Friday, April 29, 2005

out came the sun, and dried up all the rain.

Just ate dinner, and the bloated feeling you get from your tummy is just so immensely satisfying that I don't feel like starting work yet: I'd probably shred the next manuscript paper I see to bits anyway. But I'm not going to grouse!

I won't be blogging about the post I made earlier, I'd save that for another time. Preferably when I'm all angsty from PMS-ing/lack-of-food. Anyway, here are some photos from last week:

Lou and her aria on the Sibelius programme.

Lou, Cla and I were recording songs from our Techniques portfolio in the SDR/Saint Davids Room. As much as I respect our fellow lecturers, I do understand that not everyone can sight-read perfectly *coughs*. So instead of having them read 5 different lines at one time, we might as well record it, eh?

Btw. Lou and I are pianists, and Cla's a soprano. Plug: Cla has this HUGE and GORGEOUS voice, which you don't expect coming out from someone so petite like her. Amazing, she's gonna be big someday.

That's Cla with her pencil, putting breathmarks in the music.

Our humble recording equipment, courtesy of Cla, since our lecturers only have cassette-tape players.

Oh alright, I admit it: none of us are techno-savvy enough to know how to record music onto mp3s/CDs/whatever. Cassette tapes are good enough, okay?? Though the sound quality is reminiscent of a historical recording dating back to the 60's.

Recording in progress.

I amused myself by honing my already-excellent photography skills and indulging in a bit of self-love.

Top of our ratty-but-passable Steinway piano.

I rule at taking photographs.

Check out the fishballs for cheeks!

Lou's mentioned that the Steinway is really shiny/grimy: you can see the reflected OHP machine above the keyboard.

Cla's french song - Harmonie du Soir. Professional, woot?

And we're done!

Oh, and Jing stayed over at mine last week, and we trooped down to Covent Garden for a spot of shopping:

My room is actually much neater, but you can't see it from this picture. Dang. Anyway, time's up, Procrastination has fled and Full Lynne Panic has settled in! (Only ppl who watch regular anime will get my last statement, ah well.)

Btw, I've yet to record my songs (they're still in the gestation stage somewhere in my head), so if anyone knows how to record music from laptops and convert them onto .wav/mp3 format, pls help me!

Ok ok, back to supper.. err.. I meant, Schubert.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

defiant hedonist.

Question of the day (or night):

"How can something that feels so good, be so wrong?"

More thoughts to come.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

you know you're...

...jinxed when you're slapped with a 35quid library fine for nothing.

...desperately hungry when you start stealing food from the common fridge.

...outrageously lazy when you take the tube from Russell Square to Covent Garden. Which is only one stop.

...incredibly lucky to get another extension for your coursework essays.

...supremely fat when you have to lie down to zip up your jeans.

...living in denial when you refuse, absolutely refuse to open and read your bank statements.

...depressingly stupid and slow when it takes you one hour to think if you should draw two black dots on manuscript paper.

...a true-blue ditz when you start blogging rubbish like this.

Disclaimer: Lynne is currently suffering from a major case of s.t.r.e.s.s.i.t.i.t.i.e.s. and begs forgiveness for her increasingly insipid and frivolous posts.

Sunday, April 17, 2005

yah, yah, a-ha, and then.

Preoccupied with your own daily affairs, and the mundane drudgery of attempting coursework, you think it's all spectral shades of grey and white. Just when you think it can't get any worse, Murphy's Law rears its ugly head and you stumble across a raven-black patch in the middle of it.

Sometimes, you need the mortality of the black stain, in order to see the stark contrast from the juxtaposition of the different shades: to view things and events in perspective, discerning the truth from your coloured perceptions.

And then you realize, belatedly, that: grey and white are actually the most beautiful colours in the world.

Friday, April 15, 2005

mini-break.

So I've been in the hall library for the past 3 hours. Everyone's left and gone, except for this other guy. Some random bloke.

I've been frantically trying to draw as many neat and legible tao-gays on A3 manuscript paper with my pencil. I know he's using a pencil too, because I can hear him blowing and brushing off the eraser dust from his papers. We take turns doing that.

Sometimes, he picks up his mobile and start digging at the keypads with a vengeance. I punch at mine.

My tummy growls vociferously every few minutes from the lack of food (so hungry!), and I hear answering rumbles from the other end of the room. Our exasperated sighs ocassionally disrupt the silent monotony of the night.

Although I've never seen him before, and I don't know his name, for now, I've never felt closer to anyone at this point in time.

