Yesterday was library-tastic as I spent a few hours reading Peter Burger's Theory of the Avant-Garde and making notes. I took one break to pick up my Race and Cinema course reader and a copy of Native Son by Richard Wright, which I ordered from a bookseller in the States despite the fact that there was no way it was going to get here in time. So I'll have two copies. They can play together.
I got two of my papers back, from Opera and African-Canadian Lit, and I did... okay. I've guaranteed A- grades in both courses. I wanted to do a bit better on my Death in Venice paper for Hutcheon, since I'd really like her to write me a letter of reference. But the problems with my paper had more to do with my lack of knowledge of music theory (I didn't bring it up whatsoever) and my argument that Tadzio is an Apollonian figure (which I voiced in the final class and stick by). I'm sure she'll help me out with my proposal either way.
So it looks like so far I'm doing okay. I walked home from Keele Station and watched Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, which is unquestionably awesome. It's the darkest and most violent of all of the Star Wars movies and resuscitates that feeling of tragedy that the original trilogy had in spades. The scene where Obi-Wan Kenobi leaves Vader burning to death on the bank of the Mustafar lava river is absolutely iconic. As far as I'm concerned Lucas did everything right with that movie.
Kurt Cobain About a Son just opened in town. I'd really like to see it. Today, though, more work.
Showing posts with label opera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label opera. Show all posts
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
On the last day of classes for the fall semester of my Master's degree program, having stayed up all night working on a paper and presentation for subjects in which I never thought I'd find myself involved, something in me switched on.
Over the course of the semester I've been growing more and more apprehensive about my decision to enroll in grad school. I spent half of the time wondering why I bothered with classes at all. It's not that I didn't feel engaged on a certain level with the material. I liked my classes, but consistently felt puzzled as to why I was spending so much time analyzing how a book was made 200 years ago, how tonal combinations indicate an opera character's motivations, what a young boy's experiences in Communist Ethiopia had to do with Canadian identity, and the syntagmatic paradigms of filmic narrative language.
This wasn't what I was expecting. Last fall I sat down in my apartment on O'Connor Street in Ottawa and wrote to organizations and universities about why they should accept me and pay me money to keep studying. I wouldn't set foot in a library for months to come, but I was able to articulate my ambitions based on lingering ideas left over from theses I wrote, arguments that were born from things I felt passionate about in everyday life. Literature. Canadian writing. Film. Multidisciplinary approaches to art and instruction.
Since my first year of University I had my heart and mind set on becoming a professor. It was my plan over the entirety of my undergraduate career, and it was derailed in the year I spent apart from a classroom. I lost the feeling in being away from it. I began to see the potential in other opportunities and even as I accepted U of T's offer and moved to Toronto to continue my education there was a part of me that doubted the direction I had established for myself. Most of the time I engaged only superficially with the material, rarely speaking in class, sharing only brief pleasantries with the people I began seeing on a regular basis because I knew that in a few months time I'd be back in Ottawa, working, doing something else unrelated to the realm of education. In the meantime I would repeatedly stress over what I was actually going to be able to accomplish once I'd achieved my degree and no longer had to think about it. I hadn't fully discounted the idea of going for my PhD, but with my interest in all things academia flagging I didn't see it as something I'd likely pursue in the near future.
This line of thinking led to a disappointment in myself that I didn't immediately recognize - I had decided on some level to abandon what I'd been working so hard at accomplishing for the past few years. My experiences at U of T existed as nothing more than formalities. More than that, they led to a doubt I began to foster in myself about my own abilities, thinking that everyone around me was far more brilliant, more self-assured, and more prepared to see their education through. Without realizing it, I lost faith in myself, and though I've been completing my assignments I haven't been expecting them to garner results that are of any importance to me.
Recently I made the decision to sit down and talk with two people about this problem while I still had the time and my status as one of their students. Last week I talked with George Elliott Clarke about all things CanLit, an opportunity I haven't taken with anyone since I started back at school. Today I sat down with Linda Hutcheon and told her that the Master's program really wasn't what I had been expecting. I told her that I had been a Canadianist and took her course because of the importance of her work in the field. For the first time all semester I was able to hear her talk about CanLit. I asked her about the ramifications of becoming a professor, and whether she had ever experienced doubts. She told me that she'd had doubts right up until she'd actually started the job, and that the job market for professors is going to be very lucrative over the next few years for those who are willing to go where the work takes them.
She assured me that I would get to make the most of my interests at the PhD level. I told her about the declaration of interest and thesis proposal I'd written to get funding for the program, and she told me to bring it in with me after the break so that we could talk about it, outside of the context of a classroom.
