand and the Communist Manifesto in the other and wearing a Che t-shirt and never even blinking at the irony. You're likely to hear them say something like "the right are a bunch of fascists because they shut down free speech; we need to shut down Fox News and talk radio." This is also the group that includes the indie rocker, for whom quality of music comes secondary to the attitude with which it was written. You will overhear this explanation from one of them: "My favorite band is The Pants That Go On Pink. I'm sure you've never heard of them, they're totally underground. I know about them cuz I'm in college. They recorded their album gathered around a hand held tape recorder, it was such an amazing artistic idea. They never actually learned how to play their instruments either, that's what makes them such brilliant musicians." Finally this is the group containing the nebulous drifter. This is the one who just goes where the wind takes them. Their favorite music is whatever happens to be on the top 20, they wear whatever the TV tells them to, and speak with all the currently hip colloquialisms. They will say "did you see what that celebrity said on the reality show last night? I wouldn't have a life if I couldn't watch other people pretend they were living their normal life in front of cameras. I need to go potty, can someone please hold my hand?"

The University Type--
These ones are the extremely arrogant type who do things like write in the school newspaper but can't spell, punctuate, or construct a proper sentence, let alone string two together coherently. Yet they are far smarter than the rest of humanity. They comment too frequently in class, but don't have enough genuine wit or wisdom to spit at. This is the group I'm particularly upset with today. Let me tell you why. My chemistry teacher is perhaps lacking in social skills and charisma, but he knows chemistry very well, and clearly loves it. He is very meticulous in writing down everything we need to know. Yep, it can get pretty boring, but it's better than him moving so quickly through the subject matter that no one can possibly keep up. Occasionally he'll write something down incorrectly, and send all the "smart" kids into a frenzy. Today the problem was that his periodic table gave the atomic mass for flourine as 18.99 and ours was an even 19.00. It was pretty easy to see, since each piece of the equation was .01 grams off. Yet they all went nuts. In his most condescending voice one asked "how could the two flourine molecules have an atomic mass of 37.9 g when flourine is exactly 19 g? 19x2 is 38." He went on to do it every time it happened through the entire class. I wanted to shake him and yell "He's not an idiot, he's just looking at a table that didn't round the way ours did! Think for yourself man, or are you only the self proclaimed smartest person in the universe when the answers are being written down on the white board? Good job, you know 2nd grade math, here's a sticker! Did it ever occur to you that the guy with the Master's degree and a decade of experience also knows how to add?"

They're idiots, the lot of them.

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Now playing: South - Loosen Your Hold

via FoxyTunes

At Semester's End

There is something I hate.

It is that feeling at the end.

You want it to be over so badly, but you must endure.

The last push to the finish line.

I've been studying for some 8 hours.

And will do at least as much tomorrow.

The worst part is that it's all for just one class.

In the meantime, I've rediscovered Kasabian.

And found a great new Firefox extension, FoxyTunes.

Observe:

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Now playing: Kasabian - Reason Is Treason
via FoxyTunes

Census

Not the over-reaching, unconstitutional kind we'll all be forced by our overgrown government to participate in next year, just curious who reads this. So if you don't mind leaving a quick comment I would appreciate it.

And don't worry, I won't even threaten to jail you if you opt out.

Awake

...is not a word that should ever describe a three year old at 2300 hours. Nevertheless it does mine. He wants to sleep in my bed because Mommy's at work. When he sleeps in my bed however, no matter the distance between us initially, he invariably rolls over and proceeds to kick me in his sleep. He inherited that trait from his mother.

Often when he doesn't want to go to bed I will strike a bargain with him; if you lay quietly for ten minutes and don't fall asleep you can have the drink of water you've been asking for, for example. Well he just tried a bargain of his own: I lay down two minutes and if I'm still awake I can get in your bed! So I countered: You lay down and when you fall asleep if your still awake then you can get in my bed. He thought that was a great idea, and I haven't heard a peep since.

And Another V

I'Ve been worried for some time now. The kind of worry that you bury deep down and don't think about, under the premise that it will just stop. Then something sparks a memory and it drowns you again...

Some two years ago the In-Laws introduced me to the greatest teleVision program of all time: Lost. I became obsessed. I don't watch much TV, but when the right show comes along I tend to View it Voraciously with a Vim and Vigor I can't Very well eVade. I become Voracious in appetite and ViVacious in fan hood, Visiting Virtual Vestiges of Veneration and Vesting in Various Volitionary actiVities indicatiVe of my Vehemence.

So to what do I owe my worry? The next season of Lost is the last, and I haVe had nothing to replace it with when it's oVer.

Until now.

This week was the Virgin Voyage of a new Vessel Vying for my Virulent deVotion, Vis-aVis:

V

V

Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot;
I can think of no reason the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having.