Okay. I'm sorry. I'm writing again the day after my last post and I'm not quite sure what is happening to me; such newfound dedication placed upon me overnight (literally). But this post will, just to warn you, bore you to death - grammar Nazis, read on. Everyone else, back away slowly, attempting to cover your eyes and ears with your mere two hands, whilst humming loudly to block out the despicable sounds of grammar gunfire. Run for your lives!
Grammar is important. I wonder if all those people who claim to 'love' England and our culture, who speak disdainfully of immigrants (legal or otherwise) - you know the sort; the irritating ones who act like they know everything - I wonder if they can use our language properly. I wonder if they can punctuate correctly and, if they can't and have no intention of learning to do so, I wonder if they have ever considered that it is not just foreign people destroying England's elusive culture.
I'm pretty sure that England is one of the most multicultural countries in the world - though of course I'm not positive - and I'm not opposed to foreigners living here. Actually I believe that it opens our minds to other people's ways of life and therefore encourages empathy, which is never a bad thing. However, I do think that if people are going to live here in the UK, they should learn English and they shouldn't try to push their own cultures onto us. I mean, if I moved to another country, I would respect that it's going to be different to what I'm used to and therefore try to learn to share that way of life. I'd want to. It's just simple respect.
Anyway, this post isn't about my views on this subject. It's about grammar and the English language - language in general, actually, as I'm sure it's the same in other areas around the world. When I've learned enough languages to know for sure, I'll drop you a line.
I'm too young to frequently occupy pubs - shame really, as they can provide such good eavesdropping material - but if you're ever in London at night, walking past the window of an establishment in which alcohol flows freely, you may hear, between the outbursts of raucous laughter, the odd voice mouthing off about 'asylum seekers' this and 'bloody Polish' that. The thing is, many of these anonymous voices aren't exactly skilled in the complex ways of spoken English themselves; maybe it's a dialect thing, or maybe it's just an education thing. Either way, the English are also destroying their own culture - by causing the death of their own language.
You walk through the street and you see signs in shop windows advertising DVD's, CD's, and even, most horrifyingly, BOOK's. Sometimes people leave the S uppercase, implying that that's an initial too: DVD'S.
Then, when you've passed the entertainment shop, you're invited to come in for cake's and maybe a cup of coffea or hot choclate. Doesn't it just make you want to scream or perhaps whip out your red pen and start scribbling?
Even when you Google 'grammar mistakes', you're presented with a wide array of suggestions with similar titles to 'grammar mistakes that make you look stupid' - an example itself of its title. That should be 'which', not 'that', you knob.
An infuriating popular misconception is that teenagers are bad at spelling. Spelling and grammar are not something that, once you reach twenty, you suddenly find yourself with an aptitude for. How old am I? I'm seventeen. I will never send an email or a text, never post a Facebook status, never write anything without full standard grammar and correct spelling. For as long as I can remember, I've had a passion and a love for grammar - call me a nerd if you want to. It doesn't matter to me. Why should I feel embarrassed because I'm good at writing properly? Why should I be ashamed when I self consciously point out a mistake in a friend's work? They should appreciate that all I'm trying to do is raise the standard of English in their writing; not only will that make them look more intelligent, it will also mean that they don't lose marks for having mistakes in their homework. Being able to spell and punctuate correctly is a talent, and in the words of Wicked's Madame Morrible, never apologize for talent.
Text abbreviations have got rarer in younger generations now. They were widely used throughout the early years of mobile phones, when every character would cost more money, but that isn't the case anymore and so people are beginning to write more fully. However, many adults with older phones still have to put up with this and still abbreviate, making the idea of teenagers abbreviating more absolute bollocks. My father shortens words much more than I do when texting (not hard, since I don't do it at all) and I'm sure my mum would too, if she were actually able to write a text. Bless her. Actually, the technique of abbreviating words has been around since the Victorian era... I wonder if Vicky sat on her throne, scratching out 'Im nt amused' with her ink and feather. But, thinking about it, abbreviations are what occurs when one removes letters from a word, are they not? Not just any old letters, but vowels. And if abbreviations are making people 'stupid', 'illiterate', and mean that 'people don't know how to spell', then tell me: how do people know which letters to remove in the first place?
On that note, why is bad grammar acceptable in songs? It's like people just gloss over it, forget it, don't even notice it. What's happening to songwriters which means they're incapable of putting a full sentence in a song, minus an 'ain't' or a 'baby' to fill a space? Do they not realize that words are just about the most powerful weapon one could ever use? A well thought out cluster of words can pack more of a punch than any fist, no matter how toned up the arm it belongs to, and music is supposed to be able to inspire, awaken, destroy. No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. But really - how are we supposed to be inspired by 'music' when all it talks about is how much the singer wants sex, or how brokenhearted Justin Bieber is? For me, bad grammar makes a song unable to be taken seriously, and it's really not hard to compose a sentence which actually means something. If I can't fit a sentence in a song I'm writing, I rephrase it. You don't have to resort to non standard grammar to make it work, because let me tell you - it doesn't.
For the record, 'lose' has one O. 'Loose' has two. 'Lose' and 'loose' are NOT the same word. Also, what is with people's inability to spell 'all right'? 'All right' is TWO words. It is not spelled 'alright'. Same, but opposite, with 'already'. 'Already' is one word; not spelled 'all ready'. I can see how they can be confused, but they are different words with different meanings. Getting words confused can have drastic consequences - I remember when, in year ten, my English teacher attempted to demonstrate this by showing us two real life examples from exam papers:
Instead of writing 'he heard the sound of heavy breathing above him', the student got 'breathing' muddled with 'breeding', resulting in this sentence:
'He heard the sound of heavy breeding above him.'
Another student managed to mix up 'matting' with 'mating' whilst writing 'there was rough matting on the floor', and he ended up with:
'There was rough mating on the floor.'
So you see my point? Learn to spell, guys. Grab a dictionary, for the good of the human race.