Now, I had a feeling she'd say these things. Professor Hutcheon has routinely been a nice woman and great teacher (and I hope this will translate to the pity she takes on the paper I polished off at 6:30 AM). But after I left the office, I had felt that things were different, that I was starting to make my experience at University something personal again. I had started reaffirming my faith in myself. For the first time in months I held the honest opinion that there are real, attainable possibilities in front of me rather than a smattering of vague interests I won't ultimately pursue. I still haven't decided about continuing grad school, but I'm now under the impression that if I ultimately do it won't be out of the desire to retreat to some old pattern of thinking from which I've been disconnected. I'll do it because I've rediscovered that I really want to.
Time will tell. Right now I feel as though I can do anything I set my mind to. I can go anywhere and do anything. It's going to make my next semester so much more rewarding. And when my time in Toronto comes to a close I know I'll have picked my next step carefully and correctly.
As I mentioned, today was the last day of classes. Paul and I knocked our editorial presentation out of the park during a four-hour Bibliography seminar. I spoke up at length in Opera class after a semester of relative silence. My group ended up with a split grade of A/A+ on our presentation. After the meeting with Professor Hutcheon, I returned some books and walked home from Keele station deep in thought.
Updated To-Do List:
Friday, December 14th: Final project - Touch of Evil
Friday, December 21st: Critical reflection paper - Bibliography
Monday, January 7th: Final research paper (max. 14 pages) - African-Canadian Lit
Christmas is only TWO WEEKS away. I need to get to a shopping mall.
Over the course of the semester I've been growing more and more apprehensive about my decision to enroll in grad school. I spent half of the time wondering why I bothered with classes at all. It's not that I didn't feel engaged on a certain level with the material. I liked my classes, but consistently felt puzzled as to why I was spending so much time analyzing how a book was made 200 years ago, how tonal combinations indicate an opera character's motivations, what a young boy's experiences in Communist Ethiopia had to do with Canadian identity, and the syntagmatic paradigms of filmic narrative language.
This wasn't what I was expecting. Last fall I sat down in my apartment on O'Connor Street in Ottawa and wrote to organizations and universities about why they should accept me and pay me money to keep studying. I wouldn't set foot in a library for months to come, but I was able to articulate my ambitions based on lingering ideas left over from theses I wrote, arguments that were born from things I felt passionate about in everyday life. Literature. Canadian writing. Film. Multidisciplinary approaches to art and instruction.
Since my first year of University I had my heart and mind set on becoming a professor. It was my plan over the entirety of my undergraduate career, and it was derailed in the year I spent apart from a classroom. I lost the feeling in being away from it. I began to see the potential in other opportunities and even as I accepted U of T's offer and moved to Toronto to continue my education there was a part of me that doubted the direction I had established for myself. Most of the time I engaged only superficially with the material, rarely speaking in class, sharing only brief pleasantries with the people I began seeing on a regular basis because I knew that in a few months time I'd be back in Ottawa, working, doing something else unrelated to the realm of education. In the meantime I would repeatedly stress over what I was actually going to be able to accomplish once I'd achieved my degree and no longer had to think about it. I hadn't fully discounted the idea of going for my PhD, but with my interest in all things academia flagging I didn't see it as something I'd likely pursue in the near future.
This line of thinking led to a disappointment in myself that I didn't immediately recognize - I had decided on some level to abandon what I'd been working so hard at accomplishing for the past few years. My experiences at U of T existed as nothing more than formalities. More than that, they led to a doubt I began to foster in myself about my own abilities, thinking that everyone around me was far more brilliant, more self-assured, and more prepared to see their education through. Without realizing it, I lost faith in myself, and though I've been completing my assignments I haven't been expecting them to garner results that are of any importance to me.
Recently I made the decision to sit down and talk with two people about this problem while I still had the time and my status as one of their students. Last week I talked with George Elliott Clarke about all things CanLit, an opportunity I haven't taken with anyone since I started back at school. Today I sat down with Linda Hutcheon and told her that the Master's program really wasn't what I had been expecting. I told her that I had been a Canadianist and took her course because of the importance of her work in the field. For the first time all semester I was able to hear her talk about CanLit. I asked her about the ramifications of becoming a professor, and whether she had ever experienced doubts. She told me that she'd had doubts right up until she'd actually started the job, and that the job market for professors is going to be very lucrative over the next few years for those who are willing to go where the work takes them.
