A Musing

Instead of the paper I should be writing...

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          Hey, all!  I know it's been a long time, so I decided I needed to post something.

          In case y'all didn't know, I got rather into anime in the past few years.  It's a fun medium that is vastly different from its American counterpart in that it didn't originate from comedy.  Traditionally, American animation is comedic: You get Loony Toons, Animaniacs, and a whole host of others that I can't think of right now.  On the other hand, Japanese anime has been used in every genre imaginable from an early age, being heavily based in the already-established medium of Manga.  I'm not saying that all American animation is comedy or that all Japanese Anime is better than American Animation: I'm just talking about the traditional origins.  That said, I'm going to talk a bit about an Anime I finished watching recently.

          A while back, a friend of mine recommended Non Non Biyori to me as a fun little slice-of-life anime.  I watched it in about a month, and noticed about halfway through that one of the characters suffered from midrange ADHD.  The episode goes something like this:

Character 1 does something obnoxious and dangerous, her mother yells at her, she runs away with her sister and has flashbacks to when this has happened before.  She comes to terms with herself and goes home at the end of the day.

          All of the things she did, she rationalized with something I recognise from my experience with ADHD: "It was there, what did you expect?"  It struck me really close to home, but what really hit it home was the mother's reaction.  The first time we see the mother react to Char 1's antics, the mother explodes in anger.  It seems like the easily-angered-mother archetype, but if you look at it from the angle of having a child with ADHD, it makes perfect sense.  Since Char 1 was little, her mother had to deal with all of the shit she got into to the point where even harmless antics get the same treatment as dangerous games.  If you've ever had to deal with someone who has severe ADHD, you probably know what I'm talking about.

          I'm really tired and kind of talking in circles.  Point is, I like the way Non Non Biyori worked with ADHD.  Good night.

What a Weekend

So much stuff, so little of it sleep...

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          It started on Friday.  Class in the morning was fine, but then I had to go to a party for my internship.  I don't like parties.  At all.  I don't like crowds, I don't like dealing with strangers, and I don't like not having an escape.  This party checked the entire list.  I was helping in the media room for most of it, which meant guarding the door when there was an interview in progress.  Turns out people don't like not being let into a room.  I had to deal with some pushy people, and that is not my forte (luckily, the guy who was helping in the room talked most of the people down if they barged past me).  That was rough, but it was nothing compared to the food situation.

          The media room was supposed to have a small table of food for the media staff.  Sadly, the room was labeled the VIP room, as well as the media room, so everyone came up to see it and to act like a VIP.  Everyone.  Random people who were incredibly under dressed for the occasion (Code: semi-formal, but relaxed so more people would show.  Wearing: T-shirt, hoodie, jeans.) went in, hung out, and ate food.  Our food.  The only food that the media staff was allotted for the night.  By the time we figured out what was going on, there was nothing left but weird couscous cups that I couldn't stomach.  We got there at 18h on Friday, and were allowed the leftovers at 1h on Saturday.  I hadn't eaten since 15h.  It was not the most pleasant of experiences.

          Then came daylight on Saturday (after sleep, of course).  I had the internship from 13h-16h, and I woke up at 12h.  My ride, in some odd act of universal sympathy, woke up at 12:30 and picked me up around 13:15.  We worked until 16h, then he took me back to campus, where I quickly changed and went to my techie (paying) job at 18h.  I stayed there and worked (moved things, dealt with late people, read a book because I couldn't hear the performance) until 21:45, at which point I went home and chatted with a friend and a brother for far longer than I should have.  Fell asleep on Sunday.

          Sunday was the big semester concert for my percussion ensemble.  I woke up at 13 or 14h, and had to be at the practice studio by 18h.  Plenty of time.  I wasn't pressed at all.  A nice relief.  My mother came up to watch the concert, but got here early so we walked and talked a bit before I had to go to practice.  Practice happened.  We ironed out some rough parts, figured out how to cover over some parts we couldn't fix, and prepared for our first play-throughs onstage.