Molly x
Friday 23 July 2010
Thursday 22 July 2010
July 22nd: Learn to breathe again, see again...
Unbelievable. I'm here posting again after only one day - wonders will never cease. Don't worry, this definitely won't be as long as yesterday's post; you can't cram all that much crap's worth into twenty four hours. And trust me, I'm just as thankful as you are for that. My arms haven't quite recovered yet.
But I feel like writing, and who better to listen than my long suffering blog? As Zoe pointed out yesterday, there is nobody better than a blog or a diary to listen to your celebrations or complaints; a blog is never bored, will never judge you, and will always be happy to hear what you have to say. Its mere purpose in existing is to absorb the happenings of your mind and, if you wish it so, to share them with others. It almost makes the Internet seem a friendly place, does it not?
The title of this blog post is a line from the chorus of my song, by the way, as everyone reading this will probably already know. The song has got such a great reception - I never expected this much love for it. It's so amazing how much people seem to like it!
So today was our epic picnic - and it was so much fun. We all met up at my mum's other house since it looked like rain and we didn't feel like risking it. It did rain actually - heavily - and Lauren and I went out and danced in it and got suitably soaked. I actually tripped over a step and went plunging into a bush... very smooth. Still, then we all ended up dancing like a load of knobs (or 'hobknobs', as we've become known to each other) and it was all rather hilarious. I'll probably write more on this in the future but I just can't be bothered right now... the urge to write abruptly disappeared an hour or so ago. Still.
It's strange how spending money is so much easier in a foreign currency. I mean it's obviously because you're not so aware of the value, but even so, it's quite drastic how much more I spend on holiday than when I'm at home.
More soon,
(Promise.)
Molly x
But I feel like writing, and who better to listen than my long suffering blog? As Zoe pointed out yesterday, there is nobody better than a blog or a diary to listen to your celebrations or complaints; a blog is never bored, will never judge you, and will always be happy to hear what you have to say. Its mere purpose in existing is to absorb the happenings of your mind and, if you wish it so, to share them with others. It almost makes the Internet seem a friendly place, does it not?
The title of this blog post is a line from the chorus of my song, by the way, as everyone reading this will probably already know. The song has got such a great reception - I never expected this much love for it. It's so amazing how much people seem to like it!
So today was our epic picnic - and it was so much fun. We all met up at my mum's other house since it looked like rain and we didn't feel like risking it. It did rain actually - heavily - and Lauren and I went out and danced in it and got suitably soaked. I actually tripped over a step and went plunging into a bush... very smooth. Still, then we all ended up dancing like a load of knobs (or 'hobknobs', as we've become known to each other) and it was all rather hilarious. I'll probably write more on this in the future but I just can't be bothered right now... the urge to write abruptly disappeared an hour or so ago. Still.
It's strange how spending money is so much easier in a foreign currency. I mean it's obviously because you're not so aware of the value, but even so, it's quite drastic how much more I spend on holiday than when I'm at home.
More soon,
(Promise.)
Molly x
Wednesday 21 July 2010
July 21st: Reaching for the stars is making my arms ache.
Trust me, those stars are a long way up, and I'm prone to short limbs.
I've got a lot to tell you. More happens in summer, it seems, than when one is stuck in a classroom at college, being taught how to live life instead of actually living it. Although perhaps that's a little harsh... college only adds more clay to the sculpture so accurately created by the mould of compulsory education.
I don't really know where that little outburst came from. It's not like I'm against education or anything - in fact I love to learn things, as long as they're things in which I have or possibly could have an interest or passion.
But moving on.
I was going to talk about the English trip, wasn't I? Said I'd tell you 'tomorrow'. Oh, that optimistic phrase 'I'll do it tomorrow' - who has faith in that phrase anymore? Yet we keep saying it and hoping that this will be the time we actually will do our homework, tidy our rooms or start that ever-impending diet. And here I am talking in the style of the infamous full marks English piece again; well, why not? Clearly I can do it at least half way decently. (Actually, when I went to visit my grandparents in Scotland last week and showed them that piece on my BlackBerry, they said they'd have given me twenty-nine - and I think I agree. What's perfect, after all? Still, it's definitely a nice thought.)
Ugh, 'nice'. I've been saying that way too much lately. 'Nice' and 'amazing' were last week's words of choice - my in-brain thesaurus seems to have shrunk to encompass the wide range of a whole two words. Hopefully it'll make a comeback soon; it would be massively appreciated, brain.
I seem to be taking my time to write my news down today. I should probably get on with it, since there's quite a bit, and knowing me I'll be procrastinating all the way through this post. A bit of Twitter here, Facebook there... oh, I wonder if I've got a hugely important email which could mean the difference between life and death? Better check Hotmail. And so the cycle begins again.
And for the record, I never have. Got that elusive urgent email, that is.
Aaaaanyway. Moving on.
You know that when I have this much to say I have to write it all down in a Notepad document before I start so that I don't miss anything? Today my Notepad has ten items in it - although some of them are probably only worth a line or two. Just to warn you of the immensity of this post.
So, it begins. English trip. Well, that's actually the origin of the phrase 'woopus to the maximus', as mentioned in my last post. Basically, I was on the train, and Charlotte was getting on at the next station, and we were BBMing on our BlackBerries (I've got a BlackBerry now, did I mention it? As in "It's a BlackBerry. I have a BlackBerry now. BlackBerries are cool." Yes, fellow Doctor Who fans, you may recognize that. And, much as I dislike being a sheep - no, not literally -, these phones are epic. They do everything.) and she said 'I can see the train!' and I replied 'woopus maximus!' - I'm not sure where it came from, but it happened. So then we added 'to the' in the middle and there you have it. The world's most awesome phrase.
ANYWAY. When we got to London (our trip was to the British Library and no, it wasn't as boring as it sounds) it took us about half an hour to find the bloody place - we thought we'd found it, sat there for fifteen minutes wondering why nobody else was coming, and then turned around and saw it across the road. Even so, there was only one person there before us (and thank God she was - a familiar face was exactly what we needed to see then).