She assured me that I would get to make the most of my interests at the PhD level. I told her about the declaration of interest and thesis proposal I'd written to get funding for the program, and she told me to bring it in with me after the break so that we could talk about it, outside of the context of a classroom.
Now, I had a feeling she'd say these things. Professor Hutcheon has routinely been a nice woman and great teacher (and I hope this will translate to the pity she takes on the paper I polished off at 6:30 AM). But after I left the office, I had felt that things were different, that I was starting to make my experience at University something personal again. I had started reaffirming my faith in myself. For the first time in months I held the honest opinion that there are real, attainable possibilities in front of me rather than a smattering of vague interests I won't ultimately pursue. I still haven't decided about continuing grad school, but I'm now under the impression that if I ultimately do it won't be out of the desire to retreat to some old pattern of thinking from which I've been disconnected. I'll do it because I've rediscovered that I really want to.
Time will tell. Right now I feel as though I can do anything I set my mind to. I can go anywhere and do anything. It's going to make my next semester so much more rewarding. And when my time in Toronto comes to a close I know I'll have picked my next step carefully and correctly.
As I mentioned, today was the last day of classes. Paul and I knocked our editorial presentation out of the park during a four-hour Bibliography seminar. I spoke up at length in Opera class after a semester of relative silence. My group ended up with a split grade of A/A+ on our presentation. After the meeting with Professor Hutcheon, I returned some books and walked home from Keele station deep in thought.
Updated To-Do List:
Friday, December 14th: Final project - Touch of Evil
Friday, December 21st: Critical reflection paper - Bibliography
Monday, January 7th: Final research paper (max. 14 pages) - African-Canadian Lit
Christmas is only TWO WEEKS away. I need to get to a shopping mall.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
I stayed up late last night reading Kevin Smith's account of Jason Mewes' battle with drug addiction in My Boring Ass Life. In addition to being an interesting analysis of how drugs can affect a person's personality and decisions, it's a well-written and fascinating account of what a friendship can put you through. I couldn't put it down.
Opera class had a special-guest, a German theatre director who had some absorbing things to say about how he puts together a production, his likes and dislikes about opera. At one point he made a dramatic gesture and whacked Professor Hutcheon in the face. She had to leave class to tend to her left eye's contact lens. It's hard to recover gracefully from a thing like that.
After class I went to the Varsity to check out Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. I had about an hour to kill, so I browsed a bit at Indigo in the Manulife Centre and ended up breaking the cherry on my Starbucks gift card while reading a paper. I went back to the theatre and noticed that the 6:30 showtime was for the VIP screening - about $15 for a nicer theatre. I didn't really want to pay that much, and the regular showing wasn't for another hour, so I decided to head home.
I listened to Jimmy Eat World's Chase This Light on the way, and though it's more of the same from the group I really dig it by first impression, especially the songs "Always Be" and "Dizzy." After I got home I finished off the Scrubs box set, watched some Mission Hill, and put on Ghost World.
Ghost World is a movie that changes with every viewing as I get older. When I first saw it in theatres back in 2001, it spoke very directly about my initial post-high school years, trying to work out how to be an adult when a part of you is unable. I watched it all the time once I procured it on DVD, falling in love with its acerbic wit and condemnation of what passes for normalcy in a prescribed society. But as I get older, I find myself armed with an increasing tendency to watch it from the perspective of an adult who has already, for better or worse, battled through a lot of the problems Enid and Rebecca face. Seymour becomes less and less of a character whose oddities I can appreciate - he's someone who makes every decision with a weak heart, putting too much trust in the familiar. Enid calls him her hero, but he's things she'll never be: uncreative, unsure, buried in obscurity. Enid is otherworldly, curious despite being angst-ridden, hyper-individualistic. I find her to be one of the rare creatures in movies for whom I have what closely resembles a genuine affection.
It makes my chest heavy, that movie. It ends so poetically, the way it fades out on a view of the impossible road to a possible place the lonely and estranged might belong, indicating that possibility is an end in itself.
Opera class had a special-guest, a German theatre director who had some absorbing things to say about how he puts together a production, his likes and dislikes about opera. At one point he made a dramatic gesture and whacked Professor Hutcheon in the face. She had to leave class to tend to her left eye's contact lens. It's hard to recover gracefully from a thing like that.
After class I went to the Varsity to check out Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. I had about an hour to kill, so I browsed a bit at Indigo in the Manulife Centre and ended up breaking the cherry on my Starbucks gift card while reading a paper. I went back to the theatre and noticed that the 6:30 showtime was for the VIP screening - about $15 for a nicer theatre. I didn't really want to pay that much, and the regular showing wasn't for another hour, so I decided to head home.