For all that shared experience, only a tenuous connection exists, we're still a stranger to each other.

And so we continue, to sit at opposite ends of the room, scribbling words and music that only each of us understands.

Edit @ 0510: [warning: upcoming raving rant]

Yes, yes, I know I'm sway, but tell me: what are the chances of being ambushed by a random guy in the hall library at 430 in the morning? Apparently, he's only staying here for one night, and he just nicked two books from the shelves. I know all this and more, including his life story for the past month or so because he wouldn't stop chattering. Talk talk talk talk talk. I dropped blatant hints and even continued with my work while he yakked on but nooooooo he must talk for a full 30 min. Needless to say, I couldn't get much work done, and it's probably chock-full of errors.

Bloody hell, when I finally want to do my work, nobody lets me do it. NOBODY. Damnit, damnit, and damnit, there's no more time left, NO MORE! ZLICH! FINISHED! And yes I'm annoyed as hell, dead sleepy, and I'm ravenously hungry, but I don't want to eat now or I wouldn't be able to sleep. Do I sound madly incoherent? Not that I particularly care. I only managed to do 12 bars of Debussy analysis tonight, how pathetic is that? Oh, I'm never going to finish my 6 essays and 5 songs by the 25th, N_E_V_E_R. There goes my first-class for my degree.

*explodes and disintegrates into the atmosphere and hopefully I'd die so my lecturers will be appropriately sympathetic and I can use it as an excuse to plead for an extension.*

Thursday, April 14, 2005

aiiiii i shld be studying.

Men possessing intellect, confidence and poise are such a major turn-on.

Even better if they're all dressed up in formal suits or uniforms. Sexy. I like. (Marines, anybody?)

It also helps if they have dimples on their cheeks. I'm a sucker for them. (On the face. Not cellulite dimples on butt cheeks. Only women are allowed to have those.)

Purrrrrrrr.

That being said, all that doesn't matter if the bloke has chicken arms.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

overanalyze, oversensitive, overthetop.

As most of you know, I'm doing a major in Music Analysis. And sometimes I wonder, if I have a tendency to over-analyze everything, even matters non-pertaining to music.

Perceiving a hidden layer that is not there.

Drawing my own conclusions from diaphanous objects.

Listening to every nuance, and trying to second-guess every possible variation in tone.

All these that seem visible to me, I question their existence.

Are they all only in my mind?

How fearful.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

midnight cravings.

I want a can of 'Kickapoo' juice, a packet of Double-Decker potato crisps (the yellow-coloured one), and those small oval-shaped biscuits with iced-sugar on top. You know, the ones that come in white, pink, green and yellow. The kind of biscuits your mother/grandmother buys home from the market for you to devour at your leisure.

I don't know how you guys eat it, but I always eat the bottom biscuit part first, followed by the coloured iced-sugar. Oh, and since the pink ones are the ugliest, they're the first ones to end up in my tummy. Followed by the white, yellow and the green. The green ones are so pretty I can't bear to eat them.

And I want a Ramlee burger. Complete with dripping oil, and extra egg. Yes yes, I know it's disgustingly unhealthy and fattening, and it'd clog up my arteries. But I don't care, to the hell with the calories, just give it to me now. Roarrrrrrrr.

Monday, April 04, 2005

R.I.P.

I was studying in the library with Jo and Vincent. And I did, I actually read one entire paper. But half an hour later, I find myself back in my room, with a packet of noodles and half a box of cereal in my tummy. So much for studying. Burp.

Anyway, that's not the point. I was surfing through music blogs, and I find to my chagrin that Stanley Sadie had passed away on the 22nd of March. This is the bloke, who edited 29 volumes of the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians. This is the guy, whose name I have to include in the biblography of every essay that I write.

All students owe a great debt to him. Where do we run to when we have a last-minute essay to write, when all the relevant books in the library are (always!) borrowed out by over-zealous fellow classmates (you selfish pigs)? Why, we look for the New Grove of course! Darling Sadie would save us all with his big kick-ass 29-volume dictionary, where most of the information we require can be found in there.

Thanks a ton for your hard work Sadie. We owe you big time. At least, I know I do.

Rest in peace.

p.s. I think I'm a little high (and bloated) from cereal. Sugary stuff you know? I don't know if I'm making sense, but never mind! Wheee! Oh yes, back to the library.

there's no point in wishing, really.

Sometimes I wish I'm a different person: someone who is determined, has iron-discipline and inexhaustible willpower.

Also, it's tiring playing the same role over and over again, just because you're stereotyped by your goody-pie demeanor. Haven't we all learnt by now that appearances can be deadly deceptive?