But everyone else got there soon enough, and when we were all gathered around, our teachers broke the tragic news that the tour had been cancelled and so we were just allowed to go and look around ourselves. Actually most of the thirteen people with us evaporated in the first section... and let's face it, they weren't going to other places in the library. But some of us stayed - at one point we were reading (well, I say reading, but it was more like ogling) the first Beowulf text, which is obviously in very, very old English, being the first recorded writing. We were trying to translate some of it and I picked up on a few words - Hannah said 'Ooh, you're good!' and then to Shirley (other teacher) she said 'Make a note of this one, she's good for A2' - which absolutely made my day. As Hannah frequently does.
There was another time later on when we were looking at a massive map and I said 'Is that Dutch at the top?' and it was and Hannah called me a brainbox... again, my day was made. I'm just quite adept at recognising written languages because of all my foreign friends - I wish it were the same for spoken languages, but unfortunately I suck at that.
And is this the British Library's idea of seating? If so, I quite like it. wonder where they get them from.
http://twitpic.com/217aeh
So after we'd looked around the library, Jess and Yasmin went their separate ways and Subi, Charlotte, Tom and I continued on to Camden market, where we ate 'sick on rice' for lunch (don't think I don't know, Charlotte), otherwise known as Indian food - which was a lot nicer than it looked, but our dear snobby friend here wouldn't try it. Subi and I were determined to haggle, which we eventually did on this dress (ignore the picture, I'll explain later, but the dress is there):
http://twitpic.com/250nyh
And then after that, we satisfied Charlotte's insatiable thirst for poshness with a trip to Notting Hill and the non-existent Portobello market - there was absolutely nothing there! Unless you count a few stalls. But it was fun. Although we had an interesting job trying to find the station again; in the end we had to give up and hail a taxi. Of course there were none around... but at last, finally, one appeared and we jumped about like loons, arms in the air, doing exactly the kind of embarrassing, uncool thing which alerts Londoners that we are tourists in the capital city of our own country.
That was the day the man jumped in front of the train at Twyford, so of course there were train delays, and when it finally did deign to turn up it was packed and boiling hot. I had a chav standing next to me reading Great Expectations - a definite hmm there.
So the next thing to talk about, I suppose, is the last day of term. There wasn't really much point even going into college for it; I had a free, then tutor, then a media lesson in which we did absolutely nothing but talk about random stuff the whole time. Although Laura and I lingered for ages after tutor to talk to Hannah about 'universities' - a perfect excuse just to hang out for a bit. I swear all my friends think I'm sucking up just because I happened to give her a box of Maltesers. I mean, you used to do that to all your teachers at primary school, right? And none of them were even half as awesome as Hannah is. Okay, so maybe I was sucking up a little bit. Still, it works; I'm the only person she's told their coursework grade, even if Shirley's told a few of her students too. Anyway so we were talking to Hannah and right when I was leaving to go up the hill for media I said 'You have to keep tweeting over summer, because I'm going to miss you'... which is not embarrassing at all. No, really. But I actually felt quite a large sense of disappointment when the day finished. I love college, despite, you know, the whole lessons aspect of it. Or maybe because of it. But I did miss it for the first few days of the holiday - still, end of college depression (a very oxymoronic concept) is nothing an epic sleepover can't sort out.
When my grandad died, he left my mum some money, which with she bought a small house in Goring ready to rent out. We have to have some work done to this new house, which is why it doesn't have any tenants yet, and my mum said that as an end of term celebration I could hold a sleepover there. So we did. There were four of us - Becky, Charlotte, Lauren and I; the other knobs couldn't make it - and we spent our time on some seriously epic activities like going out for Chinese (after we got Charlotte to agree), playing Monopoly (which I lost dramatically), watching School of Rock and What Happens in Vegas and just generally stuffing our faces and getting four hours' sleep... not a wise thing to do if you're babysitting until midnight the next day. Trust my wisdom. But it was so much fun, a fabulous way to celebrate, and now there are some... pretty indescribable photos on the old Faceybee. A necessary part of any event.
Next up is my trip to Scotland. My dad's dad and my step-grandma (who will henceforth be known as Jenny) run a small giftshop in the Highlands selling Jenny's artwork and other things. They have this little/big music community up there, including a recording studio in the house of Steve, one of their friends, my use of which has been in the pipeline since at least last year. However this time was the time it all kicked off, as you're about to find out.
So I flew up via sardineJet (easyJet's new name - if you've ever been inside one of their planes you'll know what I mean) on Saturday the 10th July 2010. On the Sunday, after seeing one of Jenny's friends in the morning, Hannah-the-guitarist came over to meet me and get some musical collaboration done. It took us about an hour to choose a song in the first place, but after we had, it all moved pretty quickly - Hannah started fiddling with her guitar and she'd made up a tune within about five seconds. I then sang along to that and within about three hours we'd got the basic tune of our song, which is called 'At Last'. We recorded it using a webcam just so that we'd remember how it goes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoSKqi0SxoM&feature=email
It's already changed so much since then. It's got faster for a start and some of the lines have changed. Anyway so the next day Hannah came over in the evening after work and we headed off to Steve's to record it. His studio was amazing. All this equipment, guitars, microphones.... sloping walls with soundproof padding on them and - get this - an actual glass room. A glass room where the musician goes and on the other side he sits with his computers, recording us. I had to wear headphones and everything! It was just like everything I've seen on TV, so I was kind of completely in awe of the whole thing. And yes, I was nervous, but Steve and Iona (his partner) were so lovely and nice that they put me at ease immediately - though Steve's the kind of person you just tease, which I did - and they had a gorgeous and huge dog called Charlie whom you can't help but adore. We went into his studio with some Coke and he got Hannah and I to play it, and then he said what he thought we could improve upon and what worked well - when Hannah went to the loo he said to me 'Alto. Interesting.' I was thinking well, to be honest, with my speaking voice and my appearance, what were you expecting? I mean, strange as it is, people usually look like what they sound like, in a way. And I can't remember how the conversation went, except he said he liked writing alto parts for instruments. He tried to put the song up a half step, but it threw me off on some bits so we changed it back (and yes, it is low. It is so low that by the time we came to recording I'd worn my voice out and was having trouble reaching the lowest notes. But it's not noticeably low, just the kind of low you'd only notice if you tried to sing it. But yes, that's why the recording is so bad - it sounds like I'm having trouble reaching notes that are easy for me usually. So then Hannah recorded her guitar part and a bass line, and then I used the recording studio (with the little no-pop-noise screen and the headphones!) to sing a practice one.