I listened to Jimmy Eat World's Chase This Light on the way, and though it's more of the same from the group I really dig it by first impression, especially the songs "Always Be" and "Dizzy." After I got home I finished off the Scrubs box set, watched some Mission Hill, and put on Ghost World.
Ghost World is a movie that changes with every viewing as I get older. When I first saw it in theatres back in 2001, it spoke very directly about my initial post-high school years, trying to work out how to be an adult when a part of you is unable. I watched it all the time once I procured it on DVD, falling in love with its acerbic wit and condemnation of what passes for normalcy in a prescribed society. But as I get older, I find myself armed with an increasing tendency to watch it from the perspective of an adult who has already, for better or worse, battled through a lot of the problems Enid and Rebecca face. Seymour becomes less and less of a character whose oddities I can appreciate - he's someone who makes every decision with a weak heart, putting too much trust in the familiar. Enid calls him her hero, but he's things she'll never be: uncreative, unsure, buried in obscurity. Enid is otherworldly, curious despite being angst-ridden, hyper-individualistic. I find her to be one of the rare creatures in movies for whom I have what closely resembles a genuine affection.
It makes my chest heavy, that movie. It ends so poetically, the way it fades out on a view of the impossible road to a possible place the lonely and estranged might belong, indicating that possibility is an end in itself.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Happy Halloween. I met up with the Opera folks and went over what we're going to look at until our next meeting in a couple of weeks. I have a few ideas regarding thematic, biographical and linguistic angles that I can bring up on Death in Venice, but I need to do more research. Tomorrow I'm meeting with ANOTHER group to go over an annotation exercise for Bibliography, which sounds pretty intense. The readings and research at this level are constant and voluminous.
I watched the Peanuts Halloween special on YouTube before heading over to Matt's. His new place is in a nice spot but he and Kim have apparently been having their share of problems with the apartment. They've been riding their landlord a bit to take care of them. They made some vegan pitas for supper and Matt and I settled in to watch Halloween I and II. The original Halloween is a suspense classic and a dictionary definition of proper horror execution. I hadn't seen the second in years, but it wasn't as good as I recalled. It has a great elements to it (the ending may be even better than the first), but those elements are intercut with a gore-intent bodycount victimizing people the audience can't possibly care less about. Halloween is scarier because the people who die, though fewer in number, are more or less established personalities. Plus, it's set at a spookier time of day - the first half of the film sees the sun gradually setting behind the red and orange trees of suburbia, and you get the sense that the inevitable is coming with the approaching night.
I'm exhausted. Tomorrow I'll be phoning my girl to wish her a happy birthday. It will be outstanding to hear her voice.
I watched the Peanuts Halloween special on YouTube before heading over to Matt's. His new place is in a nice spot but he and Kim have apparently been having their share of problems with the apartment. They've been riding their landlord a bit to take care of them. They made some vegan pitas for supper and Matt and I settled in to watch Halloween I and II. The original Halloween is a suspense classic and a dictionary definition of proper horror execution. I hadn't seen the second in years, but it wasn't as good as I recalled. It has a great elements to it (the ending may be even better than the first), but those elements are intercut with a gore-intent bodycount victimizing people the audience can't possibly care less about. Halloween is scarier because the people who die, though fewer in number, are more or less established personalities. Plus, it's set at a spookier time of day - the first half of the film sees the sun gradually setting behind the red and orange trees of suburbia, and you get the sense that the inevitable is coming with the approaching night.
I'm exhausted. Tomorrow I'll be phoning my girl to wish her a happy birthday. It will be outstanding to hear her voice.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I was able to take care of a few errands today, though the Canadian Opera Company hasn't started selling show seats for next year, so I couldn't pick up tickets and thereby knock a Christmas present off my list. I did apply for that government job after embellishing my resume a bit. I need to start back on applying for another couple of grants, though I may not qualify for the one I had my eye on through the CCA because I'm not a non-profit organization. There's a separate one for artists due in February, but I'm not really an ARTIST either. So it looks like I'll have to phone them.
I made some vegetarian chili and watched The Naked Jungle in which Heston plays a virgin (YEAH RIGHT) facing off against billions of killer ants. Heston flails around as if the ants are punching him in the body. It was about as ridiculous as it sounds but it made me laugh.
Speaking of nudity, I listened to Oni's Bedside Booty Book and blushed. Well, not really. She has a great voice on her that sounds even better over jazz rhythms. Tomorrow night I might hit up The Boat to see Eileen's band play. It would be nice to try out my camera at a show. And to get out of the house.