          The show started with a piece written by one of our members.  It was a nice piece that sounded like something a percussion ensemble would play for a university concert.  It went well, considering I hadn't been able to retune the timpani correctly during our last practice (timpani tune with foot pedals...Eh, look here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timpani#Tuning).

          The second piece was a strictly rhythmic piece with four people each playing a different sized paper bag.  It was not flawless, but it was awesome.  We all knew where we were and what mistakes to look for, so we always sounded together, whether we were right or not.  

          The third piece was John Cage's "Living Room Music".  Look it up.  I played the last two movements, one of which I completely improvised.  One thing I can say about Cage is that once you understand what rhythmic device he's playing with, you can improvise the whole thing.  I found out later that the person I was looking to for cues had also improvised the whole thing.  Yay, Cage!

          The final piece was a Daft Punk medley that another one of our members arranged.  It. was. awesome.  During our final practice I had internalized the entire thing, so I was just playing from memory, and the only thing I screwed up was that I dropped a mallet three measures before my entrance.  That was it.  I even did a flourish at the end.  We rocked it.

          After the show, I went and got food with my mother, then came home and...chatted with a friend and a brother for far too long...  I need to work on that.  But that leads to today.  Today was not bad.  The weekend from hell is over, and I feel excellent about most of it.  I still hate that party, though...

Similar Attitudes, Different Expectations

It's been a while.

          I was raised by a father who always wanted the answer to the question asked.  If he asked, "What are you doing?" he didn't want an excuse, he wanted to know what you were doing.  This became a thing in my family:

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes."

"...What time is it?"

That kind of thing had a profound impact on how I deal with professors and other people in authoritative positions.

          In high school, my physics teacher was much the same way as my father.  He would give very direct answers to exactly the question asked and expected us to do the same.  To be honest, he sometimes didn't word things particularly well, so the questions he asked and the ones he meant to ask were occasionally different, but it was solid for the most part.  The experience with this teacher further reinforced my answering habits.

          Then I got to college.  Here, I have a professor of Physics of Sound who seems very similar in mentality to my high school physics teacher, but who doesn't have the same emphasis on precise questioning.  We had a test a few weeks back, and she prefaced it by saying that it was an essay/short answer test.  Makes sense: multiple choice is traditionally too easy.  There were a few questions that said, "name and describe [x] and [y]," so I did that in a short answer format, true to the question.  The problem came when there were a few questions that said things like, "what are the three stages of [x]?" or, "does [x] affect [y]?"  Those questions did not ask for an explanation, so I didn't provide one.  This was the wrong decision.  Evidently, this professor explicitly stated the "explain" on some questions and implied it on the rest.  When I got the test back, I hadn't done poorly, but I had lost some points because I answered the question asked.  (Granted, on one I accidentally just made a list instead of writing in sentences, but I think that was less the issue on that one.)  When I asked the professor about this, she said, "I told you it was an essay test," and left it at that.  This explanation didn't really help, because I had answered the question she had asked, and my answer was correct.  It sharply contrasted with how I've learned to deal with essay tests, and I'm kind of uneasy about the whole thing.  And I'm going to be late to class.  Have fun, all.

I kind of feel bad about posting this... :-/

Because it's short.
But I like to keep the blog updated somewhat...

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          Last week I picked up some music: the first four Coheed and Cambria albums and "The Hazards of Love" by the Decemberists.  I recommend a listen to the latter all the way through and a smattering of the former.  That's fun.

         I really thought I had more to say, but I guess not.  Hrmm.  Well, I'll see if something comes to mind.

(That last line brought "Time"/"Breathe (Reprise)" to mind.  Hooray for Pink Floyd!)

Good luck, everyone.  I sincerely hope y'all don't really need it.

Getting My Shit Together

Woo, college...
Edit: Woah, it really has been a month...

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          In the last month, I've not been very good about keeping a schedule.  Like, really bad.  And not just with this, but with my entire life.  It's kind of horrendous.