On Tuesday, Steve popped over with a CD which will have two tracks on - the instrumental guitar track and the one with me singing along, which I will then take home with me and practice until I have it perfect. Next time I go up there we'll record it properly and then start on the next one! When Steve dropped the CD off on Tuesday, he said that if we had time we could come over and record again that day, which was great as we were originally just going to do it on Monday. Maybe he thought the first recording was as bad as I did. So we went and did about twelve recordings of it, from which he then worked something out. And the recording studio is amazing! All the equipment in there... it's just... and his house is... and everyone there is so friendly! I've met six lovely people in three days, to some of whom I already feel quite close (Hannah included) and I just can't believe that they are prepared to give up so much of their time (Steve is a music composer and producer for film and TV, and a photographer, whose time is apparently quite precious) to help someone they've never even met - who is nothing more than the grandaughter of a friend, in fact. But they're all so lovely and friendly and community based - I love them all! If it weren't so bloody far away, and so remote, I would consider moving there myself.
We were at Steve's for about three hours, and Hannah wasn't there because she was working and we finished her parts on Monday anyway. In fact it was kind of strange having Jenny there instead of her. But still fun. We recorded it about a verse at a time so I could get it right, and then there was a bit near the end which I couldn't do and I wanted to go a bit more ornamentation freak sort of thing, but in the end I just had to settle for what I had, and I was standing up to sing properly as opposed to sitting down really bloody close to the microphone for the quiet bits, which meant that Jenny was making all sorts of jokes about me being a diva - I believe the phrase used was 'Whitney Houston on drugs' - because I was just really going for it properly. I just wanted it to be good - though of course I don't get that oh-my-god-is-that-me reaction when it's played because of how much I've heard my recorded voice before.
(The picture of the dress from Camden above is me in the recording studio with my 'lucky' pink water. On Monday, Steve had said that one of the other singers hates the chair in the studio more than a dentist's chair because she gets so nervous - and I joked that it wasn't as comfortable as a dentist's chair. The next day I got there to find that Steve and Iona had thoughtfully replaced the wooden chair with a padded one, which became known as the throne, and had put a bottle of water in a pink bottle on the table next to the chair. The bottle was pink because it was supporting Cancer Research by the way... it wasn't just random pink water. But because I was more confident recording on the Tuesday, Jenny joked about how the pink water must have something in it - hence why it's called 'lucky'. But how thoughtful was that? There's proof of how nice they are.)
I have now heard the copy that we recorded last Tuesday - it's had strings added to it and everything! To use Steve's words, it's 95% there, but there are definitely parts I'm still not happy with - like a line in the chorus that I forgot how to sing and made up... it was a bit of a mistake. There's also a bit right at the end where I was just joking around and singing like a freak and somehow that ended up in the song too - well, it makes for a bit of amusement. It would be better if I'd known what I was doing, but because I didn't it sounds a bit uncertain and not particularly strong.
Hmm, speaking of strong; two people have described my voice as strong in the last week, which is a bit of a novelty for me. It definitely never has been before, but that's something I've been working on. I do hope this means that my voice is finally improving! So that's basically all the song stuff in a nutshell - oh, and as more proof of how nice everyone in Scotland is: there was a person working in the shop one day called Jo, and we got talking about Lady Gaga - five seconds later she'd offered to lend me her Lady Gaga CD so I could rip it. How sweet is that?
I went to see Eclipse on Friday with Becky and Zoe and, having expected it to be crap, was actually pleasantly surprised. Kristen Stewart's acting appears to be improving and she's got prettier too... so I'd recommend watching it, if only to keep up with the story. It's definitely the best one yet and although it's not perfect I find myself actually looking forward to Breaking Dawn. In true film review style, I have to say:
Best bit: Jacob's line "I am hotter than you."
Aaaaand thankfully we're almost reaching the end of this post - I don't know if your eyes are suffering, but my arms certainly are. Just to let you know that I'm going away to the French Alps for a week on Sunday so I'll do an equally long post when I return to let you know I'm not dead. I'll also talk about the picnic I'm going on with the knobs tomorrow... it'll be fun.
And, as Zoe and I have been having something of a philosophical conversation on MSN all day, I feel that I should write something deep here and get into practice for studying philosophy next year. (Also I feel I should apologize for the sheer ghastliness of my writing throughout this post; I've had so much to say that I just wanted to get it out of the way. I feel quite exhausted now.)
No matter what, there will never be anybody better than you if you're doing the best you can. Cliched, maybe, but true. People can say that there will always be people better and worse than you, but who's to say what 'good' is? Who's to say that what one person considers beautiful could be a pile of crap to the next? So keep reaching for the stars, even if you don't know which star you're reaching for. Remember that it's your life you're living, and nobody can change that. Be yourself, and if being yourself is going along with the crowd, then follow away. Just don't make the mistake I did of taking seventeen years to find out who you are and what you want from life. Don't be afraid, because people may laugh at you, or people may love you. You never know what the world will make of you. Don't be ashamed of trying to shine, because the only thing you have to be ashamed of is not trying at all.