And yet, sometimes you can't help undergoing internalization, and you end up growing into the mould of Others' Expectations. Not a perfect fit, but fair enough for you to always feel that manufactured tinge.

But we always had a choice - albeit Hobson's choice - to rebel and seek your own path and growth. The hardest option: for who isn't affected by what Others think?

I wish I could have done so back then, I wish I can do so even now, but I'm a decade too late.

Friday, April 01, 2005

lynne is on a war path.

Happy April Fools.

Actually, I don't give a shite.

Right now, this is it. If I see one more blog with paragraphs such as:

1. "tOdAy wAs A bEauTifOOOl dAYyyyAYYyyy.."

2. "i went down to starbucks today to get a frapp... and i asked for no whipped cream but she still gave me... so fattening you know... and later i had to go to the loo so many times... oh i met my darling deedee for dinner and we had fish-head curry... and it was so hot that i had to use tissue to wipe my nose... i'm going to eat supper now.. byeeeee~"

3."haiz... i tink moi a-sign-ment die oledi, swue get a C, den she laterz get higher than moiz again... sighz. kekeke."

(Takes a deep breath.)

I SWEAR I WILL HUNT THOSE BLOGGERS DOWN AND PERSECUTE THEM FOR THEIR ATROCIOUS BUTCHERY AND DESECRATION OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

(Of cuz I won't, I'm too lazy to do so, but that's not the point. Moving on.)

Number 1. Stop using toGgLe caps. You're not in preschool.

Number 2. Use "..." appropriately, not in between sentences.

Number 3. Are you that lazy to type T-H-I-N-K instead of T-I-N-K, it's just one more friggin' letter. Unless you're too stupid to know how to spell properly.

What the fuck is wrong with all of them? Can't they just type properly and legibly? Freaking stupid DOLTS, they are. Brainless twits.

Please note that I'm not even quibbling about the inane content of their posts.

I'm pretty much mild-natured, and I've never lost my temper. (What temper?) But certain things such as the lack of basic etiquette (e.g. chewing with your mouth open, not opening the door for a lady, forgetting to say 'thank you'), being excessively rude (such as spilling drinks on strangers, elbowing your way in the crowd and jabbing other people's newly-pierced navels - may you burn in the lowest depths of Hell) and POOR ENGLISH (in any context) buys you a direct and fast one-way ticket to experience: the full brunt of my personal wrath on top of your roasted turnip-head.

It's not going to be a pretty sight, so you have been warned.

Ooooh, I'm fuming.

Actually, it's not as if I can do anything about it anyway. That's the most frustrating bit. Argh, whatever. Not that I'd be bothered to do so after 7hrs 38min and 22 sec.

We need more English teachers (competent ones please, the inept ones can join the students for English lessons) to teach little brats in pre-school to spell, write and speak the language properly.

And hopefully one day, "no 1 wlk b spa-ling lik dis 4 fun. kekeke."

Dickheads.

blueprint

I will like to spend my days, as though they are my own, which I mostly end up doing in halves, for duty beckons, and I am answering its clarion call. Soon enough! I am also a veteran procrastinator.

fresh monodies

Old wounds hurt most, I learned this today, becaus...
She speaks, repeating the old litanies, of worn ac...
time skips
and it all comes together!
beethoven's symphony no.7 2nd mvt
again,
towards that something
In the alley of shadows and death
Masking Tape
another end of the world

previous rants

August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
September 2009
October 2009
November 2009
December 2009
November 2010
January 2011
February 2011
August 2011
October 2011
May 2013

treatises on life

arty jen
betty boop
carmentica
charming-linn
chasing snowy cars
cheeky lynn
cheryliciously glam
clean and cute
cyclist-mad bass
darling dominic
feisty jing
fellow ditz-sista/porkSTAR
hail mary!
hell's kitchen
hero on the beach
h-Euge heart
hunky lenny
lipgloss queen
little cheryl
live n learn, baby
lolita lou
loony loon
mr popular
musically dan
m y s t j
phringe
princess tania
roger smurf
runaway pigeon
sabotage king jeremiah
sibling angst1
sibling angst2
spector dan
spunky tian
steffy bunny
sun-sunzzz
teeny wee-nee
weeeee, leonard!
yangtze yang'en

frivolous pursuits

for shallow ppl
for very geeky ppl
for the truly bored
spun prose
binary thoughts
past imprints
some stamps
montage of images
other memories

mulling over

And there were phlegmatic souls.