Here's a picture I took of myself:
Bedtime.
I made some vegetarian chili and watched The Naked Jungle in which Heston plays a virgin (YEAH RIGHT) facing off against billions of killer ants. Heston flails around as if the ants are punching him in the body. It was about as ridiculous as it sounds but it made me laugh.
Speaking of nudity, I listened to Oni's Bedside Booty Book and blushed. Well, not really. She has a great voice on her that sounds even better over jazz rhythms. Tomorrow night I might hit up The Boat to see Eileen's band play. It would be nice to try out my camera at a show. And to get out of the house.
Here's a picture I took of myself:
Bedtime.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
My passport is now firmly in my possession, faux male supermodel posed picture and all. Everything looks set for my New Year travels. Andrea sent me a bit of an itinerary and man am I excited. Lots to see and do, lots of pictures to be taken.
I felt tired most of the day and took a nap before finishing off the Dietrich presentation, and not a moment too soon because I'm starting to have dreams in which she tells me I'm the cream in her coffee (and the salt in her stew). Speaking of food, I picked up a box of Reese Puffs at the grocery store. Heaven. God bless General Mills for shoving chocolate and peanut butter into a cereal bowl and calling it breakfast.
The presentations in Opera class are becoming more elaborate - costumes, media projections, piano stylings and the like. It seems everyone's a born actor. I have a good feeling about my group, however, and that we'll pull off something awesome. Anything that allows me the opportunity to wear an outrageously false moustache is something I can get behind (see the pics of my Beastie Boys gala event outfit for proof).
I finally got my new health card in the mail, so I'll feel a lot better about contracting potential sicknesses and injury. I'm still coughing and despite my first-ever foray into Buckley's cough medication (an experience akin to swallowing a nuclear explosion), it's a persistent bugger.
I felt tired most of the day and took a nap before finishing off the Dietrich presentation, and not a moment too soon because I'm starting to have dreams in which she tells me I'm the cream in her coffee (and the salt in her stew). Speaking of food, I picked up a box of Reese Puffs at the grocery store. Heaven. God bless General Mills for shoving chocolate and peanut butter into a cereal bowl and calling it breakfast.
The presentations in Opera class are becoming more elaborate - costumes, media projections, piano stylings and the like. It seems everyone's a born actor. I have a good feeling about my group, however, and that we'll pull off something awesome. Anything that allows me the opportunity to wear an outrageously false moustache is something I can get behind (see the pics of my Beastie Boys gala event outfit for proof).
I finally got my new health card in the mail, so I'll feel a lot better about contracting potential sicknesses and injury. I'm still coughing and despite my first-ever foray into Buckley's cough medication (an experience akin to swallowing a nuclear explosion), it's a persistent bugger.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
It sure got late in a hurry. Speaking of late, I was almost late for the opera tonight due to my foolishness in thinking I could get from my house to Queen Street in 45 minutes during rush hour. I made it with a couple of minutes to spare, but it would have been embarrassing if I'd been any later. Verdi's Don Carlos was a heretic-burning, Oedipus complex-flaunting, revolution-failing good time, though it was a long show at over 4 hours with two intermissions. I wasn't as familiar with it as I was going into Mozart's and I think that affected my opinion of it. The vocalists were better, but I was expecting more of a spectacle given the subject matter. It was still very good, nonetheless. Tomorrow I'm meeting with my group to start talking Death in Venice.
Today I visited the Toronto Public Library's Osbourne Collection of Early Children's Books, where my class looked at a ton of publications of Robinson Crusoe through the years. It's fascinating the kind of things that were used as propaganda for kids (wartime declarations, stories to prepare children for death). I bet there's a whole slew of Oz books in that building. They're currently featuring an extensive Edward Gorey collection in glass cases.
Between the opera and my Bibliography course, I feel so privileged being able to do what I'm doing here. I've been experiencing literature in a way I never thought possible - I'm actually able to engage with texts touched and signed by the people I read. U of T is extraordinarily surreal in a lot of ways due to its size and history. I should take advantage of what it has to offer while I'm here.
I signed out copies of Griffith's Birth of a Nation and Murnau's Faust to watch over the weekend. The Ontario Arts Council emailed me and told me I collated my grant applications wrong, which doesn't sound right because I took painstaking measures to put them in the right order, but I thanked them for correcting the error without forcing me to resubmit. I finally activated my new VISA and have as of yet not used it. Such restraint. Ren's in town and we're hitting up Darjeeling on Monday.