Molly x
I've got a lot to tell you. More happens in summer, it seems, than when one is stuck in a classroom at college, being taught how to live life instead of actually living it. Although perhaps that's a little harsh... college only adds more clay to the sculpture so accurately created by the mould of compulsory education.
I don't really know where that little outburst came from. It's not like I'm against education or anything - in fact I love to learn things, as long as they're things in which I have or possibly could have an interest or passion.
But moving on.
I was going to talk about the English trip, wasn't I? Said I'd tell you 'tomorrow'. Oh, that optimistic phrase 'I'll do it tomorrow' - who has faith in that phrase anymore? Yet we keep saying it and hoping that this will be the time we actually will do our homework, tidy our rooms or start that ever-impending diet. And here I am talking in the style of the infamous full marks English piece again; well, why not? Clearly I can do it at least half way decently. (Actually, when I went to visit my grandparents in Scotland last week and showed them that piece on my BlackBerry, they said they'd have given me twenty-nine - and I think I agree. What's perfect, after all? Still, it's definitely a nice thought.)
Ugh, 'nice'. I've been saying that way too much lately. 'Nice' and 'amazing' were last week's words of choice - my in-brain thesaurus seems to have shrunk to encompass the wide range of a whole two words. Hopefully it'll make a comeback soon; it would be massively appreciated, brain.
I seem to be taking my time to write my news down today. I should probably get on with it, since there's quite a bit, and knowing me I'll be procrastinating all the way through this post. A bit of Twitter here, Facebook there... oh, I wonder if I've got a hugely important email which could mean the difference between life and death? Better check Hotmail. And so the cycle begins again.
And for the record, I never have. Got that elusive urgent email, that is.
Aaaaanyway. Moving on.
You know that when I have this much to say I have to write it all down in a Notepad document before I start so that I don't miss anything? Today my Notepad has ten items in it - although some of them are probably only worth a line or two. Just to warn you of the immensity of this post.
So, it begins. English trip. Well, that's actually the origin of the phrase 'woopus to the maximus', as mentioned in my last post. Basically, I was on the train, and Charlotte was getting on at the next station, and we were BBMing on our BlackBerries (I've got a BlackBerry now, did I mention it? As in "It's a BlackBerry. I have a BlackBerry now. BlackBerries are cool." Yes, fellow Doctor Who fans, you may recognize that. And, much as I dislike being a sheep - no, not literally -, these phones are epic. They do everything.) and she said 'I can see the train!' and I replied 'woopus maximus!' - I'm not sure where it came from, but it happened. So then we added 'to the' in the middle and there you have it. The world's most awesome phrase.
ANYWAY. When we got to London (our trip was to the British Library and no, it wasn't as boring as it sounds) it took us about half an hour to find the bloody place - we thought we'd found it, sat there for fifteen minutes wondering why nobody else was coming, and then turned around and saw it across the road. Even so, there was only one person there before us (and thank God she was - a familiar face was exactly what we needed to see then).
But everyone else got there soon enough, and when we were all gathered around, our teachers broke the tragic news that the tour had been cancelled and so we were just allowed to go and look around ourselves. Actually most of the thirteen people with us evaporated in the first section... and let's face it, they weren't going to other places in the library. But some of us stayed - at one point we were reading (well, I say reading, but it was more like ogling) the first Beowulf text, which is obviously in very, very old English, being the first recorded writing. We were trying to translate some of it and I picked up on a few words - Hannah said 'Ooh, you're good!' and then to Shirley (other teacher) she said 'Make a note of this one, she's good for A2' - which absolutely made my day. As Hannah frequently does.
There was another time later on when we were looking at a massive map and I said 'Is that Dutch at the top?' and it was and Hannah called me a brainbox... again, my day was made. I'm just quite adept at recognising written languages because of all my foreign friends - I wish it were the same for spoken languages, but unfortunately I suck at that.
And is this the British Library's idea of seating? If so, I quite like it. wonder where they get them from.
http://twitpic.com/217aeh
So after we'd looked around the library, Jess and Yasmin went their separate ways and Subi, Charlotte, Tom and I continued on to Camden market, where we ate 'sick on rice' for lunch (don't think I don't know, Charlotte), otherwise known as Indian food - which was a lot nicer than it looked, but our dear snobby friend here wouldn't try it. Subi and I were determined to haggle, which we eventually did on this dress (ignore the picture, I'll explain later, but the dress is there):
http://twitpic.com/250nyh
And then after that, we satisfied Charlotte's insatiable thirst for poshness with a trip to Notting Hill and the non-existent Portobello market - there was absolutely nothing there! Unless you count a few stalls. But it was fun. Although we had an interesting job trying to find the station again; in the end we had to give up and hail a taxi. Of course there were none around... but at last, finally, one appeared and we jumped about like loons, arms in the air, doing exactly the kind of embarrassing, uncool thing which alerts Londoners that we are tourists in the capital city of our own country.
That was the day the man jumped in front of the train at Twyford, so of course there were train delays, and when it finally did deign to turn up it was packed and boiling hot. I had a chav standing next to me reading Great Expectations - a definite hmm there.
So the next thing to talk about, I suppose, is the last day of term. There wasn't really much point even going into college for it; I had a free, then tutor, then a media lesson in which we did absolutely nothing but talk about random stuff the whole time. Although Laura and I lingered for ages after tutor to talk to Hannah about 'universities' - a perfect excuse just to hang out for a bit. I swear all my friends think I'm sucking up just because I happened to give her a box of Maltesers. I mean, you used to do that to all your teachers at primary school, right? And none of them were even half as awesome as Hannah is. Okay, so maybe I was sucking up a little bit. Still, it works; I'm the only person she's told their coursework grade, even if Shirley's told a few of her students too. Anyway so we were talking to Hannah and right when I was leaving to go up the hill for media I said 'You have to keep tweeting over summer, because I'm going to miss you'... which is not embarrassing at all. No, really. But I actually felt quite a large sense of disappointment when the day finished. I love college, despite, you know, the whole lessons aspect of it. Or maybe because of it. But I did miss it for the first few days of the holiday - still, end of college depression (a very oxymoronic concept) is nothing an epic sleepover can't sort out.
