It was a Dark and Early Saturday Morning
I woke up at 4am this morning and mostly did not fall asleep again until now. Of course, my state of wakefulness is continuing for the present and, sadly, the forseeable future. While I was lying in bed, I thought of Things that I Hate About Stockings. Those of you who never wear stockings may want to stop at this point, wary of a clearcut case of TMI.
Stockings and why they are Horrible-Low Riding Crotch. Is there any worse feeling than your upper thighs rubbing together and a constraining bridge of nylon holding your legs together partway down?
This is a rhetorical question, because the answer is: NO.
-Rolly Waistband. This one is related to Low Riding Crotch, and occurs pretty much every time you sit down. It necessitates unseemly tugging at your stockings through your clothes in public, and is never a good thingg.
-Toe Strangulation. You know when there is a hole in your stockings at the bottom, and one of your toes sneaks its way through the hole and spends the rest of the day inside your shoe being tugged on? Vile, isn't it?
-Control Top. There is this funny thing about my body: it doesn't like to be controlled. So it may well be controlled (mostly) beneath the pantyhose, but at the point where the pantyhose ends, suddenly my belly fat burbles out with wild abandon and has an extremely jiggly and hideous party. Let's not even get into how uncomfortable it is to have an unyielding cage of nylon encasing your upper thighs and lower abdomen.
-Runs. What kind of nincompoop designed a garment that can be rendered completely useless forever by brushing ever so slightly against a twig?
-The Cruel Fact that Colourful Stockings with a Cute Minidress is still a great way for those of us with no bosom but decent legs to look sexy. Thus preventing me from just giving up on them altogether.
Peggy II: the Resurrection
Inspired by some of the music related posts on my aunt's blog (she's a Suzuki violin teacher and mother to some astonishly hard working violinists/violists/pianists), I got out my violin this afternoon, intending to burnish off a wee bit of the rust that has developed on my former repertoire. Almost immediately thereafter I made a startling discovery: I apparently left all my violin music in Ontario. The sad reality that it has taken me 1.25 years to discover this is indicative of the fact that I feel uncomfortable playing my violin 1)in a far-from-soundproof apartment and 2)in the presence of a hater of classical music. One of these difficulties having been dispensed with at a conference in Washington, my usual reluctance was overpowered by the need to play again.
I decided to go ahead, despite being severely disappointed at having no music whatsoever. I last had a lesson in June 2001, and have spent probably no more than 4 hours playing Suzuki repertoire in as many years, though I have certainly kept up with my Largely Musically Bereft Contemporary Worship Music repertoire. In 2001 I was a jumped-up Suzuki Book 4, musical, expressive, and good at improvisation, but seriously lacking in technique and a good practice ethic. Jane gave me songs from books 5, 6, and 7 during my last year, cherrypicking exciting ones that played to my strengths, rather than trying to get me to develop a lot of new technique, knowing that I would be going to university and definitely not able to afford lessons any more. Since then I have played almost exclusively in various church/religious functions, and naturally what technique I did have has gone right down the toilet.
And yet! When I started playing, I remembered songs I didn't know I knew anymore! Like Witches Dance, which is a really fun, fast little piece from book...2, I think? The Bach Minuets 1-3, including the minor part from Book 3. I may sound pretty crappy on the difficult parts of the Vivaldi Concerto in A Minor (1st mvmt), but I can still get a nice tone on the opening and closing bars, and remember just about all the positions and fingering. Gossec Gavotte, the third Seitz, part of Meditation from Thais (not Suzuki, and probably not recognizable as I play it now, but still...), Dvorak's Humoresque, which was always one of my favourites because I got to exaggerate CRAZILY in a way that I doubt Dvorak intended, The Happy Farmer.
Now my wrist hurts, which suggests that at least I was trying to correct my left arm position, even if I was doing it wrongly.
This is maybe one reason that I would want to become a homeowner rather than renting for the rest of my life.
Five Lame Things about me that I am secretly proud of
I saw this meme on some other blogs and thought it sounded like something I could do.
(1) I am, in the immortal words of Lydia, a guilt junkie, meaning that I am occasionally immobilized by my need to go and feel bad about myself for a while. I feel that there is something quintessentially mennonite about this.
(2) I have very pale skin that looks all veiny and gross in places, but I wouldn't think of getting a tan, even if my skin were capable of it. This is maybe not only lame but also racist? I'm rocking it Elizabethan style! I figure I will be justified when I am hideous and old but only marginally wrinkly.
(3)I cut myself a lot when using knives. Beats me why I'm proud of this...
(4)I am very good at filing. I can file like a son of a gun. Seriously, you should see me.
(5)The upper third or so of my vocal range, which is roughly the D in the middle of the treble clef and about 6 tones above that, has essentially no dynamic variation. When I sing high notes I sing them in one way and one way only: Very. Very. Loud. My soprano range has a sort of honky quality, which seems appropriate given Item 2.
Okay, if you have read this, do your own. And then tell me!