The air is getting colder. I have a lingering cough but it doesn't feel too serious.
Today I visited the Toronto Public Library's Osbourne Collection of Early Children's Books, where my class looked at a ton of publications of Robinson Crusoe through the years. It's fascinating the kind of things that were used as propaganda for kids (wartime declarations, stories to prepare children for death). I bet there's a whole slew of Oz books in that building. They're currently featuring an extensive Edward Gorey collection in glass cases.
Between the opera and my Bibliography course, I feel so privileged being able to do what I'm doing here. I've been experiencing literature in a way I never thought possible - I'm actually able to engage with texts touched and signed by the people I read. U of T is extraordinarily surreal in a lot of ways due to its size and history. I should take advantage of what it has to offer while I'm here.
I signed out copies of Griffith's Birth of a Nation and Murnau's Faust to watch over the weekend. The Ontario Arts Council emailed me and told me I collated my grant applications wrong, which doesn't sound right because I took painstaking measures to put them in the right order, but I thanked them for correcting the error without forcing me to resubmit. I finally activated my new VISA and have as of yet not used it. Such restraint. Ren's in town and we're hitting up Darjeeling on Monday.
The air is getting colder. I have a lingering cough but it doesn't feel too serious.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
I fell in love tonight. Andrea's going to have to share me with opera.
I caught the first performance of The Marriage of Figaro at the Four Seasons Centre, a beautiful facility with five levels in its main hall:
I was up on the fifth level, and the seats were still pretty damn good. Seeing the opera live drove my appreciation for it up about ten times. Not only was it exciting to watch, but the whole thing was subtitled on a marquis above the stage. It sunk in tonight that opera is a real live big deal. I sat and listened to an orchestra play Mozart for close to three hours, and watched a cast of characters sing in Italian about love and betrayal in fashions both heartrending and incredibly humorous. I feel enlightened and privileged to have experienced it. And I'll be watching another in about two weeks!
It's been a long day, but a sugar-rich coffee after my second class helped get me through (I was pretty dead by that point). Tomorrow: passport shyte and The Hives! Then maybe I'll take a breather.
I caught the first performance of The Marriage of Figaro at the Four Seasons Centre, a beautiful facility with five levels in its main hall:
I was up on the fifth level, and the seats were still pretty damn good. Seeing the opera live drove my appreciation for it up about ten times. Not only was it exciting to watch, but the whole thing was subtitled on a marquis above the stage. It sunk in tonight that opera is a real live big deal. I sat and listened to an orchestra play Mozart for close to three hours, and watched a cast of characters sing in Italian about love and betrayal in fashions both heartrending and incredibly humorous. I feel enlightened and privileged to have experienced it. And I'll be watching another in about two weeks!
It's been a long day, but a sugar-rich coffee after my second class helped get me through (I was pretty dead by that point). Tomorrow: passport shyte and The Hives! Then maybe I'll take a breather.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
In seven hours I'm doing my first presentation of the year on Touch of Evil. It took a little more work than I thought it would, which is why I'm up at 3 AM. I'll have to lug my laptop to school and back, which I'm not looking forward to. I don't particularly enjoy the commute, especially back from school. Toronto seems to be in perpetual rush hour.
I really enjoyed working on this presentation. I went into school early and watched the 108-minute laserdisc version of TOE in the Media Commons room of Robarts library. Media Commons essentially acts as a video store. You can take out (mostly) anything you want for a couple of days for free.
After a quick bite at Tim Hortons, I had my second Opera class and watched some clips of different performances of Orpheus. Professors Clark and Hutcheon are thus far stellar in the classroom. Professor Clark used a PIANO to emphasize a point. My GOD. In class today I learned by video, audio recording and piano. It's a dream come true.
I should try for sleep. Six hours and ten minutes. Wish me luck.
I really enjoyed working on this presentation. I went into school early and watched the 108-minute laserdisc version of TOE in the Media Commons room of Robarts library. Media Commons essentially acts as a video store. You can take out (mostly) anything you want for a couple of days for free.
After a quick bite at Tim Hortons, I had my second Opera class and watched some clips of different performances of Orpheus. Professors Clark and Hutcheon are thus far stellar in the classroom. Professor Clark used a PIANO to emphasize a point. My GOD. In class today I learned by video, audio recording and piano. It's a dream come true.