When my grandad died, he left my mum some money, which with she bought a small house in Goring ready to rent out. We have to have some work done to this new house, which is why it doesn't have any tenants yet, and my mum said that as an end of term celebration I could hold a sleepover there. So we did. There were four of us - Becky, Charlotte, Lauren and I; the other knobs couldn't make it - and we spent our time on some seriously epic activities like going out for Chinese (after we got Charlotte to agree), playing Monopoly (which I lost dramatically), watching School of Rock and What Happens in Vegas and just generally stuffing our faces and getting four hours' sleep... not a wise thing to do if you're babysitting until midnight the next day. Trust my wisdom. But it was so much fun, a fabulous way to celebrate, and now there are some... pretty indescribable photos on the old Faceybee. A necessary part of any event.
Next up is my trip to Scotland. My dad's dad and my step-grandma (who will henceforth be known as Jenny) run a small giftshop in the Highlands selling Jenny's artwork and other things. They have this little/big music community up there, including a recording studio in the house of Steve, one of their friends, my use of which has been in the pipeline since at least last year. However this time was the time it all kicked off, as you're about to find out.
So I flew up via sardineJet (easyJet's new name - if you've ever been inside one of their planes you'll know what I mean) on Saturday the 10th July 2010. On the Sunday, after seeing one of Jenny's friends in the morning, Hannah-the-guitarist came over to meet me and get some musical collaboration done. It took us about an hour to choose a song in the first place, but after we had, it all moved pretty quickly - Hannah started fiddling with her guitar and she'd made up a tune within about five seconds. I then sang along to that and within about three hours we'd got the basic tune of our song, which is called 'At Last'. We recorded it using a webcam just so that we'd remember how it goes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoSKqi0SxoM&feature=email
It's already changed so much since then. It's got faster for a start and some of the lines have changed. Anyway so the next day Hannah came over in the evening after work and we headed off to Steve's to record it. His studio was amazing. All this equipment, guitars, microphones.... sloping walls with soundproof padding on them and - get this - an actual glass room. A glass room where the musician goes and on the other side he sits with his computers, recording us. I had to wear headphones and everything! It was just like everything I've seen on TV, so I was kind of completely in awe of the whole thing. And yes, I was nervous, but Steve and Iona (his partner) were so lovely and nice that they put me at ease immediately - though Steve's the kind of person you just tease, which I did - and they had a gorgeous and huge dog called Charlie whom you can't help but adore. We went into his studio with some Coke and he got Hannah and I to play it, and then he said what he thought we could improve upon and what worked well - when Hannah went to the loo he said to me 'Alto. Interesting.' I was thinking well, to be honest, with my speaking voice and my appearance, what were you expecting? I mean, strange as it is, people usually look like what they sound like, in a way. And I can't remember how the conversation went, except he said he liked writing alto parts for instruments. He tried to put the song up a half step, but it threw me off on some bits so we changed it back (and yes, it is low. It is so low that by the time we came to recording I'd worn my voice out and was having trouble reaching the lowest notes. But it's not noticeably low, just the kind of low you'd only notice if you tried to sing it. But yes, that's why the recording is so bad - it sounds like I'm having trouble reaching notes that are easy for me usually. So then Hannah recorded her guitar part and a bass line, and then I used the recording studio (with the little no-pop-noise screen and the headphones!) to sing a practice one.
On Tuesday, Steve popped over with a CD which will have two tracks on - the instrumental guitar track and the one with me singing along, which I will then take home with me and practice until I have it perfect. Next time I go up there we'll record it properly and then start on the next one! When Steve dropped the CD off on Tuesday, he said that if we had time we could come over and record again that day, which was great as we were originally just going to do it on Monday. Maybe he thought the first recording was as bad as I did. So we went and did about twelve recordings of it, from which he then worked something out. And the recording studio is amazing! All the equipment in there... it's just... and his house is... and everyone there is so friendly! I've met six lovely people in three days, to some of whom I already feel quite close (Hannah included) and I just can't believe that they are prepared to give up so much of their time (Steve is a music composer and producer for film and TV, and a photographer, whose time is apparently quite precious) to help someone they've never even met - who is nothing more than the grandaughter of a friend, in fact. But they're all so lovely and friendly and community based - I love them all! If it weren't so bloody far away, and so remote, I would consider moving there myself.
We were at Steve's for about three hours, and Hannah wasn't there because she was working and we finished her parts on Monday anyway. In fact it was kind of strange having Jenny there instead of her. But still fun. We recorded it about a verse at a time so I could get it right, and then there was a bit near the end which I couldn't do and I wanted to go a bit more ornamentation freak sort of thing, but in the end I just had to settle for what I had, and I was standing up to sing properly as opposed to sitting down really bloody close to the microphone for the quiet bits, which meant that Jenny was making all sorts of jokes about me being a diva - I believe the phrase used was 'Whitney Houston on drugs' - because I was just really going for it properly. I just wanted it to be good - though of course I don't get that oh-my-god-is-that-me reaction when it's played because of how much I've heard my recorded voice before.
(The picture of the dress from Camden above is me in the recording studio with my 'lucky' pink water. On Monday, Steve had said that one of the other singers hates the chair in the studio more than a dentist's chair because she gets so nervous - and I joked that it wasn't as comfortable as a dentist's chair. The next day I got there to find that Steve and Iona had thoughtfully replaced the wooden chair with a padded one, which became known as the throne, and had put a bottle of water in a pink bottle on the table next to the chair. The bottle was pink because it was supporting Cancer Research by the way... it wasn't just random pink water. But because I was more confident recording on the Tuesday, Jenny joked about how the pink water must have something in it - hence why it's called 'lucky'. But how thoughtful was that? There's proof of how nice they are.)
