pretty in pink

As always,

it's been a while. Christmas blogs however, are the most fun so here is mine.

I present.... my Christmas tree.

Thinking about thinking

"Fiction here is likely to contain more fiction than fact." -Virginia Woolf-

Sometimes there are sentences constructed so perfectly you want to read them again and again. They are flawless forward and backwards. They make you stop, think, and smile.

This idea had to do with the idea that some subjects don't have a truth, so that when a person states their arguments, they are really only showing what their cherished beliefs and prejudices are that make them able to pronounce this truth. Often the subject matter is controversial.

Another book I am reading very slowly, called Thinking to Some Purpose, by L. Susan Stebbing, discusses the idea that it is very important to keep in mind your own habits and emotional tendencies, as well as the person or group of people who formed the idea you are thinking about whenever you ponder an idea. Its funny that I distinctly remember teachers in my early education pushing the idea that everyone perceives things differently depending on their own individual point of view. I didn't pay much attention to this idea and lumped it in with the activity in which everyone became a colour that corresponded to their personality. (I could never actually decide on how to define myself and so I was a different colour every year. The activity suceeded in confusing me even more rather than teaching me anything about myself.) However, I can't stress enough how important I now believe it is to try and keep in mind your point of view along with other people's points of view. Otherwise, you are likely to have quite a lonely existence.




This is what a room of one's own might look like.

Me in Concert

I finally got a date for my senior guitar recital! Its May 20th. I'm playing works by Domenicone, Torroba, F. Sor, Bartok, Villa-Lobos and more. I've been practicing a ton ever since I got the date settled. They should allow us to play a recital every semester, I would practice way more. PurpleMangos and possibly Motivatedtea are going to be performing with me. And if you need more incentive to come, a reception/BBQ at the beach may follow.

Thanks to everyone for your support.

MUSIC NIGHT

kids (not goats, or that movie with the guy with no legs)

I guess its been a while. Is it just me or do others feel like the only time you want to blog about anything you are no where near a computer? I tried writing my blog down on a piece of paper the other day, old school style, but then I lost the paper. And so it goes... I am a doomed blogger.

We got kicked off the school tennis courts today. Apparently you can only use them if you are on the school team. We were so confoundedly confused that we had to go out for ice cream. Well, that and the fact that we had a two for one coupon. And this is southern California so it we really just went out for frozen yogurt or "fro-yo" as the kids are calling it these days.

Speaking of kids, I took the writing proficiency exam today and came to the realization that I am at that in between stage, and I like it. I had to read an article about the fact that children these days are given too much homework and do not have enough time to play. I know, I was confused too. I was always under the impression that we were in an age of slackers and procrastinators, but maybe this was just my experience. And really, I don't know how much homework elementary children get these days because I am not one, nore do I have one of my own, or really care about the whole issue at all. I can't believe they gave that topic to a room full of college students who were all pissed off by the fact that they had to pay $20 to write this stupid pass or fail exam at 9am in order to graduate.

There, my ranting for the day is done, but I do not feel any better. This blogging thing really isn't all that therapeutic.

poppy

Stimulus

So I went to the Laguna Art Museum Auction Saturday evening. I've never been to a live auction before and I have to say that watching artists watch their work getting bid on, or not can be a depressing thing, which is probably why the booze were free. Nothing however, explains the strange warm chocolate bread pudding thing with nasty vodka whipped cream that tasted wonderful for free.

I have to say I have finally figured out how to enjoy myself at these things. I simply don't acknowledge that people are there to talk about art. I talk to people about other things. Anything really. The shape of a fish when it is scaled and cut in half for example. (Oh damn, that was an artist describing his work. Time to throw in some random statement to change the topic)

I've begun to take this line for granted living in LA:

"Sooo, you're an actress right?"

I almost laughed out loud. I think people are actually relieved when you tell them you are not. That you are not in "the industry"... although in a way, I guess I am.

Here's a picture at one of these art things, at the Brea Art Gallery I think.

smile,

Poppy

Codliver Oil

I absolutely despise the piano. That is to say, I absolutely despise the piano except when it helps me with harmony. Damn those things that are good for you but so bitter going down.

sweet dreams,

(if they don't involve ivory keys)

Poppy

American Football

Sunday's never turn out the way you expected.

It began with love and laundry. Interesting that both can be described as clean and dirty. Then there was the bakery. I knew the seeded rye bread would be perfect for French Toast. I am rarely wrong when it comes to food. People shouldn't argue with me. French toast - anise, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and cardamon, yogurt, cream cheese, vanilla, fresh blueberries, blackberries, sliced ripe peaches. The French sure know how to do breakfast. After all, it is the most important meal of the day.

N came over for my theory lesson. Amazingly it is starting to click. "Don't ask questions" says N. Sometimes these little miracles do happen.

We went out to run some errands around 3:45pm The streets were eerily empty. Suddenly, screams of ecstasy exploded from a white cookie cutter house across the street. Then another, then another. Suddenly it dawned on me - Superbowl Sunday.