I should try for sleep. Six hours and ten minutes. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I showed up for my Opera class today, and there was no one there. What's happening? I don't understand. Why do I keep missing classes? This never happened at Carleton. I've missed three classes so far and I'm only a week in. Granted I slept through one, but come on. I emailed my prof asking what the deal was, but I haven't as of yet heard back.
I called Donna at Arts Court before I left, but she wasn't there. I called Sam later on and found out that she'd gone home sick. Sam couldn't really answer my questions regarding the grant, and told me that I should try Donna again tomorrow. I'm thinking of just applying as an individual now, rather than on behalf of an organization, because it seems like too much crap to deal with. I'll call Donna again tomorrow, though. I've learned from organizing these shows that sometimes you don't get anywhere unless you bug people to death.
So without school nipping at my heels, I settled in and watched Saving Private Ryan, which believe it or not I'd never seen. It's a brutally violent film that rattled me. The cinematography is breathtaking, and although the script is choppy in parts it's hard not to call it a triumph (though I probably liked Platoon better). And everything I'd heard about the first half hour is true.
I also watched Touch of Evil again in preparation for tomorrow's lecture, for which I am determined to be awake. I wish I could get out of bed in the morning like a firecracker. As it is I'm the type who will set my alarm for 8 and get out of bed at 10:30. I'm definitely not a morning person.
I wrote the Artist Statement for my grant, using a rant about the Ottawa art scene I posted on my Livejournal a couple of months ago as a basis. I took out the stuff that sounded too much like griping, took out the slang and made it sound more professional. So that's out of the way.
Jay turned me onto this British comedy called The IT Crowd. It's a show about three people who work in the IT department of a corporation and get into misadventures. Pretty funny. You can check out the entire first episode on You Tube here.
I called Donna at Arts Court before I left, but she wasn't there. I called Sam later on and found out that she'd gone home sick. Sam couldn't really answer my questions regarding the grant, and told me that I should try Donna again tomorrow. I'm thinking of just applying as an individual now, rather than on behalf of an organization, because it seems like too much crap to deal with. I'll call Donna again tomorrow, though. I've learned from organizing these shows that sometimes you don't get anywhere unless you bug people to death.
So without school nipping at my heels, I settled in and watched Saving Private Ryan, which believe it or not I'd never seen. It's a brutally violent film that rattled me. The cinematography is breathtaking, and although the script is choppy in parts it's hard not to call it a triumph (though I probably liked Platoon better). And everything I'd heard about the first half hour is true.
I also watched Touch of Evil again in preparation for tomorrow's lecture, for which I am determined to be awake. I wish I could get out of bed in the morning like a firecracker. As it is I'm the type who will set my alarm for 8 and get out of bed at 10:30. I'm definitely not a morning person.
I wrote the Artist Statement for my grant, using a rant about the Ottawa art scene I posted on my Livejournal a couple of months ago as a basis. I took out the stuff that sounded too much like griping, took out the slang and made it sound more professional. So that's out of the way.
Jay turned me onto this British comedy called The IT Crowd. It's a show about three people who work in the IT department of a corporation and get into misadventures. Pretty funny. You can check out the entire first episode on You Tube here.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
There's a panoramic shot of the CN Tower from my balcony, taken on the new camera (click for a bigger version).
I devoted as much of today as I could handle to Opera readings, and I'll have most of them finished by the time I go to bed. This interdisciplinary approach to the subject matter is throwing me for a bit of a loop. One of the readings was comprised mostly of music scores to illustrate its thesis regarding the impact of shifts in musical structure on the dramatic whole of an Orpheus production. I kind of understand what it's getting at, but it was clearly written for students of music. The stuff on the interaction between libretto writers and composers is more my speed. There's certainly an element of competition in place when deciding which discipline is best to get at the dramatic core of a production.
I watched Citizen Kane in the spirit of my Orson Welles class. I always forget how absolutely perfect it is. Not a bad performance, none of the dialogue is gratuitous, it looks gorgeous, and it uses incredibly poetic metaphor.
For dinner tonight, I chanced a recipe for baked penne pasta with Italian sausage. Really delicious but really heavy. Here's a picture:
Cameras are fun.
I talked with Andrea a bit today. She's found a place to live, so it's a load off both our minds. I'm proud of her for being as determined as she is.
Finally, I got some more writing done, about 200 words. Still pretty dark in tone, but at least I'm getting used to writing on emotional impulse again. I missed the weight it lifts. Like successfully detoxing.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Ladies and gentlemen, I present the first installment in an ongoing series:
WHAT I'M IN FOR (PART ONE)
I had my first class today - Interdisciplinary Approaches to Opera - and I will not, as I had previously indicated, be studying Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. Instead, I'll be looking at five, count 'em, five operas, presenting as part of a group on one and writing a 15-page paper for the remainder of the final grade. The operas are: Mozart's Le Nozza di Figaro, Verdi's Don Carlos, Wagner's Der Fliegende Holländer, Strauss' Elektra, and Britten's Death in Venice. I'll be seeing the first two live.