I have now heard the copy that we recorded last Tuesday - it's had strings added to it and everything! To use Steve's words, it's 95% there, but there are definitely parts I'm still not happy with - like a line in the chorus that I forgot how to sing and made up... it was a bit of a mistake. There's also a bit right at the end where I was just joking around and singing like a freak and somehow that ended up in the song too - well, it makes for a bit of amusement. It would be better if I'd known what I was doing, but because I didn't it sounds a bit uncertain and not particularly strong.
Hmm, speaking of strong; two people have described my voice as strong in the last week, which is a bit of a novelty for me. It definitely never has been before, but that's something I've been working on. I do hope this means that my voice is finally improving! So that's basically all the song stuff in a nutshell - oh, and as more proof of how nice everyone in Scotland is: there was a person working in the shop one day called Jo, and we got talking about Lady Gaga - five seconds later she'd offered to lend me her Lady Gaga CD so I could rip it. How sweet is that?
I went to see Eclipse on Friday with Becky and Zoe and, having expected it to be crap, was actually pleasantly surprised. Kristen Stewart's acting appears to be improving and she's got prettier too... so I'd recommend watching it, if only to keep up with the story. It's definitely the best one yet and although it's not perfect I find myself actually looking forward to Breaking Dawn. In true film review style, I have to say:
Best bit: Jacob's line "I am hotter than you."
Aaaaand thankfully we're almost reaching the end of this post - I don't know if your eyes are suffering, but my arms certainly are. Just to let you know that I'm going away to the French Alps for a week on Sunday so I'll do an equally long post when I return to let you know I'm not dead. I'll also talk about the picnic I'm going on with the knobs tomorrow... it'll be fun.
And, as Zoe and I have been having something of a philosophical conversation on MSN all day, I feel that I should write something deep here and get into practice for studying philosophy next year. (Also I feel I should apologize for the sheer ghastliness of my writing throughout this post; I've had so much to say that I just wanted to get it out of the way. I feel quite exhausted now.)
No matter what, there will never be anybody better than you if you're doing the best you can. Cliched, maybe, but true. People can say that there will always be people better and worse than you, but who's to say what 'good' is? Who's to say that what one person considers beautiful could be a pile of crap to the next? So keep reaching for the stars, even if you don't know which star you're reaching for. Remember that it's your life you're living, and nobody can change that. Be yourself, and if being yourself is going along with the crowd, then follow away. Just don't make the mistake I did of taking seventeen years to find out who you are and what you want from life. Don't be afraid, because people may laugh at you, or people may love you. You never know what the world will make of you. Don't be ashamed of trying to shine, because the only thing you have to be ashamed of is not trying at all.
Molly x
Tuesday 6 July 2010
July 6th: Onwards and upwards.
I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn - well I don't know if I believe that's true, but I know I'm who I am today because I knew you.
From the intriguing mind of Stephen Schwartz, composer of the music for the musical Wicked. As I was starting to type in this post, this song started playing, and it occured to me that the lyrics are very expressive of the way I'm feeling right now. You see, tomorrow is the last day of my first year at college, and I'm just wondering where the hell the time has gone. What happened to those days that were spent staring at the clock, wishing that school would end? I guess I know that - I wasted them all, staring at the clock. (That's not to say, of course, that I never stare at the clock during my college lessons; in fact I'm pretty sure I could pick the one in my history classroom out from a line of identical clocks). But I find it ironic that the place of education I enjoy most - i.e. college - is the one at which I spend the least amount of time. Especially since I loathed both primary school and secondary school with a passion.
College just does this... thing to you where it seems to free you from almost all those chains you get yourself tangled in throughout your educational life. You become somebody better, somebody more capable, more alive, more you. I look around me sometimes and I marvel at all the people surrounding me, and although so many of them look similar - similar hair, clothes, etc - there are a few who are different. Varying degrees of different, of course - not all of them dress like goths, chavs, or whatever (though many of them do). But even though they are, without doubt, objects of social fascination (and amusement), I admire their courage. I mean, the other day I passed a girl wearing goth boots, a huge lacy black skirt and a little black lacy hat. Her nickname may be 'Weird Becky', but she has some serious courage to wear that stuff into college. But as I was saying, 'different', doesn't have to be like that. I've never been a stereotypical 'teenager' and neither have any of my friends, and I've never considered that brave but I suppose in a way it is. We are, in a way, opposing the flow - swimming in the opposite direction to the rest of the fish around us. And I don't know if you've ever tried swimming against the current, but you need to be strong. But I see these people all around me every day, and I can't believe how we are all one species but so different. How come we all have the same physical makeup but no two faces are the same? How come all brains work the same way, but think differently? What's up with that? It's a bit like perplexed tofu, really. Woopus to the maximus.
Just thought I'd throw in a couple of my most used phrases there (though I never really use perplexed tofu. I blame Cora.)
Anyway. Today has been a really good day. I got a history essay back (on which I might have cheated a bit but shh, I wasn't the only one) and I got a C, and then - right, this is going to be long winded so I might as well just write it.
So a while ago we wrote these media pieces on taboo language for English, and today we got them back and Hannah said "I'm giving out these three first, because they were the best in the class" - they were a 29 and two 27s out of 30. So she gave them out, and obviously none of them came my way, so I was just sitting there feeling really disappointed because yet again I missed an opportunity to get an A. Then she gave me mine and I turned the page to look at the grade and saw: 30/30.
I thought I must have been imagining things for a moment. But no, it was true, it was real - my first ever A in A Level English and at A2 at that. And not just any old A; full freaking marks! I was so happy and excited that it took me the rest of the lesson - an hour - to stop shaking. But OH MY GOD. AND I was the only person in my class to get that full marks. I was talking to Hannah after the lesson:
"Is that grade really mine?"
"Do you want proof?"