          As a percussion minor, I need to spend a lot of time practicing the assorted instruments provided.  I haven't been keeping up very well with that, so I've been stressed and tired and blegh.  Today I decided that I would get my shit together...after sleeping through three of my classes.  I now have the practice schedule worked out, and I hope I can stick to it.  Woo!

          Anyway, given that I haven't updated in a while, I've mostly forgotten the things I'd decided to write about.  I have these two notebooks -- one big one that I keep on my desk and one small one I keep in my pocket -- which I write things in.  I forgot to do that.  A lot.  But what I did remember to write down was a reminder to write about packages in the mail room.

          To start, at the beginning of the year, all packages were handled by the deep, dark underground secret society of mail room employees (the distribution center that no one can find).  Recently, I got a package slip telling of a small package waiting for pickup.  I raced through the maze of building and elevators to find the distribution center.  When I got there, however, there was a sign that read, "All small and medium packages will be handled by the people in the mail room upstairs."  I sat there for a minute, trying to find my motivation, then I went back upstairs to the mail room.  I went up to the counter, handed the worker my slip and my ID, and waited.  When she came back, she was holding a 16"x16"x6" box.  For reference, think of those big history text books you get in high school, then make it bigger.  To put it simply, it was not small.  And I had to bike back to my dorm with it sitting on my handlebars. (I really need to make a package sling out of duck tape...)  It was a fun experience, but I wish they would be more reliable with their sizing...

          And something that happened today!  It was really early and I had homework to finish, but I was hungry.  I looked in the fridge to find the leftovers that my roommate had offered me, but he had had the same idea earlier, so there wasn't much of anything there.  I looked at the eggs I got for weekend breakfasts (I'll make it work one of these days...) and remembered something my father taught me back in grade school.  Tupperware is microwaveable.  I broke two eggs into a small Tupperware container, added some bacon I had left over from dinner, and microwaved it for two minutes.  It came out puffy, but cooked and edible.  I was excited.  I burned my tongue.

          Happy Monday, all!

What's a Student to Do?

Sleep deprivation, forgetting to eat, getting locked out of important buildings, oh my!

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          Well, I had a music theory test a while back, but that's old now.  It went pretty well: the only things I missed were definition things.  Eh.  That'll work.

          More recently (last weekend), I tried to go practice my percussion stuff.  As I neared the building, I heard construction noises and was surprised to see workers putting in new stairs.  The current location of the stairs is the former location of all of the buildings wiring.  In case you've never been in a small room while playing drums (any instrument, really), it gets really hot and uncomfortable really fast without air conditioning.  Given this state of affairs, I really couldn't bring myself to practice.  On Monday, I found out that I had misplaced my stick bag.  I was freaking out.  At some point I calmed down enough to think about where it could reasonably be.  The answer?  The percussion studio!  So I went back to the studio in the morning before my lesson (for which I needed my sticks) to see if my stick bag was there.  I got to the door, pulled out my key...and noticed that they had changed the lock to a card reader.  We have a standard swipe-able ID that every student and faculty member has, but we don't have a good method of adding and subtracting permissions for them.  I went to the office of the person who would have a key card for me, but she wasn't there, so I continued to fret through music theory.  After class, I rushed back to her office, got a card, and ran to the studio.  The card didn't read.  I was really put out, but I figured I should do something useful and went for food.  When I got back from food, I looked in to the studio and saw one of my percussion mates, who let me in and asked about my card.  I told him it didn't work and we practiced for a bit.  On my way out for my lesson (same building, separate room), I tried my card to see what would happen.  It worked.  Flawlessly.  Every time since.  I guess they got the permissions up to date.