I chatted with some folks before class, including another English student named Marco whose schedule and interests shadow mine pretty closely. He also speaks Italian. He must be stopped (kidding). After a 45 minute delay related to scheduling, Professor Hutcheon introduced the course along with Professor Clark, and the students introduced themselves. The class is a mish-mash of Music, Drama, Comp Lit and English students that will be put into groups to present. The amount of readings is about average, in addition to actually sitting down and listening to/viewing the operas. It feels as though I'm of the few who know next to nothing about opera, but that's only going to drive me harder. On Wednesday I have a one-on-one with Hutcheon about the course. I'd better review how I quoted her in my undergrad essays.
I arrived on campus far earlier than need be to pick up OSAP, so I spent some time locating the Graduates' pub on the western end of the campus. Know where to drink and you'll know where to think. About $200 in textbooks later, I headed home, ate some chili, played some Wii, listened to some SModcast, and hoped that I'm not already in too far over my head.
WHAT I'M IN FOR (PART ONE)
I had my first class today - Interdisciplinary Approaches to Opera - and I will not, as I had previously indicated, be studying Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. Instead, I'll be looking at five, count 'em, five operas, presenting as part of a group on one and writing a 15-page paper for the remainder of the final grade. The operas are: Mozart's Le Nozza di Figaro, Verdi's Don Carlos, Wagner's Der Fliegende Holländer, Strauss' Elektra, and Britten's Death in Venice. I'll be seeing the first two live.
I chatted with some folks before class, including another English student named Marco whose schedule and interests shadow mine pretty closely. He also speaks Italian. He must be stopped (kidding). After a 45 minute delay related to scheduling, Professor Hutcheon introduced the course along with Professor Clark, and the students introduced themselves. The class is a mish-mash of Music, Drama, Comp Lit and English students that will be put into groups to present. The amount of readings is about average, in addition to actually sitting down and listening to/viewing the operas. It feels as though I'm of the few who know next to nothing about opera, but that's only going to drive me harder. On Wednesday I have a one-on-one with Hutcheon about the course. I'd better review how I quoted her in my undergrad essays.
I arrived on campus far earlier than need be to pick up OSAP, so I spent some time locating the Graduates' pub on the western end of the campus. Know where to drink and you'll know where to think. About $200 in textbooks later, I headed home, ate some chili, played some Wii, listened to some SModcast, and hoped that I'm not already in too far over my head.
Friday, September 7, 2007
I'm going on the Robarts Library tour tomorrow morning before heading to Peterborough. Classes start Monday, and my first will be "Interdisciplinary Approaches to an Interdisciplinary Art Form: Opera." I found a brief course outline online, and we'll be focusing on Richard Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen, a 15-hour, four opera cycle that you can find out more about by clicking on the link. Or, you can have a gander at this:
Yep. That opera.
Today I watched Top Gun for the first time ever, believe it or not, and I'll have "Take My Breath Away" in my head for at least two weeks straight. I was suitably impressed with the film's dogfight sequences, which showed early signs of promise for Tony Scott, whose visual style goes completely mental in his more recent films. Too bad all that plot gets in the way. It was pretty cool to see James Tolkan in a new role (for me), and it just goes to show that Tolkan was the 80's go-to guy if you needed a short, bald, tightly-wound authority figure in your movie.
I played Wii-Boxing for about an hour and worked up a sweat. I've NEVER worked up a sweat playing a video game before. It felt amazing. Playing the sports games every so often might prove beneficial. For dinner, I came back from my tomato-basil pasta debacle with a tasty vegetarian chili that cost me ten bucks to put together and will last me another four nights.
Lately I've been adhering to the regimen of cleaning up after myself, and it feels good. I'll make a meal, eat it, and immediately wash the dishes. I'll make sure the bathroom is relatively free and clear of any indication of my presence in it. I want to make sure I'm not a bother to Jay, but I'm also draining myself of the will to put up with squalor.
I've changed the background and added a few links to other people's blogspots, if for no other reason than to help me access them easier. If you have a blog that I don't know about, send it along and I'll add you.
I'd recommend listening to some Otis Redding, if your heart's feeling low. Absolutely nobody sings it out like Otis.
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