What chord?!

bing tic tic tic bing tic tic tic bing tic tic tic bing tic tic tic

SHUT THAT FRAKKING METRONOME OFF!

As you can imagine, I'm sitting here at rehearsals.

It's quite an experience.

First of all, Joe's living room is littered with people slumped on practically every available flat surface, and what's not covered by human body is covered by bags wires laptops and other miscellaneous equipment.

I'm on a chair in the middle of the room, to my left there's is Mike, with his mac and youtube and the mixer, next to him the giant screen followed my Martina and Charlene falling asleep on an arm chair holding her guitar. Matt is standing tying to pass on a message about a song to the rest of us. Martha is on the next sofa leaning back and playing violin. On my right Kirsten, Kristie and Mykel take up another sofa as they 'sing' and Ian is next to them with his bass.

Behind me Joe and Vanessa are behind the Titanic and next to them, Luca and Paul on the drums. In one living room!

We've been here a while and our attention is diminishing. Tempers are not rising yet, thank God, but keep us here for another three hours and my bass will have to be confiscated by the police as a murder weapon.

It's not that anyone is annoying anyone else, it's just tiring.

Put any group of people, as close as they maybe, in a room, planning and practicing something for a number of hours and people will get on other peoples nerves.

Also, an adults attention span is, in optimum conditions, one hour, and let's face it, from the people mentioned above, I'd only classify maybe three of them as adults, the rest of us are just, well legally adults, mentally we're maybe 12.

I mean, both Joe and Matt have shouted at us. Joe more than once. We have it on camera too :) I think without the girls offering to make us tea or coffee once in a while, I'd have stormed out ages ago. Well maybe not stormed out, but argued for sure.

Oh! Glorious words! Mike just said "Ejja guys, we're not gonna bother with the metronome."

Another thing that's worrying me is that I have no idea if come lenten talks I'm going to be able to remember any of the songs we went over here. Don't get me wrong, the time spent here helped me immensely, learning different styles and methods and music dynamics is more clear to me now.

All in all I think rehearsing music with a bunch of talented people, all doing it for God is a wonderful and fun way to spend a Saturday morning and early afternoon. Having to do it under pressure makes it a bit stressful, but still a great experience. I would suggest we keep doing it, but I think Mrs. Angelique Maggi would look at me badly if I did. And then Joe might shout at me... Again!

The student of 2010

ANAKEPHALAIOSIS.

I mean a lecturer writes that on the board and goes on using it as if he was saying some simple term, like butter.

Like the act of writing it down makes it suddenly understandable.

“the anak- what?.... oh the anakephalaiosis, of course, I didn’t know that’s how you pronounced it.”

Word doesn’t even think it’s a real word!

They must honestly think we have read something before the lecture, or know Latin and other dead languages. Hell, I don’t even know what the title of the study unit means.

It’s mostly our fault, I can understand that as university students we should be doing our own background reading. But The lecturer is to blame too.

Some of them must have forgotten what it was like to be a student.

It amazes me how lecturer’s can be so blind as to not realize that over half the class is not following. How they are fooled into thinking that everyone with a laptop open are shifting in their seat so much because it’s uncomfortable to hold a laptop and type, while all we’re really doing is trying to find the position where we get the best wifi.

I mean just now, this very second, I looked up and caught the lecturer’s eye and continued writing this blog entry! Seriously.

I look around.

The law student in front of me is playing solitaire, the theology student next to me is doodling aimlessly, the student behind me is not even pretending to listen, and there in front, the one student taking notes. The notes that will be shared with me come April… I hope. And of course, there’s me here, writing my blog.

Also, some lecturers can’t understand the concept of student sharing. We had a credit last semester who asked us to pick up a cd full of notes from the computer lab. Apparently only 5 students actually bought the thing and he was shocked, surprised and disappointed. A cd! You slide it into your laptop, copy the contents and pass the damn thing on down the row to the next student. And voila! 120 students all have notes from 5 cds.

Either today’s students are more intelligent on a street level, or the lecturer’s have not fully understood the technology of today.