So she got her little sheet out and showed me that I hadn't been hallucinating. She was like "I'm surprised you're so surprised" - of course I was surprised! I've never got an A in written English before in my life (I say written because I got one mark off an A* in GCSE speaking and listening), let alone at A Level. She also said she hadn't said anything in front of the class incase I didn't want her to use mine as an exemplar response for next year's students, which I thought was really sweet. I am a bit of a chicken with sharing my work with people. But then I thought, no, this is clearly a good piece of work and I'm going to show it off. Which, yes, sounds up myself, but I'm not often proud of things I've written so it's about time I was. And oh, how I've wished I could be one of those exemplar responses we get given everytime we have to write something.
Since it was our last English lesson before summer, we did a quiz, and Hannah had got all these sweets for everyone. She got little packets of lovehearts for the runners up (i.e. everyone) and for the winners she had these posh looking bags full of an assortment of different sweets. Naturally, because we're amazing, my team came joint first with another group, so we got a bag each and then later Hannah gave us another bag each since she had leftover ones. Also, we beat Tom, the resident nerd who I sit next to; his team came last, to the amusement of my class. Bless.
Then I had a free with Lauren and Zoe, and we went to Bloc and had a massive hot chocolate - I got a free one as I'd used all the spaces on my loyalty card. Nice. So, all in all, a really good day. Now I'm going to bed and I shall awaken on the lovely easy last day of term before my nine week summer off.
Woopus to the freaking maximus.
Which reminds me, I have to tell you all about the English trip last week. I'll do it tomorrow.
(Famous last words.)
Molly x
From the intriguing mind of Stephen Schwartz, composer of the music for the musical Wicked. As I was starting to type in this post, this song started playing, and it occured to me that the lyrics are very expressive of the way I'm feeling right now. You see, tomorrow is the last day of my first year at college, and I'm just wondering where the hell the time has gone. What happened to those days that were spent staring at the clock, wishing that school would end? I guess I know that - I wasted them all, staring at the clock. (That's not to say, of course, that I never stare at the clock during my college lessons; in fact I'm pretty sure I could pick the one in my history classroom out from a line of identical clocks). But I find it ironic that the place of education I enjoy most - i.e. college - is the one at which I spend the least amount of time. Especially since I loathed both primary school and secondary school with a passion.
College just does this... thing to you where it seems to free you from almost all those chains you get yourself tangled in throughout your educational life. You become somebody better, somebody more capable, more alive, more you. I look around me sometimes and I marvel at all the people surrounding me, and although so many of them look similar - similar hair, clothes, etc - there are a few who are different. Varying degrees of different, of course - not all of them dress like goths, chavs, or whatever (though many of them do). But even though they are, without doubt, objects of social fascination (and amusement), I admire their courage. I mean, the other day I passed a girl wearing goth boots, a huge lacy black skirt and a little black lacy hat. Her nickname may be 'Weird Becky', but she has some serious courage to wear that stuff into college. But as I was saying, 'different', doesn't have to be like that. I've never been a stereotypical 'teenager' and neither have any of my friends, and I've never considered that brave but I suppose in a way it is. We are, in a way, opposing the flow - swimming in the opposite direction to the rest of the fish around us. And I don't know if you've ever tried swimming against the current, but you need to be strong. But I see these people all around me every day, and I can't believe how we are all one species but so different. How come we all have the same physical makeup but no two faces are the same? How come all brains work the same way, but think differently? What's up with that? It's a bit like perplexed tofu, really. Woopus to the maximus.
Just thought I'd throw in a couple of my most used phrases there (though I never really use perplexed tofu. I blame Cora.)
Anyway. Today has been a really good day. I got a history essay back (on which I might have cheated a bit but shh, I wasn't the only one) and I got a C, and then - right, this is going to be long winded so I might as well just write it.
So a while ago we wrote these media pieces on taboo language for English, and today we got them back and Hannah said "I'm giving out these three first, because they were the best in the class" - they were a 29 and two 27s out of 30. So she gave them out, and obviously none of them came my way, so I was just sitting there feeling really disappointed because yet again I missed an opportunity to get an A. Then she gave me mine and I turned the page to look at the grade and saw: 30/30.
I thought I must have been imagining things for a moment. But no, it was true, it was real - my first ever A in A Level English and at A2 at that. And not just any old A; full freaking marks! I was so happy and excited that it took me the rest of the lesson - an hour - to stop shaking. But OH MY GOD. AND I was the only person in my class to get that full marks. I was talking to Hannah after the lesson:
"Is that grade really mine?"
"Do you want proof?"
So she got her little sheet out and showed me that I hadn't been hallucinating. She was like "I'm surprised you're so surprised" - of course I was surprised! I've never got an A in written English before in my life (I say written because I got one mark off an A* in GCSE speaking and listening), let alone at A Level. She also said she hadn't said anything in front of the class incase I didn't want her to use mine as an exemplar response for next year's students, which I thought was really sweet. I am a bit of a chicken with sharing my work with people. But then I thought, no, this is clearly a good piece of work and I'm going to show it off. Which, yes, sounds up myself, but I'm not often proud of things I've written so it's about time I was. And oh, how I've wished I could be one of those exemplar responses we get given everytime we have to write something.
Since it was our last English lesson before summer, we did a quiz, and Hannah had got all these sweets for everyone. She got little packets of lovehearts for the runners up (i.e. everyone) and for the winners she had these posh looking bags full of an assortment of different sweets. Naturally, because we're amazing, my team came joint first with another group, so we got a bag each and then later Hannah gave us another bag each since she had leftover ones. Also, we beat Tom, the resident nerd who I sit next to; his team came last, to the amusement of my class. Bless.
Then I had a free with Lauren and Zoe, and we went to Bloc and had a massive hot chocolate - I got a free one as I'd used all the spaces on my loyalty card. Nice. So, all in all, a really good day. Now I'm going to bed and I shall awaken on the lovely easy last day of term before my nine week summer off.
Woopus to the freaking maximus.
Which reminds me, I have to tell you all about the English trip last week. I'll do it tomorrow.
(Famous last words.)
Molly x
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