          Last Sunday, I got to choir rehearsal early to check out the electronic drum set.  It was cool, and, given about an hour, I can make it work, but that's beside the point.  [pan to point]  I put the drum set back (didn't have the hour to spare) and hit the lights.  Pretty much literally.  The percussion closet used to be a confessional, so it's a small room.  The only light is one of those attached-to-the-ceiling pull-string-power ones.  Without really thinking, I hit the string with a coil of cable I was holding.  The light turned off, but something was wrong.  I looked at the cable and saw the string hanging broken from the end of the coil.  I was stunned at first, but then I realized that this was an easy problem to fix if there was string left hanging from the light.  I checked with a flashlight, then, seeing that there was some string left, started planning my ascent.  The room is small, probably about 5 feet wide, but it's actually fairly tall, at about 8 feet.  At about hip height, there is a little elbow rest for praying for forgiveness.  It's also a great step for climbing the room.  I got a foot there, then had to work out a way to tie a square knot with only one hand.  My solution: if you're leaning on the opposite wall with your hand, you can probably do the same with your foot.  I shifted around so I had both hands free, tied the knot, and got down.  Worked like a charm.  No one's the wiser.  Hehe... I wish I could do more of that...  (In my notebook, this story is noted as, "climbed a confessional".)

Yay, College!

I've been busy.  Give me a break.

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          To keep myself organized:  Vocal rig, 9-Volts, challenge coins, rational conversation, Awesomenauts.

          The vocal rig.  This thing is friggin' awesome.  I'll get a picture up in a bit.  Anyway, I went over to a friend's dorm to watch a movie the other day.  After the movie, we sat around and talked for a while, then she asked if I would help take the packaging from her last package down to the recycling.  This package had been full of Dance Dance Revolution pads.  DDR pads, apparently, come with a puzzle-like foam padding insert so you don't hurt yourself.  She has her own, favorite DDR foam padding, so I was tasked with taking down the new padding.  We took the boxes and padding down to the recycling place, but there was no trash can large enough for the pads.  In trying to figure out what to do with them, I remembered: I'm a recording arts major and a musician.  AND my roommate had been thinking about setting up a place to record vocals (he had the mic equipment, but dorms are loud).  I took the pads back to my room, showed them to my roommate, and we got to work.  Sadly, the foam was less sound dampening than anticipated, but we had a few extra towels and sheets that we put up to shut out the outside noise.  It turned out really well for the most ghetto looking thing in the world.  I'm happy.

          After we set up the vocal booth, I went looking for 9-Volts for my roommate's acousto-electric guitar.  I think the strangest thing about this place is that the book store stocks D-cells and C-cells, but no 9-Volts.  Think about the last time you needed a C- or D-cell.  I can't remember that.  9-Volts, on the other hand, are used in many places, like any auditorium with belt-pack mics (there are a very large number of those.)  But no, I had to pick up some from the local CVS.  I guess it was good exercise, but it was pretty annoying.

          If you don't know what challenge coins are, follow this link because it isn't particularly important to the story (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Challenge_coin).  The only part that does matter is that the loser of the challenge buys drinks.  Because I don't drink, I don't have much practical use for my Eagle scout challenge coin.  Actually, I do.  The coin is large, flat, and metal, making it actually pretty good as...a guitar slide.  I feel a little guilty using this token of honor as something so simple, but I have a deep respect for people who can play slide guitar well.  It's crazy.

          During the conversation my friend and I had after the movie (see above), we got to talking about sports.  What is a sport, how is it defined, does it have a concrete definition?  I took the "anything is a sport" side and managed to have the most logical and complete argumentative conversation I have had in months if not years.  It was kind of cool.  Then I started skipping words and we decided that I should just go home.

          I picked up a game off Steam recently: Awesomenauts.  It is an arena shooter with similarities to League of Legends, but I never really got into League.  The intro to this game consists of a heavy rock, borderline metal beat with the silliest of lyrics over the top.  It's hilarious.  And every time you win a game, the singing voice comes in over distorted guitar and screams, "AWESOMENAUTS!"  You should look at it if you have a chance, if only because it's so absurd.  They were on Kickstarter, so you can see an example video there, I think.

          Woo!  I got through all of the things I thought of!