To be fair, we grew up with the technology around us, while they are having to come to terms with it. Most of us remember sharing notes and making projects in our primary years. The whole tedious process of looking through encyclopedias and photocopying and passing on piles of papers. We were lucky enough to be able to leave that all behind with the spread of the internet and the introduction of computers in practically every home. We grew up with the technology, so we learnt how to use it as it was growing more complicated. But our lecturers, most of them at least, went through all their studies without a computer! Can you imagine typing out a thesis by typewriter!

So fair enough, they most probably don’t know what we are up to behind the fancy laptops. Our concerned faces and our fingers dancing across the keyboard make them think we’re taking notes and struggling to keep up. We are in fact, struggling to keep up with 6 conversations on msn while plowing an entire field in Farmville.

“Thank you for your attention”

*slaps forehead*

out

the blue chair

Last Sunday I dislocated my left shoulder for the third time. It was only dislocated for a second or two and popped back in on its own when I tensed my muscles out of reflex, but it was still a dislocation and it felt like one after. So after an uncomfortable 'sleep', this morning i decided to go to hospital to see what can be done.

Headphones blaring, arm kept to my side and limping slightly I walked to Mater Dei Emergency room, walked up to the receptionist and gave my ID number in and told him I had a shoulder problem.

Sat down and waited for a maximum of 2 minutes and my name was called followed by the instruction to move to door 1. As i pushed open the door, two nuns came up to me and asked if they could just show the doctor some papers. I let them in, and they did indeed only show the doctor some papers and where out again.

I was asked to wait in a section of the room secluded by a curtain, but as I looked through the curtain i found an elderly man lying down with his shirt off looking a bit lost.

I decide to wait outside.

Anyway, explanation to the doctor about my shoulder and I'm asked to go back to the waiting room and wait for The Doctor to call me.

I sit down on a chair i knew would become my asses worst enemy quickly and pull out a new book.

Half an hour later, a boy and his parents sit in front of me. the boy was in his school tracksuit as he had left from school with an injury. I was curious as he seemed to be in extraordinary pain, with much moaning and wailing and gnashing of teeth, accompanied by complaints about having to wait so long. He hurt his finger. It looked a little swollen but that was it, and I'm sitting there feeling gravity pull on y shoulder and concentrating to keep it in place.

I couldn't help thinking that the boy seriously needed to grow a pair and his parents needed to stop spoiling him with so much attention for a hit to the finger. But who am I to judge? I realized that the school he went to didn't help much. It's hard to grow a pair at St. Martin's, we all know that.

As time dragged on another patient took a seat in the row opposite me. A girl, in her mid-teens, and her mother accompanying her. This girl, kept looking at me. I promise, every time I look up as I turn the page, I catch a glimpse of her looking away quickly. I was intrigued. But this interest was lost soon, why? Her mother and her where dressed exactly the same, hair style and all, besides this they sat and moved in the exact same way. It was like seeing the same person but at different points in their life. I shudder remembering the freaky-ness of it.

The girl pulls out her ipod as on the TV constantly showing TVM a children's program starts singing "the wheels on the bus". I smile broadly reach into my bag and pull out my skullcandies, and let David Crowder drown out the annoying spoilt brat and the children going "round and round, round and round". I had to leave one ear uncovered though, listening out for that glorious "Simon Callus Area 2 please"

The next person that enters my tale, is a local traffic warden. I honestly don't think he has seen his penis in years. He was huge. I don't think Warden uniforms come in any size above XXL cause this guy's clothes where full and bulging in an extremely dangerous way. If the belt gave way it would have taken off the heads of at least three people in the waiting room. This officer of the ticket givers seemed to be going through his mobile phones phonebook, calling everyone he knows and basically repeating the same FRAKKING sentence, "Hey, yeah, we're here, sitting down watching the Maltese channel waiting for them to call us".

When I'm about to let my brain drain out of my ears, a woman walks up to the receptionist shouting and demanding to be seen. She was a young woman not older than 25, but with no real figure, and yet as she leaned against the counter, she displayed her fleecy white thong pulled above her jeans half way up her back. Suddenly my brain wasn't the only thing that wanted to escape my body in a hurry.

As it grew dark outside, my dad arrived to keep me company, after 15 minutes he was asking the receptionist why it was taking so long. Patience is not one of the things I get from him. But his polite questioning did give us a piece of valuable information: there had been an explosion in a firework factory. Great!

Surprisingly enough, maybe half an hour later, I hear my name being called. After 5 hours waiting, 140 pages read, two bottles of CokaCola and more imagined murders than I can count I walked into a room with a doctor, and was done after 2 minutes.

I spent 99.3% of my time waiting.

i spent 15,000% more time waiting then I spent in front of the doctor, who basically just gave me a sling so I rest the joint for a week, and gave a piece of paper to make an appointment with the specialist to see about operating it.

The drive home took longer than the visit did, and I live down a main road from hospital!

Sigh

Just one more thing.

A special thanks goes out to Christabel who kept me company with her messages during those 18000 seconds. She kept me sane.

Thanks of course go to Jeremy Clarkson for his book, and the alreayd mentioned David Crowder for his latest album.

Out.

the pages inside

he walks along the pavement under the grey sky, ignoring the light drizzle, his headphones blaring.

he walks with his his head down, his hands in his pocket, his pace quick.

a normal guy, nothing special to look at.

and thats all people see.

give the man a pen and paper, and he can sketch out pretty much anything, he draws he sketched he doodles. a natural talent, never learnt, God given.

his mind is buzzing with thoughts of drawing ideas...

photo ideas...

video ideas...

he sees places and things and gets new ideas for videos. and then his mind gets to work on how to go about making it.

a list of posters and jobs to produce... suddenly an idea hits and he can visualize one of them, and his mind gets to work on how to make that too.

he steps in a puddle and feels his socks getting wet. his torn shoes are already soaked. his torn jeans are not much better. the black jacket is still mostly dry. the jacket he wears everywhere. he looks over his shoulder as he crosses a road. he looks up and sees an old man bent leaning on a walking stick.

his mind explodes again, with the idea of man's constant war against gravity. details, facts heard ages ago and put aside resurface to the the front of this consciousness as the body of his next piece of writing forms.

the song changes on his ipod and his mind starts following the chord progression and listening to the various instruments and how each of them make up the song.

a backpack is slung on his shoulders. his face is passive and unsmiling.

stories float around in his head, as details of his surrounding are picked up and stored for further use. and "what was wrong with her yesterday? hmm she was fine until he arrived, so something there, and she didnt speak to her as much as usual, so she's involved, and his comment on facebook this morning said that which could mean this and hers was that...." and the brain makes links and assumptions to thing he wasnt picking up consciously.

a normal guy walking to university,

thats all people see.

Ha.

out

i hope to keep this going

dear all,

what a weekend! the praise, the talks, the TALENT SHOW, the bed with matt, the roof, the nights of no sleep. great great great, it's always sad to go home from them though. but thats the way things are.

went to watch Valentine's day for Pau's birthday... it was a typical chick flick where Jamie and I could practically predict what was going to happen next, except for two surprises at the end which shocked me pleasantly.

i also sat on Kai during the intermission which shocked her.

back to uni now, (i write as i sit in Sociology and listen to pointless bla bla bla) i still have to start work on my oil painting, ill start that tomorrow.

there's a person i want to mention, but i won't.

a person who is going to a tough time. and i want this person to know that s/he doesn't deserve this, and that i'm praying for him/ her and i'm here if help is needed.

moving on!

i got's me skull candies.

i played a five stringer for the first time.

i made a stop motion video for the first time: see it here

and made another video that i didnt exactly finish yet, and can't exactly publish.

anyway...

(side note: Schinas just messaged to tell me to stop writing my blog and pay attention)

don't think i have much else to say,

i feel quite out of everything atm. it's not a sense of not belonging, thats not it, it's a sense of not being part of. there is a difference. in the first, i feel like the people i'm with rather not want me there. that is not the case. it's a feeling of me not feeling the same connection, the same goal, the same vision of those around me. so yeah.... i hope it passes soon.

(side note: a student just flirted in a sad, weird way with our lecturer... gah)

question to all of you:

Us human beings complicate our lives needlessly. Why?

my answer would be "cause we're human" *sigh*

well i'm out.